Vineyard in a Valley

by Gloria Bevan

  ‘You’ll love the journey!’ Lucie turned to Tracy with shining eyes.

  She laughed. ‘All right, all right, you’ve convinced me.’ Deep in her heart she knew she was only too ready to be convinced. For somehow the thought of the trip south to Gisborne was infinitely more inviting than Glenn, and Rotorua. The reason being, she assured herself, that this way she would see much more of the country, go further afield.

  It was more difficult to convince Glenn of her reason for not being able to accept his invitation. The telephone that so clearly revealed nuances of feeling told her that he was deeply disappointed in her decision,

  ‘We can go another time,’ she told him, ‘if you like.’

  ‘But I don’t like! I’ve been looking forward to this for days, showing you around Rotorua. Why the devil,’ he asked petulantly, ‘does he have to shove his oar in?’

  ‘Stephen didn’t set the date for the wine-makers’ conference,’ she argued.

  ‘Hey, whose side are you on?’

  ‘Yours, of course,’ but even as she said the words she was trying to subdue a flicker of excitement that was stirring in her. ‘You could go just the same. Why don’t you take Pam instead?’ she suggested mischievously.

  ‘She’s been there, dozens of times. She wouldn’t want—’

  ‘Are you sure? Ask her and see!’

  ‘But don’t you see, Tracy, it’s you I want—’

  ‘I’ll see it with you, another time, I promise. How’s that?’

  ‘Okay, then.’ He gave in with a bad grace.

  ‘I’ll see you when I get back.’ She seemed powerless to subdue the sheer happiness that coloured her tone, no matter how much she med to hide it.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Even Lucie was up early in readiness for the start of the journey south. When Tracy came hurrying down the steps, cool and attractive in a lotus pink shift and cork-soled sandals, the older woman was already waiting on the pathway below, a slim and youthful-looking figure in a trim green trouser suit.

  ‘Morning, Tracy!’ Stephen’s dark head was thrust from the car window as he brought the Holden to a stop beside her. Leaping from the vehicle, he reached a hand towards her modest overnight bag. ‘I’ll take that!’ Swiftly his glance ran over the young eager face, alive with anticipation, dark hair glinting in the sun and swinging around her shoulders. ‘You look as though you’re looking forward to the trip!’

  ‘Do I!’ There was an unspoken message in his glance that sent her pulse racing, but he only said: ‘That goes for me too!’

  A little faintly she murmured: ‘Camping gear?’ For in the open boot of the car she glimpsed a folded tent and sleeping bags. A cardboard carton held a smoke-blackened billy and a fat-encrusted pan. ‘Will we need that on the trip?’

  He was stowing Lucie’s luxuriously fitted travelling case beside the rolls of sleeping bags. ‘Only if we happen to strike trouble somewhere in the never-never.’

  ‘We always take the camping gear with us on a long trip,’ Lucie explained, arranging a scarf over her carefully coiffured golden hair. She waited until Tracy seated herself, then slid into the car at her side. The road’s pretty rugged around the cape, a long way from civilization in some places. Besides, we’ve got oodles of room!’ She laughed her tinkling laugh. ‘It’s ages since we’ve had to camo on a motor trip, but still, you never know your luck!’

  ‘Mmm...’ Tracy was studying the road map outspread on her knees. ‘According to this Gisborne seems an awful long way away, over three hundred miles if we take the route right around the cape. How far are we planning to go today?’

  Stephen slammed the car door shut, then came around the side of the vehicle to drop into the driver’s seat. ‘No hurry. We’ll take our time over it, seeing,’ his swift sideways grin quickened Tracy’s lively feeling of anticipation, ‘we happen to have an overseas visitor with us! We’ll put up for the night somewhere along the coast before we hit Opotiki. That way you’ll be able to have a look at Ohope beach.’ Slipping dark sun-glasses across his eyes, he thumbed the starter.

  ‘Oh, Steve,’ Lucie suggested eagerly, ‘let’s stay at Whakatane! Remember that place right on the beach where we stayed last time? The Sea-Shell, wasn’t it?’

  ‘If you like.’ His tone was indifferent and a little of Tracy’s hidden excitement died away.

  ‘The last time,’ she thought with an odd little pang, would be the occasion when they had taken Alison and Cliff with them on the tour that had ended so disastrously. She jerked her thoughts aside. Why must she always remember Alison? This was her day, her chance to see something of an unfamiliar, unspoiled country. Distant hills rose against a pearly sky shading upwards to a translucent blue, the air was diamond-clear and beside her sat Stephen, his profile outlined against the blue. Tracy felt her heart rise on a surge of sheer happiness.

  Will came to the pathway to see them off. Tracy, turning back over her shoulder to wave, could see him looking after the car until a fern-lined bend hid the stocky figure from view. They swept along the shadowed bush track where long fronds of black-veined tree ferns and pungas, still damp from the heavy overnight dew, glittered in the morning sunshine. Presently they swung into the main road and before long they had left the western districts behind and were turning into the smooth lanes of a southern motorway with its long centre avenue of ornamental bamboo, pink and white flowering oleanders and bronze flax blowing in the wind. On either side of the highway rose cleared green hills where closely-barbed sheep fences marched up to meet the horizon. Then all at once the motorway came to an end, merging into a road that cut through green farmlands where sheep and cattle grazed.

  On and on, with always the sheep-hills rising around them, but now rocky outcrops were visible on the high slopes and at the roadside the banks rose red and copper coloured, the clay raw from recent cuttings. Drifting cloud shapes broke the sun’s glare and the breeze blowing through the open windows was cool and fresh.

  They crossed the low-lying area of the Hauraki plains where farm boundaries consisted of giant bushes of toa-toas, their tattered plumes bent to the breezes. Occasionally small settlements, a garage, a post office, a general store, loomed into sight and were swiftly left behind. Then they entered the rocky canyon of the Karangahake gorge, where unseen waterfalls tinkled among the ferns and high sheer walls enclosed them in a sombre grey world.

  ‘All this district was a thriving gold-mining centre once,’ Stephen told her. She followed his gaze over a swing bridge spanning the turbulent waters far below towards the ghostlike remains of an old battery rising among the tea-tree clad hills. Then they were taking the long palm-lined street leading to the old gold-mining centre of Waihi.

  ‘Now this town I like!’ Tracy spoke her thoughts aloud as they sped through wide streets of the colourful city of Tauranga with its modern ranch-style homes and citrus and passion fruit plantations. There were sparkling modern stores and shopping complexes, dwellings ablaze with flowering shrubs and bright Sower borders. At intervals roadside entrances bore a notice: ‘Fruit for Sale. Peaches, passion fruit, tamarillos’. Tracy’s gaze moved to the glittering waters of the harbour were vessels were moored at the wharves’. ‘Those look like overseas cargo boats.’

  He nodded. ‘They’re loading timber, mostly for Japan. It’s getting to be quite an industry around here—bring your swimming gear?’

  She smiled up at him, sea-blue eyes alight. ‘What do you think? Somehow I got the idea I might be needing it. There must be some wonderful beaches around here.’

  ‘You haven’t seen a swimming beach until you’ve seen the long white stretch of the Bay of Plenty,’ he told her. ‘We’ll pull in there and grab some lunch, then you’ll see what I mean!’

  She saw what he meant a short time later when after following the coast road for some miles they drew up at the side of the road in the shelter of towering macrocarpa pines. ‘Come on,’ Stephen suggested, ‘and we’ll take a look at the beach.’

  ‘But I don’
t see...’ She gazed around her, mystified.

  ‘You will, once we’re over the sandhills!’ He took from the car Lucie’s picnic basket and beach umbrella, then the three crossed the strip of long dried grass and made their way over high drifts of blowing sand.

  ‘I only hope it’s worth all this effort,’ Tracy said laughingly, her sandals sinking into the soft sand at every step. The next moment she reached the summit of the sandhill and drew an appreciative breath. ‘But I guess it is at that!’ For framed in the branches of giant wind-swept pohutukawas clinging to the shore, the long stretch of clean white sand stretched away mile after mile into the misty distance. A seemingly endless sweep of sand, lapped by white-crested waves breaking gently on the vast shoreline. She was struck by a sense of remoteness. There was nothing, no one along the whole length, only the gulls wheeling and soaring overhead, their cries mingling with the soft wash and drag of the surf. It was a blue day, she thought—blue sea, blue sky, an unforgettable day!

  She became aware that Stephen was regarding her closely. He seemed to read her thoughts. ‘Fold you! How about a dip to wash away the car travel and the dust?’

  ‘I can scarcely wait!’ Indeed the prospect of the touch of that cool bracing sea was infinitely inviting.

  ‘Come on, then.’ Together they raced headlong down the high drift, gaining momentum with every step until at last they slid to a stop on the firm sand below.

  Still breathless, Tracy scanned the empty shoreline.

  ‘Changing sheds?’ Stephen was thrusting the point of the gaily-striped beach umbrella deep in the sand while Lucie, catching up with them, spread a rug in the shade. ‘There are some further along the beach, but what’s wrong with the trees? There’s no one about for miles!’

  Tracy laughed. ‘I suppose...’ It was too good an opportunity to be missed, and anyway, she mused a few minutes later as she reached the shelter of thickly-growing dax and tall tea-tree growing beyond the sandhills, what did it matter? It took only a few moments to slip from her garments, pull over her shoulders the straps of her brief white swimsuit. She made a mental vow to take in some sunbathing, if only to blend in that unattractive line where the apricot-tan of her low-cut shift frock met the other hemisphere pallor.

  When she emerged from the shelter of the undergrowth he was waiting for her, strong, virile, so deeply tanned that it was difficult to distinguish between the dark swimming trunks and the mahogany-tanned skin.

  ‘Was I long?’

  He shook his head, a glint of appreciation in his eyes. ‘Even if you had been it would have been worth it!’

  Tracy didn’t ask him what he meant. She was content to make her way at his side as they climbed the slope where marram grass and tall lupins held at bay the drifting sands. Then all at once the patches of green came to an end and she winced with pain as her bare feet touched the scorching sand.

  ‘Wow!’ she gasped, ‘it—hurts!’

  ‘I bet it does! You’re not used to it. Well, there’s only one way to fix that!’ Before she could argue the matter he had picked her up in his arms and ignoring her wild kicking, her cries of ‘put me down’, strode purposefully over the drifts and down the other side to the beach below. Lucie, seated in the shade beneath her beach umbrella, glanced up in surprise. ‘For heaven’s sake,’ she took off her sunglasses the better to observe them, ‘what on earth’s happening?’

  ‘Just doing a good deed!’ Steve gazed back at her with blandly innocent eyes. ‘And getting no thanks for it! There you are, Tracy,’ he set her down gently. ‘It’s cool enough here where the tide’s been. Let me know if you get any more transport problems!’

  ‘I’ll be all right.’ Her voice was muffled, for in truth the unexpected encounter had shaken her more than she cared to admit. What was it about him that disturbed her so? To cover her confusion she said quickly, ‘Aren’t you coming in for a swim, Lucie?’

  The other woman flashed her young-old smile. ‘With this expensive hair-do? No, thanks, dear. It looks marvellous, though, the sea.’ Doubtfully, she eyed Tracy’s shining dark strands. ‘With you it’s different, and if you don’t mind—’ Tracy smiled and shook her head. Somehow today she didn’t mind about anything. It was that sort of a day, and she intended to make the most of every moment of it. Turning, she met Stephen’s amused glance. ‘Like me to carry you down to the tide and throw you in?’

  ‘No, thanks, but I’ll beat you in!’ In a flash she was off to a head start, her bare feet moving lightly over the gleaming wet sand, but long before she reached the shower of foaming spray he caught up with her. She felt the warm clasp of his hand and a tingle of excitement shot through her. The shimmering sunshine splintered into fragments, the sparkle on the tossing waves glinted, and all at once she was part of it all, the movement and colour and exhilaration of the golden day.

  ‘Come on!’ They ran on, splashing through the shallows, diving into the green glass wall of a curling breaker to emerge a moment later, breathless, laughing, their hair plastered wetly around their faces.

  I he next moment a great wall of water surged towards them and Tracy went down in a thundering shower of spray, she got to her feet, spluttering, laughing, blinking the salt water from her eyes. Then with one accord they struck out beyond the tossing spray towards the blue-green depths beyond. Tracy could see Stephen’s dark cap of hair as he moved ahead, his effortless crawl taking him swiftly through the water. Once she lost sight of him, but swimming underwater he suddenly appeared at her side. Then, turning, they gave themselves to the waves, sweeping far on the crest of the thundering green comber until it splintered on the shore in a mass of foam. Again and again they plunged their way through the tossing spray, feeling the drag of the surf beneath their feet, to come surging in on a wave, breathless and laughing, as the comber swept them into the sandy shallows.

  At last, becoming aware of Lucie’s beckoning hand, Tracy pushed the dripping curtains of black hair back from her face and made her way through the swirling foam-flecked water. Stephen followed her and glancing back over her shoulder, she giggled, ‘With your hair plastered down like that, you look like a seal... swim like one too!’

  ‘And you—’ His warm smiling gaze appraised her, the young attractive lines of her figure, the blue eyes with their wet dark lashes. ‘Well, I’ll tell you another time.’

  She laughed on a throaty, happy note. ‘I’ll remind you.’ Silly words, meaningless words, yet she knew she would treasure them long afterwards.

  Against the immensity of sea and sand the beach umbrella made a gay splash of colour. Tracy dropped down beside Stephen on the warm sand, letting the sun dry the salt water on her skin, conscious of a delicious sense of relaxation. Lucie’s sandwiches of smoked schnapper were delicious, or was it just that everything seemed larger than life, better than ordinary, on this most sparkling of days? They washed down the picnic meal with flask tea from picnic cups that Lucie had provided, throwing the crusts to the hovering gulls. Tracy was smoking a cigarette, idly watching the blue smoke drifting past in the sea-breeze, when Stephen rose and came towards her, a towel hanging from his hand. ‘Better watch that sunburn ... it pays to take it in small doses!’ Somehow for once, just for once, she didn’t resent his words. Or could it be that she was bewitched by the deep feeling of relaxation following the swim, the warm touch of the sun so that she didn’t mind his advice, or the fleeting caress of his lingers as he threw a towel around her shoulders.

  ‘One last dip?’ She nodded, leaping to her feet, and together they ran down to the breakers once more, plunging into a froth of foam, conscious once again of the bracing touch of the sea.

  When they returned to the picnic spot, Lucie had folded up her rug. Slipping her scuffs from her feet, she held them towards Tracy. ‘Put these on, dear, while you go up to get dressed. They’ll save your feet.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Gathering up her garments, Tracy made her way over the sand-dunes. Soon she was dressed, running a comb through her damp unruly hair, adding a t
ouch of gleaming pale pink to her lips. In a few minutes she made her way back to the beach, conscious of a feeling of utter content, excited yet relaxed, that was no doubt the result of sun and salt water—and Stephen! She had got him into her blood somehow along with the tossing waves and the golden sun.

  Back in the car the wind tossed her streaming hair behind her ears and soon the wet strands were dry again. Not that it mattered, she mused. What was wet hair compared to the incomparable delight of swimming under water, glimpsing the white shells through the crystal-clear tide, feeling the surge and drag, the swift sensuous pleasure of being carried swiftly on that blue-green wall of surging water?

  They ran along the winding road in sight of the endless coastline, then all at once they were running towards a modern town lying in the shadow of towering cliffs. As they moved into the busy shopping area Tracy eyed with amazement the great outcrop of rock rising in the heart of the business area that dominated the scene.

  ‘I’ve never seen a town like this,’ she murmured.

  ‘You won’t see another Whakatane,’ Stephen told her in his deep tones. ‘We’d better book into a motel for the night,’ he was drawing up beside a block of modern apartments not far from the beach. ‘This do?’

  Lucie nodded agreement and they went into the attractive foyer with its trailing tropical plants and greenery, where Stephen arranged for a one-night stay. Tracy realized with a sense of relief that both Lucie and Stephen had apparently forgotten their earlier intention of staying at the Sea-Shell.

  She found the bedroom she shared with Lucie to be surprisingly attractive, with its soft carpeting, dark gold decor and diffused lighting. Close by was a luxuriously-fitted bathroom and beyond, a small model kitchen.