Vineyard in a Valley

by Gloria Bevan

  ‘Will write later when I get an address. See you sometime. Excuse scribble, but my hands are a bit shaky.

  ‘Love,

  ‘Ally.’

  Ally. The old name they had used as children. Only they weren’t children any longer and Alison had just a moment since smashed her world to fragments. The colour drained from her face and she was shaken by an inner chill, a sickening sense of anguish.

  But surely you knew all along—a tiny voice echoed from the dark corner of her mind. It was just that you wouldn’t let yourself face the truth. Ever since that first morning when you got off the ship you’ve known there was something wrong. You tried to ted yourself it was because Steve despised Alison, but really it was because he loved her. Well, now you know. Oh yes, she knew it all—too late. Stephen, Stephen ... and I trusted you so, believed you when you said you loved me. How easy it was to make me believe, already half-way in love. She hated him. No, admit it, she still loved him, in spite of everything! She was such a fool at hiding her emotions and there was still the long motor trip back from Gisborne to be endured. She must learn to disguise her real feelings, and fast.

  It couldn’t happen like this, she thought numbly. Surely she must have misread the meaning of the words. Once again she read the letter, knowing all the time that there was no mistake, that the swiftly scrawled sentences would be imprinted on her mind for ever. Vaguely she was aware of Lucie hurrying into the room. ‘Handkerchief ... I always forget one...’ Swiftly Tracy put up a hand to shield her ashen face.

  On her way to the door Lucie halted, glanced back. ‘That letter from your cousin, was there anything special in it?’ With an effort of will Tracy forced her voice to a careless note. ‘Not really. Just... telling me what had happened ... saying she was sorry to have to rush away. She said she might come back one day.’

  Lucie looked surprised. ‘Come back? Here?’

  ‘Oh, not for a while, but ... later...’ Each word was fraught with pain. With relief she realized that Lucie apparently was satisfied with her explanation.

  ‘I shouldn’t think she would,’ she remarked in a puzzled tone. ‘Not after what happened.’

  ‘And that just goes to show,’ jeered the tiny voice in her mind, ‘how little you really know of Alison. Why, she wouldn’t care about the past, she wouldn’t care about anything. If there was something she wanted, she’d come right back here and take it! Even if it happened that what she wanted was ... Stephen.’

  It all came rushing back, the agonizing sense of betrayal, the heartache and in spite of everything, the aching hopeless longing.

  ‘I think,’ she muttered in a thick unnatural voice, ‘I’ll take a rest for a while. Not feeling quite the best. Don’t wait for me at dinner. I’ll give it a miss tonight.’

  ‘That’s too bad.’ Lucie was all solicitude. ‘I get those frightful heads myself sometimes on a trip. It’s the glare, you know, looking into the sun. That’s why I always carry these tablets with me. They’re really marvellous!’

  Tracy was scarcely aware of the sympathetic tones. Obediently she swallowed the tablets Lucie handed her, sipped a little water from a glass..

  ‘I’ll leave you to it, then,’ Lucie said. ‘Sometimes it pays to skip a meal occasionally. Pity you can’t see a bit more of Gisborne while we’re here, but maybe you’ll be feeling better in an hour or two.’

  ‘Maybe.’ If only her misery could be eased so swiftly. But the bitter anguish that filled her was beyond the power of Lucie’s miracle tablets, beyond her own control. I’ll just have to live through it, she told herself despairingly. No one can help me. It’s happened and somehow, somehow, I’ve got to go on.

  Like an animal crawling into a dark place in its pain, she drew the blinds, dropped to the bed and pulled the cover over her. If only she could stop the tears ... but it was useless. Her face would be a mess, blotched and swollen. He’d think, he’d know ... but still she couldn’t subdue the shuddering sobs that racked her.

  Hours later she dropped into a restless sleep to dream that she was back in the firelit darkness of a quiet beach back in Stephen’s arms, conscious of the ineffable strength and comfort of his nearness, looking up into the dark face. The next moment she awoke and sickening realization returned with a rush. There was no future in that dream, she thought bleakly. If only she could forget!

  She must have dozed, for when she opened her eyes again the bed opposite was empty’ and it was clear that Lucie had already dressed and gone down to breakfast. Breakfast! But she couldn’t hide here for ever.

  Listlessly she peered at her reflection in the mirror. What a mess she looked! Stale make-up still on her face, rumpled hair due to tossing restlessly through the hours, and her eyes ... the dark circles she could camouflage, but those swollen eyelids ... she’d die if he guessed the truth; knew how much the revelation of Alison’s letter had cost her in pain and heartache and bitter self-recrimination. She forced herself to shower, combed the long dark hair into order, fastening it back from her face with a clip. Fresh make-up, dark glasses to hide those tell-tale lids. Now all she had to manage was her own undisciplined heart, and that she knew’ was something over which she had no control at all. Just to see him, to feel him close to her ...

  A knock on the door set her heart thudding, but it was only Lucie calling in her high clear tones, ‘How are you, Tracy? Headache all gone?’

  ‘Just about.’

  ‘I’m going down to breakfast. Coming?’

  ‘In a minute.’

  ‘We’ll wait for you at the corner table.’

  She had to go through with it. There was no escape. Snatching up a pair of sunglasses from her bag, she thrust them on, thankful for the feeling of privacy they afforded.

  As she moved across the sunny dining room, Stephen, grave and quiet, rose to pull out her chair. ‘Morning, Tracy! How are you feeling now?’

  ‘Much better, thanks.’ In spite of all she knew of him the deep tones still had the power to touch her. Pain ran along her nerves. If only he really cared!

  ‘But you’re wearing dark glasses!’ Lucie’s voice pierced her fog of misery.

  ‘Yes, they help a lot.’ Even to her own ears her laugh sounded stupid and nervous. ‘I get them sometimes,’ she chattered wildly on, ‘sore eyes, I mean.’

  ‘It’s probably because of the dust on the roads,’ Lucie remarked. ‘I remember on a trip I did once with my husband—that was around the East Cape too. We had this old jeep and all the side curtains were flapping around...’ The remainder of the story was lost on Tracy. She was aware only of Stephen’s grave inquiring glance, a look that she suspected had already taken in the signs of a white night and anguish of mind.

  She knew that she would have to get through at least a light breakfast, even if it choked her, were she to succeed in hiding the extent of her misery from those all-observant grey eyes. ‘Just coffee and toast for me, please,’ she murmured as Lucie passed her the menu. There were few guests at the tables this morning; most people staying at the hotel would breakfast later.

  It seemed to her that the interminable meal would never come to an end, but at last Lucie got to her feet. ‘I’ll go and get my things together—’

  ‘Me too!’ Tracy rose from the table and was about to make her escape when Stephen’s firm tones arrested her.

  ‘Wait a minute!’ A strong brown hand caught her wrist and pinned her to the spot. ‘Something I want you to see!’ He propelled her down to her seat, then whipped a touring map from the pocket of his bronze shirt. ‘I wanted to fill you in on the route we’re taking on the trip back, through the Waiocka Gorge this time. Makes it more interesting.’ His grin did things to her heart, almost made her forget everything that she must, must make herself remember. But he didn’t unfold the touring map. Instead he caught her hand fast in his and to her horror the trembling overtook her, the betraying trembling that would tell him ... tell him ...

  ‘What’s wrong, Tracy?’ His voice, so deep and concerned, still
had the power to touch her. Oh, why couldn’t he be as he seemed? And how could she ever bring herself to explain her disillusionment without giving herself away? The shame-making part of it all was that at his touch all her carefully prepared speech, every shred of common sense she’d ever had fled, leaving her wildly excited, as stupidly vulnerable as ever.

  ‘Why have you been crying?’

  So the dark glasses too had been a failure, at least so far as he was concerned. Oh, she might have known that she couldn’t conceal anything from that penetrating gaze. It had taken only one swift glance from those keen grey eyes to correctly size up the situation.

  ‘Oh, Steve—’ Blindly she was aware of Lucie, hurrying back towards their table. ‘I almost forget to tell you, the luckiest thing! It was in my writing folder, the one I hadn’t used since the other trip, and that’s why I hadn’t come across it before—’

  ‘Hmm...’ His low tone was abstracted. ‘Found what?’

  ‘The letter, of course! The one I’ve been searching the house for ever since Tracy arrived, the one Alison left for her that morning. I knew I had it somewhere!’

  There was no abstraction now in Stephen’s steely tones. ‘You gave it to Tracy yesterday?’

  ‘Yes, yes, she’ll tell you all about it. I must go. See you in about half an hour, Steve. I won’t keep you waiting, seeing you want to make an early getaway.’

  ‘So that’s it!’ His searching gaze blazed into her heavy-lidded eyes. ‘It’s that letter you got from Alison, isn’t it?’

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. If only he would let go her hand perhaps she could think clearly, decide what to say. Oh, she should have anticipated this moment, but she’d been so devastated by the suddenness and shock of it all.

  ‘Now come on,’ his grip on her hand tightened, ‘what’s this all about?’

  She winced with pain. ‘You’re hurting me.’

  ‘You’re hurting me! What did she tell you?’

  She jerked herself free, tried to stop the quivering of her mouth. ‘She told me all about ... what happened. About you—’

  ‘And just what,’ his voice was very low, ‘did she tell you about me?’

  ‘Just,’ she raised a chalk-white face and for all her determination to keep a firm hold on herself, her mouth puckered, ‘the truth! What else?’

  His lips were set in a grim line. ‘And that’s why you’re like this all of a sudden?’

  ‘Yes, that’s why!’ All at once she forgot all about being calm and composed, not letting him suspect that her cousin’s disclosure mattered to her so damnably. ‘Who wouldn’t be different?’ She was horrified at the croaking sound of her voice. ‘Why didn’t you tell me that you were so involved in it all? That broken engagement, the row,’ her voice broke, ‘everything!’

  ‘If you remember,’ his tone was coldly impersonal, ‘I tried to put you in the picture about all this, but you weren’t interested, at the time.’

  It was true. Intoxicated by his nearness, she had refused to listen to him. Now she wondered if deep down she hadn’t all along been afraid of this, hadn’t wanted to risk spoiling the heady enchantment of the star-ridden night. ‘It wouldn’t have made any difference when I knew.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it? Look at me, Tracy!’ Before she could guess at his intention he had whipped the dark glasses from her eyes. ‘Why have you been crying, then?’

  She dropped her heavy gaze. ‘None of your business.’

  ‘Look here, Tracy, let me—’

  ‘No! It’s too late for all that, much too late!’ She didn’t trust her traitorous heart. In spite of everything she knew of him, if she stayed another minute that masculine magnetism of his would work its magic and she’d forget... forget ... Gathering together her remaining shreds of sanity, she reminded herself that wasn’t that just what had betrayed her before? Remember, she told herself, he’s a cheat and a liar. He betrayed his own brother! Her only refuge was in flight, and she knew it! To stay would be to put herself at the mercy of the dark spell he seemed to be able to exert over her at will. The same spell, she told herself, that had held Alison in thrall, made her forget the man she had planned to marry. Escape, escape, Tracy! It’s the only way. You can’t fight him. You can’t fight love!

  ‘I was taken in before,’ she sprang to her feet, trembling, ‘I’m not going to let it happen again! So don’t bother to try to talk me out of it! It’s no use!’

  She caught the flicker of his eyes, almost like a man taking a physical blow, then his jaw tightened. She flung herself around and hurried away, out of reach of that insidious force that was drawing her back to him, even new when she realized the truth. Hating herself for that treacherous urge, she stumbled blindly on towards her bedroom, then once there, stood still, assailed by a sickening moment of doubt. What if she had misjudged him? What if Alison had lied to her? She remembered Cliff’s welcoming attitude to his brother at the hospital yesterday, seeming to bear no malice towards Stephen. But then men hid their feelings well, especially before their womenfolk. The brief hope faded almost as swiftly as it had come. There were too many items that added up to an inescapable conclusion. Stephen’s reluctance to discuss the matter of the broken engagement, his initial resentment at being forced to have her around the place. But then, she thought wistfully, she supposed she was rather a poor substitute for her glamorous cousin. Fragments of conversation overheard amongst the women pickers on that hot summer day in the vineyard came back to mind. No, it was all too clear, too convincing to allow of any doubt.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Afterwards she could recall little of the long journey back to Auckland. She was uncaring as to where she was or what her destination.

  In offering her a window-seat, Lucie appeared to imagine she was granting Tracy a favour, as indeed perhaps she was, she mused bleakly. For somehow it was easier to remember that she hated him when she wasn’t thrown close against him on the sharp bends of the long winding road cut through the hills. Her eyes with their dazed expression rested on the passing scenes as they swept through the gorge with its rocky outcrops. Workmen with bulldozers were clearing away the giant boulders that had slipped down the sheer rock face on to the road below. Cool green bush lined either side of the highway. Ahead a long transporter loaded with logs cut from nearby pine forests was grinding its way up the steep incline. Road signs went hashing by. Slips. Washouts. Later she realized dully that they were leaving the rugged grandeur of the gorge and heading back to Opotiki—and civilization. But today the sunshine city held no meaning for her. It had been an illusion, that good luck she had thought was hers for the taking. To think she had actually believed that Stephen loved her, had built all those crazy hopes and dreams on a future that would never exist, except in her own imagination. All the time it was Alison whom he loved. The old crippling feeling of inferiority, left over from childhood, once more enveloped her in its dark cloud.

  Pushing aside the despairing thoughts, she tried to concentrate on Lucie’s voice as the older woman indicated various landmarks in the green countryside through which they were passing. Funny that Lucie didn’t suspect any special feeling between her and Stephen, but then, she thought bleakly, not so funny really, for what was there to know? A man and a girl thrown together for a night on a remote and lonely bay. A kiss, a few light words, but no promises, no strings. Nothing that couldn’t be conveniently forgotten afterwards. Nothing real, except to her! If she had any sense at all, which she hadn’t, she would forget too, just as he had. She made a determined effort to wrench her heavy thoughts aside, take an intelligent interest in Lucie’s conversation. But it was no use. Her thoughts drifted back, back, and the pain started up all over again. The aching intolerable sense of loss. She would have to leave the vineyard, of course. To stay at the house any longer would merely prolong the heartache, underline the anguish and humiliation.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ as they sped between rolling farmlands she spoke her thoughts aloud to Lucie. ‘I’m afrai
d I won’t be able to stay on at the valley after all.’

  ‘Not stay?’ Lucie turned to stare at her, aghast. ‘You can’t mean that, Tracy! Why ever not?’

  She sought wildly in her mind for a ready excuse, but all she could come up with was a lame ‘something’s come along.’ At Steve she didn’t look. What did it matter to him anyway what her movements were?

  ‘But you can’t do that! It’s just that you haven’t been feeling the best on the trip. Tomorrow you’ll think differently about it all. Besides, there’s Steve and the office—you can’t let him down!’

  Can’t I? she thought with bitter anguish. Why not? He let me down! She jerked her heavy thoughts back to the present. ‘Why,’ Lucie was saying, ‘he was just telling me the other day that he never would have believed his luck in getting anyone so knowledgeable about the work. He said he couldn’t get along without you. Honestly! Didn’t you, Steve?’

  ‘That’s right.’ His tone was expressionless.

  Still she didn’t glance towards him. She couldn’t. A pang seemed to pierce her heart. Was that a lie too? Perhaps not. In the comparatively remote surroundings of the vineyard, it would be difficult for him to find a suitable office helper. Probably she was a useful acquisition to him. That was all she had meant to him all along. Someone to string along, maybe to have a light affair with, if she were inclined to play along. And she had! Oh, she had needed no encouragement on that score! She’d been quite wrapped up in him, easily trapped into caring for him so deeply that now she didn’t know how to bear the nagging sense of heartache, or how to get through the days ahead. She wrenched the painful thoughts aside. ‘All the same—’