by Kayte Nunn
‘Okay,’ agreed Mark. ‘Anyone got any suggestions?’
After further discussion, the Shingle Valley Preservation Association was formed.
‘They can’t simply march in to the valley and start drilling, can they?’ Rose asked Mark. ‘Don’t they have to have licences, approvals?’
‘I don’t know,’ he replied. ‘We’ve no idea yet what the energy company is planning, but let’s face it, it’s hardly likely that they bought Tarrawenna for its ancient chardonnay vines now, is it? If it comes to it, we might have to take them to court. Though God knows where we’ll find the cash for that.’
Rose was worried. They all were. It could mean the end of their way of life, the ruin of their beautiful valley. She felt as if the ground was shifting underneath her.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The next afternoon, as Mattie sat on the verandah putting the finishing touches to the menus, with Gin curled up on a cushion in the sun next to her, Charlie stopped by. ‘I was after Mark,’ he said as she started in surprise at his sudden appearance, ‘but he wasn’t at the winery. I’ve tried calling him, but can’t reach him. Any idea where he might be?’
‘Have you tried over at Trevelyn’s?’ she replied. ‘I think he said he and Jake were headed that way today. It’s a bit of a mobile blackspot there, which might be why you couldn’t get hold of him.’
‘Oh, right, that makes sense.’ He seemed in no hurry to leave, however, and dropped down onto the chair next to her. ‘I’ve been up at our Mudgee vineyards for the past week,’ he said, ‘or I would have been round to see you sooner.’ He scooped up the kitten for a cuddle. Mattie felt a dart of envy shoot through her as she watched him stroke the turbo-purring puss. His hands were square and strong, with neatly clipped nails. Hands that saw plenty of good, honest, physical work. She wondered briefly what they would feel like on her skin, what it would feel like to be held by him … There was no doubt about it; her attraction to him hadn’t faded over the years. If anything it was unaccountably stronger. But it was the last thing she needed, she reminded herself firmly. And he was far from reliable – the larrikin streak in him had always been strong.
‘So tell me all about London,’ he said. ‘What was it like over there?’ He seemed genuinely interested, focusing his blue eyes intently on her green ones.
‘It all seems almost like another life now,’ she replied, despite having had an email from Cara just that morning, with pics from the latest campaign she’d styled. She missed her friend though – it had been harder to say goodbye to her than it had been to break up with Johnny. ‘I loved it, despite the pressure, and the people in the industry were good fun – most of the time, anyway. I worked in advertising – creating campaign strategies and beautiful images for clients.’ She thought back to her last shoot, how it had all seemed so important at the time. She hadn’t even found out how the DeVere campaign turned out. Someone else had taken the images and designed the ads. They’d all moved on without her. It was a fast-paced world where signing a new client, working to impossible deadlines and the response rate to a campaign were an all-consuming preoccupation.
‘But you can go back, can’t you? When you’re better?’
‘That’s the plan,’ said Mattie.
‘Was there anyone special there too? Rose mentioned you were skiing with your boyfriend.’
She shook her head. ‘He turned out to be pretty bloody useless, actually.’ It came out more vehemently than she’d intended.
‘So you’re off all men?’ He chuckled.
‘Something like that. What about you?’ she asked, making herself bring up the subject of Marie-Claire. ‘Thommo said you had a girlfriend – sorry, no, a fiancée, in France? That all sounds very serious.’
‘Had,’ he said. ‘The distance was the killer, I guess.’ He held her eyes for a long moment, then abruptly got to his feet. She could have sworn there was a wistful look in his gaze, probably because she’d brought up the subject of Marie-Claire, she guessed. ‘I’d better track Mark down,’ he said, as if he was only just remembering the reason for his visit. ‘It’s good to have you back, Till … I mean, Mattie. I hope you’ll stick around for a bit.’
As she watched his broad back disappear around the side of the house, she found herself wondering what Marie-Claire was like. She’d have to be pretty special to have caught and held Charlie’s attention.
Mattie was still sitting outside several hours later when the phone rang. She limped to the kitchen and picked up the handset.
It was the call she’d been expecting, the call she’d been dreading.
‘Hello, Mum.’ Her voice, normally strong and confident, was tentative.
After a brief conversation, she ended the call and shouted through to Mark, who had returned from the Trevelyn vineyards and was sitting at his desk in the small study down the hallway.
‘Guess who that was?’ she said, coming into the room.
He glanced up and she gave him a look that could only mean one thing.
‘Yup. They’re on their way here.’ She’d left a message on her parents’ answering machine the previous day, giving her mum the briefest of details about her accident. It was an olive branch of sorts. Now that her daughter was back in Australia, her mother wanted to come down from Queensland to see for herself how she was doing.
Both Mark and Mattie had fallen out with their parents, but each over very different things. Her father had chosen to sell the family winery, Lilybells, when Mark was working overseas, and Mark had never forgiven him for failing to consult him, to ask if he wanted to take it over. For Mattie, it came a few years before, when, at eighteen, she’d announced her intention to go to art school in London. She’d secretly applied, and been thrilled when she was offered a place. Her mother hadn’t wanted her to leave the valley, and made her feelings plain. Her father had sided with her mother, and they both refused to help her. They argued that there was a perfectly good college in Eumeralla, Sydney even, and that she would hate London in any case. Not to mention the exorbitant cost of studying overseas.
‘And who do you think will pay for that?’ her father had asked. ‘We’re not made of money, you know.’
‘I just don’t understand why you want to go all the way to London?’ her mother said, a note of confusion in her voice. ‘It’s the other side of the world.’
Mattie knew it would be pointless to try to explain that, as soon as her teacher had mentioned that Saint Martins was the best art school in the world, she’d made up her mind to go there.
‘What about your riding?’ her father asked.
‘And we’d never see you,’ her mother chimed in.
Though Mark had backed Mattie up, and she’d pleaded and cajoled, neither of them could change their parents’ minds. Mattie stayed at home for a year after school and worked two jobs to save enough for the trip, her course materials and somewhere to live. Her parents probably expected she would change her mind, that it was a passing fancy, but with Mark’s help, Mattie had accepted her place on the fine arts course.
Her father’s final words to her? ‘You’re making a big mistake, young lady. And you’ll be on your own.’
They hadn’t even offered to drive her to the airport. Mark had done that.
As a result, none of them had spoken more than a handful of words to each other in the intervening years. Mattie sent a Christmas card every year with a one-line greeting and her mum sent the occasional letter, but it had been more than ten years since she had seen them.
Mattie had had plenty of time while recovering at Cara’s to think back on things, and had come to the conclusion that although her parents had been wrong to try to stop her, they had only done what they thought was best for her. When deciding to return to the Shingle Valley, she had resolved to try to mend the rift between all of them, for everyone’s sake.
‘Huh.’ Mark was unimpressed.
‘They said they’d stay at the pub. Didn’t want to put you out.’
Mark
was silent.
‘Come on, Mark. Can we give them a break? Try to mend some fences?’
He sighed heavily. ‘Okay, call them back and tell them they can come here. I can’t have them staying at the pub when there’s plenty of room at Kalkari.’
Rose joined them and Mark relayed the news to her.
‘I bet they’ll be thrilled to see their grandchildren,’ she said to him. ‘And don’t you think it’s time I met them too?’
‘I stopped needing their approval a long time ago.’
‘You know that’s not what I meant,’ said Rose, placating him. ‘Come on, Mark. It might not be as bad as you think.’
‘Want to bet?’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Three days later, Mattie hopped out of the house as a dark sedan trundled up the Kalkari drive. Nerves curdled in her stomach, a mix of trepidation and uncertainty. It could all go horribly wrong.
As her mother emerged from the car, they both hesitated and then met in an awkward embrace. Mattie was enveloped in a familiar smell of roses and sea salt and she found herself clinging to her mother as if for dear life. She was six years old again, being comforted for a grazed knee or a schoolyard slight.
‘I’m sorry, Mum.’ Those were all the words she had. Incredible that, for so many years, they had been so hard to say.
‘No, love, I’m the one who’s sorry,’ said her mum, rubbing her back gently. ‘I just wish you’d told us before … you know, when you were in London. I would have come to you. By the sounds of it, you were lucky to survive – I’ve read about avalanches; they’re fatal more often than not, aren’t they? I reckon someone must have been looking out for you on that day – a guardian angel, perhaps?’
Mattie couldn’t believe it, but tears welled in her eyes. Stubborn in her determination to make her own decisions, to lead her own life, she hadn’t realised how much she’d missed her mother. There was no one like your mum. Ever.
‘Dad!’ said Mattie looking over her mum’s head. She noticed with shock how much he had aged. Mattie reluctantly let go of her mother and embraced her father, blinking to stop the tears that now threatened to brim over. She had completely underestimated the effect of seeing her parents. She’d thought there would be coolness, a wariness on both sides. But seeing their familiar, if more worn, faces broke down any remaining barriers.
‘There, there, Tilly darling.’ Her mother’s voice was soft and soothing. ‘Now let’s take a look at you. My, you don’t look much different at all. As beautiful as ever.’ Her mother tactfully ignored the scar on Mattie’s cheek.
‘Mu-um,’ said Mattie, rolling her eyes.
‘Hear you took a bit of a tumble, hey, angel?’ Her dad’s voice was gruff, but there was real emotion hiding there too. Angel had been his nickname for her since she was little. ‘Buck up, angel!’ he’d yell out when he was schooling her and Shakira over the jumps in the paddock at Lilybells.
‘Just a small one,’ she said. ‘How was the drive?’
‘Not too bad. Coupla stops along the way but we made good time.’
‘Come on then, let’s go inside. I think Rose has some tea for everyone.’
Mattie led them both to the house. Further words weren’t necessary; she knew that although there might be a long road ahead, they were beginning to forgive each other. Whether Mark would feel the same remained to be seen.
‘You must be Rose,’ her father said as Rose came to the front door.
‘Right first time.’ She smiled warmly. ‘It’s lovely to meet you at last. I’m afraid Mark’s over at a grower’s place the other side of Eumeralla. He sends his apologies,’ she said. Mattie knew that Mark had actually done no such thing but silently thanked Rose for covering up for him.
‘He’s promised to be back in time for dinner. Leo and Luisa will be back later this afternoon too. They’re dying to see you,’ said Rose.
Certainly more than your son, thought Mattie. ‘Come in,’ she said. ‘You must be tired from the long drive.’
Mattie led them through the house and onto the back verandah. As they sat down, she gave them the bare details of the accident, reliving the day her life was turned upside down and inside out. Rose, who had stopped in the kitchen, reappeared, quietly placing a tray of tea and a homemade lemon cake, thick with icing, on the table and leaving them to it.
Half an hour later, Leo and Luisa arrived back with Astrid and flew through the house in search of their grandparents. Leo remembered his Grandpa Ray and Grandma Ellie, but Luisa had been a newborn the last time they’d met. It hadn’t affected the kids’ excitement one bit, however, and the four of them were becoming happily reacquainted when Mark returned.
‘Dad,’ he said, striding out onto the verandah. He bent down to place a brief kiss on his mother’s cheek. ‘Mum.’
‘G’day, son.’ Ray’s tone was apprehensive.
Mark was saved from replying by Luisa’s interruption. ‘Daddy, look what Grandma Ellie brought me.’ She held out a purple book that was covered in glitter. ‘She knew what my favourite colour was!’ Luisa was nestled on her grandmother’s lap, her cheeks pink and her eyes sparkling with pleasure from the extra attention.
‘Fancy that, hey?’ Mark’s tone was dry, but Mattie could hear a softening in it. ‘We’re taking good care of her,’ he said, indicating Mattie, ‘between Rose and me.’
‘Of course you are, but we had to come and see for ourselves,’ said his mum, laying a placating hand on her husband’s arm, as if to stop him from saying anything likely to cause offence. ‘Even though she always was an independent young woman.’
‘Not that there’s anything wrong with that now, is there?’ said Mark curtly.
Mattie mentally crossed her fingers, hoping that they might all be able to bury their differences after so long. She’d certainly made up her mind to. She felt an enormous relief that they’d taken the first step; it was like a weight lifting from her.
‘Perhaps you’d like to show me the winery, son?’ Ray asked, a conciliatory note in his voice.
‘Sure,’ said Mark. ‘We’re just about to bottle the cabernet. Come and see what you think. We went with all-new French oak, the full Rolls Royce treatment.’ The pair headed out, Mark explaining his methodology as they walked.
‘Now, Luisa, why don’t we go and help Rose?’ said Eleanor, glancing at Rose, who had rejoined them, for confirmation that her suggestion was welcome.
‘What a great idea,’ Rose said. ‘Leo, do you think you could go and see if there are any eggs? I need a few for the custard to go with pudding.’
Mattie was grateful for the peace as everyone departed to their various jobs. She’d been more wound up about her parents’ visit than she’d realised, and although she was feeling stronger every day, she still tired easily.
‘So what’s happening to Tarrawenna?’ said Mark’s father as they sat at dinner that night. ‘I heard that old man Wilkins died.’
Mark’s mouth set grimly. ‘That’s right. His kids sold it off to the highest bidder.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘Which just happened to be Tin Pei Resources.’
‘Tin who?’
‘Tin Pei. They’re a Chinese mining company.’
‘Oh good God,’ said Ray. ‘We all know what happens next.’
‘Yep,’ said Mark. ‘Potentially coal seam gas mining and everything toxic that that brings with it. The dust, the damage to the water table … it could threaten everyone’s livelihood here, not to mention destroy such a beautiful valley.’
‘So what are you doing about it?’
‘Well, for a start we’re going to see if there’s anything that can legally stop them.’
‘Too right,’ said Ray. ‘I remember years ago, must have been when Tilly was only a little tacker’ – he looked wistfully at Mattie, sitting across from him – ‘there was a South American mob that bought up a huge parcel of land the other side of Eumeralla. Wanted to strip mine the place. We had a helluva fight on our hands. But fi
ght we did – every last one of us.’
Mark looked at him, surprised. ‘I don’t remember that.’
‘You’d have been pretty young. There was no sense worrying you kids about that stuff then,’ he said. ‘Looks like the valley’s got another battle on its hands.’
Mattie smiled to see her father and brother finding common ground again, even if it was over something that posed such a threat to the valley.
‘It most certainly does,’ said Mark. ‘We’ve formed an action group, and I’ve been trying to reach Jeremy Bell, but I’m not having much luck there.’
‘Jeremy? Lord, I’d forgotten about him. He and I go way back. Let me see if I can get in his ear, son.’
‘That’d be good, Dad. We need to pull in every favour we can.’
*
Mattie’s parents were still around a few days later, when Mattie was due to go into New Bridgeton to have the cast on her leg removed. Her mum offered to drive her over for the procedure and Mattie readily agreed – the journey would give them some time alone to catch up, to properly clear the air.
‘How are you feeling, being back?’ her mum asked as they hurtled along the Eumeralla Road.
Mattie shrugged. ‘It’s a bit early to tell, really. I had a great life in London, a really great life.’ Her chin stuck out defiantly. ‘It feels as if I’ve gone backwards, literally limping back here.’
‘I’m so sorry, darling. So sorry you feel that way about the valley. I’d always hoped you’d love it as much as the rest of us did. You certainly seemed to when you were younger.’
‘It’s not that I didn’t – don’t – love it, Mum,’ said Mattie, feeling exasperated. ‘I just had bigger dreams. I needed to see the world, to explore, to find my place.’
‘And did you?’
‘I thought I had.’
Her mother nodded. ‘It was different in my day. I would never have dreamed of travelling so far from home. Do you plan to go back? To London?’