by Holly Ford
Lizzie, conscious that Hannah herself did just that for the Blacks, laid a cautionary hand in the small of Carr’s back.
‘Well, at the moment she’s scrubbing the Pinehurst Motels,’ Hannah shrugged, ‘so I figure your bathroom would be an improvement.’
Carr looked at Lizzie.
‘It can’t hurt to ask,’ she suggested.
‘If you like,’ Hannah offered, ‘I can give her a call.’
‘Sure. Why not?’ Carr poured the wine.
Lizzie looked at him.
‘I mean,’ he added, ‘that’d be great. She sounds like just what we need around here.’
‘What about the senior shepherd’s job?’ asked Rob. ‘Have you had any takers yet?’
‘Sorry. You’re not allowed to apply.’ Charlotte slipped her arm through his. ‘I don’t care how much he’s paying.’
‘I do have a taker, actually,’ said Carr.
‘Yeah?’ Charlotte sat forward. ‘Anyone we know?’
‘Ash.’
‘Your Ash?’ Her eyebrows rose. ‘He’s coming home? What brought that on?’
Carr shrugged. ‘You can ask him yourself. He’ll be here in a couple of weeks.’
‘Wow.’ Charlotte shook her head. ‘I’m trying to remember the last time I saw him. It must be … what? Seven years?’
‘All of that,’ Carr agreed. ‘It would have been the summer before he took off for the States.’
Lizzie went off to fetch the entrées. ‘Wow …’ she heard Charlotte repeat.
‘Let me give you a hand.’ Hannah followed her out.
‘Don’t you dare,’ Lizzie said. ‘Go back and sit down — it’s your night off.’
‘Do you really not know what’s made Ash decide to come back from Argentina?’ Lizzie asked Carr, as he walked out of the bathroom that night. ‘What did he say when he called?’
‘I told him Owen was off. He said could he have the job.’
‘What did you say?’
‘Yes.’
‘That was it?’
Walking to the bedroom window, Carr pulled the curtain aside and checked the night sky. ‘That job’s always been his if he wanted it.’
‘But he didn’t want it,’ Lizzie pointed out. ‘Until now.’
‘Ash was keen to make his own way.’
Carr sat down on the edge of the bed and flexed his neck. Lizzie tried not to get distracted.
‘You don’t want to know why he’s suddenly changed his mind?’
‘If he wanted to tell me, he would.’
‘Maybe he’s waiting for you to ask.’
Carr looked mystified. ‘Why would he do that?’
Lizzie sighed to herself. But what did she know? She’d never even met Carr’s son. Maybe he liked to discuss things as much as his father did.
‘Anyway’ — sliding under the duvet, Carr pulled her into his arms — ‘this is Ash’s home. He doesn’t need a reason to come here.’
Lizzie settled her cheek against his shoulder.
‘Glencairn,’ he went on, with a yawn, ‘is his as much as it is mine. I’m just the caretaker.’
‘Planning your retirement?’ she teased, stroking her hand along the muscles of his back. She couldn’t imagine it herself.
‘In the fullness of time.’ She could hear the grin in his voice.
‘You can really see yourself walking away from this place?’
‘Who said anything about walking?’
Drifting towards sleep, Lizzie thought how odd it was going to be to have someone else living there. The whole time she had known Carr, they’d had this grand old house to themselves. But of course, she strove to remind herself, as far as Ash was concerned, it was she who would be intruding.
‘Lizzie.’ As she walked through Glencairn’s kitchen door three weekends later, Carr’s son hurried up out of the armchair in which he’d been sprawled. ‘Hello.’
There was a pause. She saw Ash think about shaking her hand. Looking up at him, Lizzie thought about kissing his cheek. He was bigger than she’d expected. She’d been expecting … what? A boy? A mini-Carr? Not, in any case, this smiling, fair-haired mass of muscle. She glanced back at Carr. Standing between the two men, she felt suddenly rather small.
‘It’s so lovely to meet you,’ she told Ash, settling for a gentle touch on his forearm.
‘You too.’
Carr’s hand moved over the back of her arm. ‘Can I get you a drink?’
He sounded almost nervous himself — if that were possible.
‘Here.’ Reaching into her oversized shoulder bag, she got out two bottles of her own-label pinot noir and set them on the table. ‘I brought these — Blackpeak Vines’s first release. They’re the very last two. I’ve been waiting for an excuse to drink them.’
Ash picked up a bottle reverently. ‘You made this?’
‘Not at all. I didn’t even grow the grapes, I’m afraid. It was before my time. My first vintage’ — she smiled at Carr — ‘won’t be released until the end of this year. It’s not quite in the bottle yet.’
Lizzie took the chair Carr offered. Abandoning his comfortable spot by the range, Ash took a seat across from her on the other side of the table. There was a slight awkwardness, she noticed, to the way he moved, the tiniest hint of a shamble, as if he were favouring some old injury.
Holding the other bottle of pinot, Carr looked at her questioningly.
‘Don’t bother decanting it,’ she told him. ‘I’ve decided it’s better just poured.’
As Carr did so, Lizzie studied his son’s face, looking for evidence of Ash’s mother, Carr’s first and only wife, gone from Glencairn for over sixteen years — a year or two more than she’d been in it. Her name was Elyse, and she lived in Auckland. That was pretty much all Lizzie knew. As far as she could make out, the only traces of ex-wife left in the house were three remodelled bathrooms. And now Ash, a six-foot testament to Carr’s previous life. His colouring — that had to be Elyse’s. The bone structure, too, maybe, although that had clearly seen some remodelling of its own …
‘How’s the harvest going this year?’ Ash’s voice broke into her thoughts.
‘Fermenting as we speak,’ Lizzie nodded. ‘This year was a lot less fraught than the first. We were all picked by the end of last week.’
Carr slid a glass of pinot across the table to Ash, and then handed one to Lizzie. ‘To French oak,’ he said, a glint in his eyes as they looked down into hers.
‘To French oak,’ she sighed happily. The toast was becoming something of an end-of-vintage tradition.
Briefly, Carr stroked the back of her neck, then went to check on the stove. ‘Dinner’s not far away,’ he announced.
‘What are we having?’ Lizzie asked mischievously. Carr’s cooking, though tasty, was sometimes hard to identify.
‘Shepherd’s pie.’
Ash looked hopeful. Lizzie smiled into her glass. Shepherd’s pie was their code for ‘wait and see’.
‘I’ve got a fire going in the sitting room,’ Carr added. ‘Why don’t we take our drinks in there?’
They both looked at him in surprise.
‘The sitting room?’ Ash echoed. ‘Which one’s that?’
‘Follow me.’ Carr gave his son a firm but even stare. ‘I’ll show you.’
In the sitting room — a term, she now realised, she had imposed — Lizzie settled contentedly beside Carr on the deep-buttoned leather sofa. In the huge riverstone fireplace, a fire was indeed going, and a fine one at that, its light flickering over the wood panelling and heavy damask curtains. For a second or two, she watched the logs blaze.
‘So,’ she asked Ash, ‘how does it feel to be home?’ Oh dear, that was a very personal question, arguably. ‘Back in New Zealand, I mean?’
‘Oh,’ he said, looking unoffended, ‘you know. Odd as hell. And like I’ve never been away.’
Lizzie laughed. She did know. She had been an expat herself for more years than she cared to think about. It was only a
year and a half ago that she had finally bitten the bullet and left London for the vineyard.
‘It must have been quite a different life,’ she suggested, ‘in Argentina.’
‘It was and it wasn’t.’ Ash studied the floor. ‘They do things a bit differently over there, but the cattle are still the same.’ He frowned at the rug. ‘You work in television, I hear.’
‘I used to, back in London,’ she nodded, accepting the change of subject graciously. ‘I’m pretty much out of it now.’
‘Dad said you were head of a studio.’
Had he? Lizzie glanced at Carr in amusement. He was the only person she knew who didn’t even own a TV. ‘It was more a production company,’ she said modestly.
‘You don’t miss it?’
Well, not recently. She shook her head. ‘It was another life.’
Carr’s hand slid over her knee. ‘I’ll just go sort out dinner. It should be about done.’
‘I’ll help you,’ Lizzie offered.
‘I’ve got it.’ Carr stood up. ‘Go through when you’re ready. We’re eating in the dining room.’ He glanced over at Ash. ‘Lizzie’ll show you the way.’
There was a fire burning in the dining room, too, and the candles on the old mahogany table were already lit. She smiled to herself. If Carr were trying to impress her, it was working. Her smile broadened as he shouldered open the door, a serving dish in each hand. He had drawn the line at the Spode, though.
Peering into a dish as he passed it to Lizzie, Ash’s eyebrows rose. ‘Shepherd’s pie?’ he queried, dubiously.
Carr looked at Lizzie. ‘What would you call it?’
‘I would call it’ — she spooned a helping onto her plate — ‘a daube.’
Ash blinked. ‘A what?’
‘A — a stew. Beef, I think?’
Carr nodded.
‘Well,’ Ash sat forward as Lizzie passed him the dish, ‘I’m not going to argue with that.’
Nor did he argue with a second, and then a third helping.
‘I’ll clear up,’ he volunteered, hurrying to his feet when the last of the food was gone. Lizzie had a vision of him licking the bowls in the kitchen.
Some time later, Ash stuck his head around the door of the sitting room, to which she and Carr had returned, and, with a genial yawn that could well have been fake, declared he was off to bed now. They looked at each other as the door closed and the footsteps faded away down the hall. Rising, Carr poured them both another drink.
‘So,’ Lizzie asked, as he handed her the brandy balloon, ‘how was the new shepherd’s first week?’
‘He’s doing all right.’ Carr paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes. ‘For a boy from Remuera.’
She shook her head. It was pretty difficult to imagine a teenage Ash in the Auckland suburbs. ‘It must have been hard on him,’ she said tentatively, ‘leaving this place.’
‘It wasn’t his choice,’ Carr admitted. ‘Or mine.’ He sipped his scotch. ‘But in the end, I think Elyse might have done him a favour.’
‘How’s that?’
‘He got a long, hard look at the grass on the other side.’
Lizzie swivelled to get a better look at his face. ‘Did you?’
‘Let’s just say I like to think I’m a pretty good judge of grazing.’
She decided to let that go — for now. ‘Has it been very odd having someone else in the house?’
‘Yes.’ Carr frowned. ‘But not in a bad way.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘Ash takes some feeding, though. Thank Christ we’ve got Hannah’s cousin coming soon.’
‘Your lair,’ Lizzie teased him, ‘is starting to get crowded.’
‘There’s still plenty of space,’ he told her, putting down his glass. ‘So long as no one disturbs the room where I sleep on my hoard.’
‘You might have to let someone in occasionally.’ She rested against the arm of the sofa. ‘All that treasure must need dusting.’
Carr removed the brandy balloon from her fingers. Lizzie watched his face as he parted the opposing sides of her wrap-front top and slipped them from her shoulders. His hand moved from her throat to the swell of her breast and traced its line.
‘We can’t do this in here,’ she remembered, with some difficulty. ‘Not any more.’
‘Can’t we?’ His other hand moved up her thigh, slowly raising her skirt, and then, encountering the lace of her briefs, slid them down to her knees. ‘What about this?’
‘Your son could walk in,’ she protested, faintly.
‘He’s gone to bed.’
‘What if he’s forgotten something?’
Carr looked amused. ‘I don’t think he’s going to look for it here.’
She watched the door nervously. Carr pulled back, rearranged her slightly and, for a second, appraised his work. ‘Don’t move.’ Without haste, he rose, walked to the door, and turned the key in the lock.
‘Is that better?’
Much, Lizzie thought, watching him unbutton his shirt. There was a time not so very long ago when she would have struggled with the idea of being looked at like this, but now she returned his gaze with a smile.
‘Close your eyes,’ he told her, gently.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to — but then Carr did have a habit of making it well worth her while to take direction. Eyes shut, Lizzie waited, listening for his steps on the floor, and gasped at his touch. Tonight, it seemed, was going to be no exception.
On the Friday Hannah’s cousin was due to arrive, Lizzie drove straight from a two o’clock meeting with the winery to Glencairn. Guessing that Ash and Carr might add up to too much testosterone in a strange house for one girl, she had volunteered to cook them all dinner.
The last of the sun was sliding behind the hills as she pulled up in the drive to find Carr just getting out of the Hilux. He strolled over to open her door.
‘Hi.’
Lizzie watched him flex his shoulders. ‘Tough day at the office?’
‘Had to make a few redundancies. Two truckloads of cattle. Not all of them took it well.’
She put her arms around his neck. ‘That’s management for you.’
‘Yep.’ His arms closed around her. ‘That’s why I get paid the big bucks.’
Hearing a car door slam, Lizzie drew back out of Carr’s kiss. Across the drive, Hannah’s cousin stood staring at them. Oh dear. So much for first impressions.
She pressed her palm to Carr’s abs. ‘They’re here.’
‘Who are?’ he grinned.
Lizzie narrowed her eyes at him.
‘Okay.’ His hands slid down to her hips. ‘Come on then.’ Hooking his thumb through the belt loop of her jeans, he guided her across the gravel.
‘Cally. Hi. You made it.’
The girl stared up at him with open curiosity as she shook his hand.
‘I’m Carr,’ he told her — quite gently, for him. ‘This is Lizzie.’
‘Lizzie Harrington,’ Lizzie added, in an effort to be more specific. Well, at least Carr didn’t have to explain her with some wince-making, age-inappropriate term; their relationship had no doubt been made abundantly clear. ‘Hello, Cally,’ she smiled. ‘Sorry. We didn’t hear you pull up.’
Cally’s huge hazel eyes smiled back at her, sparking with humour, but the expression barely dared lift the girl’s mouth. She looked tired, her sweet, triangular face all shadows and bones. Her difficult-looking brown hair was wrestled into a stubby ponytail, and her skin was the sort of grey that made Lizzie itch to sit her down and get a plate of vegetables inside her. All in all, Hannah’s cousin reminded Lizzie of a friendly, inquisitive field mouse about to steal in from the cold. Well, she’d found a good spot to winter — although, watching Cally shiver in her flammable-looking cardigan, Lizzie hoped she had packed some warmer clothes.
‘Come on inside,’ Carr said, in a tone that suggested he, too, thought Cally might scurry off at any moment. ‘Let’s get you settled in.’
Lizzie, turning to hold open the door, saw Cal
ly’s eyes widen even further as she got her first look at Glencairn’s enormous kitchen. She sympathised. Everything about the homestead was massive; she hoped Cally wasn’t going to die of fright when she saw the rest of the house. She exchanged a look with Carr.
‘Why don’t you …’ he suggested, holding Lizzie’s eyes.
‘Why don’t I show you up to your room?’ Lizzie offered, taking the hint. That had to be less intimidating than being shown there by two strange men. She led the way through, Ash following behind them both, Cally’s one small bag slung over his shoulder.
As they moved through the house, Lizzie, hoping to distract the new housekeeper from the scale of the task at hand, did her best to keep up a stream of chatter, filling Cally in on what she knew of the homestead and its history. Ash, despite knowing the subject so much better than she, didn’t interrupt her.
At the foot of the grand staircase, Cally, just as Lizzie herself had once done, stopped to look up, causing Ash to trip over her.
‘Sorry.’ Looking down on them from halfway up the first flight, Lizzie saw him grin as he set Cally straight. ‘I was so caught up in the commentary there, I forgot to look where I was going.’
Cally laughed. Now that, Lizzie thought, was a pretty sight. How nice that the two of them were bonding. She sneaked another look back at them as they climbed the stairs. Ash’s big, solid presence bringing up the rear reminded her of Nana the dog in Peter Pan. Lizzie frowned. Did that make her Wendy, or Tinkerbell?
‘Here we are,’ she said brightly, arriving at the door of the bedroom she had helped get ready for Cally the week before. ‘I hope you like it.’ Crossing briskly to the window, Lizzie pulled the curtains on the black line of the hills and the rapidly falling night. ‘The bathroom’s across the hall,’ she continued. ‘You just have to share it with Ash, we’ve—’ She drew back from the possessive pronoun. ‘Carr has his own. And there’s another shower downstairs. I’ll show you when you come down.’
Ash dropped Cally’s bag on the ottoman at the foot of the bed, where it let out a small puff of brown dust.
‘Sorry.’ Cally stared at the bag in dismay.
‘It’s my fault,’ Ash frowned. ‘I should have put it in the cab.’