Between the Vines

by Tricia Stringer

  “Hang on, Gino,” she said as she heard him say something about the lift. She turned to see a group of six people complete with luggage standing together on the other side of the lifts. She caught the eyes of one and lifted her whiteboard. Relief flooded his face and he turned to his companions as he pointed to Taylor.

  “It’s okay, Gino. I’ve found them.” Taylor disconnected her phone before he could say any more.

  A text binged and she peered at it, her lips turning up in a smile.

  Missing you, it read. It was from Ed.

  Stuff Gino and his job, she was over it. She glanced at the screen one more time. A babble of Italian voices carried as the group moved towards her. Taylor recognised a few words. She pushed her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. She’d answer Ed’s message later. For now she stretched her smile wider and greeted her customers.

  They were staying in the Adelaide Hills. She took them to Mount Lofty for the view and a coffee shop in Hahndorf, keen to make amends for her lateness, before dropping them at their accommodation. Only one of the group spoke English very well but he made it clear they were all happy and had forgiven her lateness.

  It was nearly two o’clock by the time she was back in the city. She pulled over to ring Gino. It irked her to apologise to him but at least she could report the customers were happy. Taylor reached into her pocket but there was no phone. She felt the seat behind her, nothing. She climbed out of the van, searched in and around and under every seat. Nothing.

  “Damn!” She thumped the roof of the van. It was a battered old phone but it had everything stored in it. Losing her phone was the last thing she needed. She’d have to retrace her travels. See if she could find it. Gino would go bananas if he couldn’t contact her but that was the least of her concerns. Ed’s number was saved in the phone.

  CHAPTER

  7

  Ed was already in the office when Pete got there. The bright morning sun was angling under the roof of the verandah and through the glass. Ed was standing in front of the whiteboard where they had a rough map of their tanks, hands on hips, staring.

  “Good morning,” Pete said.

  Ed’s reply was little more than a grunt. They were both tired. It had been a busy week and was only going to get worse now until vintage ended.

  “What are you looking at?” Pete stood beside his brother.

  “We’re not going to have enough storage for this vintage.”

  Pete studied the rough map. “Yes we will.” He pointed to some names scribbled on the board. “The rest of the whites will be transported out by the end of the week.”

  “It’s the reds I’m worried about. This vintage is looking like a big one. There won’t be enough open-tops for the NS18.”

  Pete felt his chest tighten. He hated conflict. He knew their tanks would be full this vintage so he’d already planned what to do with their new cabernet grapes and it didn’t involve selling them off to the highest bidder like Ed wanted to do.

  “Yes there is,” he said. “In here.” He tapped on two squares on the bottom corner of the board, where nothing had been written for years.

  “Dad’s original open cement tanks?”

  “Yep.”

  “They haven’t been used for years.”

  “I’ve started cleaning them up and lining them with wax.”

  “They won’t be big enough. After Dad bought the new stainless steel open-top tanks he rarely used them.”

  “I know.” Pete kept his voice steady. He needed to convince Ed, not stir his easy anger. “The NS18 is only two hectares. Once we’ve bunch thinned, we’ll be lucky to have eight tonnes. The concrete open-tops will comfortably fit five tonne each.”

  Ed turned to look at him. “I thought we agreed not to thin too much.”

  “We talked about it.”

  “It’s only mid-February. Surely you wouldn’t do it yet?”

  “No, but soon.” Pete turned back to his brother. “These vines are still young. We don’t want to cripple them with too much fruit.”

  “I’d hoped to have as much as possible to sell but I agree we don’t want to compromise the vines. Just don’t take too much.”

  Pete stood his ground. “I want only the best fruit for the icon wine I plan to make from this year’s NS18.”

  Ed’s jaw clenched, frown lines creased his forehead and his eyes darkened. Pete prepared himself. Ed was going to explode any moment. They held each other’s gaze then Ed let out a sigh. He shook his head, walked away and slumped into the chair behind Pete’s desk.

  “I’ve told you we need to expand.” Ed pushed back in the chair and put his hands behind his head. “I don’t know how else to get the money other than to sell the NS18.”

  Pete opened his mouth to speak but Ed held up his hand.

  “Just for this year,” he said. “After that you can make your precious cabernet that’s going to be the next best thing since John Riddoch established Coonawarra.”

  The spite in his tone only made Pete’s chest tighten more. Ed always thought his decisions were more important.

  “Why do we need to expand?”

  “We’ve been over this before, Peter.” Ed sat forward and thumped the desktop. “We’ve got all our eggs in one basket here. There’s a vineyard for sale further north and I think we should buy it.”

  Pete opened his mouth to protest but Ed’s mobile rang and he put it to his ear.

  “Yes, Felickity.”

  Pete listened as Ed spoke to their office manager. He was all jokes and charm when it came to Felicity.

  Ed put his phone back in his pocket and stood up.

  “The tanker’s here for the shiraz.”

  There was no more time for conversation. They both headed out the door. Ed turned left to let the tanker in. Pete turned right to reach the tanks filled with his red wine. He knew everything was ready but he couldn’t relax until the shiraz he’d been working on since it was harvested two years earlier was in the bottle. He hated this part of the process. Once it went into the tanker for transportation to the bottling line it was out of his control. He looked everything over one more time and came to a stop as the tanker pulled up next to him.

  Pete didn’t get a chance to talk with Ed any further. Their day took them in different directions. Pete was back in his cottage with his head stuck in the fridge trying to work out what he’d eat for his evening meal when there was a tap on his back door. He looked up and his heart sank in his weary body. Ed came inside. Pete didn’t have the strength left in him to discuss the cabernet.

  “Everything all right?” Ed’s question took Pete by surprise.

  “All right?”

  “The shiraz. The tanker was loaded and got away okay? I didn’t get a chance to come back and see you afterwards.”

  Pete shut the fridge. “Oh. Yes.” He put a container with assorted cold meats on the bench. “All went as well as could be expected.”

  “Great.”

  Ed shifted his feet. Pete could see there was something he wanted to say but he was in no mood to argue. He tried to deflect.

  “I was just going to throw together an antipasto, do you want some?”

  “No, thanks. I’ve still got some jobs to do.” Ed ran his fingers through his thick dark hair. “I just came to tell you I’m going away for a few days.”

  “When?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  Pete looked at his brother in surprise. The lead-up to vintage was a funny time to go away.

  “There are only a couple more tanks to be emptied and cleaned,” Ed said. “You and Ben should be able to manage that. Then we’re waiting on the fruit.”

  “The riesling comes off as soon as we can get a machine.”

  “I thought you had that lined up.”

  “I did but Terry’s giving priority to his own grapes. That’s the trouble with contract harvesters.”

  “Don’t start on that again. We haven’t got the money for a machine harvester of our own.”


  “Just telling you why we’re waiting on our grapes.”

  “You’ve got Ben, and Noelene will lend a hand. You won’t miss me.”

  Pete was grateful for his friend Ben who worked for them as a cellar hand when they were busy. And Noelene’s support could always be relied on. Pete studied Ed. He’d have thought by now his brother would fully understand the importance of timing for good wine production but he was right about one thing: their relationship was more tense than usual at the moment and Pete could do without the grief.

  “Are you seeing that girl?”

  Ed frowned. “Girl?”

  “The one from Adelaide, what was her name?”

  “Taylor.”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  Pete hovered uneasily. How had his relationship with his brother become so bad they couldn’t hold a proper conversation?

  “I’m spending some time in Melbourne. I’ve snagged an opportunity to attend a marketing meeting.”

  “Who will be there?” Pete’s hopes rose. If Ed found new markets for their wine he might go off this buying more land idea.

  “Not sure yet but I have a ticket to a sommeliers’ dinner in Sydney.”

  “Sydney? How long did you say you’ll be gone?”

  “A few days. I’ll keep you posted.”

  Pete studied Ed but he turned away.

  “Ben will be here. You’ll be right till vintage and I’ll be back before then.”

  “Enjoy,” was all Pete had a chance to say before Ed disappeared out the door.

  Pete shook his head. There was plenty to get done before vintage. Ed didn’t consider all the little clean-up jobs and preparations but he was right, Pete and his mate Ben could manage, they always had. Without Ed around for a few days, life would be less tense.

  Pete opened the fridge again, took out a bottle of riesling and poured himself a glass. He swirled the wine. The citrus smell greeted him, with a hint of kerosene. The wine was aging well. He took a sip then put down the glass and looked for more things to add to his antipasto. There was still a jar of Noelene’s pickled cauliflower in the back of the fridge along with some olives and sun-dried tomatoes. He began to whistle as he set the food out on the plate. It was as if a weight had lifted from his shoulders. He hadn’t realised what a relief not having Ed around for a few days would be.

  CHAPTER

  8

  The computer chimed on the desk in the corner of Taylor’s living room. She glanced at her watch. Even though she’d slept in she still had a few minutes before she needed to be on the road heading to her first job. She walked slowly across the room and moved the mouse to wake up the screen. Her parents had bought the computer before they left so they could talk to each other via Skype. She rubbed a hand across her forehead while she waited, then blinked to clear her vision as the screen came to life. It was Monday morning, a whole twenty-four hours after Rosie’s wedding but she still felt hung over.

  She scanned the long list of emails. At least with her new phone she wouldn’t need to rely on the computer. Most of the emails were junk but there was one from her parents. She sat down at the computer to read it. They were heading to a more remote location in Cambodia and couldn’t Skype for a week or so. Her mother gave a brief rundown of the work they’d done that week and asked her to call on Gran and let her know they were okay. They’d tried to ring her and Gran but with no luck.

  Taylor closed her eyes and massaged her throbbing temples. She had noticed a missed call from her parents late last week but between her job and the wedding she hadn’t called back. Now she wished she had. She could ring her gran but she felt obliged to at least try to visit. She hadn’t been there for weeks. Gran wasn’t easy to be with. She didn’t approve of her parents’ life choices, nor Taylor’s for that matter.

  When Pa was alive they’d lived at Burnside. Gran had sold the big house and built this flat at the back of her parents’ more humble home at West Beach but hadn’t enjoyed living there. Especially because there was rarely anyone home. She’d said the granny flat was too lonely but Taylor knew it was also about location. Gran had purchased a place in a retirement village closer to where she used to live.

  Taylor’s mobile rang. She’d been able to keep her number but not all her contacts. Gino’s, of course, was one that hadn’t been lost. She glanced at his name on the screen, took a deep breath and answered. She winced as his voice boomed in her ear.

  “Settle down, Gino.” Taylor pulled her notepad and pen from her pocket. “Tell me the address again.”

  It was mid-afternoon when Taylor pulled into the car park near her gran’s apartment. She looked at herself in the rear-view mirror. Her headache had retreated to a dull throb and her face looked pale. Gran was fussy about appearances. Taylor fluffed her flyaway hair and put on some lipstick. That would have to do.

  “Coming,” Gran’s singsong voice crooned as soon as Taylor pushed the doorbell of her second-floor apartment.

  Taylor pulled her face into a bright smile as the door opened.

  “How fortuitous. I was going to call you.” Her grandmother gave her a loose hug then held her at arms-length and studied her closely. “You look a bit pasty dear. Are you drinking plenty of water and getting lots of sleep? They’re the best maintenance for your body you know.”

  Taylor stepped gingerly onto the white carpet as her trim, smartly dressed gran closed the door behind her.

  “You’re lucky you caught me. I’m going out.” Gran looked at the delicate diamond watch on her arm. “I’ve got thirty minutes. Would you like a cup of green tea?”

  “Just plain tea would be fine, thanks.” Taylor followed her across the small but stylish living room to the kitchen. “Mum’s been trying to ring you. They’re going somewhere remote again. They’ll be out of touch for a while.”

  Taylor heard the click of her grandmother’s tongue as she turned on the kettle. It grated to think she wasn’t proud of her daughter and her generosity. Gran had played the part of the doctor’s wife for years, keeping her home immaculate, raising one child, entertaining and travelling overseas. Pa had always been on some committee or other but rarely Gran. She was a firm believer in charity beginning at home. Taylor’s mother had followed in Pa’s footsteps. Taylor sometimes wished her parents spent a little more time at home but she was used to their absence now and they certainly didn’t warrant Gran’s disapproval.

  “Sit down, dear.” Gran set two pink floral placemats on the table then gave Taylor a gentle pat on the cheek. “Tell me what you’ve been doing? I hope you’ve given up that dreadful courier job. You’re capable of so much more.”

  Taylor sat. Once more she gritted her teeth. “I’m looking for something else,” she said vaguely. It wasn’t a lie. Now that the wedding was over she was giving more thought to doing something different.

  “Gemma rang me last week.” Gran waved a hand in the air. “She’s loving paediatrics.”

  “Yes, we Skyped.” Taylor had heard all about her older sister’s latest promotion. She was glad for Gemma but she wouldn’t want her lifestyle.

  “Pity you didn’t go into medicine. You were bright enough.” Gran put a cup of tea in front of her. “Still, you must be able to get a decent income from a business degree if you’d only find something suitable. Now, I haven’t much time, dear, and I have a favour to ask.”

  Taylor studied her gran’s immaculately made-up face. She wasn’t one to waste time on small talk. “What is it?”

  “I have friends coming from the UK. They were going to stay with me but now I find they’re staying for a month. My little apartment is too small for us to be together that long. I was hoping you could move back into your parents’ house and they could have my flat.”

  “There’s someone in Mum and Dad’s place.”

  “I know but it’s only one man. The two of you would hardly trip over each other. I’d rather they had the house but I can’t expect them to move in with a stranger. My flat would be perfect f
or them.”

  Taylor opened her mouth and closed it. She had a job she no longer liked, no ties and now Gran was suggesting she move out of her home. What was she doing with her life?

  “You could have your old room. It wouldn’t make much difference to you.”

  Taylor looked at the cup of green tea and her feeling of dislocation was replaced by anger. It was as if she was invisible. If she were Gemma, Gran wouldn’t be shunting her around. Ed’s big smile and his suggestion to come back played in her mind. Damn it, what did she have to lose?

  “As it turns out I’ll be out of touch for a while too,” she blurted. “I won’t need the flat.”

  “Oh are you travelling again? Where to this time?”

  “Not overseas. I’m going bush.” Coonawarra was hardly the bush but Gran thought bush was any space bigger than the parklands.

  “Oh.” Gran’s tone wasn’t quite disapproving. “Have you found a new job?”

  “Possibly. I’m going to check it out.” She knew the vagueness of her reply would annoy her tightly scheduled and organised grandmother.

  “Where exactly in the bush?”

  “Haven’t decided yet.”

  “Is that wise?” A tiny frown creased Gran’s brow.

  “You suggested I should try something new.”

  “Not necessarily ‘new’, just a job that better suits your qualifications.”

  Taylor stood up. “We’ll see.”

  “Will you do that blab thing again?”

  “Blog?”

  “Whatever it’s called I won’t be able to access it. I used to read it on your parents’ computer when I lived in the flat. It was quite interesting.”

  “Maybe.”

  That was high praise coming from Gran. Taylor had set up the blog as a way to keep her family filled in on her travels the first time she’d gone overseas. She’d kept adding to it, although not often when she wasn’t travelling, just the odd quirky thing that happened. She had a reasonable number of followers besides her family.

  “The computer’s still in the flat. You can use that.” She brushed her lips over her gran’s cheek. “I’ll clear my stuff out of the flat. Nice to see you, Gran. I’ll let myself out.” She walked away from the untouched tea and out the front door.