Snowy Summer

by Patricia Weerakoon

  ‘Sweet, I’ve a mate who works at Parafield. I’ll give him a buzz, and ask him to get the necessary permits. We’ll be able to borrow his wheels once we get there. Meet you at the aerodrome at four a.m. You get some shut eye too.’

  ‘Yes, thanks, Mike.’ Roy switched off the phone.

  The website drew him back. Photographs of the Vigneron Anthony Ashley-Cooper and his wife Shiro at the Cellar door chatting with patrons, his arm around her. A picture of the couple with their two younger children. He continued reading. The son James, following his father into the wine business and the daughter, a doctor like her mother.

  He scrolled down. No pictures, and no mention of Dan. It was more evidence that he was more than a parks ranger.

  The Barossa would be beautiful at this time of the year. Roy shut his eyes, torturing himself with thoughts of Sheva with Dan: them walking through the vineyards together, watching the sunset over the rolling hills, sitting with his parents and siblings at dinner. She would be accepted into his family. They would surround her with love, and keep her happy and safe.

  He could offer her nothing but the possibility of a demented and disabled husband and an absence of children. There would be no family, just years of sorrow and pain.

  He should cancel his trip and let her turn to Dan. Dan was in love with her and it was obvious she cared for him. Love would follow, wouldn’t it? She had expected to find it with Sunil.

  He strode out of the house. It was bone-chillingly cold. He ignored the dew and damp and ran up the hill. His legs were pumping and he was panting, pushing himself, feeling the sting in his lungs and the aching pain in his calves. Ares and Tyche yelped and dashed behind him. He stopped only when he crested the hill. He stood bent over, gasping, grasping his knees. The dogs flopped beside him, panting, pink tongues lolling.

  He should not go to her, but he would.

  He slumped down on the damp grass. Drawing his legs up, he rested his arms on his knees. Spidery moon shadows of the fire-scorched gum trees lengthened over the paddocks. A blanket of darkness shrouded him and the dogs.

  Roy sat with his memories.

  A warm, wet tongue on his wrist brought him back.

  Chapter 42

  ‘Mum, I was so afraid for you.’ Sheva and her mother sat together on the back veranda of the homestead of the winery. Their hands were clasped.

  ‘There was no need, darling. Uncle HJ called me the morning you left Colombo. He instructed me to come to their house immediately, and to bring my largest handbag with my passport and any valuables. He wouldn’t say anything else. I only grabbed our photo album and jewellery.’

  ‘How much did he and Aunty Malini tell you about Sunil?’

  Her mother put her arm around Sheva. She drew Sheva’s head down on her shoulder as she had done when Sheva was young. ‘There was not much time, darling. You had already left. They took me to the airport and I took the next flight to Singapore and on to Adelaide.’ She stroked Sheva’s hair. ‘Daniel’s parents met me at the airport. They are amazing. Daniel called and explained everything to me.’

  ‘I didn’t know until a couple of days ago that you were in Australia.’

  ‘I know, darling. Daniel kept in touch. I knew everything that was happening to you, until the awful last day, of course.’

  ‘Dan called you regularly?’

  Her mother chuckled. ‘Yes, every night, after what he called the “under duress check-in” you did with him at six pm.’

  ‘Mum, what exactly did Dan tell you about me?’

  ‘Oh, he updated me on your daily activities. How all your patients love you, and how much of a hit you were with the teens!’

  ‘Mum! It was just a talk on healthy sexuality.’

  ‘He said you were making friends and were accepted into the community. He said you enjoyed walks around the lake and in the mountains.’

  Her mind swirled back to that day on Kosciuszko when she had felt safe and comforted, when she had dared to dream. What an idiotic fantasy that turned out to be. Her mother, ever alert to Sheva’s moods, raised Sheva’s head from her shoulder and looked deep into her eyes.

  ‘Darling, I am so sorry. I should have not allowed you to follow up on your promise to your dad and your grandmother. I feel so horrible for having encouraged you to spend time with Sunil. Did you fall in love with him? Did you have sex?’

  ‘Mum—’

  ‘I was so blind, darling. In my anxiety to see you happily married, I didn’t take the time to check Sunil. Dad would have seen what was happening.’

  ‘Mum—’

  ‘Sunil’s parents were worried,’ her mother continued. ‘They didn’t like his friends. They believed that once you two were married and here in Australia, he would settle down. I believed it too. You used to have such a calming influence on him as a child.’

  ‘Mum, stop! I was not in love with Sunil. It was good to be with Sunil again and, I, like you, believed he would settle down. I did love him, but not in a romantic sense, and I definitely didn’t have sex with him.’

  ‘You are crying, Sheva.’ She ran her fingers over Sheva’s tear-streaked cheeks. ‘If you are not mourning for Sunil, why are you so sad?’

  ‘It has been a difficult time, mum.’

  Her mother shook her head, ‘Something else is upsetting you, darling.’ Sheva turned her head to look at the sun’s last golden rays glint on the grapevines as her mother continued to search her face for answers. ‘Kunju, you know you can tell me anything.’

  The childhood endearment broke through the barriers she had built over the last few weeks. She burrowed into the comfort of her mother’s arms. The words tumbled out of her and the tears she had held back were let go.

  She spoke of how she had met Roy. About his father, and his mother. Even Charlene’s betrayal. She described the day in the mountains, the bushfire, and Roy’s part in saving Sunil. She sobbed of her horror at Roy’s reaction to Sunil’s words. Finally, spent and wrung out she whispered to her mother how she had refused his conditional marriage proposal. ‘Mummy,’ she sobbed, going back to her childhood way of addressing her mother, ‘he doesn’t trust me. He thinks I will leave him like his mother and his ex-fiancée. And yet—yet—’

  ‘You love him.’

  Sheva nodded, her face hidden in her mother’s neck.

  ‘I want to hate him, mummy. If I can get angry and hate him—even a little—I can stop loving him. Now all I have is this hollow place in my heart. And a sadness for him and me and for what we could have had together.’

  Her mother rocked her like she was a child again. ‘Kunju, when you love, you open yourself to pain. To sacrifice. It was like that with your dad and me. Tamil and Sinhalese. In those days, interracial marriage was forbidden. Even your dad had to work through his personal animosity towards Tamils to allow himself to love me. His parents didn’t come to our wedding. They didn’t even acknowledge our marriage. Of course,’ she added with a laugh, ‘once you were born, they couldn’t stay away.’

  ‘Mum, as a child, all I wanted was to find a man who would love and trust me like Dad loved you. I watched you and longed to have a relationship—a love—like you two had. And, silly me, I thought I would find it with Sunil, and then with Roy. I’m such a bad judge of character. It’s a good thing I’m a surgeon, not a psychologist.’

  ‘You will find love, Kunju, you will. I promise you. If not with Roy, then with another man worthy of your trust.’ Her mother continued to stroke her hair and they sat, arms around each other, lost in memories.

  ‘As much as I don’t want to interrupt the mother and daughter reunion, you’ll be eaten alive by mozzies if you sit out here much longer.’

  Her mother’s eyes moved from Dan to her. ‘Now, there,’ she whispered in Sheva’s ear, ‘is a worthy man.’

  Sheva gave her mother a small headshake and turned to smile at Dan. She
loved him, but they both knew that a relationship between them would be second best.

  ‘Sheva, we can go for a drive after dinner if you’d like to watch the sunset.’

  Sheva stood up after kissing her mother on the top of her head.

  Chapter 43

  The Cessna glided down from a cloudless sky for a perfect landing at the Parafield airport. Mike taxied to the hanger. ‘Boss,’ he called over his shoulder. He glanced down at Roy’s briefcase. ‘Do you wanna take your swag with you?

  ‘No, I’m okay.’ He glanced at his wrist. ‘We’ll probably be only a couple of hours in the Barossa. Should be done by lunchtime. We can grab a bite to eat at one of the wineries when we’re finished. Do you mind flying back in the afternoon?’

  ‘No worries.’ Mike waved out of the window to a man loping across the landing strip towards them. ‘There’s my mate, Johnno.’ He leapt out and walked over. Roy slipped out of his seat in the plane and watched as the men clapped each other on the back. After, Johnno walked over and shook hands with Roy. He gestured towards a mud-streaked jeep parked on the grass. ‘Hope you don’t mind the dirt. I just got back from a camping trip to Wilpena Pound and Flinders Rangers.’

  He waved away Roy’s thanks and attempts to pay a fee for the use of the vehicle. He shared a conspiratorial wink with Mike. ‘No worries, Mike here has done some favours for me in the past.’

  ***

  They drove away from the airport along Dakota Drive. Following the GPS, they sped down the A20, through green pastoral land and orchards with fruit ripening under sun-kissed leaves. The temperature outside was a balmy twenty-nine degrees.

  Within the hour they were at a road sign for “Barossa Valley Wineries”. This area presented them with a complete change in scenery. The undulating hills were covered in neat rows of emerald green vines, the hardy branches thick with a dense canopy of darker foliage that protected drooping bunches of ripening grapes.

  Roy unfolded the map that Johnno had handed them. He ran his finger down the list of wineries, ‘Saltram Wine Estate, Schild Estate, Seppeltsfield Wines, yes, there—number fifty-eight—“Serendipity”. Map reference E8. Let’s see, keep going on Seppeltsfield Road and take a sharp left at Samuels Avenue. The brochure says the cellar door is open from 10:30 in the morning to five in the evening. We should have access to the winery.’

  ‘Boss—’ Mike slowed as the road narrowed to a single lane— ‘why’re you concerned about access. Aren’t they expecting you?’ He snuck a sideways glance at Roy. ‘Hey, this ain’t business, is it?’

  ‘No, Mike, it’s personal.’

  Mike nodded and grinned. ‘Wouldn’t have anything to do with the new doctor would it? The one who flew out of Jindabyne yesterday on a charter flight to Adelaide with ranger Dan?’

  ‘I—why do you ask?’

  ‘Sorry, Boss, tell me to shut up and butt out if you want. There’s some gossip going round to say you’ve got a shine on the lady.’

  ‘No secrets, eh?’ Roy griped.

  ‘Small town living, Boss. And the doctor is mighty popular.’ Mike’s face split in a sly smile. ‘Want to know a secret? There’s a couple of bets on at the Wild Brumby on which of you will get the girl.’

  ‘What the—’ Roy turned to face Mike. ‘Bets on whether Dan or I will get Sheva? That’s insulting; Sheva’s a person, not a horse.’

  Mike chortled in response. ‘Just a bit of amusement, Boss. Relax, okay? People in Jindabyne bet on anything. And you’ve gotta accept it makes good odds. On one side, there’s the elusive alpaca farmer, and on the other, the equally mysterious, part-time ranger. They’re both vying for the love of the beautiful lady doctor, loved by all her patients.’

  ‘Well, I hope you’ve got your money on Dan Cooper.’

  ‘No, mate.’ Mike’s belly laugh reverberated around the car. ‘My cash is on you.’

  ‘You’re going to be disappointed.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  They drove in silence for ten minutes.

  Mike slowed. ‘I think this is it.’ He braked, and the car came to a stop. ‘Crikey. What the heck is happening here?’

  Red and white roses peeked between the ornate gothic carved tops of the white picket fence. The sign above the metal gate read, “Welcome to Serendipity Winery”, and below in smaller writing, “cellar door open 10.30 am to 5.00 pm daily”. The sign bore the crest of the winery, a picture of a stream and a sentinel-like rock on a green background.

  There was no welcome today. Instead, the gate was closed and padlocked.

  Further, a police car was parked across the drive. Two officers stepped out of the car and walked towards the jeep.

  Roy stepped out of the car and went forward to meet them.

  The older officer didn’t crack a smile. ‘The winery is closed to visitors today, sir. It’ll probably stay closed for a couple of days.’

  ‘We are not tourists.’ Roy took a step closer to the officer. ‘I am Royston Broughton-Knight.’ He pulled out his driving licence as identity. ‘This—’ he gestured to Mike— ‘is Michael Salt. We would like to speak with Daniel Cooper. I believe he is here, visiting with his family. Also, Doctor Sheva Singh, who is here with him. I’d like to speak to her.’

  The older officer’s eyes narrowed. The younger one climbed back into the car and switched on his telephone.

  ‘What is your business with Daniel Cooper?’

  ‘I flew down from Jindabyne this morning.’ Roy took a deep breath. ‘I am a friend.’

  ‘So, you have friend business so urgent, you needed to fly down on a private charter to see Daniel, as well as Doctor Singh.’

  Roy wondered what their response would be if he told them the truth. He decided to take a risk. ‘I am aware of Operation Flycatcher, and the role Doctor Singh played in it.’

  The officer glowered at Roy and Mike. ‘I don’t think Dan would want to be disturbed—’

  The younger officer seated in the car laughed. He jumped out of the car and approached them. ‘I talked on the phone to Daniel,’ he nodded at his older partner. ‘He says they’re okay.’ He looked at Roy with a twinkle in his eye. ‘Daniel said he was wondering how long it would take you to figure it out and get here.’

  The older officer turned to the car. ‘Did he want us to accompany them?’

  ‘No. Daniel says he can handle it. We’re to stay here.’

  The younger officer unlocked the gate.

  ***

  The gravel lane wound between ancient gum trees, offering tantalising glimpses of emerald green rows of trellised vines, pregnant with the promise of a rich grape harvest.

  ‘Roy, you know I have absolute trust in your father and you.’ Mike’s voice was laced with compassion and a hint of anxiety, and he slowed and turned to Roy. ‘What the heck have you gotten yourself involved in, mate? What’s Operation Flycatcher?’

  ‘Sorry, Mike. I should have said something, but I didn’t expect to see the police here. I thought it was all over.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean anything, mate.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. It’s some international sting the doctor has been helping the police with.’

  ‘And ranger Dan.’

  ‘He’s involved in the operation. That’s what made the two of them so chummy.’

  ‘The investigation’s not what has brought you dashing here from Jindy, is it? You think he and the doctor are hooking up?’

  Roy looked out at the rolling, lush hilltops. ‘Yes.’

  Mike braked at the crest of the hill. Uninterrupted vistas of grape-laden vineyards stretched to the horizon. ‘Man, what a place to live.’

  The sun glinted silver off the tin roof of the brownstone building on their right. Red gum chairs stood slanted against tables on the slate-floored veranda. The door to the building was shut.

  ‘My mate, Johnno, said
their wines are to die for.’ Mike pointed a finger at the sign “Serendipity Wines cellar door” with a “closed today” hanging from it on a metal link chain. ‘Apparently, they’re the best in the district for wines to match spicy food. They’ve won a heap of awards. Pity we won’t get to sample their wines today.’

  The lane continued down to the homestead. Mike gestured towards the house. ‘You’ve got your reception committee waiting for you, Boss.’

  The warm bricks and grey slate floor of the wide veranda showed off the single story federation-style building. Timber posts reached up to ornamental brackets. Three figures stood on the veranda.

  Dan leant against one of the timber posts, dressed in casual jeans and a pale green shirt, his hands crossed in front of him. An older man with golden, sun-streaked hair threaded with grey and weathered fair skin stood a little distance from Dan, his fingers entwined with those of a dark-skinned woman dressed in a deep green sari, whose black hair was drawn back from a clear, unlined face. The older man wore a shirt similar to Dan’s. Squinting, Roy could just make out the insignia of the winery on the pocket of the shirts.

  Sheva was not with them.

  ‘Into the lions’ den.’ Mike coasted down the lane to the house and stopped the car at the foot of the sandstone steps, leading up to the veranda. The three figures remained where they were.

  ‘Phew,’ Mike breathed out. ‘Not exactly rolling out the red carpet, are they?’

  ‘Nope, not even a welcome mat.’

  Roy stepped out and looked at Dan’s unsmiling face. The sentiment was clear in the depth of the icy cold blue eyes. It was definitely not welcoming. Roy swung his glance to the face of the older man and caught a flicker of amused irony.

  Letting go of the older man’s hand, the woman stepped down from the veranda. She extended her hand to Roy. ‘The men at the gate called through. You must be Royston Broughton-Knight?’ She glanced at Mike. ‘And, Michael Salt. Welcome to Serendipity, Royston. I am Shiro Ashley Cooper, Dan’s mum. This—’ she gestured to the older man— ‘is my husband and Dan’s dad, Anthony.’ She leant a fraction closer. The smile widened. ‘Don’t mind them. They get protective of their territory—’ her voice dropped— ‘and their women.’