You Said Forever

by Susan Lewis

  Chapter Five

  It was early in the morning with a misty rain meandering over the bay and small rabbits and quail busily foraging for food as Anthony and Will netted a large parcel of vines on Waimarama Road. Birds had been hammering the fruit for several days now, making it high time it was covered, especially with a first full yield expected from the Cabernet Franc grapes this year. When Anthony had bought the vineyard over four years ago Dave McKee, the winemaker at Black Barn, had advised him to pull out all the Cabernet Sauvignon vines as they really didn’t do well in this soil. Anthony had followed the advice, and at the same time had welcomed Dave’s recommendation of Will Abbots as his winemaker.

  Will had done a fantastic job here at Tuki River, everyone agreed with that; at blind tastings amongst professionals his wines often came out in the top three, and thanks to him Tuki River had, in this short time, gained something of a reputation locally, if not elsewhere.

  So the problem wasn’t with the wine, it was with the marketing, which was Anthony’s domain, and he couldn’t feel more frustrated with himself that he hadn’t made a better job of it. The problem was he hadn’t done enough research at the outset, and just to compound matters he’d encouraged Charlotte to pour whatever money she wanted into building a dream house, restructuring the cellar door and revamping the retreats. All of that could, and should have waited until the business was properly established and all the right strategies and staff were in place to make it work.

  However, it was too late to change things now, the money was spent, and since they had a home that Charlotte and the children adored, an extremely inviting cellar door and retreats that at least paid for themselves, he guessed they had something good to show for their rash investment. Of course they had the vineyard and winery too, which in fairness had taken up most of the capital, and since they were in the Special Character Zone of Hawkes Bay they really shouldn’t fail.

  ‘The first years are often tough,’ Kim Thorp from Black Barn had reminded him over dinner at Craggy Range last night, ‘but you’re doing all the right things to push through and turn your fortunes around.’

  ‘By selling the 2014 as cleanskins?’ he’d asked bitterly.

  ‘You’ve sold, that’s what matters,’ Kim had responded. ‘OK, not the way you wanted, or for the price you’d hoped for, but sometimes it goes like that. It’s happened to plenty of start-ups over the years, and a good many of them have gone on to survive, and to establish their brands. It’ll happen for you is my prediction. With Will making the wine, and Zoe working on the marketing …’

  ‘I’d hoped to do better than this for the first order I brought in,’ Zoe told him regretfully.

  ‘You’ve helped move what’s left of that vintage out of storage,’ Andy Coltart reminded her. ‘That was your first task, and you’ve achieved it. Christ, we should be celebrating here. You’ve only been on the case a couple of months and in that time you’ve pulled off what no one else has managed since that vintage went into bottles.’

  Anthony had felt his failings acutely in that moment; however, he wasn’t someone to let past difficulties overshadow the way they went forward. With around eight weeks to go before picking began he’d be assisting Will every step of the way, but he needed to work with Zoe too, which was going to end up leaving precious little time for his family. This didn’t please him at all, for as committed as he was to working the land and learning everything he could about the making and selling of wine, he loved being with the children. Nothing mattered as much as watching their simple joys and earnest endeavours; or eating with them at Rick’s Bistro, or somewhere in the village. Family days out at Ocean beach, a bike ride up Te Mata Peak, or a picnic and swim at Maraetotara Falls gave him more pleasure than anything he could remember from before they were born.

  However, the needs of the business had become paramount, and he was sure Charlotte would rather he didn’t let them slide into bankruptcy for the sake of spending more time being a dad. It could always come later, once they were properly on their feet, by which time heaven only knew if their marriage would still be intact.

  Was it his fault that he and Charlotte had lost their closeness? He’d asked himself that a thousand times, and though he felt sure it must be, trying to get her to respond to him, even physically, these days was proving even harder than getting someone to buy their wines. Still, at least a breakthrough had been made on that front, such as it was, which reminded him, before he went over to Wineworks later to discuss export, he needed to go to the bank to organise a sixty-day loan to keep them afloat until payment for the order came in.

  Taking out his mobile as it rang, he saw it was Charlotte and clicked on. ‘Hi. What is it?’ he asked brusquely.

  Just as tersely, she said, ‘Can you cover the cellar door for part of this morning?’

  ‘I’m busy. Why?’

  ‘I have to go into school to get some things for Chloe.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I didn’t get a chance to tell you last night, but she’s been suspended and from now on, at least for the next few weeks, we have to educate her at home.’

  Stunned, he swore under his breath and turned away from the nets. ‘What did she do?’ he demanded.

  ‘The same as before, but slightly worse.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Do you really want the details?’

  No, he really didn’t. What he wanted was to get hold of the perverted bastard Brian Wade, who’d sexualised his own daughter by the time she was three, and kill him. ‘Is she all right?’ he asked gruffly.

  ‘I think so. Don’t ask me about the other children who were involved because I don’t know. I can only tell you that they’ve had enough at Te Mata so they’re putting it to the Board of Trustees.’

  ‘Which means?’

  ‘Exclusion, probably. Apparently they can’t do that without finding her another school first, but until then it’s over to us.’

  Signalling to Will that he’d be right back, Anthony wandered further along the vines. ‘What are we going to do?’ he asked, knowing this was far bigger than either of them was capable of handling without the proper backup.

  ‘What we’re being told,’ she replied. ‘I’m picking up the materials they’ve put aside at ten o’clock and for the rest of the morning I’ll be teaching. If you could take over for an hour or so this afternoon …’

  ‘Charlotte, you know that’s not possible. I can’t even cover the cellar door. We have to get these nets on or the birds are going to devastate the fruit.’

  ‘I understand that, but I can’t do everything myself …’

  ‘Can Rick or Hamish help out?’

  ‘They’re doing breakfasts this morning until midday, then turning straight around for lunch.’

  Sighing, he said, ‘Then let Rowan go to the school.’

  ‘She needs to stay with Chloe and Elodie while I go. I’m her mother, for heaven’s sake, I can’t just send someone else. Think how it would look.’

  Conceding the point, he said, ‘You’ll have to call Black Barn to ask if anyone there can help with the cellar door for a couple of hours. If they can’t it’ll just have to close until you can open up again.’

  ‘And will you make some time to teach Chloe this afternoon?’

  ‘If I could, I would, but it just isn’t possible.’

  ‘OK, thanks for nothing,’ and the line went dead.

  Furious, he came close to ringing back, but even if he did the answer would still be the same. He had no more time to start home-schooling Chloe than he did to get any deeper into the argument.

  As he walked back to the nets he wasn’t sure who he was the angriest at, himself, Charlotte or Chloe. Since his emotions had become horribly conflicted about Chloe of late he quickly passed over them, with a reminder that she was hardly responsible for what was making her behave the way she was. How they were going to get past all the disruption and tension she was causing was anyone’s guess, but they absolutely had to fin
d a way. It was getting to a point where the atmosphere she created was intolerable, even toxic at times, and he didn’t always trust her around the little ones. He felt sure Charlotte didn’t either. To call her a cuckoo in the nest would have been cruel in the extreme, but he often wondered if it wasn’t how she saw herself, and if she did, how much were he and Charlotte to blame for that?

  After winning the trial, freeing Charlotte from a charge of child abduction, he should have stepped away for a while, given her some time to think, to decide what she really wanted. Instead, he feared he’d overwhelmed her with his feelings, swept her off her feet in a way she might not have been ready for. She’d always claimed she was, but everything back then had happened so fast – the adoption, Cooper suddenly being on the way, the wedding in the Bay of Islands on the beach where she and Chloe had lived during the time they were in hiding. Meanwhile, her stepfather was setting everything in motion for him, Anthony, to fulfil the dream of owning a vineyard, which had ended up falling through, but that hadn’t deterred Bob. Within weeks he’d found this place in Hawkes Bay, unnamed at the time since all it had produced was cleanskin wines, and now it looked as though it was going to continue that way.

  The point was, neither he nor Charlotte had had time to think about what they were doing, or even what they really wanted. It had all just happened and now, though he knew neither of them would ever regret bringing Chloe with them, in spite of everything they loved her too much for that, he was afraid that Charlotte might no longer feel the same about being married to him.

  After several days of sorting out books, a learning schedule and various school-type materials, this was Charlotte’s third day of trying to teach Chloe at home and it wasn’t going well. It was a shame, because the first two days had actually been more fun than frustration. Far too much time had passed since she and Chloe had embarked on projects together, or laughed so much over silly things, and she’d loved feeling that connection again, but sadly it wasn’t happening today.

  Probably, Charlotte conceded, because Chloe was getting fed up with how often Charlotte’s mobile kept ringing, and with Rowan out on a hike with friends, Elodie was proving a distraction too. However, Elodie was fast asleep on the sofa at the moment, and the phone was on silent so time to press on.

  ‘OK,’ Charlotte said, doing her best to sound firm and interested as she attempted to return Chloe to the book they were supposed to be working from. ‘We’re coming up with adjectives,’ she reminded her. ‘You need to fill in the gaps …’

  ‘I don’t want to,’ Chloe complained.

  ‘You have to. So: the blank cat was asleep on the blank chair. Give me some alternatives for the blanks.’

  After a groan of boredom Chloe broke into a mischievous grin, proving she was more engaged than she was letting on. ‘The stupid cat was asleep on the disgusting chair,’ she declared wickedly.

  Charlotte slanted a look that made Chloe giggle, and supposing it would have to do, she pointed to the next one.

  Obediently, Chloe said, ‘The smelly dragon came out of the pervert’s cave.’

  Charlotte’s head throbbed. ‘That’s not an adjective,’ she stated.

  Chloe merely shrugged.

  ‘What made you use that word? I don’t expect you even know what it means.’

  Yawning, Chloe said, ‘Can we have a story now?’

  Still not sure what to do about the ‘pervert’s cave’, Charlotte said, ‘We’ve only just started this.’

  ‘It’s boring. I want to do something else.’

  ‘How do you know the word pervert?’

  ‘I don’t know, I can’t remember.’

  ‘Do you know what it means?’

  ‘My real daddy was one.’

  Charlotte stared at her hard. Since she was monitoring Chloe’s online activity she could only conclude that someone at school had thrown the joyful little epithet at her, having picked it up from a parent.

  ‘I want to go back to school,’ Chloe declared, scribbling across her exercise book.

  ‘I’m afraid that isn’t an option.’

  ‘Ask Mr Bain. He’ll say yes, you’ll see.’

  ‘He can’t, Chloe, and you know why.’

  Chloe’s eyes narrowed angrily.

  ‘Don’t do that,’ Charlotte snapped.

  ‘Why not?’

  Because it makes you look like your father and I’d rather never be reminded of him, thank you very much. ‘Because it makes you look ugly.’

  ‘I am ugly.’

  ‘No you’re not. Now let’s do this please.’

  ‘It’s not my fault those other children made me take my pants off – and they did too, so why aren’t they in trouble?’

  ‘You know very well that no one should take their pants off at school.’

  ‘I like taking mine off. It feels nice. And everyone else likes it too, so it’s not just me.’

  Though Charlotte realised it wasn’t unusual for children Chloe’s age to play risky games, there was no getting away from the fact that when they had the kind of history Chloe did there was nothing benign or acceptable about it.

  ‘I only do it when they tell me to,’ Chloe informed her.

  ‘When who tells you to?’

  Chloe shrugged. ‘Them.’

  Charlotte felt herself starting to tense. ‘Who tells you to take your pants off?’ she pressed.

  ‘They do.’

  ‘Who are they?’

  ‘I don’t know. They just tell me and so I do it.’

  More than a little unsettled by what she was hearing, Charlotte caught Chloe’s hands and held them tight. ‘Can you hear people speaking inside your head?’ she demanded urgently.

  ‘You’re hurting me,’ Chloe protested, snatching her hands away.

  Charlotte repeated the question.

  ‘No. I can just hear you keeping on and on and on at me and I want to go home.’

  ‘You are home.’

  ‘I mean to my real home, in England.’

  Before Charlotte could respond her mobile rang and since it was a call she had to take she clicked on, watching Chloe from the corner of her eye as she kicked Elodie’s toys out of the way and made off towards the stairs.

  For the next half an hour Charlotte was tied up dealing with bookings, the cleaning roster and chasing delivery of fifteen specially commissioned oak barrels from France. By the time she’d finished Chloe was nowhere to be seen and Rowan was back with Cooper, who promptly woke up Elodie.

  Enchanted by how thrilled both children were to see her, she embraced them hard and continued to cuddle Elodie as Cooper babbled on about his day at kindi.

  ‘Where’s Chloe?’ Rowan asked, giving the children a drink each.

  ‘In her room I expect,’ Charlotte answered, glancing at the abandoned schoolbooks. ‘I’m afraid we didn’t get very far today.’ Should she try to talk to Chloe again, find out more about these voices that were telling her to do things? Though Charlotte realised she could be overreacting, or misconstruing what Chloe had said, she was haunted by the fact that Chloe’s birth mother had been a paranoid schizophrenic. It was possible for the disorder to be passed on, Charlotte knew that, but how likely it was, or whether it might be happening here she had no idea.

  To Rowan she said, ‘Can I leave you in charge while I pop down to the cellar door for a while?’

  ‘Of course. Did Chloe eat her lunch?’

  ‘Yes, but I expect she’d like a biscuit or something now. If you find her on the iPad remind her that she’s only allowed online games for an hour today and she’s already had it.’

  Twenty minutes later Charlotte was at the cellar door, on the phone to her mother.

  ‘Oh Charlotte, you know what children are like,’ Anna sighed, sounding tired, but not unsympathetic. ‘It isn’t unusual to have an imaginary friend, or friends …’

  ‘But this is Chloe we’re talking about and you know about her mother …’

  ‘I also know that she’s upset at the mo
ment. She’s been suspended from school, which is no small thing, she’s uncertain about what’s happening to her, how things are going to play out going forward, where the right and wrong is in what’s she’s doing with other children …’

  ‘She knows it’s wrong, but she still does it. It’s like she can’t help herself.’

  ‘Whatever, I’m sure there are all sorts of things going round in her head. It doesn’t mean she’s becoming schizophrenic. It just means she’s confused and understandably anxious about the way things are changing.’

  Ready, or needing to believe her mother was right about the schizophrenia, Charlotte found herself breathing a little easier. ‘But it’s yet another example,’ she pointed out bleakly, ‘of how I jumped into taking her on without thinking it through.’

  ‘You did what you had to at the time, what you felt was right, and there’s no going back on it, so you …’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Charlotte cried angrily. ‘Who said I wanted to go back on it? I’m merely admitting how naïve I was when I adopted her. I suppose I presumed that she would always be the sweet-natured, shy little girl she was then, and that being with me would help her to put her past behind her. I completely ignored what the experts say about the first thousand days from conception being the most critical in shaping a child. The real damage had already been done, there was no way to erase it, which isn’t to say I wouldn’t have adopted her, because of course I would. I love her, we all do, and as far as I’m concerned she’s as much a part of this family as Cooper and Elodie.’

  ‘Indeed,’ her mother said emphatically, ‘and I can tell from your tone that what I’ve been hearing is true. You’re overworked, exhausted, stressed …’

  ‘You’ve been talking to Rick.’

  ‘And Rowan. They’re worried about you.’

  ‘They don’t need to be. I’m fine. Things are starting to look up, actually. We’ve sold the 2014 white wines at last and as of today we have some money in the bank.’