Black Diamonds (18 page)

In her tiny kitchen she poured herself some wine and set about preparing linguine with marinara sauce and a fresh green salad. Earlier she’d made a trip into Margaret River to grab some groceries. Turning her jeep out of the Paradise driveway onto the main road, with its long lines of karri trees on either side, the huge sign for Antoine Estate had loomed up in front of her, a white wooden cross just beyond it. What had Xavier called those crosses?
Descansos
: a reminder of how we must seize the happiness we find in life. Perhaps she ought to try to appreciate the happy memories of her time in France. It had been the adventure of a lifetime, after all. So why did she feel as if something had died?

Xavier’s French accent came floating back to her, as if he were calling her name. “
Jacaranda
…”

“Stop it!” she exclaimed aloud. “Stop it!” She steadied herself on the edge of the sink. Picking up the pasta and salad she carried them carefully into the sitting room and sat down at the table. Nothing seemed to have any taste. She toyed with her salad, her appetite nil. Even the merlot tasted sour.

The wine glass in her hand, she abandoned her meal and sank onto the sofa, resting her head back against the cushions. Hopefully Dean and Mia would come soon. All she wanted was to crawl in to bed, and let the awful day be over. She knew what jetlag was all about now. Maybe it was something to do with the time change and the direction of travel around the globe. Her head ached and her whole body felt sore. It hadn’t been as bad when she’d gone the other way and travelled to the Dordogne, though she’d needed to nap, she remembered. Xavier had checked on her while she’d slept. Even in her dreams she had sensed him near.

Xavier.

Xavier.

“Jackie? Jackie, it’s us. Are you still awake? Can we come in?”

From outside the French windows came the sound of footsteps and Mia’s voice. The wine sloshing in her glass, Jackie jumped up and opened the screen doors.

“Welcome home, Jackie. You all right? Mia tells me you’ve had quite a trip.” Dean gave her an awkward pat on the shoulder as he followed Mia into the sitting room.

Somehow she managed to smile. Dean might not be demonstrative, but he had a heart of gold. “I’m okay. Just a bit of jet lag and a headache, that’s all. Thanks for coming around tonight.” She pointed to her wine glass. “Would you like some merlot?”

Mia was all sharp eyed scrutiny. “No thanks, love. We won’t stay long. You need to get some sleep. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Fine!” Even to her own ears, her insistence sounded hollow. She took another gulp of wine. “Have a seat.”

“You’d better tell Jackie what you just told me.” Mia settled into one of the wicker chairs, her long skirt overflowing.

Perched on the edge of the other chair, his hands clasped loosely in front of him, Dean cleared his throat. “I’m not sure where to start. It all goes back to when your dad first started Paradise. He took a huge gamble, you know, starting a truffle farm. People thought he was crazy.” He released a slight guffaw. “I have to admit, I thought he was pretty crazy too.”

Jackie smiled. Her pa had been called a mad scientist for insisting truffles would grow in Western Australia. “Lots of people did.”

“Tom took a gamble, and he was proved right in the end. But at first … well, it did seem crazy. All there was around here was scrubby bush, not wineries and hotels and restaurants like there are today. You won’t remember what the Margaret River region was like when your dad came here. You weren’t born then, of course.”

“Pa told me a lot about the early days here.” Jackie had always loved hearing his stories. “But he didn’t tell me anything about the dam.”

“He probably didn’t think he’d ever need to,” Dean explained. “It was so laid back in those days. That was part of the problem. You see, there was a bit of confusion about property boundaries between Paradise and the property next door. It turned out that some of your dad’s land was actually the neighbour’s land. But by the time he found out about it, your dad had already started on his dam.”

“You know how much it costs to drill for a dam, love,” Mia put in.

Dean nodded. “It took a big part of his capital. Money was scarce, and Tom started Paradise on a shoestring. It would have ruined him if he’d had to start drilling the bore for his dam again.”

Jackie leaned forward, her fingers tight around the stem of her wine glass. “Go on, Dean. How was it resolved?”

“Well, your dad had the Irish gift of the gab, as we all know, and he was as honest as the day is long. It was a genuine mistake, everyone knew that. Tom sorted it out, and they came to a deal. The neighbours reclaimed the land, but they kept the dam your dad had drilled, with the agreement that your dad could use all the water Paradise needed. It worked well. As far as I know, there’s never been any trouble with the arrangement.”

“There’s plenty of water for both,” Mia added. “No one wanted a big battle over it, by the sound of things.”

“It was all fair and square,” Dean agreed. “There was a lawyer in Perth who set it all up. I can’t remember the name off hand, but I’m sure I can find out.”

Limp as a rag doll Jackie fell back against the sofa. All the life had gone out of her. “So the Paradise dam does belong to Xavier Antoine?”

“That’s right. It’s on Antoine Estate land now. But you don’t have to worry; Paradise ought to be able to prove their access to the water. It would hold up in court, I’m sure.”

“It’s good news, isn’t it, love?” Mia beamed. “Your trees are safe.”

“Yes, that’s good,” Jackie managed to whisper.

Dean stood up. “Well, we won’t keep you anymore tonight, Jackie. You look done in. If I remember anything else I’ll let you know. I’m sure it can all be worked out. You’re not to worry about it, you hear?”

She struggled to stand, but her trembling legs refused to move.
It’s shock
, she realised.

“I’ll try not to worry.” Her mouth found it hard to form the words. “Thanks for coming to tell me, Dean.”

“Don’t get up now.” He gave her another awkward pat. “We can see ourselves out.”

Mia leaned over her, concern creasing the lines around her eyes. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay tonight, Jackie?”

Her voice came from far away. “Yes. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll come and check on you tomorrow, all right? Go to bed. Get some sleep now.”

The screen door slammed behind them. “Good night!”

Their footsteps faded away, crunching across the gravel.

Inside the cottage Jackie experienced a strange sense of being out of herself, as if she were playing a role in a film. She watched herself sink further down into the sofa, her glass still in her hand. One by one, she unfurled her fingers from the stem. Taking a sip of merlot, she licked her lips. They were numb.

The only taste she ever wanted on her lips again belonged to Xavier Antoine.

What had she done? Why hadn’t she listened to him? Why hadn’t she trusted him?

In that moment, with every sense of her body, she knew. She loved him. She loved him! She loved Xavier. She’d loved him from the first moment she met him, she understood that now. Visions of him flashed before her eyes … the way he’d stared at her, with his truffle dark eyes, the first time they met … the way his muscular body had aroused her when he lounged on the white sandy beach … the way he had looked at her when she had arrived at the dinner at his French chateau in her jacaranda hued dress … the way his eyes had trailed over her nakedness that night in his bedroom before he …

Closing her eyes, she fought back hot tears as a jackhammer started pounding in her head. But the pain in her head was nothing compared to the pain in her heart.

Xavier Antoine had been right. He did own the Paradise dam.

She’d made the biggest mistake of her life. She’d lost her temper, and ruined everything.

Dawn crept through the window. Jackie watched as sunshine bleached the pale lavender walls of her bedroom.

Sleep had never come.

Lifting her head off the pillow, she pushed back the cotton sheet. The purple shade of the bedside lamp turned lilac as she switched it on. The colour looked different somehow, duller, more grey.

How badly she’d behaved towards Xavier in France! She’d realised that after going through it again and again all night, tossing and turning with shame. Their argument had been all her fault. Her anger had blazed red hot, her hasty words spilling out like lava, burning them both. Words like that were like brands on the skin; they couldn’t be taken back.

Her heart twinged with physical pain. She hadn’t known that heartbreak would be experienced in her body, that it would faithfully reflect her feelings. She understood now, how people could die from a broken heart.

Concentrate on something else
, she instructed herself, as she wearily got up and pulled on a shrunken old white t-shirt and faded khaki shorts. She hadn’t unpacked her suitcase yet; couldn’t deal with it. In the en-suite bathroom, she washed her face and teeth, barely bothering to look in the mirror. Who cared how she looked? Nothing mattered any more. She still had her truffle farm, but for how long? How many more seasons would she be able to keep it going? How was she going to get her business out of so much debt? Whether her trees had access to the dam water or not, Paradise Truffle Farm, Jackie had realised anew as she’d stared sleeplessly into the inky darkness, was not making the grade.

Xavier’s idea came back to her.
You need a black diamond year.

How was she ever going to have a black diamond year now? It seemed impossible to imagine getting through the next twelve hours, let alone the next twelve months. She would have to go through the motions at the cafe, serving customers, making coffees, offering tastings, serving snacks, with Mia probably throwing her worried looks all day. Perhaps she should take a few days off. But the last thing she wanted was even more time to think about what a fool she’d been, asking herself the same awful questions.

The same questions spun around and around in her head. How could she have been blind? Why had she lost her temper? Why hadn’t she listened to Xavier? Why hadn’t she believed Xavier when he’d told her about the problem with the dam? No, she’d jumped to conclusions, assuming the worst. He’d asked her to trust him. Her mind rolled back to the blindfold wine tasting that night at the chateau. And the white truffle he’d bought her, knowing that it would mean more to her than any other gift could. The memory still lingered on her lips, she could still taste it; she could still taste him.

Work was the answer. She had to focus on her truffle farm or she’d go crazy. There was still a chance she could save Paradise. She’d go through the books before the Truffle Tucker Cafe opened for the day. She’d bury herself in the office, sort through the files, get things in order, set up the accounts on the computer, and find some way of making the figures add up differently.

In the office, papers lay everywhere: on the desk, on the chair, on the floor. As she opened the blinds she frowned. She could have sworn there hadn’t been such a mess from her search the day before. Reaching over to return them to the filing cabinet, she noticed the faded old postcard of St Antoine, the patron saint of truffle growers, tucked beside her pa’s tape recorder. She hadn’t seen it there the day before. For a moment she stared at it, recalling the day in Richerenches when Xavier had given her the white truffle. Something else not to think about. She pushed the card behind the tape recorder. She’d listen to some of her pa’s old Celtic folk songs to distract herself. Maybe they would help her with the accounts too.

Removing some files from the chair, she sat down and pressed play.

“Jackie, my girl.”

She almost leapt out of the chair as her father’s Irish accent, with its distinctive Australian overtones, filled the room.

“If you’re listening to this tape, it can only mean one thing. It means you’re doing the books for Paradise Truffle Farm. I don’t envy you that job! I’ve always had a rotten head for figures, and I know I’ve left quite a muddle behind for you to deal with. Because if you’ve found this, it means that I’m not there with you anymore. Not in body, at any rate.

I didn’t want to worry you about the problems with my old ticker. It’s the Irish in me. Never did see the point of worrying, instead of enjoying all the good things in life. And we’ve had so many good things, you and me. We lived in Paradise, didn’t we? We had the truffle farm. Our friends. The dogs. Remember that Christmas we got them? And most of all, watching you grow up, tall, strong and beautiful, like the tree you’re named after, well, it’s been the best thing in my life.

Don’t be sad now. Be happy. I’ve had a good run. I’m just sorry I won’t be there to help you. Remember how much your pa loves you. And never forget: where there’s a Riley will; there’s a way.”

There was no more. With trembling fingers, Jackie ejected the tape and clutched it to her heart like a talisman.

Where there’s a Riley will; there’s a way.

She knew what she had to do.

Truffle Salad

Ingredients:

1 tablespoon of wine vinegar

a mixture of lettuce that is enough for 4 people

2 tablespoons of vegetable oil

a handful of chopped parsley

1 truffle that is brushed clean

1 tablespoon of walnut oil

a bit of white wine

salt and pepper to taste.

Directions:

1) Start by poaching the whole truffle in white wine for around five minutes.

2) Dry and wash the lettuce.

3) Slice the poached truffle thinly and blend within the salad.

4) Blend together a pinch of salt and pepper and the vinegar.

5) Whisk in the vegetable oil and walnut.

6) Add the parsley.

7) Pour over the truffles and salad and toss them together.

http://www.truffes.com

Rudy at her heels, Jackie walked slowly up the dusty path to the hazel trees under the late afternoon sun. It was one of the places she always felt better.