The Vineyard (3 page)

‘I don’t care what you say, I know Grandad would have wanted me to have that land,’ she insisted, her voice trembling. ‘He would never give it to a complete stranger over me.’

‘He did, it’s true but, it was you who opted to run, hide and desert your family. I think I have the right to make decisions when it concerns
my
home,
my
future,
my
income.’

‘And, your lover?’ Lizzie snapped bitterly. ‘A bit young for you. How could you?’

‘Cal’s not…’ her mother started.

‘Huh! You can’t lie your way out of this one now,’ Lizzie broke in, unprepared for a showdown but determined for once to stand her ground, ‘I know when I’m not welcome, an intruder in my own home. I can’t stop you giving your inheritance away to any chancer or opportunist who feels he can wrap you around his little finger. And, I won’t disturb your seedy little love nest.’ Before she could stop herself, Lizzie’s feet backed towards the door. ‘And neither will I support you when you humiliate yourself and he has stripped you of everything you own.’

Lizzie felt the chill from her mother’s icy stare.

‘It is none of your business who my lover is or what age he is come to that. I’ll lead my life as I see fit. That’s right, run. There’s no money here if that’s all you came back for. If you cared, you would have been here or at least contacted your grandfather.’ Her mother’s barb hit as intended, cruelly.

Lizzie had heard enough.
Fight Fight – you have nothing to lose now.
She swallowed hard as if to steady her gun and braced her lips to fire out every bullet which had been loaded inside her over the last twenty five years.

‘Ok, did you ever stop to think why I ran? ‘Did I ever have any reason to come home? Did I ever do anything for you to make you proud? Did I ever achieve what you wanted? Did I ever dress or look how you wanted? Did I ever have the friends or relationships you approved of? Tell me, was I ever good enough? Oh, that’s right, you weren’t here for most of my childhood so you didn’t really know me. What is there to come back to?’

Now, she had to go. There was no point in awaiting an answer. She knew them all too well. She scrambled to the hall shaking her head. She grabbed her bag, her mother hovering speechless behind.

‘I really don’t know why you had me in the first place,’ Lizzie surged on. ‘Go, tend to your toy boy.’

Her body shook. How swiftly her emotions had ruptured, spilling out, baring themselves. Followed by burning tears blurring her vision as she flew towards the door. Squinting to focus, she hauled her bag over one shoulder, fumbled for the door and made her exit, striding off across the shingle.

Chapter 2

‘I should be with you about nine Sophie. Is that ok?’ Lizzie placed her mobile in front of her on the table. The carriage was thankfully quiet as the train made its way to Paris at high speed. Her voice was very controlled, but her tears still persisted. It had never occurred to her that anything would ever happen to her grandfather. It was like reliving the nightmare of her father’s death. The shock that someone so big and strong and loving could perish just like that. The mind didn’t comprehend such tragedy and she certainly hadn’t anticipated it. So, family: none as far as she was concerned. With her grandfather now gone and, being betrayed by her own mother, that chapter was now finished. Lizzie closed her eyes, her mind brimming full of the brief but bitter day’s events.

Arriving on the third floor at her friend’s apartment, Lizzie threw herself sobbing into Sophie’s arms as soon as she opened her door.

‘You look awful Lizzie – what is it?’ Sophie picked up the luggage, set it down again and then took a hesitant step forward. Lizzie could tell by her friend’s actions and flushed complexion that she was at a loss for what to do next.

‘Leave the bags on the floor Lizzie and I’ll deal with those in a minute. You need to sit down before you fall down – come with me.’ Sophie led Lizzie to the sofa in the sitting room. The French doors, open overlooking the street, let in the traffic noise which became suddenly stressful. Sophie sat her distressed friend down and pulled the doors in to dull the intruding city.

‘I’ll just take your bags from the corridor and put them in the hall. Don’t move.’ she instructed. ‘Right,’ she said on her return, ‘you need a drink and a good listener I think!’ Sophie poured two glasses of French red wine and placed one on a small table near to her distraught friend and one-time colleague.

‘I am so selfish Soph,’ Lizzie said, throwing her head into her hands. ‘I suppose I thought I was being smart.’

‘Tell me please, what’s happened?’

Lizzie took a gulp of the wine and swallowed with aggrieved satisfaction. ‘I finally made that trip to see my mother and grandfather. I told you I was going back to England to see them – to tell them about…’

‘Yes. And?’

Lizzie swirled her wine steadily around the glass for several seconds before she managed another gulp and swirled some more.

‘Well…’ she sniffed. ‘I saw my mother this morning and at first everything was going fine, she was actually really pleased to see me but then…,’ she added shakily, ‘she told me my grandfather died last year and…, my mother has some toy boy or…or new husband, I don’t know. Anyway, she has moved a stranger, a man, her lover into the house, no doubt to keep her entertained. God knows how he manages to listen to her garble on about herself all the time and, not only has he moved into my home, my father’s and my grandfather’s home, but she has leased him my land. The land my grandfather left me for my equestrian centre is now a vineyard. A vineyard would you believe it? All mum could say was’ “It’s produced lovely sparkling wine – just like French Champagne”’ Lizzie’s high-pitched mimicry of her mother suddenly trailed off into tears. She then gulped another large mouthful from her glass, finishing it.

‘Whoa! There’s a lot going on here.’ Sophie grabbed a tissue from the box on the coffee table and swiftly nestled into Lizzie on the sofa. ‘Come here,’ she said, embracing her gently. ‘Come on. Sophie’s here,’ she said, stroking her friend’s thick, softly curled hair, soothing Lizzie’s emotions. ‘I’m so sorry about your grandfather. I wish there…’

‘I’m really not seeking sympathy – not after the way I behaved, I just needed to talk to you. I’m so sorry imposing on you like this but I was just so shocked…and trying to get my head round it all. I swear she put my grandfather up to agreeing to lease the land to her boyfriend for her own interest. She’ll only pursue what makes her happy. Her toy boy will have to have a heart of concrete, a fucked up mind and hopefully a strong fist to put her in her place!’

Lizzie leaned back, folding her tissue and dabbing her face. Her mind skipped to her mother’s lover, trying to recall his name, but images of his masterful, strong hands and broad shoulders momentarily intercepted and she caught her breath.

‘That’s a bit strong Lizzie. Calm down. Fancy, your mother has a toy boy? I can’t imagine my mother…no,’ interjected her friend, jolting her out of her reverie. Sophie was facing her and shifting hair away from Lizzie’s damp jaw.

‘Cal.’ she recalled his name. ‘Oh Sophie, you should see him, he is gorgeous, far too good for her.’ She tried to blur the image of him as it became vivid, his neglected ash-brown hair that was spattered with glistening gold tips draped across his mesmerizing dark eyes and his lips, oh those lips, so perfectly plump and ripe for kissing. Flutters surged through her core.

‘Lizzie, really. You’re angry as well as upset! You’ve obviously had a very nasty shock or, should I say, a few nasty shocks today, plus all that travelling you’ve done. Let me run you a nice warm bath. I’ll make you something to eat while you relax.’

Lizzie did as she was told and soaked a while in the bath, doing everything she could to thrust Cal from her mind. What was she thinking? Attractive as Cal was, he was in a relationship with her mother.
He loves her.
It was outrageous to even think about him.
Get a grip girl
.

***

‘I think it was a mistake to go back home,’ Lizzie admitted, tying the bath gown around her waist and following a welcoming spicy aroma to where Sophie stood in the kitchen stir-frying vegetables in a pan. Guilty now that she had severely lost her appetite, she wondered if Sophie’s efforts would all be in vain. Her friend gave her a sisterly smile.

‘Actually no, I don’t think so, on the contrary. It hurts now but you had to do it sometime and today was as good a time as any. Did you tell your mother about Thierry?’

‘Luckily, no, thank God. I feel so much for Thierry. What was I thinking, bringing a child into this world with no proper family?’

How was she to explain all this to Thierry when the time came? ‘He’s a happy, healthy child Lizzie.’

‘But he will only know me and an au-pair, Marie-Claire! Oh, yes,’ she gave Sophie’s elbow a quick squeeze, ‘he also has his lovely aunty Sophie too, of course.’

‘Absolutely’ Sophie nodded as she gathered some cutlery for the table. ‘Aunty Sophie is definitely not going anywhere.’

‘It’s really sad and I really wish Thierry had had the opportunity to meet my grandad. He would have loved him. I have so many fond memories. I must have really let grandad down when I didn’t return home.’

Her throat tightened as his kind old face flashed across her mind. She was, after all, all he had left after her father died. He’d suddenly lost a son, his only son, and she couldn’t imagine anything worse than losing a child. She had lost her father but to witness her grandfather and grandmother cry really hurt. Whilst her mother appeared so indifferent, so unemotional, arranging the funeral and nagging her to do her homework when all she wanted to do was hide away in her room and cry and think of him. Lizzie swept her wet hair back and clipped it.

‘I’m just so relieved I didn’t take Thierry along, how bloody awful that would have been.’

‘Take it one step at a time. You’ll be fine.’ Sophie scattered place mats on the table. ‘I know you will Lizzie. You’re a survivor and I’m sure you will sort things out once you’ve had a chance to think about them rationally. Your emotions are all over the place at the moment and, who knows, you may meet that someone special who will bring you happiness. Have you heard anything from Anton since?’ Sophie enquired.

‘No, nothing, which is strange after his angry outburst when he found out about Thierry. I wonder if he’s changed his mind. I’m just so glad I stayed away from that relationship. Can you imagine? That man must be totally deluded if he thinks he could become domesticated.’

Lizzie squirmed remembering the scene several weeks ago. He’d caught her completely by surprise, demanding to know if her child was his. Not only was she shocked but also unprepared. She openly admitted Thierry was his. Anton was furious, demanding to know why she hadn’t told him. Why would she? He wouldn’t have been interested. He wasn’t that interested in his son now. No, she imagined Anton’s only interest was himself and the control it could give him.

‘Well considering he was threatening to get custody when you saw him.’

‘Bizarre yes. I should have just denied Thierry was his. I’m so stupid.

‘Well, like he said, he could have a DNA test.’

‘That’s it. It’s so easy nowadays. So bloody annoying and when he told me that his sister Colette was sure the child was his, it unnerved me because why would she come to the salon when they have their own spa at the hotel. Do you think they’ve suspected for a while?’

‘No, Anton would have questioned you before. Perhaps they don’t want to be that intimate with their own staff.’

‘Maybe their staff refuse to treat them more like. I don’t have contact with her if I can help it.’

‘Or it could simply be she likes the best.’ Sophie nudged her friend.

‘C’est vrai! Or, maybe she
is
Anton’s spy’. Lizzie raised her hand pretending to hold a magnifying glass.

‘Ha! Planning a grandchild snatch!’ Sophie mocked.

‘Well, they can think again. He’s my son. I’ve been controlled enough by my mother – I’d have been mad to have been sucked in to his lifestyle of drugs and paranoia. Hardly child-friendly.

‘Absolutely, you did the right thing.’

‘Yes, just me and Thierry. No Anton. No mother. We’ve managed this long. Well, I don’t know what I’d have done without you, of course. But I’m not going to give my witch of a mother any more of my precious time and I’m certainly not giving her the opportunity to start controlling Thierry’s life. Like I said, my only regret really is that Grandad didn’t meet Thierry and vice versa. They would have so loved one another.’ Lizzie made a sad face. ‘They were my main reason for going home. I’m sure anyone in their right mind wouldn’t have bothered returning to see a mother like mine. Thankfully, I have you.’ Lizzie blew a kiss as she looked lovingly at her friend. ‘It’s a shame we don’t live closer.’

‘Actually, I have some news on that score.’ Sophie’s voice brightened as she brought the dinner plates and placed them on the table, then looked up with a wide grin. ‘I have been accepted to lecture at the Nice University two days a week and can finally move south.’

‘Oh Sophie, that’s wonderful. All your hard work is paying off. All those years. I’m really, really pleased for you.’ Lizzie threw out her arms in an excited lunge towards her friend and squeezed her tight. ‘I’m so sorry it’s all been about me. We should be celebrating your good news. So, does that mean…?’

‘Yes. I can be your plastic surgeon and chief filler if you’ll still have me join Beaute Dedans?’

‘Oh my God, yes. I’ll go and get a bottle of bubbly’.

‘No need.’ Sophie opened the fridge and produced one. ‘I went out and bought one as soon as you said you were on your way. I didn’t know what you had just been through then though’.

‘All I can say is, thank God I have you. You are my family. We need to celebrate.’

The Champagne cork popped and sprang to the ceiling to both their delight and giggles.

‘I am so excited.’ Sophie squealed, pouring the sparkling nectar into two Champagne flutes.

‘Oh you know how to cheer up your best friend. That’ll be so amazing. We’ll be able to see much more of each other. Congratulations! Sante!’ They both lifted their glasses as joy replaced the tears. ‘Here’s to you, Dr Sophie Pitou, soon to be lecturer and, leading plastic surgeon in Cannes!’