The Vineyard

‘Mummy loves you so, so much. We will be just fine. You and me.’

‘Bonjour, Lizzie. Ca va?’ Marie-Claire stood at her bedroom door and Lizzie greeted her with a beaming smile.

‘Bonjour, Marie-Claire. Thank you, yes I’m ok. The trip was a little shorter than anticipated but I’m pleased to be home. The salon aren’t expecting me today so I’ll spend the day with Thierry – that is, if there’s nothing you have planned with him?’

‘Non. Nothing that cannot wait,’ replied Marie-Claire and she turned to make her way to the kitchen. ‘I’ll make the breakfast.’ She left mother and son in their loving embrace.

‘Come on Thierry, we can be getting washed and dressed. Let’s have a day out.’

***

Lizzie drove to Aix-en-Provence and parked her car.

‘Come on little man, we will have a walk round the market and look for some goodies and then I’ll take you to have a special lunch.’

The market was brimming with stalls containing appetising, fresh local produce such as vegetables, cheeses, nuts, breads, fine patisseries, cold meats, sweets, as well as beautiful fabrics. Thierry immediately spotted the sweet stall and both he and Lizzie had fun choosing from the delicious selection. Happy with his little mix of sweets, bagged by Lizzie as a small pacifier, they walked on to a cheese stall. Lizzie selected some Gruyere, Emmental and Reblochon, her favourite mountain cheeses, and they walked on through a narrow street to the wider Avenue of Aix town.

Thierry toddled along, joyfully clutching his mother’s hand as they reached the vintage clothes market stalls on the Cours Mirabeau: Lizzie’s heaven when she needed some escapism. She loved the wide selection of classic or haute couture from which to browse and choose, children’s as well as adults’. She found a beautifully tailored wool-mix suit, perfect to wear separately as well as chicly together with a plain top. For Thierry, she spotted some brightly coloured trousers and married it with a funky t-shirt. Her son gave an approving nod then immediately tucked his little hand back into his bag to select his next sweet.

‘Make that your last one sweetheart, we’ll stop for lunch soon and you won’t want to ruin your pizza, it’s your favourite,’ Lizzie said as they crossed the Cours Mirabeau.

‘Pizza?’ Thierry repeated. But before she could answer, Lizzie was stunned by a figure walking in their direction.

‘Errr… yes we can go to Chez Jo….’ She trailed off, tightening her grip on Thierry’s tiny hand. It was too late. The figure was approaching them. Her heart both pounded and whirled at once. Her throat dried, her head told her to flee, she could only hope he didn’t recognise her but he was in front of her now and there was no escape.

‘Hi, Lizzie isn’t it?’ Cal quizzed as she stared at him in disbelief. Not only had he recognised her but had remembered her name. Lizzie wanted to pinch herself, if only to calm her nerves. Without her brain’s consent she became instantly mesmerised by seductive eyes melting her like chocolate. His alluring scent threw her senses sideways. It was hard not to be weakened by his tall, strong body with its screaming presence. A confidence emanated from him as he spoke while hers, along with her mouth, went dry as she replied cautiously.

‘Yes. Hi.’

What on earth was he doing here and why? Her feelings were mixed. On the one hand she didn’t want anything to do with her mother’s toy boy. But she couldn’t ignore her attraction to him. Perhaps he was hoping to muscle in on her life as well as her mother’s. But surely he didn’t know she was here in Aix. Or did he? Surely her mother hasn’t sent him to follow her around. No. Her mother was many things, but surely not that desperate to have her followed. For goodness, sake she told herself, she was becoming paranoid now. But how strange!

‘Wow, I can’t believe my luck bumping into you like this. I’m in Aix on business but I was intending to head down to Cannes to look for you in the beauty salons. Your mother said you have a salon in Cannes so I thought I would take the opportunity to find you.

‘Why? Is my mother with you?’ Lizzie’s suspicions surfaced immediately.

‘Sorry no! But listen, I do have an appointment to keep now. Can I meet you tonight or tomorrow maybe? I would like to talk to you.’

Lizzie’s defences sprung up like a coil of wire had been released.

‘No, and to be honest, we have nothing to talk about. My mother and I have nothing to say to one another. In fact the further away I am from her the better. She has all she wants! No doubt she has sent you here.’ It wasn’t a question, rather a statement of fact. She spoke with such fierce animosity that Cal stood momentarily speechless. His eyes captured hers, weakening her. She squeezed Thierry’s hand tightly.

‘I have to go,’ she said.

‘But I thought you’d returned home to make amends.’

‘I don’t wish to talk about it.’

‘Lizzie, I want to help. Your mother was pretty upset when you left.’ He shifted his weight from one leg to the other in a gesture to stop her moving forward.

‘I doubt that. Anyway, we have nothing to say so, thank you for your concern. Goodbye.’

Lizzie moved forward to leave and could only drop her eyes down in shame with her outburst. She wasn’t usually so rude. Nor aggressive, her anger surprised her – she was angry with him just for helping her mother.

‘Lizzie, please, a moment of your time?’ One hand brushed her forearm very softly but the magnitude of the effect jarred her. Her body radiated an intense heat, an instant chemical reaction. She looked up at him, embarrassed, and searched his eyes. She wondered if he felt that fire too. He reached inside his jacket and was just about to speak again when she broke in.

‘I…don’t want…’ she stuttered, trying to get past.

‘It’s just my number in case…’

‘I don’t see any point. You’ll waste your time.’

‘Ok. Ok. That’s fine’. He said as he drew out a small card and pushed it deep into her handbag. ‘Give me a call if you change your mind. I’ll be here until Sunday afternoon’. Lizzie grabbed her bag to retrieve the card but Cal turned and left.

‘Come along sweetheart.’ She squeezed Thierry’s hand and strode off as quickly as she could, with Thierry almost running, in the direction of Le Rue Espariat. Briefly she halted to watch Cal as he crossed the Cours Mirabeau.

All through lunch at Chez Jo, Lizzie was on edge. She couldn’t believe how much Cal affected her. She cursed herself for being attracted to him. Why had she allowed him to get to her like this? What did he intend to do anyway? Did he really think she would forgive her mother? Did he know the full story, she wondered. After all he would only be aware of her mother’s version of events. Surely, their cosy little set up didn’t need her in their way anyway?

When they returned home, Marie-Claire was still out so Lizzie made some gingerbread men with her son before bathing him and dressing him for bed. After reading him a story, she was tired too and took herself off to bed. It was impossible to sleep though with so much playing on her mind.

‘Shit!’ she shrieked as the realisation dawned. Cal would have seen Thierry. He never questioned her about him. She never introduced them. What would he assume? He would go back to her mother and reveal she had a grandchild. That was the last thing she wanted to happen! It was important for her to break this news personally, if at all. ‘What a mess.’ She would have to ring him but it was too late tonight.

From six thirty the following morning she paced her apartment having given up trying to sleep. At nine she punched in his mobile number.

Chapter 3

‘Hello, hello, Cal?’ Lizzie tried hard to keep the urgency out of her voice.

‘Yes.’

‘It’s Lizzie here. I’ve been thinking and I will meet you. Meet me at the Pause Café, it’s in Rue Hoche, Cannes. Can you make twelve thirty?’

‘Ok. Pause Café. Yes I think I know where that is. Sure. I’ll see you then,’ he confirmed.

As usual, Lizzie left Thierry’s routine to her au pair, Marie-Claire, who took Thierry to his usual local playgroup for the morning. This allowed Lizzie to take a leisurely, luxuriant bath and give her hair a conditioning treatment. Aimee from the salon came to the apartment to blow dry her hair and curl it with tongs. After the addition of some light make-up, Lizzie slipped on a fresh white silk blouse which hung elegantly over her blue jeans. She checked in the mirror that they looked ok. A tan leather belt, bag and matching low-heel shoes completed the outfit. She checked her watch, it was twelve fifteen. Time to go.

Again, she looked at her reflection. Her stomach churned like she was going on a first date rather than a quick, casual bargaining exercise. She slipped on a delicate silver diamond necklace which matched her earrings and a pretty but handmade, blue square-beaded bracelet that Thierry had made her with Marie-Claire. The main beads were cubes and spelt MUMMY.

As Lizzie arrived at the Pause Café, she could feel her body tremor. Although dressed quite casually, she wondered if she looked too stiff and too polished for the occasion. She asked herself why she had made so much effort for such a small and informal chat …

The Café was busy but not crowded. She spotted Cal straight away. He gave her a brief smile and made his way over to greet her and, Lizzie noted, eyed her up and down as he did so.

His presence needed no introduction; it was strikingly apparent and Lizzie gasped for her breath as he approached her. In traditional French style he kissed both her cheeks, giving her a pleasant jolt. The touch of his face on her skin created a feverish blush. Stabilising herself, she grabbed the chair opposite his and sat before she fell. She could feel her heart pounding wildly out of control and whilst wishing she was on a first date with him, she swiftly forced herself to wise up and reminded herself of her mission.

‘Hi, thanks for coming.’ she asserted as her body shook involuntarily. He sat down and the waiter stood by for her order.

‘It’s my pleasure, really,’ he replied. His smile was so captivating that Lizzie forced her attention to the waiter to regain control.

‘What would you like to drink?’ Cal immediately took command.

‘Just a small beer please,’ Lizzie said, suddenly feeling a huge thirst.

Cal ordered in French. The waiter slid off back to the bar. She took a deep breath and was about to compliment Cal on his language ability but then thought better of it. She decided to stick to her plan and looked directly at him to take control.

‘As I said before, I have no intention of revisiting my mother whether she sent you on this quest or not, I really have nothing to say to her.’ She kept her tone as even as she could. ‘We have absolutely nothing in common, and she has no one’s interest in her heart but her own’. Lizzie took another deep breath and was about to speak again when Cal broke in.

‘I want you to know that I don’t wish to come between the two of you and I’m not here to make you do anything or to get involved. You are both adults. I am genuinely here on business and as I am, coincidently, in the area I thought I would try to help you both out. It was just chance that you and I were both in Aix. Caroline or,’ he corrected, ‘your mother, doesn’t know I found you ‘It seems to me then, like you are getting involved, Lizzie said. ‘So tell me, are you just protecting yourself or genuinely wanting to help?’ She felt a fury rise inside her as she hadn’t intended to create conflict. As the waiter put the beer down on the table in front of them, she gulped down a large mouthful from the ice-cooled glass. She had to be careful not to piss him off. After all, she didn’t want him to tell her mother about Thierry.

‘Well I’ll tell you what I have in mind shall I?’ he said with an authority that Lizzie couldn’t quite handle. Her mind was confused. On the one hand she was curious but on the other, she wanted to blank her mother. ‘I don’t think there is any point in trying anything. Like I just said, I now have no desire to see her ever again. I’ve managed without her for the last five years or so – even before then, we never did get on. I’ve never depended on her and certainly don’t intend to now.’

Cal’s eyes lowered down to her wrist and acknowledged the small bead bracelet.

‘And the child?’ he questioned. Lizzie looked up and followed his eyes. Could she trust those hematite gems that melted her so fast? She wondered if he was confirming he knew or if he was asking if the child was hers. ‘He’s a handsome chappy. Is he yours?’ he inquired casually.

Lizzie now felt overwhelmingly protective. ‘Ok! That’s the only reason I’ve come here to see you. I don’t want my mother to know about him. If she is ever to find out that she has a grandchild, then it comes from me.’ Lizzie had to gamble in the hope that she could trust him not to tell her mother. Why? She had no idea – but it was worth trying rather than lying and complicating the matter by telling him Thierry was a friend’s child.

Cal looked surprised. ‘Why ever not?’ he asked. ‘Why would you want to deprive either of them of a possible wonderful relationship?’

‘Well that was what I thought a few days ago. But that’s changed since I saw her as I’ve explained. Call me stubborn if you like, I don’t care. I have no time for that woman and don’t feel she deserves to know my son. That’s the reality. I’m not going into the history.’ Lizzie finished her drink and stood up. ‘I hope you will respect my wishes’.

With her heart pounding, she could only pray she could trust him with the knowledge. She headed for the door.

‘Wait’ he commanded, raising his palm and standing up, then, ushering her to sit again. Lizzie automatically obeyed and found herself perched back in her seat.

‘Sorry I don’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable…’ he said, but then, a deep voice with a French accent shot between them.

‘Bonjour Lizzie. Are you going to introduce me?’ Immediately she recognized the voice with its jealous tone and she twitched as his petulant icy stare stung her eyes. His familiar expensive cologne hit the air around them as he approached them.

‘Anton, hello, this is Cal, my mother’s err… friend,’ she fumbled for the correct term not knowing whether to introduce him as a boyfriend, fiancé, husband or business associate. Anyway, she didn’t like Anton’s tone and wondered if he was out to make trouble. This was the last thing she wanted right now. She glanced at Cal and waved her hand in Anton’s direction.

‘This is Anton, my ex.’ She cut short any further information. The two men shook hands in that suspicious manner that only men can’t hide. ‘Cal lives in England and is here on business. He’s in the wine trade.’

‘I’m pleased you make the effort to socialize with Lizzie when you obviously have more pressing matters to attend to,’ said Anton.

‘I think you should mind your own business,’ Lizzie retorted.

‘Isn’t your business now my business? Is my son well?’

‘Yes, he is and always has been.’

‘Oh, I think he will be better cared for once he has the chance to know his father,’ Anton said, reaching for his wallet and taking out his card. ‘Ring me later. We need to talk,’ he said, placing the card in front of her.

Lizzie was livid but bit her tongue and waited as he returned to the bar. ‘I’m sorry. He’s my son’s father and has…well, ignore him.’ Lizzie told Cal. This was such an unwelcome intrusion. How did she manage to find these men? She certainly had a knack of falling for the ‘bad’ boys. Anton was obviously still feeling raw from his discovery but why and how did he find her today? How often was she out in a bar with a man? Not even a man who is available. Cal might as well be married and to think Anton would quickly add one and one and come up with four. Was he now going to be back governing her life like he tried before?

‘Oh, but I think it’s obvious he still likes you,’ observed Cal.

‘No. He only likes himself.’ She lowered her voice, ‘He’s a control freak. I don’t know, insecure, jealous, he’ll never grow up. He certainly hasn’t got what it takes to be a parent.’ Lizzie omitted Anton’s history of drugs. Cal didn’t need to know and certainly neither did her mother.

‘He didn’t strike me as the fatherly type.’

‘God no, still a child himself.’

‘So,’ Cal asserted. ‘Getting back to you and the situation with your mother. I think…’ he paused, sat forward and moderated his tone. His closeness began to take a hold on her. She swore he could hear her heart reverberate round the cafe. ‘The solution is to keep my number so that you can ring me at any time should and, I repeat, should, you change your mind. And,’ he turned his head thoughtfully, ‘I wondered too if I could keep your number in return just so that you are contactable. My reasoning is, to keep some line of communication going.’

‘But,’ Lizzie interjected. ‘I’ve already said…’

‘Yes, I understand believe me,’ he said patiently. ‘I want you to trust me. Yes, I believe that both of you need a cooling off period but…perhaps more importantly, it’s not unreasonable to propose that at some future date, I may need to contact you, you being the next of kin and vice-versa. What if something happened to you? Who would be contacted with regard to your son?’ Lizzie was about to argue that her close friend Sophie would cope with all that but he was right. It was more a question of practicality. If anything happened, either to her or her mother, Cal’s suggestion was, she figured, unnervingly sensible. She couldn’t believe she was giving in to this man so readily.

‘Right, this has to be conditional,’ she demanded, ‘If you keep my number, you have to promise me two things. I don’t want my son’s existence disclosed to my mother, or anyone in England, I would hate for her to find out from someone else and, secondly, my number must be kept hidden from her. I don’t want her ringing me.’

Cal nodded. ‘Like I said, you can trust me. I will let her know you are ok and that will be all. Knowing how upset she was it will just put her mind at rest.’

‘But don’t tell her you spoke to me. She will just keep on at you to tell her more. That’s what she’s like.’ Desperation sounded in Lizzie’s plea.

‘Look I’ll just tell her I ran into you in Aix-en-Provence. I won’t reveal a thing, I promise.’ With that he put his hand on hers, which nearly made Lizzie collapse. Again it sent her heart bouncing off the walls but she fought hard to stay in the moment. To read his eyes and know whether she should trust him. She had absolutely no reason to.

‘Your secret is safe! Ok? What will I gain from telling her now?’ he asked. ‘It would be far better coming from you when you two decide to speak to one another.’

Lizzie searched his face for a final reassurance then glanced over at the ogling eyes of Anton at the bar. Fuck she thought. Who do you trust? It’s all too late now anyway.

‘Don’t worry,’ he continued, standing close, ‘Just call me if you have a change of heart.’ As she stood, his arm rested around her shoulder and squeezed it, offering that final nudge of reassurance and comfort so needed.

Weirdly enough as she walked back to her apartment, she began to feel she could trust this stranger. Why? She didn’t know. She hardly knew him. She also had every reason to imagine that he had been sent by her mother or perhaps he even had motives relating to the vineyard. Her mind then flipped, had she done the right thing? Panic and doubt were now creeping in. Had she taken the right action? What she did know, and couldn’t explain, was the extraordinary attraction she had towards him. Not that she invited it. It was just there. Perhaps that was why she trusted him. Perhaps he had the same effect on her mother. Maybe his art was persuasion. His flawless looks and charisma would charm Marilyn Munroe out of her grave! Could it be he set every woman tingling in his presence? And, Anton, how on earth was she going to get rid of him?

Chapter 4

For most of the journey Cal hadn’t been able to get Lizzie out of his mind and now sitting in a car in Jez’s vineyard on this glorious spring day was almost equally distracting.

‘Lucky man is Jez,’ Cal remarked to his friend Charles as he enviously observed the scene before him. Charles skillfully maneuvered the four-wheel drive around winding hairpins up into rolling Provencal hills clothed in rows of lush vines sucking up the sun’s energy from a Mediterranean blue sky – it was truly a ready-made canvas. Very much, he thought, like Lizzie. Only she was a beauty and a beast all rolled into one. A dichotomy which he considered challenging and, at the same time, endearing. Much like raising vines, she was a vision to behold and admire but so delicate and vulnerable that he believed she would be worth every effort because the rewards could be exponential. The fact that he so adored her beauty but also abhorred her brutality towards her mother gave him a new raison d’être – to discover her complexities and the scars within. Was he smitten he asked himself?

Charles Pitt-Barker turned the Range Rover onto a wide sweeping entrance adorned with a sign “Domain de Shires” in black with ruby-gold letters.

‘Bloody Brits. Have to turn to tack,’ he said, observing Jez’s choice of name and navigating the stones to what was now a long, snaking dirt track. His passenger however was preoccupied gazing out with awe and drew breath at the sight. The sun shimmered on the trellised vines stretching across the landscape. Almost-pink soil radiated heat to warm and sweeten the masses of leaves and abundance of fruit whilst thick hedges offered shelter from the winds and tall cypress trees graced the rolling hills beyond.

‘Wow, the leaves on the vines have thickened since I was here a few weeks back. Jez is gonna want some help pruning that lot.’

‘Hence the invite then?’ Charles mocked, his head nodding from side to side.

‘Oh you know Jez! Any excuse for a piss up.’

‘Oh, it’s fine for a day,’ Charles scratched his head, ‘rather be on the sea though, me.’

‘Yeah, I know Charlie-boy but – hey – you can’t beat good wine and good company in exchange for a few hours’ work– beats being in the office! And look at this view.’

‘Bloody right,’ Charles, who spent his long days practicing French family law grinned. ‘Is Jez still seeing that designer girl, Anna what’s her name?’

‘Annatia Wu, yes. Bright, talented and quite a sweet girl actually.’ With those words, Cal’s mind immediately slipped back to his meeting with Lizzie just a short hour ago. She was sweet he was sure, under the bitter coating.

‘Well she’s done well focusing her designs on Jez,’ shot Charlie, laughing at his own schoolboy joke.

‘I wouldn’t tell her that, Charlie-boy. I should warn you she needs a bit of a humour transplant – you know, she’s bit intense. Good to see Jez happy though.’

‘Why do we do this to ourselves?’

‘What’s that?’

‘Women! They take away our humour and spontaneity.’

‘Mmm, they have a habit of getting under our skin I suppose.’ Cal got an image of Lizzie naked getting under his, and swiftly moved the conversation on. ‘Jez could do a lot worse.’

‘God yeah, that Tina he was with for years didn’t deserve him. Cheating little bitch! Glad he got rid of her.’

Cal nodded in agreement but was still distractedly captivated by all the surroundings. The track was winding to an end and Cal’s mouth was figuratively dribbling.

‘Jez has really turned this place around. This is fucking amazing,’ he cried. The Range Rover was now facing the villa and the whole scene would have knocked Cal off his feet – had he been standing. In just a few weeks, much work had been done. ‘He must be the luckiest bastard alive I reckon, inheriting this little gem.’

‘That depends?’ Charlie slowed the vehicle to drive over a ramp. ‘I mean, I can’t imagine what I would have done with it? Sold it probably.’

‘Well, it’s not something that floats your boat is it? If your grandparents left you a pontoon in Cannes, your own wide-berth mooring oh, and a flotilla of yachts, I think we might be on par!’