Between the Vines (6 page)

She opened her eyes and looked around her little home. It was a one-bedroom granny flat in her parents' backyard. And it literally was a granny flat. She'd moved in after her gran moved out. Her parents decided to employ house-sitters for the months they were away. She didn't want to live in her own home with strangers so she'd moved out the back. The current guy was a recluse. She rarely saw him.

She carried her bag into her bathroom-cum-laundry, emptied the contents onto the floor and went in search of food. In the fridge she found some cheese and a tomato. Enough to make a toastie with the stale bread. There were three beers left from a sixpack. She opened one and drank it while the food cooked.

While she ate, she drank the second beer. Her phone rang. It was Gino with a job for early the next morning. She had to collect a group of tourists from the airport. Taylor jotted down the details and tossed her phone on the table beside the notepad. It beeped at her, signalling the battery was low. She sighed. Couriering was often
interesting and the pay was reasonable but she wasn't sure how much longer it would last.

Gino was always complaining about the costs. He wanted her to drive one of his vans but she liked the extra mileage money she got. Her least favourite job was picking visitors up from the airport. She hated finding a park, hanging around inside, holding up a sign while people buzzed around. She'd much prefer to be the one going somewhere herself.

It had been two years since her last overseas trip. Somehow she hadn't saved much since her return home. She'd been invited to a few weddings that had involved trips interstate and she'd lost the knack of saving as well as she used to. She felt restless. Maybe it was time to have a good clean-out. She'd take as much work as she could get leading up to Rosie's wedding then she'd take a break. Gino would have to manage without her for a while. She'd head south again. See where that led.

She jumped up from her chair with new purpose. In her bedroom she slid open the wardrobe door and began to pull things out. By the time she'd finished she'd emptied another beer and had filled three garbage bags with clothes and shoes and odds and sods to take to the charity bin.

Taylor slumped to the floor between the bags and the mess she'd created and leaned back against her bed. She felt overwhelmingly tired. She barely had the strength to drag off her clothes. Without even bothering to clean her teeth she fell into bed.

Bright light flooded her bedroom. Taylor squinted her eyes searching for her phone. She sat up. Damn, it was probably flat. She'd forgotten to charge it last night. She lifted her arm and peered at the face of her watch. It was nearly eight and she had a nine am pick-up. Her feet hit the floor amongst the mess she'd created last night. She rummaged for some semi-tidy clothes. Gino liked to create a good impression for the customers, especially as they often stood next to chauffeurs in smart uniforms also waiting to collect people at the airport.

Her bright yellow jeans were on top of her pants pile. Luckily the soft white shirt she wore with them didn't need ironing. She threw her yellow, black and white striped scarf around her neck, brushed her hair and grabbed her lipstick. She'd put that on in the van.

Road works delayed her and the traffic was hideous so it was after nine o'clock when she rushed through the doors of the airport. There were no other drivers lined up at the foot of the escalators with cards and few people coming down. She lifted her small whiteboard with the visitor's surname, Campoli, scrawled on it and glanced across at the luggage carousel. The crowd was thicker there. She moved a little closer, holding up her board and keeping watch between the escalators and the people collecting bags.

The phone she'd managed to partially charge on her way to the airport vibrated in her pocket. Her boss's name appeared on the screen. She took a deep breath and answered. Gino's voice blared at her. He was yelling so wildly she couldn't understand him.

“Hang on, Gino,” she said as she heard him say something about the lift. She turned to see a group of six people complete with luggage standing together on the other side of the lifts. She caught the eyes of one and lifted her whiteboard. Relief flooded his face and he turned to his companions as he pointed to Taylor.

“It's okay, Gino. I've found them.” Taylor disconnected her phone before he could say any more.

A text binged and she peered at it, her lips turning up in a smile.

Missing you
, it read. It was from Ed.

Stuff Gino and his job, she was over it. She glanced at the screen one more time. A babble of Italian voices carried as the group moved towards her. Taylor recognised a few words. She pushed her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. She'd answer Ed's message later. For now she stretched her smile wider and greeted her customers.

They were staying in the Adelaide Hills. She took them to Mount Lofty for the view and a coffee shop in Hahndorf, keen to make
amends for her lateness, before dropping them at their accommodation. Only one of the group spoke English very well but he made it clear they were all happy and had forgiven her lateness.

It was nearly two o'clock by the time she was back in the city. She pulled over to ring Gino. It irked her to apologise to him but at least she could report the customers were happy. Taylor reached into her pocket but there was no phone. She felt the seat behind her, nothing. She climbed out of the van, searched in and around and under every seat. Nothing.

“Damn!” She thumped the roof of the van. It was a battered old phone but it had everything stored in it. Losing her phone was the last thing she needed. She'd have to retrace her travels. See if she could find it. Gino would go bananas if he couldn't contact her but that was the least of her concerns. Ed's number was saved in the phone.

Ed was already in the office when Pete got there. The bright morning sun was angling under the roof of the verandah and through the glass. Ed was standing in front of the whiteboard where they had a rough map of their tanks, hands on hips, staring.

“Good morning,” Pete said.

Ed's reply was little more than a grunt. They were both tired. It had been a busy week and was only going to get worse now until vintage ended.

“What are you looking at?” Pete stood beside his brother.

“We're not going to have enough storage for this vintage.”

Pete studied the rough map. “Yes we will.” He pointed to some names scribbled on the board. “The rest of the whites will be transported out by the end of the week.”

“It's the reds I'm worried about. This vintage is looking like a big one. There won't be enough open-tops for the NS18.”

Pete felt his chest tighten. He hated conflict. He knew their tanks would be full this vintage so he'd already planned what to do with their new cabernet grapes and it didn't involve selling them off to the highest bidder like Ed wanted to do.

“Yes there is,” he said. “In here.” He tapped on two squares on the bottom corner of the board, where nothing had been written for years.

“Dad's original open cement tanks?”

“Yep.”

“They haven't been used for years.”

“I've started cleaning them up and lining them with wax.”

“They won't be big enough. After Dad bought the new stainless steel open-top tanks he rarely used them.”

“I know.” Pete kept his voice steady. He needed to convince Ed, not stir his easy anger. “The NS18 is only two hectares. Once we've bunch thinned, we'll be lucky to have eight tonnes. The concrete open-tops will comfortably fit five tonne each.”

Ed turned to look at him. “I thought we agreed not to thin too much.”

“We talked about it.”

“It's only mid-February. Surely you wouldn't do it yet?”

“No, but soon.” Pete turned back to his brother. “These vines are still young. We don't want to cripple them with too much fruit.”

“I'd hoped to have as much as possible to sell but I agree we don't want to compromise the vines. Just don't take too much.”

Pete stood his ground. “I want only the best fruit for the icon wine I plan to make from this year's NS18.”

Ed's jaw clenched, frown lines creased his forehead and his eyes darkened. Pete prepared himself. Ed was going to explode any moment. They held each other's gaze then Ed let out a sigh. He shook his head, walked away and slumped into the chair behind Pete's desk.

“I've told you we need to expand.” Ed pushed back in the chair and put his hands behind his head. “I don't know how else to get the money other than to sell the NS18.”

Pete opened his mouth to speak but Ed held up his hand.

“Just for this year,” he said. “After that you can make your precious cabernet that's going to be the next best thing since John Riddoch established Coonawarra.”

The spite in his tone only made Pete's chest tighten more. Ed always thought his decisions were more important.

“Why do we need to expand?”

“We've been over this before, Peter.” Ed sat forward and thumped the desktop. “We've got all our eggs in one basket here. There's a vineyard for sale further north and I think we should buy it.”

Pete opened his mouth to protest but Ed's mobile rang and he put it to his ear.

“Yes, Felickity.”

Pete listened as Ed spoke to their office manager. He was all jokes and charm when it came to Felicity.

Ed put his phone back in his pocket and stood up.

“The tanker's here for the shiraz.”

There was no more time for conversation. They both headed out the door. Ed turned left to let the tanker in. Pete turned right to reach the tanks filled with his red wine. He knew everything was ready but he couldn't relax until the shiraz he'd been working on since it was harvested two years earlier was in the bottle. He hated this part of the process. Once it went into the tanker for transportation to the bottling line it was out of his control. He looked everything over one more time and came to a stop as the tanker pulled up next to him.

Pete didn't get a chance to talk with Ed any further. Their day took them in different directions. Pete was back in his cottage with his head stuck in the fridge trying to work out what he'd eat for his evening meal when there was a tap on his back door. He looked up and his heart sank in his weary body. Ed came inside. Pete didn't have the strength left in him to discuss the cabernet.

“Everything all right?” Ed's question took Pete by surprise.

“All right?”

“The shiraz. The tanker was loaded and got away okay? I didn't get a chance to come back and see you afterwards.”

Pete shut the fridge. “Oh. Yes.” He put a container with assorted cold meats on the bench. “All went as well as could be expected.”

“Great.”

Ed shifted his feet. Pete could see there was something he wanted to say but he was in no mood to argue. He tried to deflect.

“I was just going to throw together an antipasto, do you want some?”

“No, thanks. I've still got some jobs to do.” Ed ran his fingers
through his thick dark hair. “I just came to tell you I'm going away for a few days.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

Pete looked at his brother in surprise. The lead-up to vintage was a funny time to go away.

“There are only a couple more tanks to be emptied and cleaned,” Ed said. “You and Ben should be able to manage that. Then we're waiting on the fruit.”

“The riesling comes off as soon as we can get a machine.”

“I thought you had that lined up.”

“I did but Terry's giving priority to his own grapes. That's the trouble with contract harvesters.”

“Don't start on that again. We haven't got the money for a machine harvester of our own.”

“Just telling you why we're waiting on our grapes.”

“You've got Ben, and Noelene will lend a hand. You won't miss me.”

Pete was grateful for his friend Ben who worked for them as a cellar hand when they were busy. And Noelene's support could always be relied on. Pete studied Ed. He'd have thought by now his brother would fully understand the importance of timing for good wine production but he was right about one thing: their relationship was more tense than usual at the moment and Pete could do without the grief.

“Are you seeing that girl?”

Ed frowned. “Girl?”

“The one from Adelaide, what was her name?”

“Taylor.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Pete hovered uneasily. How had his relationship with his brother become so bad they couldn't hold a proper conversation?

“I'm spending some time in Melbourne. I've snagged an
opportunity to attend a marketing meeting.”

“Who will be there?” Pete's hopes rose. If Ed found new markets for their wine he might go off this buying more land idea.

“Not sure yet but I have a ticket to a sommeliers' dinner in Sydney.”

“Sydney? How long did you say you'll be gone?”

“A few days. I'll keep you posted.”

Pete studied Ed but he turned away.

“Ben will be here. You'll be right till vintage and I'll be back before then.”

“Enjoy,” was all Pete had a chance to say before Ed disappeared out the door.

Pete shook his head. There was plenty to get done before vintage. Ed didn't consider all the little clean-up jobs and preparations but he was right, Pete and his mate Ben could manage, they always had. Without Ed around for a few days, life would be less tense.

Pete opened the fridge again, took out a bottle of riesling and poured himself a glass. He swirled the wine. The citrus smell greeted him, with a hint of kerosene. The wine was aging well. He took a sip then put down the glass and looked for more things to add to his antipasto. There was still a jar of Noelene's pickled cauliflower in the back of the fridge along with some olives and sun-dried tomatoes. He began to whistle as he set the food out on the plate. It was as if a weight had lifted from his shoulders. He hadn't realised what a relief not having Ed around for a few days would be.