The Sun in Her Eyes (11 page)

Ethan smiles at our awed expressions. He goes over to the well-worn wooden bar set up off to one side, pulling out an ice bucket that he fills from a freezer under the counter. There’s
electricity out here, as I can see from the strands of white outdoor lights hanging from the tree branches. It’s going to look beautiful later.

Ethan opens up a bottle of sparkling wine and pours some into two champagne glasses.

‘Are you not having one?’ I ask, as Nell and I join him at the makeshift bar.

‘Not yet,’ he replies with a shake of his head. ‘I’m sort of working.’

I’m disappointed. I was hoping he’d be sitting with us at the table.

‘Only sort of,’ he clarifies, handing us both glasses and propping his elbows on the bar. ‘I’m eating with you, but I’ll help out with the drinks until Joanne
arrives.’

‘Who’s Joanne?’ Did I seriously just feel a pang of jealousy?

‘One of our regular serving staff. She had a problem with childcare tonight, so she’s not coming in until later.’ I breathe a little sigh of relief. She’s a mother, and I
am crazy. ‘It’s cool,’ he says with a shrug. ‘I don’t mind.’

‘Being behind a bar suits you,’ Nell comments with a grin. ‘You look like one of those sexy cocktail guys that attract girls into bars like flies to—’

‘Ew!’ I cut her off before she can finish her sentence. ‘That’s disgusting!’

Ethan laughs and rolls his eyes. ‘You see how sexy Amber thinks I am?’

‘I didn’t mean… Oh, whatever,’ I say when I realise he’s teasing me.

The playful glint in his green eyes makes my stomach flip over. He breaks eye contact and looks over the top of my head.

‘Here we go,’ he says, announcing the arrival of Ruth’s six other guests.

They turn out to be a group of work colleagues, four men and two women, ranging in age from mid-twenties to early forties.

When Tina and Josh arrive, we relocate to a table with Ethan at one end, me and Nell to his right, and Tina and Josh opposite us. Nell is sitting next to a youngish lawyer named George, who has
a wicked sense of humour and a big smile. They’re getting on like a house on fire and I have a feeling Julian’s cancellation is currently far from her mind.

The food is mouth-wateringly delicious. Smoked chicken, honey-glazed ham, baby-leaf salads with charred vegetables and pomegranates, platters of fresh, juicy figs with chunks of mozzarella,
drizzled with olive oil and balsamic reduction, and for dessert, warm apricot tarts on tall cake stands, served with dollops of thick cream.

Tony and Ruth came to join us for dessert and are currently seated at the other end of the table, chatting to the guests. Tony is in his sixties and has short brown-grey hair and a year-round
tan. He’s affable and charming, just like his son. I’ve always liked him.

Joanne arrived about halfway through the main course to help with clearing plates, but Ethan has continued to pour the wines and tell us a little about them, without boring us stupid with
details. Unless, that is, we ask for them, which I notice the attractive blonde woman at the other end of the table is doing now.

‘Swap with me, darling,’ I hear Ruth say, standing up to give Ethan her chair. She flashes me such a bright, cheeky smile as she comes to sit down beside me that I barely feel
disheartened by his absence.

‘It’s so good to see you!’ she says warmly, pressing my hand. ‘Tell me what you’ve been up to for the last… Gosh, how many years has it been?’

‘Over a decade,’ I tell her.

‘No! You don’t look ten years older!’ she exclaims.

‘Neither do you,’ I tell her truthfully.

‘Oh, sweetheart, you’re too kind. How’s married life treating you? Ned, is it?’

‘Yes. He’s good,’ I reply with a nod, filling her in about his promotion.

‘How exciting,’ she says, shaking her head. ‘And you? Are you still teaching?’

‘I’m afraid not.’

‘Oh dear! What happened?’

‘I quit last summer. I wanted to try to earn a bit more money with a better-paid job so we could afford to buy something of our own.’ That’s the short explanation.
There’s more to it than that, but I’m not going to go into it. ‘The new job didn’t work out, either, unfortunately,’ I continue. ‘I’m a bit of a mess at
the moment, I’m afraid.’

‘No, you’re not. Never.’ Ruth gives a ferocious shake of her head. ‘You came back at the right time,’ she says quietly. ‘Of course, you didn’t have a
choice,’ she adds apologetically. ‘But I’m glad that you’re here, Amber. You’ve been taking Ethan’s mind off things, more than you know.’ She inclines her
head towards her son at the other end of the table. I flash him a look to see him smiling and nodding at something the blonde is saying. My stomach unwittingly contracts. ‘He’s been
lonely,’ she continues. ‘Such an awful year. But it’s been tough for a while, if we’re being honest.’

‘What’s it like having him at home?’ I ask.

‘Oh, it’s fine,’ she says affectionately, relaxing back in her seat. ‘More washing, cooking, cleaning and ironing, but what can you do?’

‘Make him do his own washing and ironing!’ I exclaim.

‘You wait until
you
have a son, and then tell me if you don’t spoil him rotten at every opportunity.’

I smile at her.

‘Any children on the horizon?’ she asks hopefully.

I hastily shake my head. ‘Not yet.’

‘Well, don’t leave it too long,’ she warns, glancing at Ethan again. ‘I do wonder, if Sadie hadn’t fallen pregnant…’ Her voice trails off.

‘What?’ I pry.

‘Just ignore me. I’ve had too much to drink.’

‘Well, I’ve had too much to eat.’ I stare with dismay at the crumbly, melt-in-the-mouth tart that I’ve barely made a dent in. ‘I feel absolutely stuffed.’

‘You could go for a small walk before Joanne brings out the cheese,’ she suggests.

‘Cheese?’ I ask with horror, but her attention is elsewhere. I follow the line of her sight to see Ethan raising his eyebrows at her from the other end of the table. I glance back to
see Ruth shrugging guiltily. Then she jerks her head towards me and the next thing I know, Ethan is on his feet and coming our way.

‘Mum,’ he says meaningfully and there’s a question mark in his intonation.

‘Amber was just saying how full she is. Why don’t you take her for a stroll before the next course?’

‘Sure,’ he says, resting his hands on the back of my chair and helping to pull it out from the table.

‘You happy?’ I check with Nell before standing up.

‘Yes, yes…’ She waves me away, turning back to George. Tina and I exchange an amused look before I go after Ethan. He’s already about ten metres away, his hands shoved
into his pockets and his broad shoulders hunched.

‘You in a hurry?’ I whisper loudly.

‘I am a bit,’ he replies, his brow furrowed.

‘Why?’ I ask as soon as we’re out of earshot.

‘Mum. Trying to matchmake,’ he grumbles.

For a split second I think he means with me, and my heart almost falters, but then I realise he’s talking about the blonde at the end of the table.

‘Not your type?’ I ask as he leads me through a gate into the vineyard.

‘I don’t have a type,’ he replies.

‘Of course you don’t,’ I say drily.

‘What?’ he asks innocently.

‘You’ve been with Sadie for so long I’ve almost discounted the number of girls you used to go out with.’

‘I wasn’t that bad.’

I say nothing.

‘Was I?’ he asks with surprise.

I just shrug.

‘Well, I don’t remember you being single for vast amounts of time,’ he points out.

I change the subject. ‘My head is pretty fuzzy. I thought you weren’t supposed to get drunk with wine tastings.’

He stares at me in disbelief. ‘That only applies if you spit out the wine.’

‘Oh. Whoops.’

He laughs. ‘You knew exactly what you were doing.’

‘It’s rare that anyone accuses me of that.’

He flashes me a sideways grin that makes my tummy feel funny.

We come to a stop and stand side by side, looking across the vineyard that spans all the way down to the creek. I take a deep breath and smile.

‘Is the rope still there?’ I ask.

‘Nah. It rotted away years ago.’

‘Shame. Could have done with a swing.’

I don’t look at him to see the smirk that I know is there as we continue our walk.

The blue sky is bleached-out and pale, but the grapevines are a vibrant, rich green, the last of the sun streaming through the leaves, illuminating some to an even more brilliant hue. The space
between each row of vines is covered with dry, yellow grass and the occasional Salvation Jane, a so-called weed with pretty purple flowers. Ethan bends down and tugs a couple out of the ground as
we walk.

‘What happened to the sprinklers?’ I ask, remembering that time from our childhood.

‘Gone. We only use drip irrigation these days. Saves water.’

‘So tell me about this land you’re buying. You want to expand?’

‘I’d love to,’ he replies eagerly. ‘I want to plant some Riesling. We don’t do any white wines at the moment, but the Riesling will ripen earlier than our reds, so
we could have them harvested, fermented and mostly racked off before we start the reds.’ He’s clearly caught up in the idea. ‘The land I’m looking at in Eden Valley is
stunning. It’s a little rocky, so we’d need to excavate in parts to get it ready for the vines, but I’m hoping to use the rocks to build a house up there.’

‘It sounds absolutely idyllic.’ I’m a little envious.

‘Mmm.’ He smiles. ‘I’ll have to wait for the divorce to come through first, though,’ he says wryly.

‘Will you take me up there one weekend?’ I ask. Weekdays are going to be a bit tricky once Dad comes home.

‘Yeah! Let’s take the E-Type for a spin,’ he says with enthusiasm. ‘How about this Sunday? Once we begin harvesting, it’ll be all hands on deck.’

‘I can do that,’ I reply, already feeling excited at the prospect.

‘Hang on, no, I can’t,’ he remembers. ‘Sadie wants me to have the kids. Probably seeing David,’ he adds sardonically. ‘Next Sunday?’

‘I’ll put it in my very busy diary,’ I joke.

We walk on in comfortable silence. ‘What was Mum saying to you?’ he asks after a minute.

‘She says you’re lonely,’ I tell him truthfully.

He doesn’t respond.

‘And she says you make her do all your washing.’

He half laughs, his heart not really in it.

‘And she says I came home at the right time,’ I add carefully. ‘To take your mind off things.’

A moment passes and then he reaches over and takes my hand. ‘You did.’ He gives it a gentle squeeze that resonates through my entire body.

I glance up at him to see him smiling down at me with sincere, genuine love in his eyes.
Platonic
love.
Brotherly
love.

I smile a small smile and detach my hand, tracing my fingers along a knotted, gnarled vine and tugging at a shredded strand of bark until it comes loose in my fingers. I swoop down and pull up
another handful of wayward Salvation Jane, bringing it to my nose. The scent evokes a long-forgotten memory.

‘We had a picnic in a field full of Salvation Jane,’ I say, as the vision swirls around my brain until it’s all-encompassing.

Indigo fields, vivid blue skies, hot sun, sweaty hair, black ants…

My smile widens. ‘You got bitten by an ant.’

‘That’s right,’ he replies slowly. ‘And you got sunburnt.’

He says it at the same time as I think it.

‘We were late getting back here and Dad was already waiting,’ I say. ‘He was so angry, he threatened to cancel my next playdate at your house, but I cried so much that he
reconsidered.’

He grins. ‘I remember.’ A moment later, he glances down at the creek and then up to the house.

‘Time to get back?’ I ask reluctantly.

His brow furrows. ‘Afraid so.’

‘Come on, then.’

He smiles and pats my back as we turn round.

The sun sets, the outdoor lights are switched on and the mosquitoes come out with a vengeance. It’s lovely being outdoors, but eventually we move inside to the formal
dining room, although we’re acting anything
but
formal with all the wine we’ve consumed. My friends are mingling and chatting with some of the other group, and Ethan has
brought out a few bottles to do a wine tasting at the table with the rest of us: the blonde, who I’ve discovered is called Trudy, and two of her colleagues, a plain woman called Nerys, and an
older man named Martin.

We’re on to our second wine. The first vintage – a young vine Shiraz – ‘exploded’ with fruit in Martin’s mouth and had a ‘soft, sweet and oaky
finish’, allegedly. I liked it a lot.

Ethan pours another small amount of wine for each of us in four pristine wine glasses. ‘This is our premium Shiraz,’ he says.

Martin swirls the liquid around his glass. He looks to be in his early forties and has been quaffing wine tonight like it’s water. I think he might be the boss who’s quite possibly
paying for this out-of-office excursion. ‘It’s got good legs,’ he says thoughtfully, before taking a good, long sniff. ‘It’s more muted on the nose than the last wine.
More spice, cloves, Christmas cake…’

‘It’s a beautiful colour,’ Trudy comments.

‘Impenetrable,’ Martin agrees.

How is Ethan keeping a straight face?

‘What do you think, A?’ he asks me, a twinkle in his eye.

‘Yum,’ I reply, knocking it back.

He pulls out four fresh glasses. Next, a young vine Cabernet Sauvignon, which, Martin proclaims, ‘Reeks of eucalyptus!’

It does taste a little minty, I find myself thinking. Again, it’s delicious.

The third wine, a premium Cab Sauv, is ‘opaque’ like the Shiraz with ‘intense
cassis
aromas’, according to Nerys.

Martin declares its finish is ‘very, very good’, and I can’t disagree with him.

Finally, Ethan brings out
Lockwood House Creek Shiraz
, which is made with grapes from the seventy-five-year-old vines situated down near the creek. This one, I’m not so sure
about. It’s sort of pungent and musty and, weirdly, a little salty.

‘Hmm,’ Martin says, inhaling deeply with his bulbous nose.