The Vineyard

‘You have no idea what you put me through?’ said her mother loosening her grip, ‘Years of not knowing what happened to you. I…I did wonder if you… you were dead.’

‘I know. I’m sorry. I…I sent you a letter explaining.’

Caroline stepped back with a searching look and affectionately tousled her daughter’s hair whilst her gaze roved from tip to toe and back again.

‘That was a long time ago. Anything could have happened since. I really thought you had been murdered and buried or chopped up in a heap in the furthest depths of an isolated forest. What else could I think?’ Caroline sighed with wide questioning eyes and then Lizzie saw her face was alight; a big smile, an excited smile swept over her face. ‘But it’s lovely to see you, not a child anymore either, a woman. You’ve blossomed beautifully. Come on in,’ she commanded, guiding her inside.

Lizzie hauled her bag up from the doorway not quite believing her ears. The chill within her from the hostile stormy air warmed a little. This woman was different. Why on earth was her mother being so nice? She was confused, desperately trying to understand her behaviour because she didn’t recognise this woman. She followed her into the hall, observing a compactness and darkness of a space she swore was once larger.

‘I hope you are planning to stay darling?’

‘If that’s ok?’ Lizzie’s teeth clenched at the imposition.

‘Of course. That’ll be wonderful. So, where are you living now?’ Her mother paused to open the inner lobby door. A welcoming brightness escaped from the kitchen.

‘In Cannes,’ Lizzie told her. Catching sight of her own weary reflection on an inner door, she pinched the smooth skin of her cheeks, adding a healthy blush, and brushed a hand through the crown of her long chestnut hair, adding a little height.

‘I’m afraid your room is still as it was,’ Caroline continued, ‘I thought you’d be back before now of course and I couldn’t bear to touch it. But I’ll put some fresh sheets on the bed. The room will smell stale I’m sure. Here pop your bags down here for now and we’ll get a drink.’ Without acknowledging Lizzie’s answer, she gestured her to follow.

She still doesn’t listen, Lizzie reflected. She scanned the old wooden floorboards for somewhere to place her weekend bag.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured sliding the bag into a recess and gaining a little more comfort and strength. ‘You look really well Mum,’ the words slipped out easily but she never recalled giving such compliments to her before. It was true though, she’d detected an inner light shining from her mother’s autumnal brown eyes, which radiated out giving a luminescence to her slightly tanned skin. Framed by dark, almost straight eyebrows, her face took on a well-defined less rounded shape than Lizzie recalled, with higher, protruding cheek bones. She guessed her mother had either lost weight or had work done. Only fine lines around her eyes, lips and jaw hinted at her age, whilst her taller leanness added a fetching youthfulness Lizzie admired.

‘I feel great actually. I’ve just returned from a long weekend in Barcelona and the weather was glorious, as I am sure you would know. You meant Cannes, in the south of France I take it?’ No her mother hadn’t changed, Lizzie thought, sensing her sarcastic tone. Caroline continued delighting in the opportunity to speak of her favourite subject. Herself!

‘I joined a gym last year too. Instead of one class a week in the village hall, the new health club has a pool as well as lots of different classes. I enjoy yoga and Pilates and I have my own personal trainer!’ Lizzie, knowing her mother was now in self-mode, listened dispassionately and wondered if her mother was more nervous than she was herself, the way she was gabbling. Truth be told, she wished her mother would simply apologise for being such a selfish, domineering harridan of a mother. She followed her through the lobby and into the kitchen.

‘Coffee, darling?’ Her mother asked.

‘Yes that would be lovely,’ she said, entering the familiar kitchen. It had barely changed. She glanced at the very oak farmhouse table she’d sat at daily as a teenager, after school. She doing her laborious homework whilst her mother, pretending to prepare evening meals, secretly guarding her. Running her fingers over the wood, she slipped out a smile as an image of an uncut seedy bloomer from Brown’s bakery brought a flurry of fond memories of the brighter aspects of her childhood. The days when her father and gran were alive, when they were all there for her, including her grandfather. The time when her mother was so pre-occupied in London.

‘Where’s grandad?’ her voice croaked, but with the kettle rattling, her mother didn’t hear.

Lizzie smiled, recalling the sunny Sunday morning strolls to the newsagents with her father to buy newspapers, sweets and always a treat for Cider, her adorable golden retriever. She treasured those times with both and even now couldn’t believe her daddy had been taken from her when she was just thirteen, thirteen whole years ago. She had even overheard her grandfather say it killed her grandmother too. She’d died a year later. Luckily though, she grinned fondly, she still had her grandfather who she remembered as extremely loving and just like her father, although with big spiky whiskers. She so looked forward to seeing him again. They were both her saviours, her escape from the reins of her absent and later controlling mother.

Ironic really, although she despised her mother for her overbearing ways, being here in the kitchen with her, caused an unexpected wave of tenderness to roll over her, which was somewhat soothing. That was a far better welcome than she’d imagined. Lizzie regarded her mother quizzically as she busied herself making the coffee. Just as she was going to ask her mother about her grandfather again, her attention was diverted as the back door opened.

Kicking off his boots in the back lobby a tall, rugged-looking stranger appeared. He looked, she guessed, early- to mid-thirties. He wandered in like it was his home while she slipped into a seat at the table unacknowledged.

‘Caroline, you don’t have a pair of tweezers I could use do you? I have a splinter,’ he said, speaking to her mother and rubbing the top of his index finger with his other thumb. A glittering wedge of fringe swept over his high forehead as he examined the sore.

‘Yes, in the drawer there,’ her mother pointed to the oak cabinet, ‘the one at the top.’

‘Thanks,’ he nodded casually, moving to the corner and opening the drawer. His hand shuffled around inside and then he lifted the tweezers to his splinter.

‘The light isn’t great or my eyesight’s fucked.’ He dug at his finger for a few seconds and then glanced up, arresting Lizzie’s eyes. She felt a heat rise from her feet as his eyes pierced hers. She swallowed hard in an attempt to get her heart back down into its rightful pace.

‘Oh I’m so sorry. Hi. Sorry didn’t mean to intrude.’ Their eyes remained locked for so long it became uncomfortable and Lizzie felt a blush rise to her cheeks. She prayed he hadn’t noticed.

‘Oh Cal, this is my daughter Lizzie,’ her mother broke in. ‘Rather a surprise visit,’ she added, acknowledging the fact, really only to herself.

‘Pleased to meet you Lizzie’ he said, offering his hand to her.

She struggled to find breath to reply as her hand automatically lifted to his in response.

‘Hello.’

‘Lizzie, this is Cal. He has a project here for a while.’

Lizzie prized her eyes away from him, seeing her mother’s eyes avert swiftly and her mouth twitch. Peering back she forced a fleeting smile as Cal made a polite nod to depart and she watched as his head butted the door whilst his sultry steel grey eyes failed to steal themselves away. She almost laughed but the room was deathly quiet and she daren’t even breathe in the silence for fear her heart would pound its way out of her chest. Tension crowded the room as he peered back at her mother and she quickly concluded they had something to hide. Lovers possibly?

‘I can’t stop now. See you again soon I hope.’ Cal said, cutting the strained atmosphere as he forced his feet back into his boots before trundling off back through the lobby. Lizzie then breathed out, releasing the blood back to her heart. Here, in the home that she grew up, just a few feet away from her was the most gorgeous man she had ever clapped eyes on. His smile, ripe plum lips revealing just enough of the beautiful set of teeth beneath, was tantalising. Who was he, she wondered. Just her luck if this man was her mother’s boyfriend, lover or husband maybe? Definitely a ‘toy boy’ though. He can’t be any more than thirty five! The thought of her puritanical mother breaking one of her own sacred rules, tut, tut! She sniggered to herself.

Caroline ran to the door and called out to Cal before he’d walked very far. He turned back as ordered. She spoke softly and Lizzie couldn’t quite hear; she thought she heard ‘maybe by Friday’. She now felt like an intruder. Caroline’s body language wasn’t subtle as she flicked her head backwards to point to her. Lizzie found herself fidgeting with a coaster on the table trying to appear unconcerned. Was she invading their love nest? As she dared to snatch a peek up at the window, so did the couple outside, both peering at her like she was a new species of animal in a zoo.

A few moments later she heard Caroline ‘Ok, see you later.’

Lizzie searched for a distraction and swung her small handbag, still on her shoulder, round to her front, trying to appear uninterested as her mother marched back through the lobby and back into the kitchen. Caroline rubbed her hands before clasping them in a hold close to her breasts.

‘Sorry, just reminding Cal of something. So, what brings you home?’ she breezed her attention back to her daughter. Lizzie paused, her mind scouring for clarity. Suddenly there was more to feed her imagination than she could handle. Recovering quickly, she blew out a sigh and rubbed her brow to wipe the moisture still beading there from her previous breathlessness. She then finally managed to focus. Those well-rehearsed words gradually began to fall into position much like soldiers reassembling to their ranks. She drew a deep breath.

‘Well, I thought it was time to make amends.’ Her eyes rolled up then down as her mind processed the well-rehearsed lines. It had seemed so easy a few weeks ago when she decided she was at a stage in her life where she was settled and independent enough to consider returning to attempt this.

‘I think, or I like to think, I have grown up a bit now so I have come to let you know how sorry I was.., or am, for disappearing from university just like that, upsetting you and grandad and, possibly more importantly, for not keeping in contact.’

It had taken her years to face up to this moment and there, finally it was. Done! Now what..?

‘So what kept you so busy that you could not contact us?’

Lizzie was now unprepared! She didn’t expect to have to explain herself so quickly. What could she say? She tried to read those searching eyes. Could her mother know? No, surely not. She hadn’t told anyone except Sophie and she would never tell or even know how to contact her mother. She rubbed her palms.

‘Much of my time is spent running my business. I have my own beauty salon,’ she announced proudly, then stopped abruptly. To avoid saying too much ‘Where’s Grandad?’ she asked again.

Caroline poured the fresh, hot coffee into small mugs; the aroma teased the senses. She didn’t answer immediately but continued with the coffee, bringing it over to where Lizzie sat, her eyes focusing on the hot beverage. Lizzie was just about to repeat the question when her mother spoke.

‘Darling, I have some awfully sad news about your grandfather.’ Caroline declared, seating herself opposite and facing her daughter.

‘Oh.’ Immediately Lizzie suspected and felt a lump in her throat; terrified of what she was about to hear, she raised her hand to her mouth in anticipation.

‘Your grandfather, bless him, died last January.’

Unable to speak, Lizzie blew out a winded sigh and tears pricked her eyes. Her mother pulled both her hands into hers and rubbed her thumbs gently. A rare gesture, Lizzie thought, but irrelevant just now. She stared stunned into the moist eyes gazing back.

‘He had a massive heart attack suddenly; January the twelfth to be exact. He didn’t suffer; it happened too quickly. He died before the ambulance arrived but…,’ she squeezed her daughter’s hands, ‘he did manage to say that when I saw you, and he believed I would, to tell you that he loved and missed you dearly.’

Her mother paused. After a pocket of silence, five years of emotion burst out and her mother’s arms swiftly drew her into her shoulder.

Lizzie’s head spun. Why had she neglected her lovely grandfather? He’d done nothing wrong. Her mother had a lot to answer for. She’d never see him now. Several minutes passed as she mopped up her pain, taking tissue after tissue from her mother. She balked inwardly at her own selfishness, her own self-indulgence. It was, after all, she who had made no contact, she who did not care enough to phone, write or just leave an address. It was she who took her family for granted and could really only blame herself. She may have even been partially responsible for his death in creating stress or worry he might otherwise not have had. A vortex of guilt swirled inside her at the thought. She could never forgive herself for this. She would never see her dear, dear grandfather ever again.