The Vineyard

Caroline, once again, pulled at the box of tissues placed on the oak table and handed the cluster over to Lizzie. ‘I suppose you’re blaming yourself now for not getting in touch?’

Wiping her face, Lizzie seethed as her mother read her like a book. Her pain now sought blame. Why should she take all the blame? If Caroline had been a real mother to her in the first place, loving like other mothers and her gran, she would never have run away. No, her mother spent most of her time in London shirking her responsibility. Enjoying the highlife with her so-called friends. Never mind that she had a child pining for her at home. And then to have gone home to her mother and admitted to her that Hugo had humiliated , as her mother predicted, dumped her at university would have been unbearable. Caroline would have wallowed in telling her daughter ‘I told you so.’

Her mind switched to the earlier presence of the stranger and she grew suspicious. Was he also under the spell of her mother’s unfaltering and selfish manipulation? Revulsion blazed from her green eyes as she prised herself away from her mother, who she now couldn’t bear the proximity of.

‘Who is that Cal guy who came into the kitchen earlier? Does he live here?’

Her mother’s eyes dimmed as she observed her daughter for a while, saying nothing, Lizzie then saw her chin dimpling while her now creasing lips quivered. Was she going to cry, Lizzie wondered? She searched the moistening eyes as her mother regained her composure ready to speak, eyes averted, fingers sweeping the silvery bob and wrapping a strand behind her ear.

‘Cal is leasing Cote Acres for a few years to establish a vineyard. He approached us, grandad and I, to lease some land rather than buy, so it made sense.’

‘Really. Good for him!’ Lizzie smarted. ‘So how do you know him?’ she urged, blatantly concluding the foolish woman had let her heart rule her head, allowing this tall stranger to take over her grandfather’s land; actually her land, her inheritance!

Caroline shrugged uncomfortably.

‘A friend introduced us at the wine club in the village. I thought the extra income would be useful. He’s experimenting with different grapes to produce good quality English wines, in particular sparkling wines like Champagne so it seemed like a perfect solution. Your grandfather was very proud that the vines from his land produced such a lovely wine.’

‘But that land isn’t yours to lease out,’ Lizzie voice rose, ‘Cote Acres is the land Grandad promised me for my equestrian centre.’

Lizzie saw her mother’s lips tighten as Caroline sat back.

‘Your grandfather agreed with me it would be a good idea for the farm and for a bit of extra money. It woke us up to the potential of the southerly slopes that’s for sure.’ Caroline’s voice was becoming harsh. And Lizzie was not surprised when her mother struck the table with her hand as her indignant temper briskly lashed out like a snake’s tongue. ‘You, Elizabeth Lambert, have never been aware of what has gone on here. It was you who chose to run away from us. You who didn’t care or haven’t given a damn about anyone other than yourself. I don’t suppose you ever thought about anyone here whilst gallivanting around Europe, and since your father’s death it hasn’t exactly been a luxurious ride. We’ve just about been comfortable so, even though your father made some provision, and with my work dwindling, supplementing our income was a practical solution.’

As Lizzie sat hunched, observing her mother’s fury, Caroline’s fiery features fired closer.

‘And, it made a difference to your grandfather too. He managed to afford a couple of trips he would not otherwise have had. I’ve had the opportunity to do more and, darling, no-one is taking any inheritance from you.’

‘Grandad said…’ Lizzie began.

‘That was years ago, girl. Since when did you care about him? You’ll get your inheritance when I go. Aren’t I entitled to have some pleasure or benefit from it? Anyway, it’s only a short-term agreement with Cal.’

‘Oh, how short is short term?’ Lizzie demanded, now feeling her mother was selling her a sob story.

‘Just ten years, then…’

‘What! Ten years, short term? Poor Grandad, manipulated by his daughter-in-law and her lover,’ Lizzie hurled as she watched her mother’s mouth hang open with surprise. ‘He was probably frail, vulnerable and at your mercy. How could you? You knew he wouldn’t live that long.’

‘Look Lizzie. We, your grandfather and I, agreed just ten years with a review after that,’ her mother defended herself and then, lowering her voice, continued, ‘I see that as reasonable and so should you. You can’t pretend to be interested in what is happening here when you couldn’t even be bothered to contact us for five years. You can’t then just turn up thinking you have a right to claim anything which you so obviously haven’t missed.’

Again, the truth in her mother’s argument, as always, struck her to the core making it bleed and blister, but as she saw it too, she was the victim here. She was the one betrayed. Struggling to rein in her emotions she repeated strong, and at least resisted the urge to run, to escape as she always did in fight or flight mode. She willed her legs not to dash for the door, although it was obvious there was no love to be had here.

Strong. The word flashed in her head. Fight. Finally, for the first time in her life, Lizzie released the trigger as pent up emotion shot out like ammunition. Coercing her grandfather was unforgivable.

‘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 (#ulink_e819d6a0-c156-51ea-b373-88bbabb4ebc3)

‘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.