Rose's Vintage (5 page)

Checking her watch and seeing that it was nearly seven, it took all her determination to throw back the covers. It was far too cold to even think about a shower, so she made do with a quick splash of water on her face and pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail. She noticed ice on the inside of the barn's windows as she prepared to head over to the house. Looking outside, she could see a white-tipped winter wonderland – an overnight frost had carpeted everything with a fine layer of crystals.

This is insane. I'm going to freeze to death.

In the kitchen, she set about scrambling eggs for the kids' breakfast, made a pot of tea and set the table. The kitchen's oil-burning range warmed the room, and the tips of Rose's fingers and toes slowly defrosted.

Leo came into the kitchen first, flashing her a brief look of acknowledgment before sitting down and opening up the book he was carrying. His animation of the previous day was nowhere to be seen. Luisa and Astrid came next, Astrid chasing Luisa with a hairbrush as she tried to catch her and tame her wild curls.

‘Come here, miss minxy,' Astrid said, as Luisa hid behind Rose's legs.

‘Wosie?' asked Luisa.

‘Yes, poppet?' Rose had fallen hard for Luisa's delectable dimples.

‘I don't like my hairbrush.' The toddler stuck her thumb in her mouth and looked dolefully up at her.

‘Aw, sweetie, if you brush your hair, it'll grow long and silky like a mermaid's,' Rose offered, trying to console her.

‘What's a mermaid?'

‘A beautiful lady who swims like a fish and sings to sailors as their ships go by.'

Luisa brightened. ‘Hokay. I be a mermaid,' she said, and submitted to Astrid's brushstrokes.

‘Thanks,' said Astrid, grinning at her.

With breakfast over, and with Luisa's hair restrained in two pink butterfly clips, Astrid set out to take Leo to school. ‘Luisa has a swimming lesson this morning, so we won't be back till lunchtime. Mark left money for food and anything else we need in the jar over there.' She indicated a cream-coloured earthenware pot sitting on a high shelf over the range. ‘The nearest supermarket is in Eumeralla, and there's a farmers' market there on Saturday. We can all go to that if you want.'

‘Sounds good,' said Rose, who was already in the process of writing a long shopping list. She had woken up with new resolve. She might as well take this job seriously while she was here. Clearly Astrid hadn't had time to stock the pantry in recent weeks, and there was precious little in the way of staples, let alone fresh food and veg. Eggs, herbs from the garden and homemade preserves seemed to be the only things they weren't short of. And wine, of course.

Rose finally got the car's temperamental heater to sputter to life, and motored along the road to Eumeralla. The ‘valley of plenty', Henry had called the Shingle Valley when he'd described it back in London; it had sounded so lovely and lush. The reality was not so Elysian: endless rows of emaciated vines lined her way, interspersed with small triangular ponds that gleamed an icy silver in the pale light. A shallow river, frozen at its edges, snaked its way along the valley floor. She passed shaggy, conker-brown cows and grubby white sheep. Horses in fields of bleached grass huddled together for warmth, steam blowing in clouds from their nostrils. The bleakness of the landscape did have a kind of raw beauty though, she had to admit.

As she approached Eumeralla – ‘Settled in 1833', the sign proclaimed – she drove past neatly kept weatherboard cottages with bullnose verandahs, some with rose bushes out the front, their few stray blooms bright spots of colour fluttering in the breeze. The town itself offered a clutch of old stone buildings gathered either side of its wide main street, interspersed with smaller timber houses and shops. As she slowed down to look for the supermarket, Rose spotted a Chinese restaurant, two pubs with upstairs verandahs, a hardware store, a large general store, a town hall, a war memorial and a small park. Pulling into a space on the side of the main street, she unfolded her legs from the tiny car and spied a cafe. ‘Sacred Grounds', read the A-frame sign on the pavement outside. ‘Dark, bitter and hot for you.'

Ha. Someone round here has a sense of humour.

Ordering a cappuccino, Rose took a stool by the window and watched the town residents going about their business. Across the street near the park, a straggling line of schoolkids followed their teacher. Rose strained her eyes to see if Leo was among them, but these children looked a little older than him, and their wide-brimmed hats obscured their faces. A couple of gnarled old men wearing thick jackets and leaning on walking sticks had stopped on a bench just along from the cafe to watch the world go by. A young mum pushing a pram laden with shopping was headed in the opposite direction towards a crossroads.

It was a far cry from London, or even Bondi, where she'd spent the previous week.

Finishing her coffee and gathering her things, Rose headed in the direction of the supermarket. It was not exactly her local Waitrose. There were quite a few things on her list that the store didn't seem to stock. Getting used to completely different brands and even names of things – what exactly was bocconcini anyway? – was time-consuming, and it was late morning by the time she eventually returned to Kalkari.

That afternoon, Rose decided to cook. Anything to take her mind off Giles. She found an old apron on the back of the pantry door and got started. It was soothing to be back in the kitchen, and the familiar motions of chopping and kneading made her feel a tiny bit more at home in this alien place. It also didn't hurt that the kitchen was the only place in the house that was warm. First up, she made a huge pot of bolognaise, some of which she froze and the rest of which went into a lasagne for dinner that night. She'd been able to find dried yeast in Eumeralla and now weighed flour for a loaf. She chopped onions, carrots, celery and herbs, smashing her knife down on the board as she thought of all the things she should have said to Giles when he'd been surprised she was so upset at his casually announced departure. ‘But babe, you knew it wasn't going to last,' he'd said. ‘We're fundamentally such different people.'
Yeah, only one of us is an arsehole
, she thought savagely, dismissing her doubts of the previous night and wishing she'd had the presence of mind to say that to him at the time. Putting the knife down and taking a deep breath, she added the now pulverised vegetables to a deep pan containing a whole chicken and a generous amount of barley, and set it to simmer on the range. Then she began to measure out flour, butter, eggs and cocoa.

‘What you doin'?' a little voice behind her piped up. Luisa had crept unnoticed into the kitchen, her cheeks rosy from sleep and her dark hair wild about her face.

‘Hey, sweetheart. You're just in time. I could really do with some help here. Would you like to make these biscuits with me?' Rose asked.

Luisa nodded vigorously, her dark curls jiggling with the effort, and Rose hoisted her up to stand on a chair next to the bench and handed her a wooden spoon. ‘Can you stir that?' The little girl was thrilled to be helping out, and Rose's heart melted completely. She really was a poppet.

Astrid followed Luisa in and sat down at the table.

‘Hey,' said Rose brightly. ‘Everything's under control here, especially now I've got my helper.' Rose indicated Luisa, who was eating chocolate chips from a packet on the counter.

‘I called in to see Mrs B on our way back from swimming,' said Astrid.

‘Oh yes?' said Rose, suddenly concerned that her time at Kalkari might be over before it had begun. Aside from discovering that Mark's wife had walked out, she still had serious sleuthing to do for Henry.

‘She's feeling better but not hurrying to come back to work. She's quite old, and I think it has all become too much hard work for her.'

‘Oh, that's good,' said Rose, feeling relieved that she wasn't going to be kicked out before she'd barely got her foot in the door. She might be stuck out in the middle of nowhere, but she had made a promise to Henry, despite her misgivings, and she didn't want to let him down.

‘She said she misses the kids though. She will come to babysit on Friday night so we can go out. There's not much going on around here, but the pub in town is okay and they sometimes have a band. I've been stuck here by myself for so long, it'd be great to get away, just for a few hours. I've got cottage fever.'

‘I think you mean cabin fever!' laughed Rose, though Kalkari House was more mansion than cabin. Letting Luisa gouge the cookie dough off the spoon with her fingers, Rose slid the baking sheets into the top oven of the range. ‘Sounds great.' She was keen to see what the area had to offer and perhaps get some intel on Kalkari from some of the locals before Mark returned from his conference.

Having heard from Astrid how moody he could be, Rose was apprehensive about her new boss, not least because she was there under false pretences.

On Friday night, sure enough, Mrs B arrived to babysit. Rose warmed to her immediately. A tough old bird, broad of beam and firm of handshake, she quickly took in the scrubbed-up surroundings and appetising smell of a casserole on the range. ‘Looks like you've settled in well, love,' she said to Rose. ‘Truth be told, I've been ready to retire for a while now but I didn't like to leave Mark in the lurch – not with that fancy piece of Spanish Harlem upping and leaving him and those two poor kiddies like she did.'

‘That your doing?' she asked, pointing an arthritic finger at a sponge Rose had made that afternoon. Luisa had ‘helped' her with the lemon icing and it had dripped haphazardly down the sides.

‘Um, yes. Why?' It wasn't one of her best, but Rose couldn't imagine what was wrong with a cake.

‘You should keep a look out for the next CWA competition – it's on next month. Everyone enters something, but I'll warn you, we take our baking pretty seriously around here.'

Rose hadn't a clue what the CWA was but didn't get the chance to ask. Mrs B settled herself and her knitting on the sofa and as Leo and Luisa raced down, pyjamaed and sweet-smelling after their baths, gathered them cosily to her. ‘Now, chickies, how have you been? Leo, I swear you've grown a foot since I was last here.' The children were obviously thrilled to see her, and Luisa climbed onto her lap, burying her head into Mrs B's soft, cardigan-clad bosom.

Rose escaped to the barn and put on a clean shirt, ran a brush through her long hair, leaving it loose, and applied a slick of gloss to her lips and mascara to her lashes. She seriously considered leaving on her uggs, but changed them for a pair of work boots she'd liberated from the back verandah that were just her size. She wasn't sure what the ugg-wearing etiquette might be at the pub, and she didn't want to stand out as a tourist. But being only a smidge under six foot, she generally stood out wherever she went without even trying. Throwing on a jacket that Astrid had lent her, and winding a scarf several times around her neck, she was ready. Travelling light severely restricted her wardrobe choices, but she somehow doubted that the Southern Cross Hotel was going to be style central.