The Vineyard. Karen Aldous

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.

      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