Page 112 of Never Too Late
‘Perfect.’
It wasn’t true but I knew, in that moment, he believed it to be and for once, instead of batting the compliment away, I took it and we crunched forward up the gravel drive to catch up with the others.
42
While the other four took the tour of the vineyard, Benoit doing the honours, Tomas and I headed off to explore the grounds. Stuffy, chilly wine cellars had far less appeal to me, especially on such a glorious day, than the wild meadows I’d been told a couple of the former horse paddocks had now been turned into: one spring, one summer. As we approached, in the peace of the countryside, the sound of buzzing could be heard on the rippling breeze and there, in front of us, was the source. The spring meadow was alive with both colour and insects, feasting on the pollen of those bright flowers. Wild daises, pink campion, a rambling wild rose that now wrapped itself around the dead trunk of an old oak that had once stood there proudly until a bolt of lightning during a raging summer thunderstorm had cleaved it in two. One half had fallen to the ground, small saplings now sprouting from the length of it. The other half had remained standing, its skeletal remains bleached almost white by the sun, providing shelter for wildlife and a natural obelisk for the rose.
‘I’m surprised this was left. Your parents weren’t especially interested in nature, or ecology, I seem to remember.’
‘People change.’
‘Yes. I suppose so.’
‘When I took over the place, I was keen to reduce the amount of pesticides and so on being used. There was rather a battle about that.’ He pulled a face. ‘They weren’t keen to help me with the business side but still had opinions about how vines should be grown, it seemed. Gabby, being brilliant as always and despite having her own career, set about finding evidence to support the benefits of working more with nature. And, of course, once she took over, the place ran even more smoothly, made more money and we were able to hire more people who had experience in that aspect of the business. It’s been totally organic for the last nine years.’
‘I didn’t know that.’
He shrugged.
The truth was, I hadn’t asked. This part of his life connected me, connected us, too much to the past and I wanted to keep looking forward.
‘That’s great, Tomas. Well done.’
He huffed out a laugh. ‘I did very little.’
‘You took the first step. That’s often the hardest part. And this,’ I turned back to the meadow, ‘is stunning.’
‘I love it here. I’m rather glad you didn’t want to go on the tour. Coming here, especially at this time of day, is one of my favourite things to do.’
‘You come here often then?’
‘Fairly often. I like to keep up with things even if I’m not involved in running them any more. Thank God. And Benoit sometimes likes my opinion on marketing strategies or images. It’s easier to do it when you have the place you’re marketing as a backdrop. For some reason, he thinks I have a creative eye.’
‘I can’t think why he would think that.’
‘Me neither. Not a creative bone in my body.’
‘If Reine were here, I have a feeling she would say something entirely inappropriate right about now.’
Tomas wrapped his arm around me and pulled me close, my back now resting against the wooden bar fence at the edge of the meadow.
‘I have a feeling you’re right,’ he replied, his voice low and husky as he moved to nibble on my ear lobe and I let go of any thought but of the man in front of me as Tomas slid his hand down the outside of my hip and slowly began ruffling up the front wrap of my dress until I could feel the breeze on my bare skin. His hand lingered at my knicker line, two fingers gently brushing up and down against the lacy elastic.
‘Kitty?’
I opened my eyes. ‘Yes.’ I answered the unasked question and the next moment, Tomas had wrapped both arms around me and my legs automatically wrapped around him. One hand deftly freed the belt of my dress as the other supported me and leant me back towards the fence once more.
* * *
‘Did you have a nice walk?’ Gabby asked when we all reconvened for dinner that night. There was a twinkle in her eye. She knew. I hadn’t told her and I certainly knew Tomas wouldn’t have but she still knew.
‘Really good, thanks,’ I replied, the first glass of sparkling wine going straight to my head.
She grinned widely, scarlet lips enhancing the effect, and gave an almost imperceptible raise of her glass towards me, which I just as subtly returned. The last thing I wanted was to be explaining my afternoon exploits to my daughter.
‘Are you having a good time, Sash?’ I asked, eager to change the focus.
‘It’s so beautiful. I feel like I’m in a period film! Benoit’s been telling me the history of the house. Did you know one of the owners in the eighteenth century used to be a dairymaid? The lord that owned it fell in love with her and married her and no one in their circle would speak to them. I know class was the be all and end all back then but…’ She pulled a disapproving face. ‘Snobbery is just… ugh!’
