Chapter 21 #2
I could see myself wandering between the vines, picking bunches of grapes in the sunshine, enjoying the camaraderie of being part of a team. ‘But I don’t like hostels. The days of sharing a bedroom are over.’
‘I’m sure you’d make an exception for the right person, eh?’ Pete waggled his silvery eyebrows, each the size of a moustache.
‘Never say never,’ I replied cheerily.
I wasn’t about to get into my love life with him – not that there was much to tell.
‘That’s the spirit.’ Pete clunked his beer against my glass.
‘You’ve got contacts in the Hunter Valley, Uncle Pete,’ said Harry, coming to my rescue. ‘Can you help?’
‘Loads of hotels in those parts.’ He scraped his plate clean and gave a satisfied sigh. ‘There’s even one with a spa if you’re feeling flush.’
‘I’m not the spa kind,’ I told him. ‘I’m a doer. But if there’s work to be done, I’m your woman.’
His eyes glinted. ‘Plenty to get your teeth into around here then.’ He gestured to his backyard.
‘I was thinking of that winemaker friend of yours,’ Harry persisted. ‘The one whose wife left him?’
Pete scowled. ‘Nasty business, that. Ran off with his winery manager, leaving her kiddie behind too.’
‘Poor man!’ I commented. ‘Poor child too! How sad.’
‘Jono’s rushed off his feet with the harvest.’ Pete looked at me speculatively. ‘I think you’d fit right in there, Maggie.’
‘I’ll give it a go.’ I hoped he didn’t mean I’d fit in because we’d both had a bad time recently and we could share our tales of woe.
‘I’ll show you the website.’ Harry got out his phone, scrolled through quickly and held it out to me. ‘Ruby Creek.’
The website showed valleys lined with vines, rows of oak barrels, bottles and bottles of wine, smiling people gathered together, wine glasses raised.
There was a message on the homepage advertising temporary work starting immediately.
When would I ever get another chance to bring in the Australian grape harvest?
‘I wouldn’t want to earn money, but if Jono could put me up in his house, I’d happily help him out for a week or two.’
‘Free labour?’ he chuckled. ‘I imagine he’ll snap your hand off.’
I was going to go for it. I would be far happier being busy and helping someone out than wandering from place to place soaking up the sun.
‘Then will you ring your friend please, Pete? It sounds perfect for me. That’s where I’d like to go next if Jono will have me.’
Pete whistled. ‘You sure make your mind up fast. I’ll call him now.’ He got up from the table and went inside, muttering, ‘Now where did I put my phone?’
‘Good decision,’ said Harry, finishing his beer. ‘It’ll be fun, and if nothing else, you’re guaranteed good wine with dinner.’
‘I’m really excited about it,’ I told him. ‘Oh God, am I being insensitive? Do you mind? I mean, this was something you’d planned to do with Bronte, and I’ve steamrollered over it.’
‘Don’t even think about it,’ he insisted. ‘It’s Mum’s Gap Year now, remember. Which reminds me.’
He took out his phone. ‘I hope you don’t mind but I took a photo of you earlier. I know I should have asked you first, but I posted it on Instagram.’
He held it out for me to see the screen.
The photograph was of me at Echo Point looking out across the Blue Mountains. It had been taken from behind, so my face wasn’t visible, but there was something hopeful and brave about the way I was looking outwards, my chin tilted towards the sky, hands on hips.
‘That’s beautiful,’ I breathed. ‘Thank you.’
‘I wrote a post to go with it telling my followers who you were. So far there have been one hundred and fifty comments. You’re a big hit, Maggie! Want to read it?’
I held out my hand in response and he gave me his phone.
There’s a special visitor to my place in the Blue Mountains today.
Meet Maggie, Bronte’s mum. I only knew Bronte for three years and the strength of my grief is overwhelming.
Maggie brought Bronte into this world. Imagine the pain of seeing her leave it far too soon.
Bronte’s relationship with her mum was special.
Maggie is an incredible woman, mother and role model.
She was the first person Bronte wanted to talk to when something good or bad happened.
Maggie is yet another gift I have to thank Bronte for and I am honoured to have her visit me while I’m in Australia.
And guess what? The gap-year travels that my girl planned in such detail have not been abandoned – because Maggie is doing them for her.
She’s chosen action as her way to work through her grief and I’m here for it. #MumsGapYear
Bronte, Bronte, Bronte … clearly he was able to write the word, but not speak her name yet, I noticed. Harry’s post was followed by a stream of comments. I scrolled through them, my heart lurching as I read about the pain of other people’s losses.
I handed his phone back to him and hugged him tight. ‘Thank you for those beautiful words. I’m honoured to know you too.’
‘Thank you.’ He hung his head and exhaled a weary breath, after a moment adding, ‘Want to know what my favourite thing to do at night is?’
I nodded and he pointed upwards.
‘Stargazing?’ I asked.
‘Yep. No light pollution out here. Wait there a sec.’
He fetched a large blanket and a pair of giant binoculars from inside. ‘Uncle Pete’s found his phone but the battery’s flat, and then once he gets talking he doesn’t stop. So he’ll be ages.’
We snuffed out the candles, turned off the outside lights and spread the blanket on the ground. For the next few minutes while I got myself comfy and removed all the stones sticking in my back, I let my eyes grow accustomed to the dark.
‘I miss her like crazy. We were kids when we first met, but I think my relationship with her is probably going to be one of the most important of my whole life.’
‘Being young doesn’t make love any less important.
’ I stole a sideways glance at him; there was a single tear trickling down his face.
‘I fell in love when I was the same age you and Bronte were. And I’ve never loved anyone as much as that since.
That’s not to say you won’t,’ I added swiftly. ‘I chose not to, that’s all.’
‘Can I tell you something weird?’
‘Of course.’ I put the binoculars to my eyes. Stars in their millions appeared instantly, and the sight of them all took my breath away.
‘When I see all the stars shining in the sky, I imagine that they are all the people who died and whose love still shines down on the ones they left behind.’
‘Oh Harry.’ A lump formed in my throat. ‘That’s not weird at all. It’s lovely.’
‘Thank you,’ he mumbled. ‘And I think that she’s up there, sparkling – probably the sparkliest. And when I’m on my own I talk to her. I tell her the truth that I don’t like telling anyone else: that life is shit without her.’
‘I talk to her too,’ I told him. ‘I’ve been writing on the blank pages in her notebook. It helps me to write things down instead of bottling them up. Life was shit for me too, but …’ I paused and felt a smile growing on my face. ‘I think it’s less shit than it was.’
‘Semi-shit.’
We both laughed.
‘And I think Bronte is up there, cheering us both on, hoping we’ll remember to celebrate life, fill it with happy moments. And in your case, fall in love with someone new.’
‘Hmm.’
‘I mean it, Harry, don’t be afraid to love again. Here, your turn.’ I handed him the binoculars.
‘What about you?’ he asked. ‘I’ve always wondered why you’ve stayed single.’
‘I nearly married once,’ I told him. ‘I met a guy when Bronte was three. He was great, loved Bronte, loved me. But I couldn’t take the risk.
His income wasn’t stable, his work schedule was erratic; he was a freelance photographer and never knew where he was going to be from one week to the next.
He would have been happy living out of a suitcase for the rest of his life.
So even though I loved him, and he made me happy, when he proposed I turned him down.
I needed a steady, reliable presence in our lives; he couldn’t provide it.
Since then I’ve kept the few relationships I’ve had casual. ’
‘She used to wish you’d got someone to love. She used to worry about you.’
I looked at him sharply. ‘Really?’
He lowered the binoculars and looked at me. ‘Yeah. She thinks you never got over her dad.’
‘Yes, I …’ My voice trailed off. ‘I guess she’s right, in a way. Was right. I never felt that way about anyone else.’
‘He sounds cool. She would have liked to have met him.’
‘I know.’ I felt a knot of guilt in my stomach.
I’d let my daughter down. I should have done more to find him, but I’d been overwhelmed with life at the time, I reminded myself.
‘The older she got, the worse I felt about it. But then it got to the point where it was too late to track someone down and gatecrash their life with that sort of news. You know, remember me? Oh, and here’s your daughter.
There was too much risk involved, and I didn’t want Bronte to end up getting rejected, or disappointed if we couldn’t find him. ’
‘Maybe.’ He stared up at the sky again. ‘I guess she’ll never know now. I sort of feel the same about her as you did about Bronte’s dad. That no one will replace her. That she was my person. Yeah, that about sums it up: Bronte was my person.’
My heart lurched at the sound of her name on his lips. He’d finally been able to say it. I reached towards him and squeezed his hand, and we stayed like that until I heard his breathing steady.
‘Harry?’
‘Yeah?’
‘I understand exactly how you feel, but all I ask is that you don’t rule out love forever.’
He laughed softly. ‘Tell you what, I won’t if you won’t.’
He made it sound so easy, as if meeting someone you sparked with, and opening your heart to them, twining your life with theirs, was simply a matter of choice. Either way, I couldn’t very well give him advice that I wasn’t prepared to take myself.
‘I guess I can’t argue with that, so it’s a deal.’
The kitchen door crashed open and the outdoor lights came on again.
‘Good news, my starry-eyed little poms,’ cried Pete, marching towards us, arms outflung. ‘Jono is all for some help and says how soon can you come.’
‘Fantastic!’ I jumped to my feet and kissed his bristly cheek. ‘How about tomorrow?’
I hadn’t been this spontaneous for a long time and it felt bloody amazing.