“Hang on, Kim, it’s actually about you coming by tonight.” Charlie had leaned in. “We’re not going to be around, sorry.”
There had been a pause. The only sound from the other end of the phone was the low hum of the car engine.
“Was that tonight?” Rohan asked.
“Yes. Rememb—？” The volume suddenly dropped, like Kim had put her hand over the phone. Another pause, and an indistinct exchange. “—stop in while you’re at the restaurant.”
Across the table, Rita had pulled herself up and passed baby Henry to Falk.
“Can you hold him while I go to the toilet?”
“Ah. Sure.” Henry was placed in Falk’s arms even as he answered. He’d sat up straighter in his chair and put his hand behind the kid’s unsteady little head because he remembered that’s what you were supposed to do. He’d tucked Henry to his chest, feeling the lift and fall of the tiny rhythmic breaths against his collar. It had been an unfamiliar experience. Nice, though, with the freshly laundered smell and the small, solid weight on his shoulder.
When he’d tuned back in to the phone conversation, it seemed to have ramped up a notch, Zara now talking fast.
“—and I’ve already said I’d meet them. So that’s okay, isn’t it?”
There had been no answer on the other end of the phone. Charlie was rubbing his chin, eyes on the screen.
“I mean…” Zara had glanced at her father. “Dad’s got to cover the festival stall, anyway.”
Charlie had nodded. “Yeah. You know how it gets. Opening-night rush.”
“So neither of you will be home tonight?” Kim said, after what felt like a long silence at the other end. “You’re both going out to the festival?”
“Yeah.” Charlie had nodded. A beat passed. “Sorry.”
“What about Rita and Greg?”
“All of us are going.”
“Oh.” A pause from the phone. “Okay—”
“Okay?” Zara had smiled. “Great, thanks, Mum.”
Falk couldn’t see Kim’s face, but it had been clear enough even to him that that wasn’t what she’d meant. Still, Zara had seen her chance and taken it. They all fell silent for a moment.
“Charlie.” There had been a new undercurrent in Kim’s voice when she spoke again. Falk didn’t know her normal tone well enough to place it, but if he’d had to guess, he would have said she sounded upset. “You and Zara can’t wait for me?”
Charlie was already shaking his head. “Look, Kim, not really. I’m sorry, but we’ll rearrange. I’ve got to do the stall. And Zara’s sixteen, she wants to hang out with her mates tonight. You remember what—”
“Yes, of course, I—” The words abruptly cut short, and there was a hush on both ends as the screen went dark. At first Falk thought Kim had again covered the phone with her hand, but as the seconds and silence ticked on, he’d wondered if the connection had dropped in a black spot.
Charlie had seemed uncertain, too. “You still there?”
The line had been quiet for another beat, then it had been Rohan’s voice that had edged through, louder now.
“Hello? Can you hear us now?” As soon as he heard them respond, he dropped his volume again. “Sorry, guys, this is all a bit hard with Zoe right here. Look, could we just agree Zara should go tonight? Have fun. We’ll work something out for another time.”
“Great. Okay.” Zara was more than happy to quit while she was ahead.
“I—” Kim started at the same time as Charlie had sighed and leaned forward in his chair.
“Hey, listen,” he’d said. “Why don’t you stop by the festival instead? We’ll all be there.”
“No, Dad, I’m supposed to be meeting—” Zara had started to whisper, and Charlie had motioned for her to pipe down.
“Well—” A pause. Kim had sounded reluctant, but then appeared to change her mind. “Yes. Okay, then. We’ll come to the festival.”
“I’m catching up with my parents tonight.” Rohan had clearly been less keen. “Dad’s got to go in for some more tests for something. But—” Another brief pause. “Yeah, we could maybe swing by.”
“All right.” There had been the smallest hesitation in Charlie’s answer, almost as though he hadn’t expected them to agree, but by the time Falk had glanced over, he’d been smiling again. “Good. Well, we’ll see you three there.”
“Okay,” Kim said in a way that had made Falk vaguely wonder—even then—if she was already regretting the commitment. “See you there.”
“Great. Bye, Mum. Love you.” Zara had pushed her chair back to stand, her finger already hovering over the screen.
“Bye, Zara. I love y—”
Zara had tapped the screen once, and the call went dead.
There was no way she could have known at the time what was coming, Falk thought now as he looked across the kitchen at the teenage girl, twelve months on. There was a dark weight behind her eyes that had not been there a year ago, and Zara’s gaze was somewhere else as she stared out of the window at the vines.
Falk would bet good money she relived that conversation often. The ending, at least. When she’d leaned forward and reached toward the screen. The single tap of her index finger, the light touch of skin against glass to cut short those last words she would now never hear from her mum. Falk hoped he was wrong, but he doubted he was. Zara looked like she felt that movement in her sleep.
4
The sun was lower over the vineyard by the time they’d finished dinner and loaded the boxes of appeal flyers into Charlie’s Land Rover. Rita and the kids came to the front door to say goodbye, Henry already wrapped in a bath towel. Raco kissed them, then climbed into the back seat next to Zara as Charlie fired up the engine.
From the passenger seat, Falk watched Rita wave as they pulled away. Her smile didn’t dip, but he knew her well enough to spot the hint of stress. He couldn’t decide if she was relieved or sorry not to be joining them.
Charlie didn’t say anything as he drove. The boxes of flyers slid in the trunk with a gentle thump as he turned out of the vineyard and onto the road. Last year they’d driven this same route, but the trunk had been clinking instead, loaded with a couple of crates of Charlie’s own shiraz.
“I make a few bottles most years,” he’d told Falk back then as they’d loaded those crates into the trunk. “See how it turns out.”
“It’s not a big part of your business?” Falk had asked, and Charlie had laughed.
“Not even a small part. A few of the wineries buy pretty much everything from the vines, but I keep a bit back myself for fun. Bottle it up. Sell it at the festival, couple of the farmers’ markets, that kind of thing. Give it to friends, whether they want it or not.”
Falk had reached into a crate and picked up a bottle, turning it over in his hand, looking at the vineyard’s logo on the label. He’d tried to imagine creating something like this from scratch, from grapes to crate. “Does it come up well?”
“It does.” Charlie had grinned. “If I do say so myself.”