Page 69 of Somewhere Only We Know

A flare of happiness lit me from the inside, taking me by surprise. I was happy to be here, happy to be doing something new. Happy to be alive.

Meeting up with Harry had changed so much for me. My heart was lighter. I’d set myself free of the guilt I’d been carrying from the moment Brontë had left my house for the last time. She didn’t hate me for challenging her gap year at all. She’d welcomed it. I’d always feel the pain of losing her, but at least I could finally set down the burden of guilt. And as for Harry, I felt sure that he had waved to me this morning with a brighter, more positive outlook for the future. We’d helped each other, and I could only imagine how pleased Brontë would have been to see us together.

Pete had wanted to drive me to the Hunter Valley, but I’d declined his offer of a lift further than the train station. I was enjoying plotting my own path. There was satisfaction to be had in successfully navigating train timetables and platform changes, even if my suitcase seemed to get heavier as I dragged it on and off the train. And the lengthy journey had given me time to read and write, and take in the ever-changing landscape, from the blue-hued mountains, through the suburbs and city and finally, following the coastline north, into the lush lime greens of the wine region.

I was fortunate to be here. Life wasn’t perfect and I knew I would still hit plenty of bumps in the road ahead. But for now, I was going to give myself up to enjoying this moment. I closed my eyes and focused on the sounds and smells of my new environment.

‘You found us okay, then?’ A low gravelly voice accompanied by steady footsteps approached and I blinked my eyes open. ‘Maggie?’

‘Hi, yes, I’m—’ I faltered, taking in the tall, tanned man in front of me. I felt myself blush and hoped he’d assume it was because of the strong sunlight catching my cheekbones. ‘Jono. I mean, you’re Jono. I’m Maggie.’

Worn jeans, cotton shirt, chunky boots and a leather bush hat. He looked like a cowboy. A good-looking cowboy. I’d been expecting Pete’s friend to look like Pete, a grizzled Santa Claus with a roving eye. I’d got that wrong.

‘Correct.’ He looked amused, but there was an unmissable weariness in his face, a hint of sadness which his eyes couldn’t hide. ‘Sorry I didn’t collect you from the station. Busy day.’

He offered me his hand and I shook it, feeling the rough skin of his palm, his grasp so much larger and stronger than mine. He pulled his hand away, making me notice that I’d held onto it a beat longer than he’d expected.

‘No worries!’ I replied. Had I said that with an Australian accent? My blush deepened. ‘I got to see my first kangaroos in the taxi. I wouldn’t have wanted to miss that.’

‘Kangaroos in the taxi, eh?’ A teasing smile played on his lips and he folded his arms. ‘Man. I’d have liked to see that myself.’

‘Under a tree,’ I clarified. ‘A big gang of them.’

‘Gotcha, that makes sense.’ He nodded. ‘There are loads of them around here. Shame they can’t pick grapes, it’d save me a lot of effort. Righto, Maggie, come with me, let’s get you settled in.’ He scooped up my suitcase as if it weighed no more than a matchbox and strode off towards the back of the building. The path took us past the winery, and I caught sight of a trailer piled high with red grapes and behind it a row of large stainless-steel vessels.

‘Thanks for letting me come at such short notice.’ I was half jogging to keep up with him. ‘It’s really good of you.’

He opened a gate and gestured for me to go through it. ‘No bother. Pete told me you’d been through a shit time. Excuse my language. Happy to help. If I lost my daughter, well, I dunno, but I probably wouldn’t look as good as you.’ He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth as if annoyed with himself. Too late. I’d registered the compliment long enough to feel even warmer. ‘Cheerful, I mean. I don’t know you, but taking off from the UK, travelling the world solo – that’s impressive.’

‘Not really,’ I argued, pleased nonetheless. ‘I got banned from work, so it seemed like a good thing to do.’

He gave a laugh of disbelief. ‘I’m going to need to hear the rest of that story.’

‘Well, maybe over a glass of wine one night.’

The look of surprise on his face matched my own reaction; I’d been here five minutes and I’d already asked him out for a drink. I hardly recognised myself.

‘Pete told me you’d had a shit time too,’ I continued. ‘I chose to run away from my home life. Sometimes I think staying to work through your problems is the harder thing to do.’

‘Yeah, well, I didn’t have any choice,’ he said with a low growl to his voice. ‘I have a business to run and a daughter to look after.’ His eye met mine and he swore under his breath. ‘I didn’t think. I’m sorry.’

‘For having a daughter? Don’t be.’ I touched his arm. ‘There’s no need to censor yourself around me. My loss isn’t any greater because you still have your daughter. I’m looking forward to meeting her.’

‘Daisy is great.’ He grinned, and this time there was no mistaking the light in his eyes. ‘And pretty much the boss around here. Okay, this is you.’

Jono set down my suitcase with a thud outside a small chalet the colour of a Tuscan sunset. Climbing plants with pink and orange flowers scrambled over trellises either side of the front door, hiding a sign announcing that this was Creek Cottage.

‘Wow. Are you sure? It’s beautiful.’

‘Yeah.’ He brushed a spider’s web away from the porch and unlocked the door.

I stepped inside to find a charming studio space: a small galley kitchen at one end, a sleeping area at the other with white furniture and pretty pink and green bed linen; a two-seater sofa facing a TV in the middle. The space was charming and feminine and made Jono look very masculine in comparison.

‘It’s lovely.’ I peered out of the kitchen window. In the distance a group of kangaroos were lying under the shade of some tall trees. ‘Look, kangaroos!’ I whirled around to him, thrilled with my discovery, but of course, he simply looked mildly bemused. ‘Sorry, they’re still a novelty. Thanks for letting me stay here, I wasn’t expecting anything as grand.’

He waved a hand. ‘This place was going to be an Airbnb. My ex-wife’s idea. Weddings, parties, even offering working holidays in the winery. Clever idea, extra income and free labour. But like a lot of things around here, it got abandoned. Maybe one day—’ The sound of a diesel engine out in the yard outside disturbed him. ‘Excuse me. That’s the pickers’ transport. Come and say hi.’

I followed him out to the yard where a minibus had pulled up. A crowd of young people appeared from inside the winery and began piling their rucksacks into the back of it.