Vineyard in a Valley Read online

  VINEYARD IN A VALLEY

  Gloria Bevan

  It wasn’t Tracy’s fault that she had been more or less wished onto Stephen Crane and his aunt.

  She had, after all, come right across the world to New Zealand for her cousin Alison’s wedding to Stephen’s brother, and now that Alison had walked out on the whole thing, it was Tracy too who had been left high and dry.

  Why did Stephen have to be quite so unpleasant about it all?

  CHAPTER ONE

  He was the first person to draw Tracy’s attention as the Oriana berthed at the wharf in Auckland. A dark young man with clear-cut features, crisp black hair and sideburns, he stood alone a little apart from the crowd milling around the long balcony of the overseas terminal building. Not extra-tall, broad-shouldered, wearing an impeccably cut suit of tropical tan, he was, she mused, undeniably good-looking in a bronzed, scowling sort of way. The next moment, meeting his flinty stare, she knew a fleeting pity for the girl, if it were a girl, for whom he was waiting with that bleak expression of welcome. A little abashed by his cool scrutiny, she wrenched her glance aside, her gaze moving over the sea of faces that lined the railings opposite as she endeavoured to distinguish Alison’s tall, attention-getting figure amongst the throng. Then she reminded herself that as yet it was only seven o’clock. Drifts of early morning mist still hung over the hills and spires of this New Zealand seaport city, and when had Alison ever risen early if she could possibly avoid it?

  Idly watching the colourful scenes taking place all around her, Tracy reflected that she had no regrets about not having married Desmond when he had asked her to do just that, a few weeks previously. Now she realized that two years was far too long a period to allow an unsatisfactory love affair to drag its way on. She should have put an end to that unexciting romance long ago. As to this trip out to New Zealand—her sweeping glance moved over the water, sparkling as though sprinkled with handfuls of silver dollars, the bush-clad islands that studded the sheltered harbour—she had no regrets on that score either, even if it had meant digging deep into her carefully hoarded savings.

  She leaned on the ship’s rail, a slim girl, medium-tall with long dark hair swinging and glinting in the sun, a slightly tiptilted nose with a spattering of freckles, eyes of an unusual shade of sea-blue.

  Funny to think that it was a colour snapshot Alison had enclosed with her letter that had brought her out here to the South Pacific. A small picture, probably taken on an Instamatic, depicting Alison with her impudent smile, red hair blowing around her bare tanned shoulders above a low-cut sun-frock, against a background of sun-flecked vineyards, and beyond, a vista of distant hills. Sunshine filtering through the grapevines turned Alison’s red-gold hair to flame, and something, some trick of the light, surely gave Tracy an odd impression of shimmering heat coming right out of the picture. The clarity of the New Zealand atmosphere, perhaps? Or could it be merely in contrast with the weather outside the windows on that particular day when the picture had reached her? A grey winter day with rain falling steadily, making the tiny flat seem even more cramped and cheerless than usual now that her mother was no longer there to share it with her. Clever Alison, to send the sun to plead for her!

  Tracy had been surprised to recognize her cousin’s sprawling handwriting on the envelope bearing a New Zealand stamp. Why, they hadn’t seen each other in years, scarcely at all since schooldays. Tracy’s circumstances were so far removed from those of her more affluent cousin that their paths seldom crossed. From time to time Tracy gleaned fragments of family news. Alison had enrolled at a drama school, but had soon wearied of the study and concentration involved in an acting career. Later her father had set her up in business, a boutique in a fashionable section of the London scene, but that venture too had been short-lived. Then, following her father’s sudden death from a heart attack a few months previously, Alison had left England on a cruise of the Pacific. And now—this!

  ‘Guess what?’ Alison had written. ‘I’ve fallen in love! Now don’t laugh, Tracy. I know you’ll have that little secret smile just the way you used to look at me at school when you didn’t quite believe me. It’s true! I’m way out here in New Zealand and I’ve decided to cancel the remainder of the cruise and stay put right here in Auckland. Take a deep breath, Tracy, you’ll need it! I’m getting married instead!

  ‘Now don’t say it! There’ll be no second thoughts this time! Besides, don’t they say that third time’s lucky? His name’s Crane and he runs a family vineyard in the western valley here. Great wines they are too—first class! The wedding’s all arranged for the beginning of February, and here’s where you come into the picture! Since Dad died I haven’t a soul of my own when it comes to family, so you’ve just got to come out here and be my bridesmaid. (Tracy could almost hear the soft yet imperious tones.) It’s not as if there’s anyone in London who’ll be missing you ... (True enough, Tracy thought. There was only Desmond, and it was unlikely that he would trouble her again, not after the definite way in which she had answered his proposal of marriage just a week previously. She brought her mind back to the letter in her hand.)

  ‘And don’t worry about fares—my pleasure! That goes for the bridesmaid’s gear too! We can have a good splash buying everything you need, right here in Auckland at the same exclusive little boutique where I’m having my wedding gown made. Can’t tell you the style yet, it’s a secret, but I thought a white-and-scarlet wedding, something just a bit different from the usual. Actually the stores over here happen to be surprisingly up to date, so you haven’t a thing to worry about.

  ‘Now don’t let me down, Tracy, because I’m depending on you to be at the wedding. Make it a boat trip if you’d prefer, you’ve got the time if you start making arrangements right away. Or come by air, but let me know which way you decide to travel so that I can be there to meet you when you arrive. You’ll like it out here. See you in New Zealand!

  Love, Alison.

  P.S. When you come (now wasn’t that typical of Alison to say not ‘if’ but ‘when’?) you can stay right here at Valley Vineyards. Lucie said to tell you. Better get an international driving licence too, you may need it.’

  An odd letter, Tracy mused, to receive from a girl newly-engaged to be married. But then of course Alison had been in that position on two previous occasions and each time she had broken off arrangements almost at the last moment before the wedding. Maybe all that made a difference. All the same, it seemed strange that there was scarcely a word concerning the man whom her cousin planned to marry in a far-away country. Nothing beyond the bare mention of his name. He didn’t even appear in the photograph. But wasn’t that characteristic of Alison, who must always be the central figure in any picture. Goodness, she couldn’t have known her fiancé for more than a few weeks! It must indeed have been a whirlwind romance. Well, Tracy would meet this unknown man for herself if she went out to New Zealand as Alison suggested. If ... Tracy’s soft pink mouth set in a firmer line. One thing for sure, and that was that should she decide to answer the imperious summons, it would be because she wanted to go, not because Alison had ordered her to attend the wedding. What was more, Tracy would pay her own fare and meet the cost of her bridesmaid’s outfit, everything!

  As if watching an outdated movie, the years rolled back and for a moment the old feeling of inferiority and poverty and loneliness surged over her. She was a child again, sent away from her beloved mother to attend a fashionable boarding school. The fees would be met by Alison’s father, who had insisted on taking the responsibility for Tracy’s education along with that of his idolized only child. He owed it to the memory of his brother who had died as a result of injuries in World War Two, to treat both girls alike. Only somehow for Tracy things hadn’t w
orked out that way. Not that it was her uncle’s fault. He had done his best according to his beliefs and right up to the end had never realized that his attractive, red-haired daughter was anything less than the paragon he had always considered her to be. Tracy was three years younger than her cousin and only gradually had it come to her that beneath Alison’s verve and charm was a hard ruthlessness that brooked not the slightest opposition to her wishes. Not for a long time did Tracy come to realize that the monthly allowance spent so carelessly by her cousin had been intended to be shared between both girls.

  Well—she jerked herself back to reality—she was no longer a child, helpless and alone. She was Tracy Cadell, twenty years old and perfectly capable of looking after herself, of making her own decisions, whether financially or otherwise. Or was she? How about this particular decision, Tracy, that you have to handle right now?

  You really need that break away from everything, a small voice in her mind whispered temptingly. Think of all those months last summer when you nursed your mother through that long last illness. Besides, you’ve enough in your savings to take care of the return fare to New Zealand, with enough left over to buy that expensive frock and accessories that Alison will expect you to provide for the occasion.

  Nonsense! the cautious part of her mind took over. Are you crazy? Tossing away all your hard-earned savings in one hit!

  But the small voice had the answer to that. What odds? It’ll be high summer in New Zealand, remember? That did it! Tracy stole another look at the snapshot. Could a sky really be that deep, luminous blue? Well, there was a way to find out for herself. Deep down she’d known all along that she wouldn’t be able to resist the lure of that sun-flecked vineyard. One other factor too helped to sway her in her decision, a vague half-recognized sense of family loyalty. Not that she and Alison had ever been close, scarcely even friends, but still...

  Eagerly her mind ran ahead, thinking, planning. One advantage, she thought ruefully, in having a dreary office job was that you hadn’t the least regret about giving in your notice. You could so easily be replaced. She might even decide to stay out in New Zealand throughout the summer, make the trip a working holiday. Hadn’t she once read that there was outdoor employment available through the season? Work in the tobacco plantations, hop-picking in the south, gathering fruit in the orchards, strawberries, grapes, apricots. She would, however, travel by ship. That way she would gain more return for her fare money, enjoy all the fun and excitement of shipboard life before reaching her destination. Her heart lifted at the thought of the lazy days that lay ahead. She would need a wardrobe to wear on the voyage, but luckily she was handy with a sewing machine and had made a plentiful supply of shorts, blouses and play-suits last summer that she’d scarcely worn. Now she made up her mind to purchase dress patterns and gay materials, run up a dine-and-dance frock suitable for wear on balmy evenings at sea; wash-and-wear garments for pool-side lounging.

  The wonderful part of it all was that life on board the great ocean liner proved to be every bit as novel and luxurious and exciting as she had envisaged it. Maybe it was partly because of meeting Glenn, a pleasant young man returning from a business trip to England, where he had been buying glassware and crockery for his Auckland firm, that made the voyage so enjoyable. Tall, light blond, he was invariably even-tempered, and ever willing to escort Tracy to the various sports and entertainments that seemed never-ending.

  Now, watching a blue canvas gangway span the narrow stretch of water between wharf and ship, Tracy caught fragments of conversation that drifted past her, but intent on the crowded balcony opposite, she was scarcely aware of the quickening tempo in the clamour of voices. There was a lively atmosphere of excitement as friends greeted one another, hands meeting in a warm clasp of welcome over the boundary rail that would separate them until the time when disembarking passengers had descended the stairs and completed necessary Customs formalities in the big room below.

  The minutes ticked away until half an hour had slipped past and still she could discern no tall, glamorous-looking feminine figure among the throng. Surely at any moment now Alison would come hurrying towards the barrier, calling apologies in her low husky tones for having failed to be on the wharf to welcome Tracy on the Oriana’s arrival. Surely she was conspicuous enough herself, she mused, in the loose floral shirt splashed with vivid blues and pinks and violet, that she had purchased so cheaply during the day spent in Suva, the last port of call.

  All at once it came to her that Alison had invariably been late for appointments, which was some small consolation. Nevertheless as the minutes slipped past, Tracy couldn’t banish a small nagging feeling of anxiety. Many of her fellow passengers had already disembarked. Others who were continuing on the voyage had left the ship in order to board a sightseeing coach waiting to transport them on a day’s excursion to the thermal areas, volcanic wonders and glow-worm grottoes situated in other parts of the country. Once again Tracy’s searching glance moved over the scattered groups, hoping to catch sight of a tall girl with masses of reddish-coloured hair. Which was silly, she told herself the next moment. For Alison could well have altered her natural hair colouring a dozen times in the interval since the two had last met. Just as the other girl had changed her mind concerning those two earlier engagements. Now what in the world had made that thought come into your mind at this particular moment?

  ‘Your friend not shown up yet?’ She roused herself to find Glenn at her side, a note of concern in his even tones. Slimly built, he was so tall that she had to look up, up at him, even though the fair head with the smooth blond hair was bent attentively towards her. She smiled up at him. ‘Not yet, but I know my cousin. She’s always running late! She’s that sort of girl!’

  A slight frown marked the boyish features. ‘All the same, I’d like to wait here with you until she does make an appearance.’

  ‘Don’t be silly!’ All at once she realized that the smiling faces in the group across the barrier were friends of his. ‘You go along with the others, Glenn. I’ll be fine, honestly!’

  Still he hesitated. ‘You’ve got that phone number that I gave you? You’ll let me know if your cousin doesn’t show up?’

  ‘I will! I will! Don’t worry!’

  ‘And you’ll keep in touch whatever happens? Promise?’

  ‘Promise!’ She flashed the quick smile that lighted up her face. As she lifted a hand in farewell she was thinking: Not that I’ll need anyone else when Alison comes along, and she’s bound to appear at any moment now.

  But she didn’t. Absurd to have this feeling of uneasiness, and yet ... Tracy had been a little disappointed to find no letters from the other girl awaiting her at the various ports of call. Disappointed, then philosophical, for Alison, she knew, never bothered to write letters except when absolutely necessary. Tracy had told herself that the other girl would be waiting on the wharf in Auckland to meet her and there would be time enough then to discuss details of the wedding, including choosing a bridesmaid’s frock that Tracy would need to purchase in Auckland during the three weeks that remained before the all-important day. Now she reminded herself that there could be a hundred different explanations for Alison’s non-appearance. Anyone could be held up on a motor journey, a traffic jam, perhaps. At seven in the morning? An accident, then? Heaven forbid! But something must have happened to delay the other girl. It was strange and upsetting, just a little. The crowds were thinning rapidly now and a cold wind seemed to blow around her heart as she watched the .chattering groups moving away. At this portion of the terminal only one watcher now remained, the black-haired man still standing alone. She noticed now the deep lines scored down on either side of his mouth, the firm set of the curving lips. Tracy thought that despite his outwardly attractive appearance, his expression appeared more grim and forbidding than ever. At that moment, evidently weary of waiting, he turned on his heel and strode away.

  ‘May I have your attention, please?’ The booming sound of a loudspeaker cut across her mu
sing. ‘Will Miss Cadell come to the control office on the passenger floor of the terminal building, please, where someone is waiting to meet her. Will Miss Cadell...’

  Cadell! That was herself! She hadn’t been abandoned here in an unknown country after all. Everything would be all right now. How foolish of her to have been so needlessly concerned. Only, she thought confusedly a few moments later, there must surely be some mistake, for when she reached the office desk where a smiling uniformed girl was seated, there was only one other person in the room, and that was the dark young man with the steely glance.

  ‘Miss Cadell?’

  She paused, transfixed, glancing up at him, a shadow of perplexity in her wide eyes.

  ‘Crane’s the name,’ he was saying, still with the cold unsmiling look. ‘Stephen Crane.’

  Crane! Something clicked into place in her brain. Of course! The name that Alison had mentioned as the vineyard owner she was to marry. The thoughts rushed wildly through her mind. No doubt Alison, busy with her approaching wedding, had been unable to meet her and had arranged for her fiancé to come to the wharves in her place.

  ‘And I’m Tracy!’ She sent him her wide and friendly smile. ‘Alison wrote me about you,’ she ran on in her warm low tones. ‘She even sent me a picture of herself snapped in your vineyard. Trouble was,’ she wrinkled her nose at him, ‘she forgot to include you in the photo. It was just a background of vines and terraces and sunshine. If only you’d been there too I would have recognized you right away.’ Deliberately disregarding his unresponsive look, she swept brightly on. ‘Silly, wasn’t it? I mean, both of us waiting here all this time, and not knowing—’