Valley of Sinners Ch. 06

Lisa obviously had been crying, and Hope worked at getting her back on to an even keel. That’s why she hadn’t been alerted to the significance of the question through Lisa’s burblings: “Where is he sleeping?”

“It’s hot, so I’ve shifted him into your room.”

It was only then realised the potency of the question; she’d been shafted!

Lisa wailed and said, “The next step is your bed, isn’t it mother!”

“Of course not, don’t be absurd,” Hope had countered, but immediately knew she was in damage control. What was Lisa on about? Lisa herself joked about ‘Hope’s gentlemen’. There were few secrets between them and Lisa encouraged her mother, as Lisa had become a little outspoken one night when they were sipping wine in the orchard as the moon rose, confession that she found it necessary to have gentlement friends ‘To preserve her spirit by remaining sexually active.’

Hope had been aware there were other more profound ways of preserving and strengthening one’s spirit, which was one reason why she attended church most Sundays. But who was she to argue against her daughter being supportive of her romps between the sheets?

Oh God, Lisa has developed a thing about young Mr Carson that returning to her lover and her comfortable life in Sydney has not erased. This was serious – having mis-matches and highly sexual affairs on the other side of the Tasman was one thing, but thinking one had a more appealing male on home territory, a male that didn’t seem to measure up from most angles, was quite a different proposition. She was aware Lisa has to be brought to her senses.

Hope was clear-headed despite over-indulging in quality French champagne yesterday. She was determined to control this emerging situation: either Lisa has to be dissuaded from shifting back from Australia to her home in West Auckland, or the work-shy Mr Carson had to be given the push. Perhaps she could compromise and have him operate out of his mother’s home in Ponsonby until he completed her project?

The outside temperature was a full degree warmer than yesterday, a fact that Hope choose to ignore. So after the call from Sydney she called to Nash that it was cooler so why didn’t he shift back into his basement bedroom.

“All right, Hope. Whatever you say,” he called cheerfully.

Hope fumed, ‘Whatever you say’, I say get out of my daughter’s mind; I don’t want you screwing her life up. And why are your screwing my half-sister, you cad? I bet you’ve already had your thing into Mimi; She’s almost my age, dammit, so why haven’t I been propositioned by you, Nash? I too may have obliged however unlikely as that might seem.

This kaleidoscope of thoughts upset Hope, who normally had a very tidy mind. She accepted she was being irrational. Without a doubt the so-called loser Nash had brightened her life, in fact had enriched her life and he was beginning to reveal a competency she suspects even he might be astonished to find emerging.

How on earth he’d managed to impress Lisa was beyond belief. The poor girl had probably become cock-happy seeing him strutting around the place, shooting rabbits by the barrow-load, seeing sexpot Alayna all over him, seeing the supposedly discriminatory Monty virtually besotted with him and people waving to him in the village as if he was a Somebody. Little wonder the poor girl had lost her senses.

Hope groaned and pressed her knuckles into her temples. She as aware she’d just fabricated a complete lie. The boy was quite a charmer, sensitive, interesting and bent on making himself personable. Lisa will have seen Alayna’s reaction to him, knowing that Alayna – like Monty – was rather choosy when cohabitating socially on her own patch. Furthermore, his sphere of influence appeared undeniably in ascendancy; who in their right mind would reject being associated with such a person? Obvious Lisa’s instincts are more reliable than her mother’s!

Hope slunk to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

She then connected her laptop to the Internet and sent Lisa a message:

‘Darling
How lovely to hear your voice yesterday. I miss you terribly. Pressure is on me to sell out of my holdings in this valley, with or without the Home property. I’ve been thinking it’s about time I had a change as I’m not getting any younger. I’ll keep you informed as I edge towards making a decision; I am seeking help from expert consultants. So, in the meantime I believe you should stay put in Sydney and get on with your own life. Find a man that you truly belief is your soul-mate.
Oh, Nash is sleeping downstairs again as he makes too much noise when he comes home after a night on the tiles with Alayna. I’ve also heard a rumor that he’s taken more than a passing fancy to Mimi who now wants him to pose for him – nude I gather – for a painting of a Croat immigrant from the Austrian-Hungary Empire of the 1890’s arriving to earn money to set up his own vineyard.
The weather has turned humid – becoming uncomfortably sweaty – and I have field mice invading the house. Apart from them, everything is pretty staid and boring.
Have a good life.
Your loving mother, Hope.’

Mimi! Hope had difficulty believing that Neven’s wife had spilt the beans over the pillow. It was incredible to believe Mimi would commit adultery knowing that the enraged Neven would almost likely half-beat her to death and would mangle her lover. One couldn’t keep a secret like that in the valley – sooner or later it would leak.

Pouring herself a cool drink, Hope sat on the balcony, catching just the softest of breezes from the south-west. She relaxed a bit and then conceded that Nash had been the only one suggesting a relationship with Mimi, but even then had not given the slightest hint they’d become lovers. The man would be a fool not to, of course, as Mimi remained quite attractive and seemed to burn with sensuality. She was the kind of woman who seems to need more than one lover.

Apart from herself and Maggie, only Mimi knew the deep secrets of the Honeybun family. She wondered if big-mouth Mimi has got it right in briefing Nash, thereby breaking her promise to tell no-one of the secrets.

The three choicest six-acre blocks fully planted in vines named Cart-wheel, Black Stump and Springwater, like the six other blocks Hope inherited from her father, were leased out on 15-year contracts, but with no right of extension of contract on those particular three blocks, the ownership of which were now held in trust.

Legal agreements provide that when Anton – son of Neven’s brother Drago’s formerly wayward wife Ana – and Eloise – daughter of Mimi’s cousin Brigette, attain the age of twenty-five, the title of two of those designated properties held in trust would transfer, unencumbered, into their names.

Twenty-three year old Anton, in his last year studying for a food technology degree, and 16-year-old Eloise, who’s father Chaney was now chief winemaker at Hausman’s Winery where Brigette is sales manager, was still attending high school.

Socially, Mimi, Brigette and Eloise were very close, as all are French-speaking.

That land transfer arrangement meant that Alton would take possession of the Cartwheel Block in November 2006, Alanya would acquire the Black Stump block in June 2010 and Eloise the Black Stump block late in 2014. Hope smiled thinly, thinking about those complications.

The winery itself, as she suspected Nash was aware thanks to big mouth Mimi, couldnot be sold without the consent of other shareholders. Locals simply assumed that the winery land and buildings were owned by Hope, that the Bronkovic brothers owned the machinery and operated the business at their expense.

Hope wondered if Mimi had given Nash the details correctly. Hope's agreement with the Bronkovic brothers required them to progressively purchase a total of 100,000 shares in Hope’s Te Henui Holdings Ltd. The acquisition was staged so they could meet payments out of expected profits, so that by 2008 they’ll own the winery and the land on which it was actually sited. In a separate agreement, four-fifths of the land in forestry would remain leased to Hope at a peppercorn rental to the year 2015 when the pine trees should be mature enough to be harvested.

Hope’s deepest secret was that Neven was one of her ‘gentlemen’. In fact he was her original lover. Lover? As far as Neven could demonstrate tenderness, he qualified to be called Hope’s lover; he didn’t slap her about and often stayed with her after the act talking which qualified as ‘lover’ in her book.

Hope sighed, recalling the time they commenced bonking. Since then there had not been the slightest whisper about it; that meant Nash wouldn’t find out about it because Mimi was unaware of it and sure as hell Neven wouldn’t be the informant!

Now she and Neven have another secret, a very new secret. They recently formed a partnership to purchase a one hundred and forty acre block of land formerly part of the land holdings of the late Trevor Hopkins. Hope had learned through casual conversation with the wife of the owner that she and her husband were thinking of leaving to live near their daughter in Adelaide. Hope asked Janet if Hope and her associate could walk the property with the possible view of purchasing it.

A very excited Janet phoned that evening saying the husband John had said there were going to the Bay of Islands for a couple of days. She told Hope where to find the keys in the farm shed for the two quad bikes. They could go anywhere they wished. John would leave them a map showing the farm boundaries.

Initially Neven was tentative, saying it was cattle country, poor cattle country at that over most of it.

“Don’t be stubborn, I’ll meet you at 2:00 at the crossing,” Hope had said firmly. “Leave your 4WD behind the trees where it won’t be noticed.” She disconnected before he could argue.

Next afternoon they rode up the farm road. They’d just exchanged a greeting of ‘Hi’ when they met, with no touching. That was normal with Neven, a good Catholic who knew that he should not be having extramarital relations and especially not with Hope – she was Protestant.

“This is a wasted trip, unless you feel like a bit of nookie,” he said.

“I’m convinced it will be a stunning discovery and yes, I will really like some tender loving.”

“Right, let’s get on with it. This track needs metalling.”

At the farmhouse he was equally disparaging.

“This home is a wreck.”

“Agreed, not painted in twenty years probably, the farm manager’s old home. But we’re buying land, not clapped out buildings.”

“You and who else?”

“You, butthead.”

“Watch your lip, lady,” he grinned. No other woman dared talk to him like Hope did, and he was proud of her for having the guts to do that.

They went down on to the flats and rode up and down, Neven looking particularly closely at the north-facing slopes.

Stopping under the shade of a clump of willows on the side of the stream, Hope dismounted and pulled out the map from her saddleback together with another one she’d brought with her.

“What do you think?”

The grazing land was semi-dried by the summer sun but the valley floor was still reasonably green. Neven shaded his eyes and looked up into the clear blue sky looking for two skylarks they heard singing.

“At a guess, I’d say this is grape-growing country. Perhaps marginal, but I think perhaps better than that.”

Hope expressed satisfaction and opened the farm map.

“These are the boundaries – see, over there, the ridge of the hill to our right and approximately over to the rock face on the left, then I’d say up the valley as far as we can see.”

“A very interesting possibility.”

“Well, my old mate. Focus your failing eyesight on this.”

It was two A4 sheets taped together.

“I downloaded it from a geology website. What you are looking at on this map is this valley, a former tributary of the Te Henui that carved itself new channels across the landscape in front of us. I contacted the fellow who did the soil testing for daddy in the mid-1970s. He’s retired now, but came out and had a look at this with me yesterday in return for a couple of cases of Home Block red. He’d confident it will test out little or no different to the main valley – no guarantees, but he’s confident.”

“Oh my God!” said Neven.

He grabbed her and danced in circles.

“What do you want to do?” he grunted, looking at her intensely.

“Fuck.”

Within ten minutes Hope was screaming in release.

That was several weeks ago and her solicitor had phoned the previous afternoon saying that title was through. The new owners were Duo Estates Ltd, a name suggested by Hope’s forty-nine percent partner, Neven Bronkovic.

“Eat your heart out, Tremain - within five years Te Henui Winery will have three times the output of your wife’s winery,” Hope smiled. She phoned Neven to confirm that title was through.

Hope then composed an email:

‘Dear Thomas
I trust you are enjoying these lovely summer evenings after you drag yourself homewards from work. Thank you for the lovely lunch recently. I now wish to reciprocate – same venue, same time on Thursday week.
The business I wish to discuss via my adviser Nash Carson with Mrs Hausman’s agent Tremain is this: I suggest that the Hausman’s Winery be closed at the end of this season and staff and all suitable plant and equipment be integrated with the Te Henuis Winery. The Bronkovic’s now own sixty-three per cent of that facility and the six acre of land on which it is sited – although the forestry is on long-term sublease.
We have taken steps to increase our supply to this winery substantially and would welcome the injection of new capital to process our secured suppliers who are expected to begin planting shortly.
Surely the skill of yourself and Tremain as negotiators ought to come up with a new ownership scheme that is acceptable to all parties.
Please confirm acceptance of this invitation.

Hope Honeybun,
Vigneron’

Hope knew that the invitation would be refused. All she was doing was to reciprocate the luncheon invitation – Hope Honeybun was not a freeloader.

From the bedroom window she called to Nash. She still could not get over him having seen her completely naked – everything exposed – without being in the position to cover herself up. God, she was a slut.

“That’s enough work for today, come up and have a cool drink then I’m taking you out to dinner. I’ll do you a favour – I’ll phone Neven to see if he and Mimi wish to join us. The better you get to know Neven the more likely he is to be cooperative when you begin to talk to him about history.”

She phoned and Neven said he’d call back after he checked with Mimi. He called back just as Nash reached the top of the stairs.

Hope told Nash: “We’re not going to a café, Neven has invited us around to try superb French cooking, which means Mimi will be slaving away instead of eating out like a lady. Well, if you marry a thick-skull like Neven, what else can you expect?”

“You’re taking a risk,” grinned Nash. “You’ll be dog meat if he catches you fat-lipping him like that.”

“Oh Neven? Never, he just a pussy cat.”

“Not according what I’ve heard, almost straight from the horse’s mouth.”

“Oh yes, Nash. The garrulous Mimi. Sit down beside me, huh? I’m just dying to hear about you bonking Mimi. I’d imagine once Neven finds out about that he’ll commence his revenge with a very inexpert act of castration.”

Nash looked wild-eyed.

“Hope, for goodness sake don’t joke like that. Mimi and I are only casual friends. I’ve never discussed having sex with her, or tried to, and I can’t imagine I ever will.”

“Well then, if I’m to believe that I better be told who supplies you with the necessary receptacle for your hot penis. Let’s see… Me?”

“No, you know that. I told you we did not have sex.”

“Well I guess that confirms the non-event the other night.”

“Alayna?”

“Of course, you know that. She’s my regular fit.”

“Maggie?”

Nash looked aghast.

“Maggie?”

Nash nodded, holding up one finger.

“You swine, she’s my best friend. Oh dear, the sight of you over Maggie screwing her, I’ve just got to see that.”

Nash turned white.

“Lisa?”

Nash shook his head.

“Did you want to?”

His face turned beetroot red, and he squirmed in his seat.

“You swine. She’s my daughter.”

“I know, but what a body, what a mind, what a personality. I also believe she has or at least had the hots for me.”

“So that’s justification for wanting to knobble my daughter?”

“If the feeling is mutual, yes.”

“Right, let’s leave aside Lisa and finish this up. I really need to know the answer to this one: Have you been plowing any of the Bronkovic women?”

“No, of course not.”

“Have you spoken to Ana about Anton yet?”

“No, I’ve delayed talking to her, taking your advice to get to know Neven better before digging into Bronkovic family matters.”

“Very good. You do have brains. I am surprised that you let Mimi through your fingers.”

“She’s your vintage,” Nash sighed, looking at Hope coolly.

“Well, I must say that you are a cool one. I guess it’s one of the reasons why these women like you.”

“Perhaps, but really as most of my mother’s relations and friends are women I grew up in a women’s world. I sort of know how to handle them, you know.”

“Yes, I will concede that doesn’t sound like an extravagant statement.”

“Maggie, eh? I wonder if she will ever tell me?”

“For goodness sake, Hope. Don’t breath a hint that you know. She’d then end up telling Alayna and Alayna would kill me for bonking her mother.”

“Well, you should have thought about that before putting that thing of yours about, Nash. “It’s virtually the same as using a loaded weapon.”

They looked at each other, grinned and burst out laughing.

“Right,” said Nash. “Could we end this embarrassing conversation. You wanted to say more about Lisa.”

“Yes, minutes after you phoned her the other day she phoned me. We had a long talk. She is adamant she wants to come home for good, but I’m not so sure that’s such a good idea. I think she’s got herself focused on you as a sex object. I don’t know what to do about it.”

Nash sat tight-lipped.

“Well?”

“She might also be attracted to my brain and my personality as well as my body.”

Hope looked at him open-mouthed.

Looking at her steadily, Nash shrugged.

“Are you saying she’d gone soft on you?”

“Yeah, and vice-versa. I think.”

“I can’t believe this! And what do you mean you think?”

“We didn’t have enough time to reach any conclusions.”

“Nash, this is serious – do you really mean what you are saying?”

“Yes.”

“Then I shall send you over to Sydney where you both can get this thing out of your systems.”

“No, I’m too busy with the book. You’ve bought all of this land and…”

“Nash, that’s confidential information. Who told you? Oh no, Mimi doesn’t only have big backside, she has a big mouth.”

“I’m powerless to stop her telling me things. I won’t spread it around.”

“Look, let’s forget that. You would have found out tonight, anyway. I’ll get Lisa to come back here for a week.”

“No.”

“No what?”

“Let her decide what to do. She’ll make a better decision without pressure. At present it sounds that her hormones are rather a problem for her.”

“You sometimes say the most sensible things, Nash. Now go down and check for mail, I forget to do it earlier and feed Monty when he comes up with you. I’ve got to make apple crumble for tonight and dig out a couple of bottles from daddy’s cellar.

“Ah, the cellar. I haven’t been into the dugout.”

“Would you like to see it? It’s rather a treat.”

“Yeah, why not. You make pudding and I’ll check the mail, feed Monty and dig some clothes out. Is it formal?”

“Black trousers, black socks and black shoes and then just a white long-sleeved shirt. That’s formal wear in that family. I have to wear black flat shoes, a wide floral skirt and blouse, but I refused to wear a scarf over my head or alternatively round my neck. There will be only the four of us for dinner, but the others will come in later to socialise – about twenty of them. Not many outsiders get an invitation to dine with Neven – you ought to feel privileged.”