Doomed Dynasty Pt. 05

CHAPTER 11

Being the only child in a home with paths and a long driveway it was natural that Reece had spent a lot of time on his tricycle with trainer wheels and then graduating into riding without those outriggers and then into 'a real bicycle!' as he called in when getting his first two-wheeler. For his fourteenth birthday Reece received a racing cycle; he was ecstatic.

"Now you keep off the roads, just ride on the footpaths as you have been doing with your other bike," Courtney ordered.

"But mum, this is a road racing cycle with special tyres. They're probably puncture on rough ground."

"Well I don't know," replied Courtney. "What is your opinion Matt?"

Although reading a borrowed copy of the 'Rugby Almanac' Matt had been half-listening to the mother-son discussion. "Ride on the beach Reece; it's almost two miles of straight sand to Jackson's Point and return."

"But dad," protested the youngster. "My new bike, the salt will turn it to rust."

"Wash it down thoroughly each time you come back home," Matt said, peering over the top of his book. "It will be hard on the tyres and the spokes will probably rust where they go into the rims. Come to me when you think you'll need new tyres or replacement wheels."

"Thanks dad. Goodbye mum," called the boy. For the next two hours he cycled the beach. When he returned, Matt supervised the cycle washing process and told his son that the resistance of soft sand why cycling would increased the strength in Reece's legs and help build stamina.

Patricia and Courtney watched them. "That's the most attentive I've seen Matt with Reece in a very long time."

Courtney replied she'd been thinking the same thing.

When Reece had put his cycle away in the garage after towelling it dry, Matt called him over to where he'd been drawing on a piece of paper on the kitchen sink.

"Today you've been just messing about, riding quite fast but still really only going on a bike ride," said Matt. "This is what I want you to do. See this plan of the beach? It's only rough I know, but you can see where I have drawn in landmarks, these long bits? I want you to ride them at a fast, steady clip so that you finish each one of them just puffing a little. Then I want you to accelerate into each of these much shorter distances at a full sprint, then drop back to the steady clip again, and keep repeating that for the one mile, turn and come home repeating the process. Over time you'll do it faster and faster. Try to set a lower time each week. Tomorrow I'll buy you one of those stop watches to place around your neck like runners use."

Reece looked pleased. "Can I go out and try this now dad?"

"No it's almost dinner time," interrupted Courtney.

"Go for it son. If she doesn't save your tea I'll take you into town for fish and chips."

Reece raced away on his first run that was designed to gradually build up his stamina and speed. Matt thought that's what ought to happen, not knowing the first thing about cycling. But in the old days successive ruby coaches had drilled him and the other forwards in that fashion, over much shorter distances though.

Matt timed Reece's first return run over the 2-mile distance. In at the end of two months Reece's time trial was a full two minutes faster.

In his second year at high school Reece was riding in the A-team as one of the reserve riders. At the end of six months he was being selected to ride in inter-school events, then at a provincial level and in his third year he was riding in the South Island championships.

He was runner-up in the secondary school national cycling 10-nuke championships in his final year at school.

When Reece first went to high school he travelled by bus, eliminating one of Sophia's principal jobs of driving him too and from school. This had been anticipated so it was she who told Courtney that she wanted to finish up after Reece's last day at primary school.

"Oh we'll be so sorry to lose you," cried Courtney, hugging her.

"Go on, you'll soon have a cleaner in here who'll make your home look spotless."

"Maybe so but we'll never find anyone with your wit and infectious happiness that filled our house whenever you were it in," Patricia said.

"Oh don't say such a lovely thing. You'll make me cry." Sophia burst into tears and the other two women also began to cry.

Minutes later they were laughing again as normal.

Sophia handed both women envelopes. They were invitations to Sophia and Art's wedding later that month in Sydney.

"Oh Matt will be glad to learn about this," said Courtney.

"I'm sorry Courtney he already knows. Art had to tell him so he could book the aircraft seats and hotel rooms."

"Yes, I suppose that had to be done as it will be close to Christmas," said Courtney. "It's just as well, really, as I would not enjoyed having to tell him that he's losing Art."

* * * Not long after returning from the wedding in Sydney, Matt received a call from one of his pals from rugby days who sold farms for a real estate agent. Jeff asked Matt to lunch to meet clients with an interesting proposition. They agreed to meet next day.

Jeff at 6ft 5in and weighing 220 lbs including beer belly, greeted Matt warmly. They had played rugby together for years. Jeff then introduced Philip and Kristin Burton from South Australia, a couple in their early fifties, viticulturists. At the mention of the word Matt believed the partners he needed had arrived.

The four of them inspected the river flats Matt owned and Philip practically yawned when Matt took them up to look at the hay paddock until his wife, who'd originally come from Austria, scuffed her foot in the ground to expose gravel and she practically wheezed and gasped, "Oh my."

Matt looked at her in admiration and said, "You know more than you let on?"

"Yes I do have a degree in soil science."

Matt went to his vehicle and pulled out the old reports on the soil tests that included thirteen years of weather data for the 17-acre block handed them to Kristin. She flicked through them and said, "Tonight we must have dinner, yes? Please bring your wives to our hotel."

That night a deal was made. A legal agreement would be drawn up creating an entity to be known as Miranda Golden Hills Viticulture Ltd, to come into effect as soon as Matt had the river flats and the 17-acre hayfield surveyed off and ready to be legally vested into the new company along with a contemporaneous agreement that an access road be formed and sealed up to the hayfield and water rights secured. The land would be valued and cost of road works added and Matt's other two partners would invest a similar amount into development of grape vines. Once that input reached the value of land the company would then raise capital to continue development.

When Jeff and Matt went out to relieve themselves of processed beer, Jeff punched Matt on the shoulder and said, "Mate, this will be your most productive investment venture by far. It will take many years before Marlborough is really taken seriously as a wine-growing region but it will happen. Mate let me know when you are ready to sell shares to raise capital because Sue and I and probably our parents will want to buy in."

"Nice to have a mate who can see through the pessimism that blinds so many people," Matt said. "Thanks for bringing these South Australians to me. Kristin told me they intend leasing their winery and grape fields and coming to live here to start afresh."

* * *

It kept happening for Matt. Early in the New Year the handing over complete ownership of The Settlers' Rest was completed. There had been a delay because Rex at the time of selling his shares to Matt suddenly decided that he didn't want to continue on as licensee but was willing to stay on as a barman on wages.

It was Matt who suggested that Mary should apply for the operating licence. She was thrilled to be asked, but replied that Rex would not want her for his boss. She put her reservations to Rex who simply said, "No worries."

The necessary applications were made and all the required licences were issued in Mary's name as Matt had appointed her hotel manager. He advised her that he was thinking about demolishing the hotel and rebuilding a replacement, but continuing bar operations in temporary licensed premises during reconstruction.

Pleased with that progress, Matt still had a problem to resolve, finding a suitable replacement for Art. He'd put feelers out and attracted responses, but the most promising looking young men were seeking career positions, and those who weren't looked lazy or untrustworthy or both

One day as he arrived in the guests and staff-only car park behind The Settlers' Rest, he saw one of the women who had ended her shift apparently having trouble starting her car. Matt went over to the spotless black Zephyr Six to help. "Having trouble?" he inquired, and added, "Oh, hello" when realising it was Isobel from hotel reception.

"Good afternoon Mr Curtis. No problem really. I think two of the spark plus leads are shorting, probably they are perished. So the motor is only running on four pots. I'm taping them until I can get a new set in the morning."

They chatted about their mutual interest in vehicles and after the motor was running without missing, Matt went off into the hotel where he found Mary Mills working on paperwork in the manager's office. After exchanging pleasantries, Matt asked her: "Isobel Whatishername who works here ..."

"Isobel Florence"

"Yes, is she any good?"

"What at Matt?"

"Her work you wicked lady. Her work."

"Excellent, in fact I would go so far as to say exceptional. We're lucky to have her. She's working here to get experience and enough money to go off and train in hotel management. Now, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Look Mary, I've never met a guy yet who knows what women think."

"... that she'd be a good replacement for Art?"

"Hmmm. And men think they're smart. All right, yes. Tell you what, if she accepts she can stay on here working when I don't require her and I'll pick up fifty per cent of her wages."

"Sixty per cent."

Matt scowled. "No wonder you're running this place Mary. You're hard as nails. I guess I'd be wasting my time offering fifty-five per cent?"

Mary sat drumming her fingers of one hand on the desk.

He shrugged, so she said, "Let me know how you get on Matt. She'll not tell me anything, Isobel is very discreet."

At 10:00 the next morning Matt was back in the manager's office. Mary and Isobel had already started on the coffee and muffins. Matt outlined an offer to Isobel who initially looked very startled, almost confused. Gradually she relaxed, listening very carefully.

"Well?" asked Matt, removing the chocolate topping off a muffin and biting into what was left.

"Yes but on two conditions?"

"And they are?"

She looked at Mary, and Matt anticipated her thinking. "No Mary stays. If you can't say it in front of Mary then I would be very disappointed in you."

Isobel flushed. "I wasn't thinking about myself, Mr Curtis. I just didn't want to cause you any embarrassment."

"That's very sporting of you Isobel but my hide's as thick as a car tyre. Let's hear it."

"Number one, I think we should trial the arrangement for one month. And two, I...well... as you probably know Mr Curtis folk around here say you are a very hard man and drink a lot and have something of a reputation as being... um... very attractive to ladies."

"Well I'm more interested in what you think of me as a prospective employer Isobel."

"If you promise me you won't regard me as a sex object Mr Curtis I'd willingly work with you."

"For me," corrected Matt.

"With you," replied Isobel, defiantly.

"As you wish. As to your other concerns, no trial, so accept or reject my offer and two, I never regard any woman as an object; but if you fear that I may be interested in having a personal relationship with you I am sorry but at present I have all I can comfortably manage and I can assure you that I will defend my honour whenever I am alone with you."

"Mr Curtis!"

"Oh, come on Isobel. Cut the crap. I am offering you the opportunity to work um with me."

Standing up and brushing off muffin crumbs, Matt issued an ultimatum, "I'll give you forty-eight hours to advise me of your decision. If it's no there'll be no hard feelings, nothing will change."

"The answer is yes Matt. I suppose I may call you Matt?"

"Yes and thanks for accepting. Could you meet me at 1:00 today for lunch at the Riverside Café and we'll talk about your new responsibilities. You come too Mary, as you ought to have input because we're working this thing as a partnership."

Both women nodded.

After Matt left, Mary said, "I was rather surprised you brought up that personal relationship thing."

"Well he has this very powerful presence Mary which I find a little scary. I thought if I was working with him directly and in all sorts of situations he might consider he owned me and take advantage of me."

"Oh my dear. You have quite a lot to learn about men and especially Matt Curtis. If you though he was joking in implying that he would have to be on guard about advances from you, then you really are innocent beyond belief. But don't worry. Though you're blonde and beautiful you are very slim; the women who gossip to me about him reckon he prefers meat on the bones."

"Would you have accepted the position had you been in my shoes Mary?"

"Cross my heart Isobel. I would have jumped at the opportunity and adopted my best Marilyn Monroe accent and told him, 'I'm willing to do anything for you Sire, anything."

Both women burst out laughing.

Patricia went into a near-spin when one of her friends phoned to ask if it were true that Margaret Florence's young daughter was Matt Curtis' new personal assistant. She broke the news to Courtney at least that what she thought she was doing, but Courtney already knew.

"He told me last night," she said. "He was really worried that I might be upset if what he called 'the grapevine' distorted the situation. Matt said he'd interviewed thirteen male applicants and not one was suitable. He then found Isobel from hotel reception right in front of his eyes. She was a perfect fit for the role."

"And you believed him?"

"Yes and I still do."

"And so do I," said Patricia stoutly. "Curtis men don't openly make fools of themselves."

The next morning Isobel arrived in the Land Rover to pick up some papers from Matt's office. Courtney and Patricia insisted that she should join them for morning tea, which she did gladly.

As she left Isobel said sweetly, "Matt said that you would ask me to stay for morning tea, that it would be a second job interview for me, and that I must tell you this. How did I go?"

"You passed with flying colours," said Courtney, kissing the pretty 22-year-old. "Welcome aboard.

* * *

On a splendid spring afternoon Matt arrived home early to change. When awaking that morning, Courtney had told him that she wanted to take him out for dinner as she had something to discuss. No she had answered emphatically, Patricia would not be accompanying them.

That reply put Matt on alert... a sharp answer and Patricia not coming... they must have fallen out and Courtney was going to tell him she wanted her mother-in-law to go and live somewhere else. Bloody hell, why can't women go out on to the lawn and have it out just like men would. at least real men. Funny thing about that, though, you don't hear much about punch-up between men these days. That's bad, because if men don't get it out of their systems they'll be early candidates for heart attacks, reasoned Matt Curtis, bush philosopher.

"May I take no answer to mean acceptance?" Courtney had asked over the breakfast table. Patricia had not yet appeared.

"Sorry dear. My mind just wandered off track a bit. Yes, I'd like to be taken out."

"I'd like to leave around 5:00."

"Struth that's a bit early. We'll be the only ones in the café at that time."

"We're not eating there tonight. I have booked a table at Fisherman's Wharf."

"Cripes that's an hour away. Nobody goes that far to dinner."

"Oh yes they do Matt. When daddy was based in London he flew with mummy in a chartered aircraft to Paris with a group of people for dinner, and that returned home late that night and that was many years ago."

"I can't imagine people doing things like that, what a shocking waste of money."

"There's a lot of things that people do that you don't know about. I've been thinking that we should take a trip. I'd like to show you places like London, Paris and Rome."

His face twisted in horror at the thought.

Leaving for town to collect his mail and do some banking, Matt clipped the side of the garage when backing out the Land Rover. He scarcely noticed the slight bump, he was too busy muttering, "She's on to that European thing again. She won't want to visit farms, just art galleries to drool over what she calls the Great Masters. Well, she's got a Great Master at home who'd like to visit farms, great rugby grounds, rugby museums and perhaps even take a look inside a brothel, just a look, mind you. Some of the guys as the club reckon the best ones are awesome."

The vehicle slipped over the cattle-stop between the huge concrete posts holding the heavy wooden gates that hadn't been closed for years. Either Matt was operating by instinct or the vehicle passed though out of habit because at that point he was still driving without due care and attention. Only the flashing of headlights alerted Matt who swung on to his side of the road as he turned out of their long driveway.

Mike, the sandy-haired rural mail delivery driver, thrust his head out of the window of his van and with a big grin yelled, "Pissed again Matt?"

Matt cheerfully gave him the obscene version of a two-finger salute. Believing that Courtney would be a bit uptight because of her problems with his mother, Matt arrived home early, and had showered and was dressed ready to go at 4:45. There was no sign of his mother.

Courtney said she was pleased about his prompt arrival, but nevertheless did all the things that a girl going out has to do and finished ten minutes after the hour. Almost a record for promptness, thought Matt, checking his watch for the fifth time in fifteen minutes.

She finally emerged. "It's my shout tonight, I'm taking you," Courtney said from inside the invisible halo of an exotic fragrance that surrounded her.

"Perfume's lovely," he offered, as they walked to her old Sunbeam. She never liked going in the "dusty and dirty" Land Rover when dressed up.

"It should be, you bought that perfume for me."

That puzzled Matt. "I can't remember buying you perfume?"

"That's because I know what you think about buying birthday presents, so I just charged it up to our account at the pharmacy."

Blast, thought Matt, he'd forgotten her birthday and so must have his mother. Perhaps this is what triggered the disagreement between them. Without thinking before opening his mouth he said, "When was it?"

With a sigh, Courtney replied: "It was yesterday, Matt, and you went to the farm before I awoke and you returned after I had gone to bed."

"Oops, I thought it was tomorrow," Matt lied. "Happy birthday for yesterday darling."

"Why thank you. I'm glad I've got you. So many other husbands forget their wife's birthday," Courtney replied, smiling at him beautifully.

During the drive to Picton, Courtney managed to tell Matt about other couples who'd travelled overseas recently and how everyone had concluded they had received great value for their outlay.

"How much does it cost to go to Europe?"

Another great smile danced onto Courtney's lips. "I really can't say. Heaps, I guess. One has to be rich to afford to go there in style."