Valley of Sinners Ch. 08

“Well, everyone, here’s to the happy couple. May they complete their lifetime together.”

“Speech, speech Nash,” called Mimi and Eloise.

“Tell us about the book!” shouted Drago.

Nash rose, pulling Rose to her feet.

“Not everyone here knows me, and very few of you know this woman beside me – my mother Rose Carson. But you will hear more from her in October because Lisa has asked her to sing at our wedding, and for me and the Bronkovic brothers and wives to join her in a bracket of songs at the wedding reception. Mum was a well-known country and western singer in her youth, and still pounds out a good tune. Thanks mum.

“Ah yes, the book, the reason why I was drawn into this valley community. I was drifting along towards oblivion as a deadbeat when by chance I noticed a brilliant red pre-war Chevy and a damsel in need of rescue. Mum had always taught me to be kind to older women, so I reacted instinctively. Hope recognised something in me – my gift for the gab and ability to draw vivid word pictures. She took a punt and asked me to write a book for her. Initially it was to be her recollections of her father who pioneered grape-growing in this valley. But other larger than life characters began to emerge – including Neven Bronkovic who has become a sort of father figure to me and Hope agreed to allow me to expand my research, which is now nearing completion. I haven’t told Hope this yet, but I wrote a couple of trial chapters a couple of months ago, and rather liked what I read. Strangers driving through this valley can be excused for thinking they’re in sleepy hollow, but boy – will their eyes boggle as will yours when they read what I found when I came to Te Henui Valley.

He asked was anyone interested to hear some of the topics?

“Yes!” came the chorus.

“Right – for starters, sex, drugs and echoes of rock ‘n’ roll, sheep stealing, wife-swapping, corruption, feudalism, redemption over illegitimacy, individual courage and conviction, gritty women and people with extra-ordinary vision. Then there’s the story of great natural wealth that lay unappreciated for generations, the rehabilitation of an American-made half-tonner, what a difference a road can make, a golf course where all the playmaking is not golf and industrious people. Then there’s an exceptionally artistic person who resides in this valley – you wait until the art critics and re-sellers discover what Catherine Hausman created in her garden shed prison, and on it goes. Hell, some of that is enough to get a fellow tarred and feathered and run out of town. But it’s nothing but the truth and shall be presented without too much artful window-dressing and apart from Tremain Hausman, I have not found any other valley sinner without some redeeming features of character and community adhesiveness.”

“Will there be much about wine-making?” someone called.

Nash said of course and continued.

“I accept that all of us are sinner in some way or other and I had no compunction about writing about sinners and the good that they do. Actually, the way that secrets fly around this valley I suspect I’ll not reveal overly much that has not winged its way through the grape vine. Even so, be prepared for some surprises. Be prepared, also, for the possibility of a film being based on this book. A heroine like Hope Honeybun, who fails to see merit in herself, believing she lives under the considerable shadow of her late father, are a rare breed these days outside of fiction. Hope is rather flamboyant and, as well, in recent weeks a quiet woman of perhaps equal merit has been emerging, Catherine Hausman or should I say Catherine Hopkins as she is about to revert. However, even they are flawed characters. It’s going to be a ton of fun pulling all of this together acceptably so to ensure my mother-in-law doesn’t put both barrels of buckshot into my backside and the Bronkovic brothers don’t come calling to invited me to a lynching.”

“Lisa,” shouted Neven Bronkovic. “Take him home, bonk him and get him writing. We can’t wait to read about the sins of this valley.”

“Oh my, to think I thought daughters of heroines were supposed to be good girls,” cracked Hope, raising her glass. “Take him home and do what Neven suggests, Lisa.”

Nash had everything worked out. The wedding day will be in late October when his book should be with a publisher, timed to catch the Christmas market. Catherine had guaranteed to underwrite a private printing if he failed to find a commercial publisher, allowing him and Lisa to be away on their honeymoon at the time the book was released.

Nash wanted to be well clear of Te Henui Valley in case someone really was provoked enough to consider a tarring and feathering.

THE END