“I think the Wizard of Oz would be completely fabulous, Lucy,” said Annette. They were seated at the kitchen table, holding mugs of steaming cocoa.
“We can use some original music, but I would like to mash things up, use some of the current hits and showcase the children’s dancing skills with a cute flash mob,” said Lucy, warming to her current favorite subject.
“Of course, we must have it here. We’ll carry the costs of the marquee tent, refreshments, and so on. It will be a great evening,” said Annette. Lucy’s excitement was catching.
“What do you think, son?” Annette asked Josh, who was hurriedly making himself his third cup of coffee in a row. All afternoon, he’d seemed distracted, constantly checking his phone.
“Hmmm? I’m sorry what did you say? I didn’t get too much sleep last night.”
At that moment, they heard a car fast approaching, a door slammed, and footsteps mounted the front stairs. Seconds later, Tom entered the kitchen. His relationship with the de Langes was such that there was no need to knock.
Tom’s face was serious, and he looked harassed. He nodded in greeting to Annette and Lucy. “Josh, there’s something I think you need to come and see.”
“What is it?”
It was clear from Tom’s face that this wasn’t good news. “I’d rather you saw for yourself,”
“Let’s go,” Josh said, his face was grim.
“Let me come along,” said Lucy, grabbing a jacket.
The three sat silently in Tom’s pickup while he drove hastily, bumping over rutted farm roads. They began to climb the slopes up toward the older vines on the farm.
“Here’s what I want you to see,” he said, jerking up the handbrake and climbing out of the driver’s seat.
“Dan!” Tom called out to one of the farm’s workers clad in dark-blue overalls and thick gum boots. “Dan, show them what you showed me.”
The sun was low in the sky and Lucy squinted in the glare, then she saw it: an entire section of vines had been viciously hacked. There were deep destructive gashes in the vine stems over a large swathe of number three vineyard.
Dan shook his head, saying, “Alles hierso is totale vernietig,” which translated into Everything here is totally destroyed.
“It’s all the way to the tree line up there,” Tom said, pointing toward the mountain. “They couldn’t take us on in the marketplace so now they’ve resorted to this. Bastards. Useless, no-nothing bloody bastards.” He spat the words.
“Do we know this is the work of Sun Valley?” asked Lucy.
Tom spoke briefly in Afrikaans to Dan. “Dan says that he and two other workers came up here earlier. This time of year, they take the by-products of the crushing process and use them as mulch to feed the vines. This must have taken place last night.”
“Are these vines critical?” Lucy asked.
“These vines are the oldest on the farm. Some of them are over a century. Older vines like these have a smaller yield but the wine they produce is intense. In fact, it’s what gives our Shiraz its rich signature taste.”
Josh shook his head. He looked positively grief-stricken.
“Will you go to the police?” Lucy asked.
“We will. I’ll alert the cops and hopefully, they’ll open a case of malicious damage to property and trespassing. But I don’t hold out much hope. Nobody saw anything, and how on earth would we find proof?”
“Somebody around here knows something, Josh. We just have to get that person or people to talk. I’m gonna lean hard on all of the workers. Get them in a room one by one and question them personally,” said Tom.
“All right, Tom, but be careful. We don’t want to be too accusatory of our own people and create resentment.”
With heavy hearts, Lucy, Josh, and Tom walked back to the pickup truck and climbed in.
“I’m dropping you off, Lucy.” Josh’s voice had an edge that she didn’t recognize, and the three rode in stony silence. When they arrived at Lucy’s cottage, she hopped out quickly. She knew the men had urgent business to attend to.
“I’m so sorry, Josh. Please let me know what the police say.”
“I will. Goodnight, Lucy.”
***
That night, Lucy waited for a call that never came. She awoke in the early hours of the morning and checked her phone for messages. Nothing. Eventually, she fell into an anxious, disturbed sleep.
In her dream, she heard her mother’s voice calling to her. “Lucy, Lucy Luuuu…” she called.
It had been her mother’s pet name for her. She caught a glimpse of the long blonde hair and a quick view of a hand or a foot in between hanging sheets of laundry. In the dream, she was no more than six or seven, giggling as she followed her mom’s voice, dodging in and out of the crisp sheets billowing in a gentle breeze. Lucy could feel the soft, cool grass under her bare feet. There were dandelions and she could hear the buzz of bumblebees lazy in the heat of the day.
“Mommy!” she called out, running faster now, dodging and chasing the sound of her mother’s voice. Faster and faster she ran, and yet her mother was elusive. Soon, she felt herself starting to tire and her mother’s voice became distant. Suddenly, the breeze fell off and the laundry no longer flapped. The sun withdrew its comforting warmth as it slid behind a cloud. “Mom!” she called out. feeling slightly frantic.
“I’m here behind you.”
With huge relief, she spun around, but when she saw the figure behind her, her voice stuck in her throat. For it wasn’t her mother she saw. Instead of the gentle, loving face that was so familiar, there stood Victoria Palmer. Her ash-blonde helmet of hair was stiff and coiffed. Her eyebrows were severely arched, and she wore a hard smear of lipstick. Vulnerable and afraid, Lucy felt the full force of Victoria’s malevolence.
“Mom! Mom!” her frightened seven-year-old self, sobbed.
Lucy sat bolt upright in bed. Her chest was heaving and her throat felt constricted. She grabbed for the light switch on her reading lamp. She bit into her trembling lower lip and tried to calm down, to anchor herself in the present. She took in the familiar surroundings and noticed her things around her while her breathing gradually slowed. She hadn’t had a dream like this in years. The loss of her mother had left a deep scar. One that the years had tempered but never erased.
Why? she wondered. Why after so many years had she dreamed of her mother again? And as for Victoria, she couldn’t understand, just as the fiasco with Jason and his family was receding, why should she be visited by images of that vile woman?
Lucy glanced at her phone. Again, there was no message from Josh. She checked her urge to message him. No doubt he had enough on his plate, she reasoned. It was just after four in the morning, and she knew there was no chance of sleep. She decided there was no point in dwelling on frightening images either. She took out her iPad and began watching an old downloaded movie. It ended just as the sun was rising over the mountains.