Blackpeak Station Page 8

  Rob arrived after dinner, looking worried and exhausted. ‘Half the firm’s clients could go under on the back of this storm,’ he told them grimly.

  ‘Have you eaten?’ Kath asked him. He shook his head. ‘I’ll get you a plate.’

  ‘You should go outside,’ said Jen, who’d popped in for a word. ‘There’s plenty of mutton going spare.’

  ‘You know,’ he said to Charlotte later that night, as they lay curled up in bed, ‘if you do have to … if the worst comes to the worst …’ He stopped, and kissed the top of her head. ‘I’m here for you, that’s what I’m trying to say. Always. In whatever way you want.’

  What’s he offering me? Charlotte wondered — but she was already half asleep, drifting against Rob’s broad, warm chest. For the first time in too many days she felt safe and relaxed, and she could almost believe that Nick might be right and things really would be okay. There’d been Blacks on this land for a hundred and fifty years. They’d work something out. Somehow, some way.

  Chapter EIGHT

  ‘Something’, the subject line of Nick’s email read. Charlotte opened it.

  Hey Charles! Hope you’ve got the place looking good — I’m bringing someone down with me for the weekend. Can we please pull out all the stops? I’m talking SERIOUS charm offensive. We’ll be down for lunch on Saturday — we’re helicoptering in. Don’t freak. xN

  PS — tell Kath no mutton;)

  Charlotte shook her head. She tried not to feel too angry — Nick was the boss, after all. But a helicopter? Who was going to pay for that? She couldn’t help feeling that despite being in the final year of an agricommerce degree, her brother had very little grasp of the maths of their situation. Rex and Jen were offering to take pay cuts. Did Nick even read the reports she sent him?

  She flicked back a terse ‘ok — see you Saturday’, and stomped off to ask Kath to make up the posh guest room and have a rummage through the freezer.

  The helicopter touched down briefly just before noon, depositing Nick and his guest on the lawn before high-tailing it back to Christchurch. As the air settled, Charlotte got her first good look at the figure following Nick up the slope to the verandah. Wow — if that’s what girls looked like in Palmerston North, no wonder Nick hadn’t come home all year.

  Her brother’s ‘someone’ was almost as tall as him, with long glossy black hair and clothes that looked as if they’d come straight out of one of Andrea’s posher magazines. Soft brown suede boots encased the considerable length of her legs to mid-thigh, and over skinny jeans and cream cashmere hung the most beautifully tailored coat that Charlotte had ever seen.

  ‘This,’ said Nick triumphantly, a hand to the visitor’s back, ‘is Flavia Sammartino.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ Charlotte lied. Impressive as Flavia was, this was hardly a time in the station’s history for showing off to trophy girlfriends.

  ‘Piacere!’ Dazzled momentarily by Flavia’s smile, Charlotte found herself kissed on both cheeks. ‘Nick has told me so much about you.’ An elegant arm slid through hers as Nick ushered them into the house. ‘He didn’t tell me you were so beautiful, though. And this place!’ There was a flash of gold as Flavia waved her other hand. ‘Bellissima! I don’t know how your brother can bear to leave it.’

  In the kitchen, Kath received much the same treatment. Charlotte, watching her reaction, wondered if her own jaw had dropped as much. Rex, when it was his turn, actually blushed. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to ask Rob to come for dinner.

  ‘So, er, how did you two meet?’ Kath asked.

  ‘At uni,’ said Nick. ‘Flavia’s over here doing her masters in textile science.’

  ‘I am so interested in your sheep,’ added Flavia, by way of explanation.

  Across the table, Charlotte caught Rex’s eye. ‘That’s nice, dear,’ said Kath.

  After lunch — a creditably tender roast beef — Nick announced he was taking Flavia on a quad bike tour.

  ‘We’d better find you some gumboots,’ Charlotte said, with a dubious look at Flavia’s clothes.

  ‘Grazie, cara,’ Flavia patted her hand. ‘But I come prepared.’

  She re-emerged from her room a few minutes later, looking only slightly less glamorous in a glossy pair of Hunter boots and a Barbour.

  ‘Interested in sheep?’ said Rex wonderingly, as they watched Nick and Flavia head out to the bay shed. ‘Girls like that weren’t interested in sheep in my day.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, dear,’ said Kath. ‘When did you ever meet a girl like that?’

  He shook his head. ‘My dad always said I should have gone to agricultural college.’

  When Charlotte got in at dusk from shifting sheep, there were voices coming from the formal sitting room — a room so seldom used she’d almost forgotten what it looked like. She stuck her head round the door. Nick had the fire blazing, and an empty bottle of Andrea’s touch-it-and-die pinot noir stood next to their great-grandfather’s cut crystal decanter on the sideboard. Flavia, back in her brown suede boots, had her long legs tucked up on the chesterfield.

  ‘It’s perfect,’ she was saying, her dark eyes flashing in the firelight. ‘My father will love it.’

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Charles!’ Nick turned. ‘Good timing. Come and join us’ — he peered at her as she came into the room — ‘after you’ve washed up.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Charlotte brushed at her filthy moleskins. ‘Won’t be long.’

  She showered as quickly as she could, hoping they’d save her some pinot. Then, remembering Rob was on his way down and Flavia was draped over the couch, she decided she’d better drag out her best jeans and put on some make-up.

  ‘There you are,’ said Nick, looking her up and down with an approving smile and handing her a glass.

  ‘Bella Carlotta,’ smiled Flavia, spearing an olive — of all things — from a bowl on the coffee table.

  ‘We want to talk to you about something,’ Nick went on.

  God. That sounded serious. Charlotte sat down. ‘Okay.’ She took a mouthful of pinot.

  ‘My father,’ Flavia said, ‘would like to invest in Blackpeak. At least’ — she waved her olive airily — ‘he does not know this yet, but he will. I am going to tell him.’

  Invest? Charlotte shook her head in confusion. What the hell was all this about?

  ‘Flavia’s father is Massimo Sammartino,’ explained Nick. She stared at him blankly. He sighed. ‘Fratelli Sammartino? The most exclusive suit makers in the world?’

  ‘One of the most,’ Flavia demurred with a shrug of her cashmere shoulders.

  Impressive. But Charlotte was struggling. ‘So … why does he want to invest in a farm?’ Especially, she added to herself, one with no stock and zero chance of a profit in the foreseeable future?

  ‘My father’ — Flavia raised her eyebrows at Charlotte conspiratorially — ‘likes control. He wants a fabric no other suit maker in the world can have. One made from fibre grown specifically for us, to our exact requirements.’

  ‘Ultra-fine.’ Nick sounded excited. ‘Twelve microns or less. It’ll make the best cloth money can buy.’

  ‘But we’re nowhere near that,’ said Charlotte. ‘We don’t even run super-fine.’

  ‘We don’t run anything much at the moment,’ Nick reminded her.

  Flavia sat forward. ‘You have a clean slate,’ she said, looking into Charlotte’s eyes. ‘That’s what makes it so perfect. Other farmers, they do not want to change for us. But here, you are starting again. We will help you buy in the best breeding stock, give you all the tools you need to develop the ideal wool for Fratelli Sammartino. It will be for only our very best suits. The client, when he orders this suit, he knows everything is bespoke — not only the tailoring, but every step of the process, right down to the unique fibre of the Fratelli Sammartino bloodline.’

  She paused, took a sip of wine. ‘Of course, we will shoot each season’s collection here at Blackpeak, with your beautiful mountains and your beau
tiful home. With each suit will come a certificato di origine, the story of the year and the place — its very own pedigree and vintage.’

  Charlotte stared at her, entranced.

  Flavia shot her another dazzling smile. ‘And you, cara, will look bellissima in the brochure. What man would not want a suit grown by you?’

  ‘But,’ Charlotte stammered, pushing that terrifying prospect aside, ‘it would take years to build up a flock like that.’

  ‘But of course.’ Flavia shrugged again. ‘We Italians are patient people. What is it you English speakers say — Roma was not built in a day?’

  ‘What do you think, Charles?’ Nick scanned her face anxiously. ‘The deal is, they buy a share in the station—’

  Flavia waved her hand. ‘A minority stake, that is all.’

  ‘—and put up as much development capital as we need. Once the ultra-fine clip starts coming through, they’ll buy the lot on forward contract.’ He smiled. ‘No more wait-and-see for what price we can get at auction.’

  Wow. Charlotte didn’t know what to think. Selling part of Blackpeak — that wasn’t great. But it was a whole lot better than losing all of it to their creditors. And as for the rest of the deal — a blank cheque to build a new stud? A guaranteed income year-on-year? She’d never dreamed the future could look so good.

  ‘Carlotta, it is important that I know you’re onboard,’ Flavia was saying, ‘before I go to my father.’

  ‘It’ll be you who has to see this thing through,’ added Nick.

  ‘Me?’ Charlotte frowned, even more confused. ‘But you’re the one about to get a degree in this stuff.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Nick sat down beside Flavia. ‘About that.’ He took a long drink of wine. ‘The thing is …’

  ‘Tell her, caro,’ ordered Flavia.

  ‘My degree isn’t exactly in agricommerce.’

  Charlotte stared at her brother. ‘So what is it in?’

  He flashed her a guilty grin. ‘Fashion and business.’

  She blinked. ‘At Massey?’

  ‘The Wellington campus, actually — yeah.’

  Double wow. Charlotte pressed her hand to her mouth. Their father must be revolving in his grave so fast he could power the Mackenzie Basin.

  ‘You see’ — Nick put his hand on Flavia’s thigh — ‘unlike Flavia, I’m not so interested in sheep.’

  ‘When were you going to tell Dad?’ Charlotte asked, in awe.

  He grimaced. ‘I thought I’d wait till I got my first job.’

  ‘Which he has,’ Flavia put in.

  Charlotte raised her eyebrows.

  ‘I’m going to be a pattern cutter,’ Nick explained, with ill-concealed glee, ‘for Fratelli Sammartino. In Milan.’

  Milan?

  Flavia raised a theatrical hand to her mouth. ‘My father likes Nick very much,’ she whispered, with a flash of her eyes. ‘It is a tradition that men in my family start on the shop floor.’

  Nick smirked. ‘So you see, Charles, we need to know that you’ll be around — you know, long term — to handle things at this end.’

  Flavia searched her face. ‘This afternoon, I was talking to your Kath, and I understood … how shall I say? … in not so long, perhaps, you might have other plans?’

  Charlotte was baffled. All this information was making her brain hurt. What other plans could Kath possibly think she might have?

  ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she said firmly. ‘There’s nothing I’d ever leave Blackpeak for. You couldn’t get me off this place if you tried.’

  Flavia’s eyes flicked up, over Charlotte’s shoulder.

  ‘Hi,’ said Rob, leaning down and kissing her cheek. Charlotte smiled up at him. His eyes, she thought, looked a little bit sad — he must have had a bad day. Just as well they had such good news to tell him.

  ‘That’s fantastic,’ Rob said, when all was explained. He pulled Charlotte to him, smiling into her upturned face, his blue eyes crinkling in that way she loved. ‘I’m so happy for you.’ He turned back to the others. ‘Of course, you’ll have to clear the Overseas Investment Office.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Flavia airily, ‘our people will handle all that.’ She looked Rob over again.

  ‘Rob happens to be the station’s accountant as well,’ Nick explained.

  ‘Madonna!’ Flavia flashed her eyes at Charlotte again. ‘It’s true what you Kiwis say — this really is God’s zone.’

  ‘Flavia’s very beautiful,’ Charlotte observed, as she and Rob lay in bed later that night.

  ‘Yeah? I hadn’t noticed.’

  ‘Liar.’ Charlotte flicked his chest.

  Rob grinned. ‘Well, maybe she is.’ He kissed the hollow of her neck. ‘But I prefer girls with blue eyes …’ He ran a hand down her thigh. ‘… and red-top gumboots.’

  Chapter NINE

  October had been kind. The sun shone and the rain fell in idyllic proportions, the grass grew long and green on the river flats, and with so much feed to go around so few, the remaining stock began to prosper. What lambs the station did have, almost all singles and born underweight after the snow, were now making up for lost time. You could almost see them getting fatter, Charlotte thought, as she watched a group of them play king-of-the-castle in the sun. The front due to blow through tomorrow wouldn’t bother them at all.

  This time next year, these lambs would be trucked off for a good price, and Blackpeak would have its first generation of ultra-fine stock on this same ground. Turning her mind to the bloodlines she was hoping to buy, Charlotte drove back to the homestead for lunch in high spirits. Tinks, riding the flatdeck, stuck her face through the side window, panting in Charlotte’s ear.

  ‘There you are!’ In the kitchen, Kath was almost bursting with news. ‘You’ll never guess what — I think Zoe might’ve left. For good, I mean. I passed Jen’s ute heading out a couple of hours ago.’ She paused briefly for breath. ‘Zoe was in the passenger seat and the back was full of boxes.’

  Wow — this really was a good day, Charlotte thought, before she could stop herself. She bit her lip. How could she be such a bitch? This was Jen’s life they were talking about.

  ‘She hadn’t said a word to me about going anywhere,’ Kath continued. ‘Did Jen tell you they were heading into town?’

  Charlotte shook her head, feeling deeply ashamed of herself. Poor Jen. She knew she and Zoe hadn’t been getting along that well back before the snow, but since then she’d hardly spoken a word to Jen except about sheep and money.

  After lunch, Charlotte checked her email again — there was still no word from Nick. She clicked on the MetService site. It was bristling with river warnings. The front was forecast to hit tomorrow afternoon, bringing heavy rain to the high country headwaters. She sighed. She was reluctant to take the ewes off the best grass, but they’d better come up in the morning.

  The afternoon passed with no sign of Jen. At dinner, Rex reported that her ute was back, but there was no reply when Charlotte rang the cottage. She gave it another hour, and then decided to drive down. A long silence followed her knock on the door.

  ‘Jen? I know you’re in there.’

  ‘Oh, all right,’ Jen called at last. ‘You’d better come in, then.’ She didn’t sound enthusiastic.

  Charlotte followed the sound of her voice through the empty kitchen and into the lounge. She looked around. Something was different — it took her a moment to work out what. All Zoe’s stuff was gone.

  ‘Hi.’ Jen was curled up on the old Dralon couch — Charlotte had forgotten how grotty it was under Zoe’s natty country-check cover. She had a glass in her hand and a bottle of red by her side.

  ‘Hi,’ said Charlotte gently.

  ‘Want a drink?’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Help yourself. The glasses are in the kitchen.’

  Returning with one, Charlotte settled herself in the armchair and poured. They sipped their wine in silence.

  ‘So …’ Charlotte ventured at last. ‘How’re things?’
>
  Jen shrugged. ‘Zoe’s gone. I took her into town today. Her sister came and picked her up.’

  ‘Yeah. Kath saw you leave. I’m really sorry.’

  There was another silence. Charlotte glanced around the room, taking in the empty hooks where pictures had recently hung.

  ‘So what happened?’

  Jen stared into her glass for a few seconds, swirling the wine. ‘She thinks I’m in love with you.’

  ‘She what?’ Charlotte nearly choked. She couldn’t help but laugh just a bit. ‘That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever …’ She trailed off as Jen looked up and into her eyes. ‘Oh Christ. Jen …’

  Jen dropped her gaze quickly. Oh God — were those tears?

  ‘But,’ stammered Charlotte, ‘you know I’m not … that I’m …’

  ‘Into men?’ Jen sighed bitterly. ‘Of course I do. I used to sleep across the hall from you, remember?’

  Charlotte winced. ‘I’m so sorry … I didn’t … it just never occurred to me that you might …’

  ‘Have feelings for you?’ Jen’s voice softened. ‘I know. That’s one of the things I love about you — that it never occurred.’

  Silence again.

  Jen took another gulp of wine. ‘It’s nice for a girl to think she might occur just once or twice, though.’

  Charlotte smiled. ‘Well, maybe once or twice … you know …’ She studied Jen’s face, hoping for a smile in return. ‘Just not …’

  ‘Long term?’ Jen’s mouth twitched. ‘Katy Perry has a lot to answer for.’

  ‘I swear,’ said Charlotte, hand on heart, ‘if ever a girl was going to occur, it would be you.’

  She held out her wine glass. Jen refilled it.

  ‘So now what do we do?’

  Jen sighed. ‘Well, I think the usual drill is, we promise not to let this get in the way of our friendship, you go home, I get drunk, and in the morning we pretend we never had this conversation.’