Page 61 of Vine

She sighed. “Probably not. More pictures. A closeup of you with the bruises suggesting you’re an erratic nighttime wanderer. A drinker. A hint you’re unreliable because you’ve disappeared for a couple of days. It’s crude, but he’s gathering followers and some press attention. This series might end up being the most popular of the lot.”

“Yippee.” I snipped around a cluster of grapes, exposing them to the sunshine. The excess foliage dropped into a bag at my feet.

“You don’t seem too bothered.”

I shrugged. “Trust me, inside, I’m dying. But in three weeks from now, I’ll be done with it, have my paycheck, and be a free agent. And I’m not going back. I’m finished with telly. Fuck knows what I’ll do for cash. I need to rent out my flat pronto. Or sell it. But I’m informing my agent this afternoon.”

Saying all that out loud in English for the first time felt like a burden lifted.

“Wow.”

“Yes. But I’d rather you didn’t share that with Leigh and Jonas. Not yet. I’d like to do it myself.”

“You don’t need to worry about that. Jonas and I aren’t on speaking terms. And I’m leaving too. On Friday.”

Oh God, that sounded awfully soon. Did it leave me enough time to win my friend back? “I hope it’s because you’re going to Australia.”

“I am.” For the first time, a small smile crept around the corners of her mouth. “I have a six-month marketing job at a winery twenty minutes outside of Sydney. Covering maternity leave. I had negotiated a start for mid-September, after we’dfinished filming here. But funnily enough, I can’t wait to get away, so I handed in my notice. You’ll manage the last part without me. You’re great at it; you’ve learned so much already.”

I rolled my eyes. “Trimming stalks isn’t exactly memorising the choreography for a Broadway show, is it?”

“No,” she agreed. “But you’ve learned tons more than that. There are some short courses organised byL’École du Vinin Bordeaux. If you signed up for one of those, I reckon you could run a small vineyard like this. Especially if you get involved in the vendage. The island cooperative always needs extra pairs of hands.”

For a few minutes, I let that little fantasy play out in my head. Hot summer days spooling out into the future. Me, buried deep amongst the lush green plants, snipping and pruning to my heart’s content, my inner demons calmed. Then strolling twenty-two metres back home to Max, to blue walls, blue waders, and sweet hot chocolate served in bright blue mugs.

Yeah, right. Now Max had a sexual conquest under his belt, the world was his oyster (so to speak). He’d soon tire of me when he spotted that queue of fun, cute French twinks.

“I’m so pleased for you,” I answered, meaning it. “Our loss is Sexy Stella’s gain. Now who am I going to drown my sorrows with in L’Escale?”

“Er… you could always get Rubber Legs to take you there? In his waders?” She chuckled. “God, you must have found out by now—does he have any other clothes?”

“Not many. Just a couple of blue sweaters, blue jeans, blue boxers… He’s, well, he’s set in his ways. Oh, and a set of red sequinned waders he brings out for special occasions.”

Emma’s jaw dropped. “No way.”

“Yep. Way. With sexy little gold tassels hanging from his nipples.”

“You fucker. You had me for a second.”

My morning back at work had been too good to last. Sure enough, after lunch, Jonas arrived, prowling the perimeter of the set like scum circling a drain. My stomach cramped. “Ah, the wanderer returns,” he exclaimed. A smirk played around the edges of his mouth.

Fuck offwas on the tip of my tongue; I swallowed it down. “Tell me the plan for the afternoon.”

“Decided to grace us with your presence, have you?”

“We’re all entitled to a couple of sick days,” I pointed out primly. My heart set up a fast rhythm against my rib cage. “Unless you also removed that from the contract.”

He ignored my jibe. “Is that what we’re calling it these days.Sick?”

“As I said,” I persisted, determined to hold my ground, though I was quaking inside, “tell me the plan. For instance, are we filming the vines or the next stage of my mental breakdown?” I made myself meet his eye. “You know, so I can prepare accordingly.”

He gave a mocking laugh. “We’ve been doing both alongside each other very well until now. I don’t see why we can’t continue.” Checking his phone, he added, “I want a bunch of ripe grapes and you and Leigh side by side in thirty. He’s going to knowledgeably discuss them and convey his pant-wetting excitement for the upcoming vendage, while you are going to stand next to him, attempting a facial expression which isn’t going to scare the younger viewers but trying not to look so spaced out on whatever meds you’re guzzling it turns the older viewers off. Pretty much what you’ve been doing since we arrived, to be fair.”

He stalked off. A good thing, seeing as my legs were visibly trembling. If he turned around, he’d see me hyperventilating; I prayed he wouldn’t get the satisfaction. I felt sick to my stomach—I might be sick. Each quick shallow breath made my fingers tingle and my head spin.

Not to be outdone, my arms started to itch, reminding me as usual of the quickest way to take the edge off. The work of minutes. I’d be back long before someone hunted me down. I could slip away now. My belongings were at Max’s, but with Leigh and Jonas out here, I’d be sure to find a razor lying around in the bathroom of the big house. Leigh had a meticulous shaving routine, and one of those fancy straight-edged blades without a safety guard. I’d only make a little nick, perhaps one I could even hide from Max, up high near my armpit. I could wear a T-shirt to bed, say I was cold, even though lying next to him was like stepping inside a sauna.

But I’d earned it, hadn’t I?

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