Page 68 of A Perfect Devon Pub
Fiona couldn’t tolerate the uncomfortable small talk any longer.
‘What are you doing here?’ she blurted, the words tumbling from her lips before she could stop them. ‘Did you know I’d be here?’
Her mother’s eyes met hers, and there was a flicker of something she hadn’t expected. Something close to ...compassion? Her mother’s voice was soft, almost tender as she spoke. ‘Of course we did. Ivy is my only sister. When she says something is important, I listen.’ She paused, her gaze shifting to her husband for a moment. ‘When Ivy asked us to come, we came. You know, we would have listened to you too – if you’d have asked us.’
Fiona stared at them, speechless. This baffled her. All her life, she’d been left to fend for herself. Her parents, always so absorbed in their world of academia, had never really involved themselves much in her life. It was Ivy whose shoulder she’d cried on when her first boyfriend dumped her; Ivy with whom she’d discussed her dreams of becoming a sommelier; Ivy who’d driven her to college, the back seat of the car stacked with the contents of Fiona’s bedroom – from Ivy’s rectory. Her parents were always too busy, their thoughts on higher things. Yet now, they were here after years of absence, because Ivy had askedthem to come. Seriously?
Then, fragments of the letter her father had written to Ru floated into her memory, bobbing like pieces of a broken cork. She had spent her life building a protective wall of hurt self-righteousness, convinced their love was conditional on her academic achievements. Had she been wrong about that, just as she had been wrong about Ru? The anger still burned within her, but it was now tinged with confusion. It was as if she had dismissed a complex wine after a hasty sip, only to find her palette detecting subtle hints of depth and complexity she had initially missed.
‘All the way from Melbourne?’ Fiona’s voice was shaky, almost a whisper.
‘Yes,’ her father said, his voice firm. ‘You’re our only child, Fiona. I know we can get wrapped up in our work, and you made it obvious you valued your independence and did not want us smothering you with love, but if you’re in trouble, we would go to the moon for you.’
The words hit her like a punch to the chest. For the first time in her life, Fiona felt the strength of their love. A love she had never understood. What her father had written in that letter to Ru was true. They’d always seemed so distant, so wrapped up in their books and papers. But their love had been there all along, just hidden beneath a layer of academia. She had been responsible for pushing them away, just as she had alienated Ru. At least it wasn’t too late to fix her relationship with her parents.
Her father shifted, his usual reserved manner slipping for just a moment. ‘Ruben ... came to visit us, a few months back ... Actually, he was the first to tell us he thought you might need us.’
Fiona felt the blood drain from her face. Her hands shook, the cup rattling against its saucer. ‘What?’ she asked, barely able to keep the tremor from her voice.
‘Yes,’ her father said, nodding with an air of approval. ‘Hecame all the way to Melbourne. He wanted to meet us even though you’d turned down his proposal. Ruben said you’d been going through a rough time, thought you might need us. We’ve been trying to speak to you, but Ivy kept saying you weren’t yet ready to listen to what we had to say.’
Fiona froze, her thoughts racing. She had expected Ru to go to Melbourne in lieu of the honeymoon, rather than wasting the money, but why had he bothered to visit her parents after she’d rejected his marriage proposal?
Her father continued, oblivious to the turmoil in Fiona’s mind. ‘He’s a good man, Fiona. We liked him.’
Fiona winced. She forced herself to speak, but her throat felt tight. ‘Yes. I ... I ...’ But it was too late. Ru had moved on. Her mother’s gaze softened again. ‘What did Ivy mean when she said you were in trouble?’
Fiona hesitated. The room seemed to shrink around her. The tea had gone cold, but her fingers were too numb to notice. She stared at her parents, their faces earnest, waiting for her to speak. Eventually, she told them about the break-up with Ru, and the missing wine.
‘I ... I didn’t steal anything,’ she said, her voice barely audible. ‘But someone is framing me for it.’
Her parents’ expressions shifted. They weren’t academics now. They were parents: worried, protective, alert.
‘When the doorbell rang earlier,’ Fiona continued, her voice growing more strained, ‘I thought it was the police. I thought they’d come for me. I didn’t know what to do.’
Her mother got up first. Then her father. They moved toward her with surprising speed, wrapping their arms around her in unison. The embrace was unexpected, yet it felt so right, something she hadn’t realized she wanted until it was happening. Fiona closed her eyes, trying to hold back the tears. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d hugged her, notsince she was a young child. Yet cradled in their arms, she felt safe.
The pressure in her chest eased. She didn’t even try to hold back the tears, but let them fall, blubbing like a baby, and all the while she felt the grip of their arms, holding her tight. She sniffed, wiping her eyes, summoning the courage to speak again. ‘I failed my Advanced Sommelier exams. Twice.’
Her father didn’t hesitate. ‘It doesn’t matter, Fiona. You don’t need a piece of paper to succeed. Ru told us you’re the best sommelier he’s ever worked with.’
That was when Fiona realized her parents had always loved her deeply. They just hadn’t known how to show it. But now, she could feel it in their arms, see it in their eyes and she began to think she would not have to fight her battle alone.
That evening, Fiona, her parents and Ivy gathered around the small kitchen table. The scent of roasted vegetables drifted through the room, tinged with the smell from Ivy’s wilting basil plant. In pride of place on the table, wrapped in a white linen napkin, was a bottle of Leeuwin Estate Art Series Chardonnay, chilled to just the right temperature. Her parents had brought it all the way from Australia.
At Fiona’s suggestion, they had built the meal around the iconic wine; she had explained how the creamy texture and vibrant acidity of the wine would balance beautifully with the natural sweetness and umami of roasted vegetables. Her words flowed freely; she was sharing her passion, not delivering a lecture. Her shoulders lifted as she watched her parents’ expressions absorb every detail. Was that maternal pride in her mother’s smile?
Fiona moved quietly, pouring wine with a contented, almost shy smile. ‘I still can’t believe you’re staying all week,’ Fiona murmured, glancing at her parents before taking her seat.
Her mother’s hand found hers across the table. ‘And longer if we need to. We are staying until this is resolved,’ she replied softly. Ivy had insisted on giving up her bedroom for her sister, content to sleep on the sofa bed – she didn’t need to announce her satisfaction at finally reuniting parents and daughter.
The meal passed with comfortable chatter, her father sharing a spirited debate with Ivy about how to fight ageing, her mother chiming in with her theories. Fiona felt herself relax; she didn’t fear a knock on the door anymore – not with her support team.
Once the plates were cleared, her father’s expression grew serious. ‘Now,’ he said, looking at Fiona, ‘how can we help figure out what really happened?’
Fiona tensed slightly and glanced at her aunt. Was it fair to press Ivy? Only as a last resort.
There was one other person she could try first ... unless he had already gone.She would message him and ask for one final Morning Prayers.
