AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He nodded, his face grimacing in pain. “It hurts, Rosalba. I lost balance …”
“Mama, did you call—”
My mother appeared back in the hallway, her trembling hand outstretched, with her mobile phone on speaker.
“Please state your name and emergency,” asked the operator.
“I am Rosie Zanetti, and I am on Turners Creek Road, Ballydoon, at the Zanetti Vineyard, and my father is having a heart attack. Please send an ambulance as quickly as possible.”
12
TOM
Rosie’s phone:
Missed calls (5), Texts (3)
Rachel, Research Assistant: Please call me when you are free
Rachel, Research Assistant: I need to discuss an urgent work matter with you
Rachel, Research Assistant: I’ll email you at the vineyard as well. Please, call me.
Rosie rolled over with a grunt as I stepped back into the corridor to find Mama Z pulling on a wool coat and beanie.
We stared at each other for a long moment.
“I, ah, found Rosie at the pub.” I hooked a thumb back at Rosie’s door. “She was a little tipsy and—”
Could she see the lipstick on my mouth and neck in the dark?
“Ah-uh!” Mama Z advanced on me with a finger outstretched.
I backed up against Rosie’s door as she stabbed her finger into my chest. It was going to bruise—Mama Zanetti’s hands were shaped from work in the vineyard for more than forty years; calloused, strong, scarred.
“You sneaking out of her room at night. And look at your face.” Mama Z scoffed. “I trusted you with my daughter. And Rosie trusts you too.”
Her eyes searched my face. Rosie trusts me? Had Rosie ever told her mum about what went down between us at my eighteenth birthday party?
I swallowed hard and returned the stare. I hoped I didn’t look scared. Rumour had it that Mama Zanetti knew how to put the evil eye on someone when she wanted to.
“I know this looks bad—”
“Says he creeping out of my daughter’s room at this late hour.”
“I know you can tell we kissed, but I stopped it. I just wanted to make sure she got home safe. I came out to see what was happening. I heard someone and the dogs.”
Mama Z dropped her finger from my chest. “Small fire in the vineyard.”
“Have you called for the brigade? I can help. I’ve had half a light beer. Tell me what needs to be done.” I held out my hands as if I was making a plea. Maybe I was.
“I do not want to see you sneaking out of my daughter’s room again, do you hear me?” she said in a low voice.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Mama then walked past me. “You want to help? You follow me and put out fire.”
I huffed out a laugh. “Sure, no biggie,” I muttered and jogged to keep up with her.
