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The fire was mostly burning grass that had then caught on the fencing and a gum tree. Angelo and two vineyard workers living on the property and I had the blaze mostly under control by the time the Rural Fire Brigade crew arrived in a truck.
The fire was a small one, only affecting three rows of the block of shiraz but to see the fire truck finally arrive was a welcome sight.
Ryan threw himself out of the cab and strode over. “Where’s your uniform, you idiot?” he yelled in my ear.
“At home in the other ute, and had no time to get it. And good to see you, too!” I gladly let him take the hose from me What took you so long?”
“You did good here.” He glanced back towards the winery shed, where Mama Z was pacing back and forth, watching our efforts. “There was another blaze in their top paddock. We went there first. Wiped out six acres of grapes.”
“W-what?” I blinked.
“There was some confusion that the call out location said at the cellar door when clearly one of their tempranillo blocks was on fire as we approached.” He glanced towards Mama Z. “Not sure if Team Zee know.”
Ryan shut off the winery’s hose and I stepped out of the way as the crew brought the truck’s hose over. With more powerful pressure, they blasted the remaining flames in the gum tree and ironbark fencing in minutes.
I left Ryan and the crew to it, and headed to Mama Z, gently leading her by the arm to sit and rest in the cab of one of the vineyard’s utes.
I slumped against the ute, exhaustion taking its toll.
“What is it? It’s bad, isn’t it?” Mama Z’s voice was barely audible over the pump noise of the fire truck.
I said nothing.
“Tell me. Now.”
“There was a second fire. You lost six acres of grapes.” No need to mince my words. “The brigade stopped there, thinking that was the fire. That’s why they were delayed.”
Mama Z sat still and nodded once. “I see.” She nodded again, watching the fire crew use an infrared tool to sweep the area for hidden hot spots. May have been a frigid, winter night, but no one wanted another fire flaring up in a fallen branch or hollow post hours or even days later when you thought the danger had passed.
Mama Z shot to her feet and looked me in the eye. “Coffee. And food. These people—” She waved to the workers and the fire brigade members. “They will need something to eat. And we Zanettis, we do food and coffee.”
“I’ll help.” I dusted off my hands on my jeans.
Mama Z snorted.
“Ryan won’t let me help in the field without the proper safety gear. So you might as well have me help in the kitchen.”
A ghost of a smile flitted across her face and, for the first time that night, her eyes softened at the sight of me.
“I liked having you in my kitchen when you a boy and teen. So I might as well have you in my kitchen as a man. Come!”
She turned on her heel, and once again, I jogged to keep up with the juggernaut that was Mama Zanetti.
I helped her bake simple butter cookies and an apple tea cake and then made a pot of tea and several French presses of coffee.
The firefighters and workers came to the back veranda, and refreshments were laid out on a long outdoor table, complete with tablecloth at Mama Z’s insistence. Angelo hung back, making sure everyone had something to eat and drink before he allowed himself a coffee. I served him a long black, and told him about how he’d lost six acres to another fire. His eyes were unseeing, desolate.
Police arrived and took statements, including mine. I hadn’t seen a thing when I arrived with Rosie at the house. The cop promised to speak to Rosie after she had slept off her big night.
That I hadn’t seen or heard a thing bugged me. There’d been no smoke, no hint of flames, nothing at all when Rosie and I had stumbled our way to her bedroom. Hadn’t even seen another vehicle on Turners Creek Road on our way to her place.
Had I been so distracted by her that I hadn’t noticed six acres of grapes going up in flames?
I was drying the last of the baking trays after doing the plates and cups when Mama Z walked into the kitchen.
“Angelo is still out inspecting the vines—oh my.” She glanced around with wide eyes. “You did all the cleaning?”
I shrugged. “It’s nothing.”
