wine glasses in hand, talking furiously—sitting on a patch of grass to the side of the mock rugby pitch. Jess lifted the camera and zoomed in, then tracked the outline of the manor house onto the veranda, where her father sat in an easy chair, a sketchpad and John’s three-year-old on his lap, directing his hand as he drew. Liza had a sleeping baby in her arms and was watching the rugby.
Jess panned the camera over the table between them: St Sylve wine bottles and half-filled glasses, an open book lying face-down, a baby’s pacifier, a colouring book and crayons, a half-empty bowl of the apple crumble they’d had for pudding...
Jess went to Luke, hands on his thighs, his face turned away. He looked happy, she thought, relaxed—as she’d wanted to catch him the other day. Enjoying himself, having fun.
Jess carried on filming and her mouth curved into a delighted smile. ‘You, Clem Campbell, are a genius.’
Clem looked at her nails and smiled. ‘I know, but feel free to remind Nick.’
* * *
Luke followed the massive Sherwood clan to their hired cars and hung back as Jess kissed and hugged her family goodbye. The days had passed quickly, and Luke realised that he’d had more fun than he’d had in ages with her family. He hadn’t had much time to himself or with Jess, and neither of them had got any work done, but he was okay with that. He felt as if he’d had a mini-holiday without leaving his house.
He’d taken them all over the farm, explained the wine-making process to her father and brothers, discussed the history of the property with Jess’s mother and grandmother. He’d exercised with her brothers in the gym, been sketched by her father, taken the kids for rides on his dirt bike and tractor.
And now he was being thanked and hugged and kissed. Luke bent down so that Jess’s tiny grandmother could kiss him goodbye, and then turned to shake her father’s hand.
‘Thank you for your hospitality, Luke,’ David said. ‘Look after my girl.’
‘It’s not like that...’ Luke replied, feeling a cord tighten around his neck.
David’s warm brown eyes laughed at him. ‘Yeah, right.’
Liz elbowed her husband out of the way and tucked a piece of paper into Luke’s shirt pocket and patted it. ‘The name of your aunt and her address. I have an old university friend who had the details. Go talk to her.’
Uh, no. Thank you anyway.
‘Take care of my baby.’ Liza kissed him on one cheek and then the other.
The cord tightened. He had a break when the wives kissed and hugged him, and then there were the brothers, standing in one solid line, identical scowls on their faces. He looked around for Jess but she’d run back into the house to fetch a book her grandmother had left behind.
John pulled out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and slowly opened it. ‘As the oldest, it behooves me−’
‘Behooves?’ Patrick snorted.
‘Shut up, squirt. It behooves me to establish whether you are worthy of Jess.’
Luke rolled his eyes. Really? Were they really going to pull this?
‘Super 14 Rugby. Who do you support?’
‘Really? This is what is important?’ Luke felt insulted on Jess’s behalf.
John ploughed on. ‘Man United or Chelsea?’
‘Liverpool,’ Luke replied, just to be facetious.
‘Do you drink and drive?’
No.
‘Are you an aggressive drunk?’
No again.
‘Do you cook?’
Yes, thank God, since Jess had the cooking skills of a tortoise.
‘Do you understand the African tradition of lobola?’
Huh? What?
Luke frowned and Nick grinned. ‘You know—paying the family for the honour of their daughter’s hand in marriage?’
He looked across at David, who just smiled and shrugged. ‘They negotiate for me.’
Luke folded his arms and kept quiet, scowling fiercely. Good God, what had he done so wrong in his life, or in a previous life, that warranted this?
‘We want fifteen cases of that outstanding Merlot 2005, use of the manor house for family holidays, and Dad wants a breeding pair of silky bantam chickens,’ John explained.
Luke threw up his hands. ‘Chickens? You’ve got to be kidding me!’
‘I wanted goats, but Liza put her foot down,’ David replied.
‘Good grief,’ Luke said faintly, and rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Listen, I hope this is your sick idea of a joke, because this is the most absurd conversation. I am not—we are not—talking or thinking about marriage. I don’t want to get married!’
Chris grinned. ‘None of us did, dude! But here we all are...’
Jess darted out of the house, book in hand, and immediately, Luke noticed,