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Starting Over Again	By : gallygaskins Category: 1 through F > Clocking Off (BBC) > Clocking Off (BBC) Views: 1117 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Clocking Off and I do not earn any money from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
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Chapter 2 – Making friends.

Mack shot up in bed at the sound of the early morning alarm call; a cockerel perched out of sight bellowed his crow to awake half of the surrounding area. Picking his watch up from the bedside table he looked at it, his eyes taking a time to adjust to the light before clearly being able to see that the delicate black hands read 6.30 am. He put the watch back down where he had plucked it from and rubbed his hands over his face and into his hair. Fresh stubble on his chin demanded he take care of it as he unceremoniously clambered from the soft downy coverings of the bed and into the gentle warmth of the en suite as the early morning sun trickled its temperate rays over the clay roof.

Opening the taps up on the bath, he checked the temperature and adjusted it adding some of the bath essence that had been left by the sink. Now seemed like the perfect time to have a relaxing soak. He pulled a chair over to the bath and placed his shaving kit on it, along with the other toiletries he was going to need.

The scent of citrus fruits wafted up from the water as he stripped himself of his boxer shorts and stepped into the infusion of water and soap. The bubbles rested against his exposed waist and knees as he let a little more water run into the bath before turning the taps off. His body sank back, his head resting against his folded face cloth as he moulded himself to the shape of the tub. He could still hear the cock’s crow as he began to wash himself, enjoying the feel of the lather and the sluice of water as he became the cleanest he had felt for a while; it was always strange how a bath seemed to rid him of his woes.

Feeling a sense of renewal after his soak and wash, Mack got out and began dressing. Out came the khaki shorts, going commando as it was too hot for layers. He also opted for a white t-shirt and his boat shoes. He splashed on some after shave, checked his reflection to make sure he was presentable and left the gites; walking up to the farmhouse trying to decide what breakfast was going to consist of.

The door was ajar and he stepped in, knocking and calling out. “Hello, is anyone around?”

“Come on through,” came the now familiar voice of Jenny. He threaded his way up the hallway and found himself, once more, in the inviting kitchen that seemed to serve as dining and entertainment room as well. “Good morning, everything ok in your gites? Did you sleep well?”

He nodded, “yes thanks, apart from the bloody cockerel.”

“Mmm, should’ve warned you, it’s from a neighbouring farm but its crow is particularly loud. We’ve all got used to it now.” She shrugged.

“You’re up early though?”

“Always am, not much of a night owl, much prefer to be up with the sunshine. Besides we have to work around the heat. We can’t go out for up to 4 hours from about 12, much too hot. For us and the vines.”

“Oh, right.” He sat down in the same spot he had occupied for dinner, glancing over the plates of meats, cheeses, bread and pastries.

“Wasn’t sure whether you’d want a cooked breakfast of not?”

“No, this looks fine. It’s not all for me is it?” He grinned at his joke.

“Waiting for Steve to come back with the milk, he’s taken the girls with him so they’ll be bringing back some eggs.” And, as if on cue, they tumbled through the back door, Steven with a covered milk churn and Madeline holding a basket full to the brim with eggs of varying sizes. “Tuck in,” Jenny gestured, sitting herself down and diving into the food she’d previously laid out. “Coffee in the pot, Mack.”

He thanked her with a smile and filled his mug with the steaming liquid; he poured in some milk from a netted jug and added two teaspoons of sugar. He sipped at it, the liquid still hot enough to burn the tip of his tongue but he relished the taste as normality started to come back to his senses with the injection of caffeine into his bloodstream. He began piling his plate with the assortment in front of him, chewing at the unusual combination of savoury and sweet delights that you couldn’t get from an English breakfast. He chatted freely with the family, feeling like he was a part of it and not an outsider looking in.

“What are your plans for today, Mack?” Steven asked him as he took a bite from the Pain Aux Raisins he had in his hand.

“I don’t really know, what are you up to?” He enquired.

“We’ve all got work to do with the vines; you could help us if you like?”

He nodded. Yes, he would like that; he was never adverse to learning new skills even if he was never going to use them again. “I’d love to.”

Steven got up from his seat. “Just going to get changed,” he said, “come on girls, you all need to get washed up.” Steven banged his way up the stairs, his family following him, leaving Mack alone with Jenny once more.

Mack got up and helped Jenny clean up the breakfast things, handing her the dirty crockery as she filled the sink to wash them. “Did you mention anything to Steven about last night?” A hesitant Mack asked, taking a towel and drying the plates that were left to drain.

“About what?” Jenny teased, noticing the uncertainty upon Mack’s face. She smiled, “yes, only briefly though. I just told him that you seemed to have a crush on his sister.”

His eyebrows rose. A crush, it was much more than that but he wasn’t about to let them all know what he was thinking. “What did he say? Is he baying for my blood?”

“If he was, that cock wouldn’t have been the first thing to wake you up this morning?” They both laughed before Mack fell silent again. “He’s fine with it as long as you treat her with respect.”

“I don’t intend to do otherwise. Mind you, I do believe that I may have come up here with a false hope, she’s not exactly enthralled with me or my lifestyle. She thinks I’m going through a bit of a mid-life crisis.”

“Does she now?” She paused. “Are you?”

He looked away, embarrassed by 5 years worth of crisis. “I suppose I was, really. Had to find my way, knew I found myself in Villefranche-sur-mer for a reason, and never expected it to be because of a woman and a remarkable one at that.”

“How long have you known her?” She pulled at the plug, rinsing out the sink when the last of the dirty water had vanished.

“Since very early yesterday morning, she was painting on the beach. I introduced myself to her by frightening her.” Jenny stopped what she was doing, “don’t worry, she blinded me with her torch.” He sniggered at the memory, “she kept on protesting that she was nothing to look at but of course I couldn’t tell her one way or the other as she was still blinding me with her bloody light.”

“You don’t believe her to be beautiful, do you?” It was more a statement than a question.

“I do, but her beauty’s not conventional,” Mack noticed she looked puzzled, “I mean, I’m not attracted to her because she’s trophy wife material. I can’t get those lovely eyes of hers out of my head and her real beauty is here,” he pointed at his heart, before laying his hand on his chest. “She’s beautiful because of who she is not what she looks like.”

“And you recognised this from what, a half hour conversation?” Jenny was slightly dubious leaning her slight frame against the white ceramic of the butler sink, her arms folded over her chest.

“Yes. God, I sound ridiculous don’t I?” He put the towel back where he’d found it and handed the now dried pile of plates to her to put away.

“No, not as ridiculous as you might think. I met Steven at his University leaver’s ball. I was there with my boyfriend at the time and I’d gone to the toilet. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I tripped coming out of the ladies, over this step which I hadn’t realised was there and fell headlong into his backside. We both fell to the floor like dominoes, into a heap of satin, ruffles and fits of giggles. He helped me to stand and asked me to dance. Needless to say, I didn’t go home with the boyfriend I’d arrived with and look what I have. We knew, from that very first moment we held each other, we were going to be together for the rest of our lives. And I don’t think we’ve done badly. We argue, like most couples, but they’re normally stupid arguments about stupid things, the making up is good. Camille was actually conceived as a result of one our disagreements.” She hesitated, looking Mack straight in the eye. “Mack, this isn’t a joke is it?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Jenny?”

“This isn’t some kind of game, a bet, just another conquest, is it?”

“No! Absolutely not!” Mack’s anger was beginning to surface. “Why would you even think that?”

“Because you are a very handsome man, who is at a point in his life where he doesn’t have to worry about anything. You told us last night that you’ve been sailing around the Med for 5 years, on what? You’re obviously self sufficient. You have no partner to speak of and, from observations I made of things that were said after the kids went to bed, I feel you’ve been quite free with your ‘love’ recently. Sophie is not exactly worldly wise, when it comes to men. Don’t get me wrong she’s had relationships but none have ever lasted for very long and have all ended in disaster for her. She’s put herself out there only to find out that he’s been with her for a laugh, or wanted to get to the vineyard through her.”

She continued. “And if that’s the reason then you really are mistaken about any hidden wealth there may be. This vineyard hangs on as best it can every year, the wine is so-so and we get little from the sale of it. The place is mortgaged up to the hilt and money that Sophie earns from her paintings or the lessons, goes into the same pot as everything else in order to keep the family solvent.”

“She gave me a painting.” He mentioned.

“And that’s your reason for finding her, her lovely eyes and a painting that she’s given you?”

“No, yes. I don’t know. Look, Jenny, there’s something about that woman that I can’t get out of my head. I’m not here to make a fool of her or try to prise her birthright away from her. She’s probably the first woman ‘ever’ that hasn’t thrown herself at me. In fact, she’s treated me with nothing but contempt but I want to get to know her, find out about her life, enjoy spending some time with her and hopefully take my life in a different direction with her. She gave me that painting because I said I liked it, that was all and she said if she still knew me in 12 months she’d hope I’d allow her to finish it. That’s what I want, Jenny, to allow her to finish it. If, after everything, she doesn’t want to know me then fine, at least I can say I tried but I’m not going to live my life with anymore regrets, I’ve done that and that part of my life is over.”

She held his anxious gaze. “Good luck then, you’re going to need it. I’ve seen that woman turn from a confident, vibrant, spirited young lady with a happy go lucky nature into what she is today. Consequentially, she’s very nervous around men, gives herself a hard time about her image and has very little self respect. She never feels worthy of a man’s advances and will do anything in her power to have him turn against her so that she can then blame herself again for his leaving.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because, you’ve been telling me the truth and because your eyes betrayed your true feelings last night. You love her, Mack, you might not know it yet but you will. And, if there is the remotest chance that she’ll accept you in the first place, then I’ve given you the information you need to continue on with your quest. You’ll be good for her, both of you have had enough heartache to last you a lifetime, this is your chance to start over.”

“Chance to start over what, mummy?” Came the question from the rosy cheeked face as it popped from around the corner of the door.

“Nothing to trouble you V, are you ready pumpkin?” The little girl nodded that she was. “Where are the others?”

“Waiting for daddy to get out of the bathroom.”

“That sounds about right,” she turned back to Mack, “we really need to get the en suite sorted out.”

“Are you really that short on capital?”

Jenny nodded, “Steven wouldn’t thank me for saying it, nor would Sophie come to think of it, but this place is old and needs a lot of money spending on it.”

“Had a house like that once.”

“Then you know what it’s like, you fix one thing something else needs doing and in France you need the consent of the town mayor before you can change anything. So we do our best to keep him on side, invite him over a couple of times a year, and let him sample some of the produce. Our problem is that a couple of years ago we had a fire which took out half the crop, we are just beginning to get back on our feet but it’s taken so long.”

“Who do you sell to?”

“Anyone that will buy from us,” Steven said upon re-entering the kitchen. “Our wine isn’t as good as it should be because we’re having to wait for one variety of grape to ‘catch up’, in growing terms.” He scowled at his wife.

“Sorry, Steven.” Jenny knew she’d let her husband down by talking about their problems with a relative stranger.

“It’s ok, love. I’ve asked so much of you over the years, we should be riding high instead of penny pinching.” He pulled her too him.

She smiled at him and lightly kissed his lips. “It doesn’t matter; at least we are together, happy and healthy.”

Mack shifted on his feet, uncomfortable at the display of affection that was going on in front of him. He waited for them to finish before asking, “how do you currently sell?”

“Local shops, pubs and restaurants; in some larger wine wholesalers and from the farm.”

“So you don’t currently sell over the internet?” Steven shook his head, “What about the holidays, the gites or your sister’s painting weekends, how do you market them?”

“With the locals generally, word of mouth is the best form of recommendation.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s not when your family is starving and you’re struggling to keep your head above water.”

Steven became stern, “what the hell do you know about it?”

‘More than you’d know,’ Mack thought, “I took over the family business when my father died. I’d worked in the factory after leaving school, working through every section so I knew how the place operated. Then I very quickly became MD, taking over and expanding it until it was turning over several million pounds a year.”

Jenny’s face went white, her mouth dropping open. “Sorry, I just assumed …” Steven began.

“That I was a playboy doing what I pleased with daddy’s money? I think that’s what your sister believes too.” Mack looked back at Jenny, his smile fading.

“What did the factory make?” Jenny asked, interested in where Mack had gained his knowledge from.

“Bedding, high end, good quality, expensive bed linen. Sold to the likes of the House of Fraser Group, Debenhams and M&S.”

Steven and Jenny shared a look; if they were going to save the vineyard then gaining Mack’s help might be the way to do it. “What do you know about the internet, then?” Steven asked.

Mack shook his head, smiling at the couple as the children played outside in the courtyard. “Not a bloody thing, but I know a man who does and he’s good, very good. I can talk to him if you like?”

“That would be great. Thanks, Mack.”

“No problem, now is there anyway I can help you out financially, with a loan or something?”

“Not yet, we’d have to ask Sophie about that anyway,” Steven said.

“She’d be pretty pissed off if we went ahead with anything without getting her opinion.” Jenny added.

Mack nodded, “of course, well let’s leave that until she gets back then. So, what are you going to teach me about grapes and vines?”

“Nothing exciting, we’re at the stage of training the vines and pinching out the tops. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Of course, lead on.”

.oOo.

For the rest of the week Mack helped the family out as they continued their work along the rows. Steven explained in great depth to Mack about the different varieties of grape they grew, what the grapes harvested from the soil, what wines they made and even went on to tell him that things would be better when they could afford to hire a proper cellar master in order to produce better red and rosé wine varieties. Steven’s knowledge was incomplete due to the untimely death of both his grandfather and the cellar master who had been hired by his grandfather. And Sophie knew even less than her brother.

Mack had spoken to his friend in Manchester and, after Mack’s organisation of some kind of broadband connection, was able to bring up the ideas for the vineyards new website, along with its own shop and booking service for the gites on his laptop for the family to see. Steven and Jenny were impressed but agreed with Mack that the overall design would probably benefit from Sophie’s artistic background. He also discussed with them ideas for promoting the activity holidays that they offered and they decided that the website should be in both French and English. Mack enlisted the help of another friend, who gladly set about the translation. By the time Friday evening approached the website was totally user friendly and fully functioning. They just needed Sophie’s say so.

And as soon as Mack realised it was Friday evening, Mack’s demeanour changed. He was no longer the relaxed, helpful man that had been infiltrated into Steven Walker’s family, he was a man with a mission and that was to get the opportunity to speak with the alluring Sophie, tell her why he had sought her out, ask to spend time with her. His body tensed in anticipation of their meeting and as the evening wore on and her arrival was still not forthcoming, he wondered if he was ever going to get his chance.

Steven and Jenny were curled up on the sofa together lazily sipping their wine as they discussed Sophie’s imminent arrival. She had phoned to let them know that she would be coming back tonight but asked that they didn’t wait up for her. “It is usual for her to do that.” Jenny mentioned looking over to Mack as he sat in the most comfortable armchair, stock rigid. His face had become firmly set, hoping that it wouldn’t be too long before she finally arrived. “Look, Mack, why don’t you take some wine with you and go to bed. She’s obviously seen something she likes the look of and is painting it as we speak, isn’t that right, Steve?”

“Sure, the slightest thing can get her buzzing if she feels she can use it. Don’t be too hard on yourself, Mack, or worry too much; she’ll be here before you know it. And, to be honest, you look knackered.”

Mack nodded as he got up from his seat, “well, ok. I could do with getting some sleep. All this work you’ve been having me do has made me more tired than I ever thought I’d get.”

“But you have enjoyed it?” Steven asked.

“Thoroughly, I’ve loved every minute so far, can’t wait to help you sort out the cellar and the water irrigation. Maybe help out with some of the gardening and building work around here if I stay long enough.” He smiled at his new friends, “right, well I’m off to bed. Thanks for everything.”

“No, thank you.” Steven replied, “if it wasn’t for my wayward sister in the first place we would never have met. Whatever happens tomorrow, Mack, we’ll not forget what you’ve done for us.”

He smiled and nodded, picking up a bottle of the red as he wandered out of the house and across the courtyard to his gites. Where was she? He just hoped that she’d be there by the time he woke up and if that cockerel had anything to do with it, it would be early again.

After uncorking the wine he sat on the bed nursing a glass, allowing the moonlight to flood the room of its unearthly glow through the open windows. His eyes needed no further encouragement and he soon found himself drifting off after finishing the wine. “Please hurry home, Sophie. I need to see you.” He let out a sigh as his body crumpled on top of the bed, his light snoring accompanying the sound of the wildlife outside his window.

.oOo.

The gentle sound of tyres against cobbles seemed to rouse Mack from his sleep, the dawn’s half-light bathing everything in its greying tones as he looked out through the open windows trying to make sense of what he could hear. The light shuffle of feet that then began seemed to be walking toward his gites, an equally delicate foot alighting the steps and closing on his door. They tiptoed past, along the corridor and he finally heard the door at the far end of the corridor open and close as quietly as it could be. Whoever had walked past his door had obviously practiced at keeping quiet, and he wondered if it was Sophie, finally arriving home.

He turned back to the pillow and away from the light source, hoping that sleep would take him quickly. Images of her face came to him again and he closed his eyes in anticipation of his response to her memory, it was almost as if she was lulling him back into slumber like the delicate tones of lullaby. The last thing he remembered was her laughing face as he chased her through the rows of vines and lavender hoping to finally catch her in his arms and make love to her beneath the early evening sun.
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Starting Over Again