Lovell - The West Country Winery

Praise for The Juniper Gin Joint

The perfect pick-me-up for summer Phillipa Ashley

Like a complex gin brimming with botanicals, this delicious book offers a giant swig of a story full of characters, wit and warmth. Jules Wake, author of Escape to the Riviera

Also by Lizzie Lovell:

The Juniper Gin Joint

First published in Great Britain and Australia in 2019 by Allen & Unwin

Copyright Lizzie Lovell 2019

The moral right of Lizzie Lovell to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.

Every effort has been made to trace or contact all copyright holders. The publishers will be pleased to make good any omissions or rectify any mistakes brought to their attention at the earliest opportunity.

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events have evolved from the authors imagination.

Allen & Unwin

c/o Atlantic Books

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2627 Boswell Street

London WC1N 3JZ

Phone: 020 7269 1610

Fax: 020 7430 0916

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Web: www.allenandunwin.com/uk

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Paperback ISBN 978 1 78649 837 3

Ebook ISBN 978 1 78649 836 6

Printed in Great Britain

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For my Auntie Lizzie. Iechyd da!

Where there is no wine there is no love.

Euripides

IT WAS SUPPOSED to be a normal Monday family supper. Sausage casserole and green beans. Quick. Easy. Fairly nutritious. But mainly quick.

We have a routine. A plan.

Every Monday, Rob does the school run both ways seeing as its band practice and impossible for Ruby to lug a harp around on the bus. Scarlet either goes along for the ride or makes her own way depending on which mood shes in: hormonal or murderous. My job, first thing, is to take the casserole out of the freezer and pop it in the pre-set oven so that when the four of us are reconvened back here, the one night we can all manage to be under the same roof at the same time, it will be bubbling away nicely.

Its not a lot to ask. You would think.

Unfortunately, stuff happens and I dont particularly like it if Im not prepared, though Im usually adaptable. At least, I reckon so my colleagues and family might say otherwise.

Tonight has not gone according to plan.

I am cornered by Declan on my way out of the office something about a client changing their mind last minute over the type of water required at the upcoming conference adding ten minutes to my schedule so I dont get in until 6.30, by which time an arguments in full flow.

You are not going to be a bloody vegan! Robs face is puce and marbled like an old boozer, his wiry frame jutting at awkward angles. A slightly charred sausage casserole sits between them on the dining table, its aroma filling the room.

I havent had an animal product or by-product for five days and you havent even noticed, so whats the problem? Scarlets standing in her usual pose, hands on hips, defiant, deadly.

Its bloody inconvenient, thats the problem.

Its more inconvenient for the animals.

Dont be a smart-arse. Nobody likes a smart-arse.

I dont care about being liked. I just dont want to eat dead things. We could swap the rotting flesh for Linda McCartney sausages.

I dont want Linda McCartney sausages, Rob whines. How am I supposed to survive on Linda McCartney sausages? My hairs falling out as it is and my muscles turning to fat. He points at his stomach area. There might be just the smallest bulge, but hes not doing badly for a forty-two-year-old although a forty-two-yearold who sounds more like a teenager, and we already have two of those in the house. One of whom is right now as bright red as her name suggests, the high colour of her father.

Whats Chrissie going to say?

I dont know, what is Chrissie going to say? Then, catching sight of me, In fact, why dont you ask her? Scarlet points a finger in my direction.

Rob spins round, finally noticing me standing in the kitchen doorway, briefcase still clasped in my clenched hand, heels still clamped on my tired feet. Oh, I didnt see you there. He checks his Fitbit. Youre late, arent you?

As if I need to be reminded. Im about to open my mouth and respond but in that moment, seeing father and daughter reflecting each others stubbornness, I realize I dont have the energy. So I make a sharp exit, retreat down the hallway, take off my shoes, and head upstairs to get changed.

Our bedroom used to be a sanctuary of calm and serenity but recently that doesnt seem to be working out so well. Rob has implanted an exercise bike in the corner cycling being his latest obsession and Ruby is currently ensconced on my favourite piece of furniture, my grandmothers cocktail chair, plucking away at her harp.

Hi, Mum. You look terrible. Do you like this?

I do feel terrible so I perch on the bed to gather myself and listen to her play. The relaxing, whimsical notes of Joanna Newsom fill the air.

Actually, I really do like it, I confirm after a trance-like few minutes.

Rubys cupid lips turn into a big smile. Shes very good and the harp is very soothing. The harp is also very big. Too big to fit in the bedroom shared with her stepsister, so she comes into my room our room to practise.

I really like it, Ruby, but havent you played enough for one day?

I want to get this piece right, she says, brow furrowed in concentration. And it means I dont have to listen to those two shouting at each other. She continues to run her fingers across the strings and I remember the first time she had a go on a harp, her hands so small I never thought shed be able to make a tune.

You all right, Mum? She stops for a moment, turns her serious eyes upon me. Deep brown eyes, sometimes murky, other times bright, like amber. In fact, my mother suggested I call her Amber, but Ruby was the only name Nathan and I could agree on. Actually, that was the only thing that Nathan and I could agree on. Mum?

Oh, yeah, sorry, Ruby. Im just a bit frazzled, but Ill be OK after a glass of wine and some dinner. I start to take off my work clothes and decide its already pyjama time. Did you know Scarlets gone vegan?

Yeah, she says, as if its old news. Shell get bored.

You reckon?

Last month it was raw food. Itll be something else next month.

I dread to think.

Dont worry, Mum, she says. Lets go downstairs and eat. Scarlet can have beans on toast. Thats vegan, right?

Yes, definitely vegan.

We share a smile.

OK, then. Just let me get changed.

Ruby slips out, quiet as anything. Only her harp remains, a reminder that my daughter is an angel. And my stepdaughter... Not so much. But I love them the same. Ive known Scarlet since she was a tantrumming toddler. I know her moods will pass, her emotions are changeable. I almost wish some of that passion would rub off on Ruby quiet, shy, self-contained Ruby but that really would be asking for trouble.