Ana and I walk into the wine room, arms linked. A door at the other end of the room is open, which lets the sunlight pour in and draws you to it. But it's the walls of this room, lock stock with bottles of wine and thank goodness, no smoking barrels, that hold multi-level displays of a wine lover's affection.
Jonathan does a double take as we walk in and at Ana because she is now wearing my hat. 'That hat suits you,' he says as we move further into the room.
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I'm slightly buzzed as I move to sit in the chair James is patting on the left of him. And I sit with Ana on my left. Jonathan on her left.
Another couple in the room (older than us) is in full-on conversation with James and Jonathan. The husband jokes that the wife has been dragging him to The Terrace Rooms & Wine, since it opened. She says something back to him. I couldn't understand a word she said, but her accent tickles me and I tell her that, hoping she'll keep talking. Our new-found friends, Cameron and Ailsa, are from Scotland - different parts, and when they find out we've never been, we get an open invitation to visit Scotland.
Ana turns to Jonathan, 'Next year's birthday?'
And while we were yet to visit Scotland, Ailsa and Cameron had visited Grenada, Barbados and Jamaica. My brain gently ushers in the fact that one of the cords tying these three Caribbean islands together are rum distilleries. And just as it did, Cameron regales us with a hilarious tale of his wife's rum-tasting experience in Jamaica. We listened, amused at how their tour and rum tasting at the Appleton Estate knocked her for six and how he, having never nursed anything in his life, had to nurse her back. They'd lost two days out of their holiday because of that.
Our host joined us then. He, too, laughing at the hilarity of the situation. Then, informs us that we are waiting for another couple to start.
Is it the same couple from yesterday? (Ana asks). Because weren't they also late yesterday?
Are they from the West Indies by any chance? James adds.
No, I don't think so. Well his wife is Italian, he is English. Why?
These two. (Raises his hand above my head and points back and forth between Jonathan and me.) Always late.
James, I keep telling you, it's not that we're late; we simply run on our own time. (Laughing.)
Hang on, then shouldn't everyone else know what that time is?
You do. It's Caribbean time. When we turn up. (Laughing even more.)
I see. (He says, staring me dead on.)
Besides, we do know when to be on time, don't we, Jonno, like now for wine-tasting?
Jonathan's head is down, looking at Ana's thigh. The one he raised her dress to gently massage but nodded in agreement. Ana, on the other hand, is using my hat as a fan. Says it is warm and our new-found Scottish friends agree.
I jokingly suggest we start the 'wine drinking'. But Jonathan turns to everyone sitting around the table and says. 'Okay, let me apologise for this one in advance.'
I reach across Ana to poke him but he sees me coming and dives away. I lose my balance and fall off my chair, leaving the entire room hollering.
Aye, she's had a wee dram already. (Ailsa hollers.)
I'm laughing so much. First, from the silliness of it all, then the embarrassment of it, that I can't pick myself up off the floor. And while Ana is leaning on her husband, almost passing out with hysterical laughter; it's James who gets up, face not straight, gives me his hand. And I stand up, fix my clothes and dust off my shame.
'You okay?' He asked once I'd sat down again. His face still not straight but his concern registers. I shake my head, say yes.
Can I ask you something? Leaning in.
Uhum.
How much have you had to drink?
One glass plus. (My response more a question than an answer).
His eyes pinch before he looks over at me. His face a quiz and a smile. And this, this finds feelings.
But now, some twenty minutes later, we're all voting for the 'wine drinking' to start and as we do, our late arrivals walk in holding hands. They say hello. His shirt buttoned up but not correctly. Her hair in a messy updo, face flushed a rich burgundy and a scarf loosely knotted around her neck. The use of the scarf confuses me, seeing how it is so warm, but it's the letters on the scarf that catches my attention. I could only see three letters (C O C) in one corner and another two (L E) at the other end of the tie. For whatever reason, my brain tells me it's the distinctive French brand Charlotte is fond of wearing, which immediately brings Charlotte into mind. But this woman's style has something of a mainland European flair. He pulls out the two chairs nearest Ailsa and she sits. This puts her immediately across the table from Ana and he in turn sits across from Jonathan.
But then she places a supple-grained leather handbag on the table and my heart stops. I reach for Ana. She, too, has locked eyes with the bag and offers a compliment. And I follow suit. Mr Gardiner, on the other hand, pipes up, 'Whatever you do, do not tell my wife where you got that handbag.' Jonathan's deadpan leaves our lately joined guest darting between him and Ana, unsure what to do next.
Jonno, I think you're fighting a losing battle here; they're holding hands under the table. James tells him without looking our way.
But you can tell me. (I offer.)
And she greets me with a smile. 'It's Coxi-nelle,' she says, 'C.O.C.C.I.N.E.L.L.E.' Spelling it out. Ana and I are looking at each other, neither of us familiar. But now she is on her feet and proudly passing her handbag across the table to us for a better look. Again, the act of passing this object of desire across a table reminds me of Charlotte. The sort of thing she'd do when she turned up from one of her shopping trips in SW1X with the latest must-have bag or heels in one of the many colours she'd have bought it in.
Though her getting back up, causes her scarf to unravel itself, exposing her neck. All questions were answered then.
But this bag, eye-catching in a Normandy grey or is it a muted green (I'm undecided) with its gold hardware on its plaited handle is just oh-so-beautiful! Compact too. The type of bag I’d have for those times, I only need to take my phone, keys, cards, facial mist and lip tint. And is as beautiful to touch as it was on the eye.
Ah, you're here, okay then, we'll start.
Our host says as he returns to the room but when did he leave. 'Rosés are what we'll be tasting today.’ He says enthusiastically. And here, around the huge, natural wooden table (the centrepiece of the room) with seating for as many as fourteen, our wine session finally begins with a manageable lesson in rosé winemaking as he pours from the first bottle into our glasses.
It's from the Saint Clair family estate in New Zealand. He reveals.
We swirl. We sniff. And while he highlighted what we should be smelling, I simply liked what I smelled (fruity, juicy, peachy), so tasted it. Silky, too, so I drank the rest of it.
James looks over at me, shakes his head with no surprise. 'Jess, we're supposed to....' He doesn't finish his sentence; simply shakes his head again and taps me on the back. And while all else is checking the colour intensity over a white card, I'm giggling to myself, amused as I have no wine to check over my card.
Another bottle cracks open and our host pours. I don't hear this bottle's name, as I'm having far too much fun on my buzz. But I paid attention sufficiently to hear him say it has a deeper colour because the juice has had a longer connection with the skin. That I didn't know, but it all made sense. We swirl and sniff again. And our host does the thing of asking for the nose. I'm mindful not to repeat my last offence. Instead, I sniff my wine, trying my ernest to tap into what 'Mr English' has identified on his nose.
But it's Ana who leans over and whispers, 'Smoke and melded fruit.
I sniff again and agree. 'Yep. Definitely smoke, layers of it. I'm whispering back. The two of us tee-heeing as if teenagers.
Charred meats. She continues to add so that we could no longer contain ourselves.
Jonathan looks over at us and then at the group.
I'm sorry. I only apologised for Jess earlier, I didn't think I'd have to be apologising for my wife this early on. Clearly, I've forgotten what they're like when they've had a few glasses of wine.
But Ailsa joins in, Whatever they've had, I'd like some.
Ailsa, you can have whatever they're having. But you may also have to claim them very soon. Jonathan's deadpan demeanour continues.
We (Ana and I) lean into each other, hands over our mouths, doing our best to stifle our laughter.
I think they're a right hoot, Ailsa continues. Just the kind of company I'd have in Scotland.
Ailsa saying what she said reminded me of friends we (James, Jonathan, Ana and I) met at a wine session we happened upon in Bangkok a few years back. And I mention that.
Jess, say that again. James demanded.
Say what again? I’d turned to him.
Where were we?
Bangkok.
Everyone went quiet then burst out laughing. 'Jess, the word is Bangkok.'
What did I say? Slightly confused.
You say Bang Kok.
I'm stifling a giggle but I need to defend myself, so I argue that I don't.
No? Then say it again.
Well now I can't because I'm conscious that you're all now listening to me. Casting my eyes around the table.
You say Bangkok in two words, giving it an entirely new meaning.
No. I. Do. Not. I say with much conviction.
Then say it. His demand sexy this time.
And had we not been in this crowd, I'd have Bangkok'd him but instead I defend myself.
James, you're asking me to re-commit an offence I was never guilty of. Then, just like the Antigua thing, I'll have to spend my days clearing my name.
And now instead of just my three friends, I feel as though the entire wine room (the other guests, Ronnie, the host, the glasses, the fully stocked wall racks of wine) is now witness, judge and jury on this case.
Ana turns to me and I think she's coming to my defense but instead of exonerating me, she says. 'Actually Jess, you do.'
Wait, what? My jaw drops. How is it that no one has ever said this to me before?
It's a little bit more pronounced when you've had a few glasses of wine.
James, you've never mentioned this to me. Turning back to him (Because now the wine for sure is prosecuting me.)
Well we've never had reason to discuss Bangkok after a few drinks. His face so not straight.
No. You just do it. Ailsa quips.
And while everyone is cracking up, I'm edging towards mortified.
Guys, honestly. Are you saying I've been walking around saying Bangkok like that and no one's said anything?
Actually Jess, I think it's cute. It's your accent under the alcohol that brings it out. If you ask me, that's the way we should all be saying it. Matter of fact, I think everyone should go Bang Kok.
Not even Mr Deadpan over there has a straight face saying that and neither does anyone else.
We've been to Bang Kok. Ailsa comes back, egging the conversation on.
Anna, well she redecorated the table with the mouthful of wine she'd sipped on.
Guys, come on, this is a wine-tasting event. I thought we had a bit more decorum.
We like when our guests enjoy themselves. Our host says walking along the opposite side of the table.
Come on Jess, you know we're only teasing.
James leans over, wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulls me to him. By then, I'd picked up his glass of wine, rested it on my lips, taken a sip. 'You know we love you really.' He hugs me closer to him, which catches my breath, sends a wave of a feeling over me.
I tilt my head and eye him. 'Do you?'
I could see him taking what he wanted from that question. His eyes deep in mine was a slow dance. Slow dance to my soul. He met me where I met him and when our heartbeats found that incredible rhythm, synced.
Ahem (cleared my throat). What was the name of that brand again? Coccinelle, was it?
I had pulled back from him. I had to. Knocked back the rest of the wine in his glass. Because had I stayed hugged to him any longer, I'd have made his lips a deeper colour.
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your favourite or least favourite part of this chapter.
