by Julie Stock
‘Hurry, please. I’m on a tight schedule.’
I gritted my teeth. ‘Where are you going? And is Chlöe going with you?’ I lifted Chlöe into her car seat and fastened her in.
‘I have a meeting with my agent. Chlöe will be well looked after.’ She tutted and looked pointedly at her Cartier watch.
I kissed my daughter goodbye and she gave me a little hug in return, falling silent as she always seemed to do when Isabelle and I were together. I put her bag on the floor in front of her and returned to Isabelle’s window.
‘Who is looking after Chlöe?’ I repeated.
‘The girls at the agency adore her and will look after her while I’m in my meeting. Now I must go. Stop fussing.’ She pressed a button and her window started to rise, giving me no choice but to back away. I stared at the back of her 4x4 as she turned and drove towards the main road, whisking Chlöe away from me once more.
I returned to the cottage, doing some paperwork outside at the little table on the patio to take my mind off Isabelle and Chlöe. I didn’t notice Fran approaching until she was almost in front of me. When I looked up and saw her struggling with a large suitcase, I grinned and jumped up to greet her.
‘You should have let me know you were on your way. I would have come to meet you,’ I said, relieving her of her suitcase. She surrendered it to me gratefully, rubbing her forearm a little. I led the way into the cottage, setting the suitcase down on the stone floor of the living room.
‘Thank you so much for moving your things out, Didier, but you didn’t have to do all that today. You could have taken your time.’ She looked distressed at the thought.
‘It was not a problem for me,’ I touched her lightly on the arm. ‘Chlöe and I had a lot of fun moving our things, and Henri pitched in too. I wanted it to be clear for your arrival so you could make it your own.’ I smiled at her and she returned it.
‘Thank you. That was really thoughtful of you.’ She paused before changing the subject. ‘Well, I’ll get myself settled this evening and then I’ll be ready to start work tomorrow morning. What time would you like me to meet you?’
‘I have an early meeting in Strasbourg tomorrow, so I won’t be here first thing, but Henri will show you around. Shall I tell him you’ll meet him in the office at nine?’
Her face fell a little and I had the feeling that she was disappointed I wouldn’t be there at the start of her first day. Then she pulled herself up and put on her brightest smile.
‘Yes, that would be fine.’
I turned to go and she followed me to the door.
‘Goodbye, then. A demain!’ I stopped at the table to gather up my papers and sauntered off towards the château. It was only after I’d gone that I remembered I’d meant to tell her about the food in the fridge. I brought my hand to my forehead in irritation. Still, she would find it all for herself and at least she wouldn’t go hungry on her first night.
Fran
I closed the little wooden door behind Didier and leaned against it, hearing my stomach rumble as I did so. I groaned. Not only did I have no food in the house, I also had no transport to go and buy any. My heart sank. I crossed the lounge to the kitchen area, planning to check out the fridge. I bent down in front of the door and held my breath, hoping there would be something inside. When I pulled the door open, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The fridge was full of all kinds of delicious foods - cheeses, meats, a beautiful home-made quiche Lorraine and a chilled bottle of rosé, along with some other essentials too. I closed the door and released my breath. On the counter was a basket with a cloth draped over it. I pulled it aside and discovered a loaf of fresh bread. I sighed as I inhaled its sweet smell. Didier had been so thoughtful. I wished I’d known beforehand so that I could have invited him to eat with me.
The next morning, I was woken by a scratching sound at one of the doors. I’d slept so peacefully in the old-fashioned bed in my room that I didn’t really want to get up to go and investigate, but I needed to be ready for work in just over an hour. Reluctantly, I pulled myself up. I grabbed my dressing gown, slipped my feet into my comfy slippers and padded down the creaky wooden staircase. I stood between the kitchen and the lounge, listening for the sound. When it came again a few seconds later, I went to the back door and peered out through the glass panel at the top. The dog that had greeted me so eagerly the other day was sitting there looking up at me quite forlornly. My heart melted at once and I opened the door to say hello.
‘Hey you.’ I crouched down to stroke the little red-coated dog. He responded with a soft whine and leaned into my touch. I glanced around to see if anyone was about but there didn’t seem to be anyone with him. I went back in to get a bowl of water and was surprised when he stayed outside the door, waiting for me. As I came back, he stood up, tail wagging furiously and I only just about managed to put the bowl on the ground without spilling it everywhere. After watching him drink for a moment, I had to shut the door so I could go and get ready. I wished I had some food to give him but on the other hand, I didn’t want to confuse him into thinking this was home.
I showered quickly in the rickety old bathroom because the water was barely warm, and then spent an agonising few minutes in the bedroom trying to decide what to wear. My suits from my old job in the City seemed far too formal and not terribly practical for the setting, but I wanted to look professional. I settled on a pair of smart black trousers and a short-sleeved cream blouse with a soft blue cardigan over the top. I had some black ankle boots that seemed the most sensible idea for walking around the estate so I slipped those on too. When I came back to the kitchen, I poked my head round the door but there was now no sign of the dog. He’d obviously got distracted by something, but I missed the company. After the quickest of breakfasts, I grabbed my jacket and notebook before setting off for the courtyard where I had first met Didier. It was only a short walk back across the lawn but it was the first time I had seen the estate this early in the day. A faint mist hung over the vineyards and the rising sun bathed the landscape in a spectacular range of reds and oranges as far as the eye could see. I wanted to get a professional photographer to take some photos of these views so we could show them off in the new Visitors’ Centre when the time came.
I found Henri working in the office where I’d had my original interview. He was on the phone when I knocked tentatively on the open door but he waved me in and motioned towards the desk opposite. While I waited, I made some notes about my thoughts so far in my notebook. I was just finishing up when Henri came off the phone. He put out his hand towards me and I took it, shaking it firmly.
‘Bonjour, Mademoiselle Schell! J’espère que vous avez bien dormi?’ His kind enquiry set me at ease and I smiled at his friendly, open face.
‘Yes thank you, Henri, I slept very well. Please do call me Fran.’ I paused for a moment. ‘So, what have you planned for me to do this morning?’
‘Didier has asked me to give you a tour of the wine cellars this morning and he would like you to taste the wine as well so you become more familiar with it.’ He had switched from French to almost perfect English in a second and I was very impressed.
‘I’d love to taste the wine but that will be a bit later, won’t it? It still feels a bit early yet.’
He chuckled in reply and stood up to go back out to the courtyard. I followed him and a second later the dog streaked towards us. Henri called him to heel at once and the dog sat adoringly at his feet.
‘Is he your dog, Henri? He appeared at the cottage early this morning looking for some affection.’ I reached out to stroke the dog again and he nuzzled my hand.
‘It’s a she actually and she belongs to Didier, but as he’s always off somewhere or other, we all look after her, really. She’ll probably come with us as we walk round. Shall we go?’ He led the way and sure enough, the dog followed in our footsteps.
‘What’s her name?’ I asked, looking back to check she was still with us. When Henri didn’t reply, I glanced over at him.
‘Her name is Princesse.’ He grimaced, looking embarrassed at the mere mention of such a terrible choice of name for an animal, and I burst out laughing.
‘I hope that Didier was being ironic!’ Henri joined in laughing then and we were still chuckling as we arrived at the first stop on the tour. I had the feeling Henri and I were going to be good friends.
Henri held open the door of the ancient-looking barn I’d seen previously and gestured for me to go in. Instead of the dank, old barn I was expecting, there were large, gleaming metal tanks in front of me reaching right up to the roof.
‘So, this is where the wine is made.’ I gazed around wide-eyed.
‘This is the winery, yes. We have the tanks you can see here for our white and rosé wines, and in the next part of the cellar you’ll see the barrels for our red wines. The cellar is all temperature-controlled,’ he said as we passed about a dozen tanks.
I noticed it was very cool in the first room too, so guessed there must be some kind of air-conditioning.
‘It looks so ancient from the outside. It must have cost the owner a fortune to turn it into this modern winery.’
‘Ah, yes, uh, we have invested a lot of money over the years, Mademois…’ he began and then remembered at the last minute, ‘er, Fran, yes.’ He looked distinctly uncomfortable calling me by the shortened version of my name and I had to smile. He was quite formal for someone who must be around the same age as me. Having been in the UK for a few years, I’d forgotten the formality of the French language.
After inspecting all the modern equipment, we carried on into the next room which this time was full of old oak barrels, all lined up in rows.
‘This is where we age our pinot noir wines.’
This room was darker and smelt of the oak, a smoky smell of wood imparting its flavour little by little to the wine during the ageing process. We emerged from this room into an empty space with a soil floor. Another smaller room lay beyond.
‘Ah, so this is where you want the shop to be, I suppose?’
‘Exactement.’ Henri smiled at me. ‘We want the visitors to go on a tour through the winery and finish in the shop for a tasting. We’d also like them to be able to buy the wines before leaving.’
‘Have you looked at shops at any of your competitors’ domaines?’
‘Oh, yes, we have been to see what they’ve done. Most are very modern with sleek, wooden flooring and somewhere informal to taste the wines. You should probably go and have a look yourself.’
‘And what’s the budget, Henri? There’s an awful lot of work to be done here. I hope the owner realises it could be expensive.’ I looked directly at him and was surprised to see his face redden a little.
‘Er, for that you will need to speak to Didier, I think.’ I was sure he was fudging, even though he knew the budget. Intriguing, I thought. I would have to ask Didier about it, and find out when I might meet the vineyard owner, as well. Just then, the door to the estate opened and Didier’s head appeared round it.
‘So, what do you think of the cellars?’ he asked me as he approached.
‘Very impressive indeed.’ I smiled. ‘The owner has done a lot of work here. Henri and I were just talking about the budget for building the shop and tasting area.’ Didier glanced sharply at Henri but the other man shook his head gently.
‘If you will excuse me, er, Fran, I have some work I must be getting on with.’ He nodded towards me, gave me a brief smile and set off towards the door.
‘Well?’ I asked Didier.
‘Well, what?’ he replied vaguely.
‘What’s the budget for building the shop? You’ve both been avoiding answering my question and this is something I’ll need to know if I’m to do my job properly.’ I held Didier’s eye as I waited for the answer.
‘We don’t have a specific budget,’ he replied at last with a sigh, ‘but we do have some money set aside.’
‘And how much is that?’ I pressed.
‘About fifty thousand euros,’ he said quietly.
My mouth fell open for a moment, until I realised what I must look like and I quickly shut it again.
‘Come, let us go and taste some wine.’ He guided me out of the barn, taking advantage of my silence until we were standing outside, blinking a little in the now bright sunshine. He began walking away from me towards another smaller barn across the gravel path and I followed, still unable to fathom why they had thought this paltry amount would be anywhere near enough to pay for a new Visitors’ Centre, let alone my salary.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Didier
I led Fran purposefully alongside a row of vines round the back of the house and into the smaller barn, leaving her no time to ask me any further questions about the money or who the vineyard owner was. As our eyes adjusted to the half-light, I could see a barrel had been placed on its end with some glasses arranged on it for our tasting. Behind this were rows of wooden barrels stretching far into the distance and, as always, I felt a surge of pride at all we had accomplished at the vineyard. Thierry, my winemaker, appeared from between two of the rows with a bottle of wine in his hand. He smiled broadly at us both.
‘Bonjour, Didier, mademoiselle. Comment ça va ce matin?’
I grasped Thierry’s outstretched hand and laughed as he pulled me in for a brief hug. I took in his familiar, lived-in, tanned face and his constant smile, marvelling at my old friend’s easy-going nature once again despite all he had been through in recent times.
‘Thierry, je te présente Françoise.’
‘C’est Fran, monsieur,’ she said, frowning at me and shaking Thierry’s extended hand at the same time. I remembered then how she hated to be called by her full name. We both chuckled at her insistence and she smiled, graciously letting it go.
‘Vous voulez déguster du vin, non?’ Thierry asked, drawing the cork expertly from the tall bottle of white wine. He proceeded to sniff both the cork and the opened bottle gently to check the wine had not been tainted by the cork. Once satisfied that the wine was in good health, he poured out three tasting measures for us into the glasses standing on the barrel. He set the bottle down and Fran leaned in to study the Domaine label. I knew that she was in for a surprise when she saw what was written on it. There, in elegant calligraphy, it stated quite clearly Domaine des Montagnes and underneath it said Propriétaire - Didier Le Roy. She straightened and looked first at me, then at Thierry, and then at me again.
‘Do you…? Are you…? I’m confused.’
‘I do and I am. Does that answer your questions?’ I replied.
‘You are the vineyard owner! So, this is your family’s vineyard? But why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I just didn’t want to overwhelm you with all that. I wanted to keep things simple while we got to know each other again. There’s plenty of time for everything else later.’ I smiled, trying to reassure her that nothing had changed but I could see in her eyes that she felt something had, she just wasn’t sure what.
‘I would like to taste the wine, please,’ she said eventually. She picked up her glass but Thierry stopped her, showing her how to swirl the glass gently to release all the flavours in the wine before she tasted it.
‘C’est un pinot blanc de l’année dernière,’ he said.
She took a sip of this fairly young wine and swallowed. Thierry and I both spat out our wine, having swirled it around in our mouths for a moment. I could see the obvious dismay on her face and I laughed.
‘We are used to spitting because we taste so many wines,’ I explained. ‘You can simply enjoy it. Did you like it?’ I asked.
‘It’s delicious. It’s full of fruit and it makes my mouth water a little, if that makes sense?’
‘That’s a perfect description. Would you like to taste the rosé next?’
We went on to taste the rosé and a red and, by the time we had finished, Fran looked like maybe she should have been spitting out the wine after all. We said goodbye to Thierry and began to walk back across
the lawn towards the cottage. About halfway, she stopped.
‘So, this beautiful château and estate, as well as the vineyards, all belong to you? Is that right?’
I nodded.
‘Will you show me the château?’
‘Of course. Although I must confess, I haven’t spent a lot of time there since I moved into the cottage.’
Fran
My heart sank as I remembered once again that I had made Didier homeless. We turned to retrace our steps. Closer up I could see the château really did need a lot of work doing to it. I wondered how expensive it must be to maintain it, let alone the rest of the estate. As we wandered through the downstairs rooms, looking at all the covered furniture and the dusty bookshelves still full of books, I began to feel sad that this house was so unloved. It felt almost abandoned.
‘Why don’t you spend time here?’ I asked as we arrived at the bottom of the stairs.
‘After my dad died, my mum couldn’t bear the thought of staying here with the constant reminders of him around her. So, after living here for the whole of her married life, she moved out to a house in the village. It was my family home too, of course, and once they’d both gone, it felt strange without them. That’s when I moved to the cottage.’
He walked over to the fireplace to pick up a photograph frame. He studied the picture for a second before putting it back and turning round to face me.
‘Since my dad died, I have had to focus all my energy on running the estate. The château has fallen into disrepair while we’ve kept everything going. Thankfully, most of the people who work here have done so for many years, so we have been able to simply carry on what he started.’