A Vintage Summer

by Cathy Bramley

  I plucked a red grape off the nearest vine, popped it into my mouth and chewed thoughtfully. The taste was sharp but definitely sweeter than it had been only a week ago. ‘Okay, I’ll go and look at the long-range weather forecast and if it looks dry enough, how about we plan to start picking from next Monday at noon?’

  ‘The first of October,’ Godfrey nodded. ‘Sounds like the perfect day to me.’

  My heart sank. It was the day of my scan, which was okay because the appointment was early morning, I could be there and back before harvest got underway. But it was also the day Jensen was due to start his new job. For all I knew, he might have already arrived in Cape Town to sort out accommodation and get organized for his new life. Which was what I’d wanted him to do, but I’d thought then that we’d have a chance at a long-distance relationship. Now all I had from him was distance.

  Was it really only a week since we’d had such fun over lunch together, him slipping a ring on to my finger and the other diners smiling and wishing us well? And then later on, that perfect night spent in his arms …

  Pippa clapped her hands, bringing me crashing back to earth. ‘How exciting! I can’t wait! Harvest time is better than sex. Actually, no it’s not. Oh, that reminds me—’ She stopped mid-sentence and blushed. We all waited.

  ‘Reminds you what?’ said Roger bluntly.

  She shook her head timidly. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘I’m excited too, Pippa,’ said Godfrey fondly.

  ‘Moving on …’ Roger tutted impatiently and then rubbed his hands together. ‘Reinforcements. That’s the key to smooth operations. We’ll need to rally the troops asap.’

  ‘Righto.’ Godfrey slurped the last of his tea. ‘I’ll email round the regulars, Matt can put up a poster in the pub and I’ll post a notice on the village website.’

  ‘Brilliant. Thanks, everyone,’ I said, mustering a smile as I collected in the mugs and picked up the tray. ‘I think I’ll go and run our plan by Sidney and see what he makes of our latest readings.’

  They breathed a collective sigh of relief, glad to be let off the hook as far as the final decision was concerned. I started back towards the winery and Pippa caught me up, insisting on taking the tray out of my hands.

  ‘I think Clare’s son Ben might be interested in helping with the harvest,’ she said coyly. ‘And he’s very strong.’

  ‘Is he still on leave?’

  She twirled a lock of hair around her fingers and nodded. ‘For another week.’

  ‘Great, the more the merrier; I’ll mention it to Clare.’

  She giggled. ‘It’s okay, I’m seeing him tonight; I’ll ask him.’

  ‘Fabulous.’ I grinned at her, suddenly understanding her ‘harvest is better than sex’ comment. ‘Good for you, Pippa. It’s lovely to see you so happy.’

  ‘It’s all down to you.’ She smiled shyly. ‘Your attitude has inspired me.’

  ‘Me?’ My current attitude wavered between misery, defeat and despair. ‘You’re too generous.’

  ‘You don’t let anything stand in your way or get you down,’ Pippa continued firmly. ‘You know what you want and you go for it. You should be proud of yourself.’

  Her words of praise were incredibly well timed and when we parted in the yard there was a spring in my step as I unlocked my cottage door, thinking that maybe I wasn’t such a failure after all.

  I sent Sidney a message asking if he was free for a chat and seconds later we were facing each other on Skype via our screens. He looked relaxed and tanned in a short-sleeved shirt. I, on the other hand, having just come in from a windy Derbyshire hillside, looked like I’d spent the night in a hedge.

  ‘Harvest has already started here,’ he said, uncorking a plain bottle and pouring some pale juice into a glass. ‘Our Chardonnay Cuvée. Cheers!’ His bright eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled and held his glass up to the screen. ‘Delicious. How is your crop doing?’

  He listened carefully, stroking his moustache as I mentioned the readings the team had taken from various rows and told him of our plan to start picking on Monday.

  ‘You’re doing great, Lottie, but ideally you need another warm dry week,’ he said, leaning back in his chair. ‘Is that likely?’

  I glanced through the window of my cottage. There was a blanket of unbroken cloud overhead. When the wind dropped it wasn’t too cold, and there’d been little or no rain for a few days so the ground was dry.

  ‘Checking out the long-range forecast is my next job,’ I said, rubbing a hand over my tummy distractedly. I didn’t know if it was coincidence or not but the baby had been very active since Harvey’s visit and it had crossed my mind several times that maybe I’d managed to transmit my anxiety and the baby was unsettled too. ‘What would Ted do, do you reckon?’

  ‘Ted was a risk taker,’ said Sidney. ‘He’d leave harvesting until the last possible moment. What is your gut saying?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ I nibbled my lip. ‘I don’t feel experienced enough to take risks. On the other hand, if we’re going to give a still wine a shot, the riper the better.’

  ‘If you can wait until next Friday, I should be able to get a flight over and help you out.’

  I could have wept with relief. ‘That would be amazing! But please, let your family know this time.’

  Our laughter was interrupted by an urgent rapping at the door immediately followed by Matt bursting in, out of breath.

  ‘Sorry to barge in, boss.’ He raised a hand in greeting to Sidney on my laptop. ‘There’s just been an urgent weather warning on the radio. Storm Sandra is on its way across from Siberia.’

  Panic gripped my lungs like a vice. ‘How bad?’

  ‘Gale force winds, torrential rain, the lot,’ he said gravely. ‘According to the weather man, it should hit Derbyshire late on Monday.’

  I groaned. ‘This is my worst nightmare. Now what am I going to do?’

  ‘Hey, don’t panic, you’re not on your own, you know.’ Matt put an arm roughly around my shoulders and squeezed me to him.

  ‘Thank you,’ I mumbled, peeling my face from his stubbly jaw.

  Sidney moved closer to his computer so that his face filled the screen. ‘Well, that’s taken the decision out of your hands. You’ve got Saturday, Sunday and Monday to get the grapes in. Whatever’s left on the vines after then will probably be destroyed.’

  It looked as if my scan would have to be delayed; I’d been so looking forward to seeing the baby again, but it couldn’t be helped.

  I nodded numbly. ‘Three days.’

  ‘Lottie, listen to me,’ Sidney’s voice had taken on an urgent tone, ‘the priority is the grapes. Pick them in as soon as possible, get everything in place today and start tomorrow.’

  ‘Understood. I’ll organize as many pickers as I can lay my hands on,’ I said. ‘The quadbike has just come back from being serviced and we’ve had a delivery of new plastic crates. I’ll have to buy up Fernfield’s entire stock of secateurs, but that’s easily arranged.’

  ‘Good stuff.’ Sidney gave me an encouraging smile. ‘Matt?’

  ‘Yes, mate?’ Matt leaned closer.

  ‘I was hoping to come and oversee the pressing for you, but it’s unlikely I’ll make it on time now. Do you think you can handle it alone?’

  He puffed out his chest. ‘I can run that press blindfolded. So can Clare. We’ll manage just fine.’

  ‘Just one last thing, Lottie: has Betsy mentioned anything about—’

  The screen went black. He’d gone. Mentioned what? I wondered. But the internet had gone down again and I had no time to waste fiddling with the connection now. It was Butterworth Wines versus Storm Sandra and this was a battle I had no intention of losing.

  It was harvest time.

  Chapter 32

  The next morning dawned bright and clear, if a little chilly. The moon had been muffled behind a thick layer of cloud last night, which had kept the temperatures mild and the dew to a minimum. I was just grateful that Storm
Sandra hadn’t gathered any extra speed overnight.

  ‘Welcome to Butterworth Wines, everyone, and thank you so much for coming.’ I stood at the top of the south-facing slope with the gate behind me where the assembled crowd could all see me. Starsky was wandering amongst them hopefully, trying to sniff out any dog owners on the off chance they might harbour treats in their pockets. He was having reasonable success and looked like he was having a far more relaxing time than me. ‘It’s lovely to have so many victims – I mean volunteers – here to help us today.’

  My little joke raised a laugh as I’d hoped it would. I needed them to enjoy themselves because that way they might not notice how back-breaking picking grapes was.

  ‘Today we’ll be harvesting Pinot Noir, which is one of our red varieties. If you’d all like to turn around, Roger will demonstrate how we’d like the bunches to be picked.’

  The group did as they were told, and while Roger ran through the instructions about where to snip, and which grapes to leave on the vine, Clare and I handed out secateurs and gardening gloves.

  My team had risen to the challenge as usual and had been hard at it preparing the groundwork since eight this morning. Pippa had a morning shift at the library but would be heading down here with Ben as soon as she’d checked on her dog and changed into her grape-picking clothes. Between us, we’d assembled twenty pickers, including Olivia Channing and her girlfriend Sazzle who’d come up at the crack of dawn this morning and were staying in Betsy’s spare room, five people who’d come to our open day in July, some from the library, a couple from Clare’s blanket committee, Issy the midwife’s mum and her best friend and several members of the darts team from Matt’s pub.

  When Roger was happy that he’d drilled the instructions into everyone’s heads, I cleared my throat to speak.

  ‘Before we start,’ I said, ‘I just want to introduce you to Olivia.’

  Olivia dutifully put up her hand.

  ‘She’s going to be live tweeting today’s harvest on behalf of the English Wine Board, so if anyone is a fugitive or a felon or would just rather not be in the photos, speak up.’ I meant it jokingly but two of the darts team looked a bit shifty, so I moved swiftly on, dividing the group into two and nominating Roger and Godfrey as team leaders.

  ‘Any questions see either myself or one of the Butterworth team,’ I said, clapping my hands together. ‘Good luck, everyone. Harvest 2018 is officially on!’

  ‘Action stations!’ Roger yelled. ‘My team, follow me to the low slopes.’

  Everyone whooped and cheered, and within seconds the crowd had dispersed.

  ‘Any jobs for an old codger like me?’ The gruff voice from behind me made my breath catch in my throat. It couldn’t be … I whirled around and gasped.

  ‘Dad!’ I froze, unable to believe what I was seeing. ‘Oh my God, Dad! What on earth …?’

  He opened his arms and I didn’t need asking twice. I buried my face in his jumper and bit back tears, determined to show him how strong I was being.

  ‘Your sister told us you’ve been having a rough time of it, love, so I thought it was time I came home and gave my little girl some support.’

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. ‘It certainly hasn’t been boring, that’s for sure.’

  The hug went on for ages. He couldn’t take his eyes off my baby bump and I couldn’t get over how well he looked. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him so relaxed and happy.

  ‘Hey,’ he said finally, ‘as I came down the path I could hear a young woman giving orders and motivating her team. Imagine my delight when I realized it was you. I’m very proud of you, love, very proud indeed. Seems like you’ve taken to this job like a duck to water.’

  ‘I do love it,’ I said, beaming. I had done well, I thought proudly; I’d taken the challenges that the vineyard had thrown at me in my stride, coped with an unexpected pregnancy and dispatched an unwelcome ex-boyfriend. Okay, so maybe my love life wasn’t smooth sailing, but at least my career seemed to have taken off at last.

  ‘But when did you get here? And how?’ I was bewildered; I’d only spoken to him a couple of days ago and he’d definitely been in Germany then.

  ‘Agnes and I flew back this morning. Darren and Evie picked us up from the airport.’

  I nodded. ‘Ah, so that was why Evie sounded so mysterious and giggly on the phone last night.’

  Darren had volunteered to help tomorrow and Evie had put her name down for Monday, both pleading other commitments today. Another thought occurred to me.

  ‘So Agnes is here?’

  Dad nodded, the smile on his face a mix of pride and nerves. ‘Would you like to meet her? She’s waiting in the winery with a huge lad who looks like a pirate.’

  ‘That’s Matt,’ I laughed. ‘We’d better get back; he’ll have made her taste half a dozen wines by now.’

  I checked round quickly to make sure I wasn’t needed and headed to the yard, arm in arm with Dad, sneaking glances at him as we walked. I felt like pinching myself to check I wasn’t dreaming; it was so good to see him. He was completely recovered from his injuries now and had, he told me, been keeping himself busy making new dog runs for Agnes’s dog rescue operation. There was no mention of continuing his European tour and it was obvious he’d found what he was looking for in Germany.

  Agnes was leaning on the door frame and, as predicted, she had a glass of sparkling wine in her hand. She was wearing multicoloured harem trousers, a leather biker jacket and Crocs and stood up straight when she spotted us. Matt was nowhere to be seen, but I could hear him singing and clattering about in the winery.

  ‘Agnes,’ said Dad reverently, ‘may I introduce you to my youngest daughter, Lottie.’

  Agnes smiled. ‘Hallo, Lottie.’

  My stomach flipped as I smiled back; this was the lady who’d captured my dad’s heart. The only woman he’d shown an interest in since Mum died. I knew she must be special.

  ‘It’s lovely to meet you face to face, Agnes.’ I’d seen her via Skype and FaceTime, but a digital image was a poor substitute for the real thing. ‘I love your jacket.’

  She set the hardly touched glass down on the ground with a trembling hand. Bless her, she was just as nervous as I was.

  ‘It is very good to meet you too.’ Her English was perfect even if her German accent made her sound stiff. She edged towards me with her hand outstretched.

  Her eyes slid sideways to Dad’s and he gave her an encouraging smile and my heart twisted with happiness for them both. Ignoring her hand, I hugged her warmly.

  ‘Thank you.’ I kissed her cheek, hoping I hadn’t overstepped some strict code of German etiquette.

  She looked puzzled. ‘For what?’

  ‘For making my dad so happy.’

  Dad slipped a casual arm around her waist and Agnes laughed shyly. ‘I was so nervous that you would be angry at me for taking your father away from you.’

  And then an odd thing happened. I got the peculiar feeling that someone was at my shoulder and I could feel their warm breath on the back of my neck. Far from being creepy, it was a lovely sensation and I knew without doubt that Mum was giving her blessing.

  I shook my head and felt a peace that I hadn’t felt in days.

  ‘I don’t feel like that at all,’ I said, smiling at them both. ‘In fact, I’d go as far as to say you’ve actually brought him back.’

  Agnes’s gaze held mine. ‘Your mother did a wonderful job with her daughters.’

  ‘Ahem,’ said Dad, pretending to be insulted. ‘It’s hard work being a dad too.’

  I hugged him. ‘But you rose to the challenge, just like you will when you’re a granddad.’

  He rocked forward and back on his heels, looking smug. ‘I suppose I will.’

  ‘And talking of hard work,’ Agnes thrust her shoulders back, ‘we’re not here to party. Give us a job.’

  ‘You and I, Agnes,’ I said, looping my arm through hers, ‘are going to get on very well. How does
picking fifty kilograms of grapes sound?’

  ‘Heavy,’ Dad muttered.

  ‘Stop moaning!’ said Agnes and I at the same time and we laughed all the way back to the vineyard.

  The clear weather held and for the rest of Saturday and all of Sunday we worked like demons. The yard was a hive of activity, cars coming and going as more people heard about Storm Sandra and turned up to help us hit our deadline. Pippa and Ben were kept busy on the quadbike, pulling the trailer piled high with full crates of grapes to the winery and then heading straight back with empty ones to give to the pickers. Betsy was thoroughly enjoying the drama and on Sunday Marjorie arrived to stay over for the night to keep her sister-in-law out of trouble because we kept finding her lost amongst the vines insisting she wanted to be useful.

  Matt and Clare had pressed the first load of grapes on Saturday, working through the night to get the juice pumped into tanks ready for the press to be used again on Sunday. It was hard physical work and by Sunday lunchtime Clare was flagging so Ben swapped places with her. He took over the job of tipping the grapes into the big funnel on top of the wine press and his mum spent the rest of the day with secateurs in hand, chatting to her friends amongst the Pinot Meunier grapes.

  Ben was a lovely guy. It was easy to see why Clare was so proud of her son and why Pippa had fallen for him in a matter of days. He was laid back and softly spoken, which suited Pippa perfectly, had an easy smile and could turn his hand to anything. He was also incredibly strong and Matt was enjoying having someone else to help with the heavy lifting.

  Having Dad and Agnes here gave me such a boost. Not only was Agnes extremely industrious and a quick learner, but she was a great team player too. She fussed round making sure everyone was all right, and wasn’t hungry or thirsty and I noticed she kept a close eye on Dad’s right side which he’d injured in the summer. It was wonderful to see Dad so happy. I’d got used to not having him close when I was living in London, but spending a couple of days in his presence made me realize how much I loved him. Darren had helped yesterday and after we’d finished, Dad and Agnes had taken him and Evie out to the pub for Sunday dinner. I’d been invited too, but there’d be no pub visits for me until the harvest was in; it was all hands to the deck amongst the Butterworth team for now.