Sky's the Limit

by Janie Millman

  ‘He’s with Henri,’ Rosa said. ‘He thought he heard something last night and went to investigate.’ She turned to Philippe. ‘There were sanglier tracks, wild boar.’

  ‘What the hell was he doing investigating on his own?’ Philippe slammed his coffee mug down with force. ‘Mon Dieu, anything could have happened, they’re not exactly known for their sweet temperament.’

  ‘Perhaps he didn’t know it was a wild boar,’ Rosa reasoned.

  ‘Here he is, you can ask him yourself.’ Stephanie pointed at the two of them strolling up the garden.

  ‘What the hell were you doing on your own in the middle of the night?’ Philippe demanded as soon as Elf walked in the door. Concern was making him angry and I was touched by it.

  ‘Never fear, boss, I had my bongos. I made enough noise to frighten whatever it was away.’

  ‘Bongos?’ We all turned to stare at Elf.

  ‘They are percussion instruments…’

  ‘I know what they are,’ Philippe interrupted him. ‘What the hell were you doing with them?’

  ‘I was banging them very hard.’

  ‘Don’t joke, Elf, this is serious, you could have been hurt.’

  ‘I’m not joking, boss, the bongos make a lot of noise.’

  ‘He’s not joking, he played them for us.’ Rosa smiled. ‘I’m amazed we slept through them.’

  ‘First a unicycle, then the bongos, what else have you got in your box of tricks?’

  ‘The complete works of Shakespeare.’

  Philippe widened his eyes in astonishment and then threw back his head and laughed. He had a great laugh, deep and rich, and I realised that I’d like to hear it more often.

  ‘Never a dull moment with you, Elf.’ Philippe shook his head. ‘But promise me you’ll come and get me next time you hear anything,’ he demanded. ‘No more bongo playing for the sanglier.’

  ‘Hand on heart, boss.’

  ‘Were they near the vines?’ Philippe turned to Henri. Henri nodded.

  ‘Will they damage the vines?’ Nick was interested and so was I.

  ‘Not now,’ Philippe replied. ‘But when the grapes are ripe they can create havoc. They adore the grapes so we certainly don’t want them making it a regular track.’

  ‘I’m going to Michel’s today, I’ll ask him if he too had visitors last night,’ Luc said, wandering back into the kitchen fresh from his shower. ‘Anyone fancy coming along for the ride?’ He glanced casually around the room before his gaze fell on me.

  I was sorely tempted, yesterday had been such fun and Luc was easy company but out of the corner of my eye I could see Philippe frowning. I shook my head. ‘I’m here to work, Luc.’ And actually I realised that I couldn’t wait to get started. ‘I’m exploring today and I’m hoping Emmie will show me around.’

  She was overjoyed. ‘Emmie knows everywhere.’

  ‘I’ll come too,’ Philippe said suddenly.

  ‘Are you sure?’ I asked. ‘I mean, I don’t want to disturb you if you’re busy.’ Memories of the Majorelle garden visit weren’t that far away.

  ‘I’ve a vested interest in making sure you see all the most beautiful places.’

  ‘Yes, yes of course.’ He sounded sharp and I was taken aback. Well that put me firmly in my place, I thought. Mental note to self, this is a working trip not a holiday.

  Philippe looked embarrassed, maybe he’d meant that as a joke but it certainly hadn’t come out that way.

  ‘Ask Michel to lunch.’ Stephanie swiftly covered the awkward moment. ‘Tell him it’s a Rosa special.’

  Nick’s eyes lit up. ‘Do you need anything from the market, Rosa?’ he asked hopefully.

  ‘What he really means is, can he come into the kitchen and watch you cook?’ Beatrice grinned at him.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Once outside I felt the same exhilarating lightness of spirit that I’d felt since arriving in France. The whole atmosphere of the chateau acted like some sort of drug on me, I could feel some of my old energy and vitality returning.

  ‘Come on, Emmie.’ I laughed. ‘Last to the bottom is a loser.’

  We raced down the slopes of the vineyard, ending up weak and giggling in a tangle of limbs at the bottom. Philippe walked down behind us.

  ‘It was a draw,’ I protested as Emmie stood victorious over me. ‘I just fell over at the end, Sausage got in the way.’ The little piglet looked back at me indignantly. ‘Philippe, tell her it was a draw.’

  ‘Surely you can’t be encouraging me to lie to Emmie,’ he laughed. ‘But it was close.’

  Emmie giggled and ran off to the river with Sausage.

  ‘Can you swim in there?’ I asked Philippe as I watched Emmie trying to encourage the piglet into the water without any success.

  ‘We used to when we were kids,’ Philippe answered. ‘And we fish, we have a small boat.’ He pointed to a little motor boat moored to a jetty. ‘Actually I haven’t been out since the accident, we could go if you’d like.’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘Well, not now, we haven’t got the equipment with us, but later in the week if you would like.’

  ‘I’d like.’ I smiled at him. ‘But only after I’ve done some work,’ I quickly added, remembering his comment from before.

  We made our way up through the rows of vines and again I marvelled at how ordered they were.

  ‘They don’t look very impressive right now,’ Philippe commented and I nodded. ‘It’s hard to believe that they will produce such amazing fruit but if you look closely you will see the buds just starting to grow.’

  He squatted down and beckoned me to join him. ‘We train the vines to control the canopy.’ I nodded. ‘You see, we need to find the right balance of ensuring enough foliage to aid photosynthesis but without shading the grapes too much.’

  ‘I see,’ I said, not really seeing at all but loving his passion.

  ‘Sorry.’ He smiled. ‘Do tell me to shut up.’

  ‘Not at all,’ I was quick to reassure him. ‘It is fascinating, I know absolutely nothing about winemaking.’

  ‘If you like, one morning I can talk you through the whole process.’ He paused. ‘We’ll finish with a grand tasting.’

  ‘Sounds like a plan.’

  We walked up through the vines, down a beautiful avenue of poplars, past the remains of an old stone church and around to the huge derelict sandstone barns.

  ‘Oh my God, these are stunning.’ I stood gazing at the two barns. ‘Can we go inside?’

  The inside was beautifully cool and even more impressive, with a glorious vaulted ceiling and mammoth dark oak beams.

  ‘This is enormous, this has so much potential, you could do so much with this, Philippe.’ I was overawed.

  ‘I could, and indeed I should, but I’m afraid that time and money have been the obstacles.’

  But I wasn’t really listening to him. I was pacing around visualising how it could be. ‘The light is fantastic, it would make a great studio, you have that amazing mezzanine level, you have room for several bedrooms, people would pay good money to come and paint here.’ I ran to one end of the building. ‘You could have a massive picture window here, with these fantastic views down to the river, and another at the other end looking up the chateau.’ I was in full throttle. ‘You could have a terrace outside under those trees, it’s just beautiful, Philippe, it is simply beautiful.’

  He looked around as if for the first time. ‘You’re right, it’s a lovely building, but sadly there has always been something higher on the list of priorities.’

  ‘Nick would have this mapped out as a restaurant in a heartbeat.’ I smiled. ‘Don’t show it to him unless you’re prepared to build some sort of brasserie in your grounds.’

  ‘You two are getting on much better, aren’t you?’

  I shrugged. ‘Sometimes.’ I didn’t meant to be evasive, it was simply that I didn’t know myself what was happening. One moment I thought I was able to forgive him but the next I was filled with
fury again and I hadn’t spoken to Miles since his last disastrous visit.

  I could sense Philippe watching me and prayed he wouldn’t try and probe. He didn’t, he carried on with the conversation we were having before.

  ‘Luc would love to convert it into some sort of shop and wine tasting area.’ He grinned. ‘Perhaps we could combine all three. And talking of Luc, he thinks we should redesign our wine labels.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘Apparently we are woefully behind the times. His spell in California has him all fired up.’

  ‘He is full of enthusiasm,’ I agreed.

  ‘He is.’ Philippe stated with feeling. He lit a cigarette and gazed down at the long rows of vines. He seemed lost in a world of his own and I didn’t want to disturb him.

  Emmie was playing with Sausage and Belle was lying at her master’s feet. Philippe was leaning against the door with his weight on his right leg, stretching out his bad knee. It was clear that he was in some pain but despite the walking stick he still managed to exude elegance and grace.

  As I watched the sun highlighting the silver strands in his hair it occurred to me that he was as much a part of the landscape as his beloved vines. He belonged here, he’d been born with wine in his blood as had his father and grandfather before him. His hazel eyes matched the wood of the door, his hair was a shade darker, and the smoke from his cigarette curled gently into the air exactly as it must have done with his ancestors before him.

  I had no idea how long his family had been here but how incredible it must have been to have such a history, how incredible to have such a future. I thought of my own uncertain future and momentarily the sun lost a little of its sparkle.

  Philippe turned suddenly and I was embarrassed to have been caught staring at him.

  ‘I’ve been guilty of not seeing what is in front of me,’ he said abruptly. ‘We need a new image, we produce fabulous wines and they deserve to be recognised.’ His eyes blazed with passion. ‘Sorry, that sounds very conceited.’

  ‘Not conceited,’ I replied. ‘Realistic, I’d say.’

  ‘I was hoping you might be able to help us with some new labels.’ He looked at me. ‘As I said, I’m happy to talk you through the wines so you understand a bit more about us. Luc and Stephanie can help too. What do you think, Sky? Do you think that would be possible?’

  ‘It’s not what I’m used to but I’ll certainly give it my best shot.’ His enthusiasm was contagious. ‘But first I think I ought to get some ideas for the invite, I imagine you’re keen to send them to the chefs as soon as possible.’ I called over to Emmie. ‘Emmie, maybe you and I can sit this afternoon and do some pen and ink sketches of the chateau? Would you like that?’ Emmie’s shining face said it all and I was glad I had suggested it. I thought she was absolutely adorable, full of fun and imagination. Her speech was a little slow at times and she struggled with sentences but apart from that I didn’t think she was particularly behind.

  ‘Thank you, Sky.’ Philippe turned to me.

  I wasn’t sure what he meant. ‘You haven’t seen anything yet.’ I smiled. ‘They may be rubbish.’

  ‘That wasn’t really what I was thanking you for,’ he said, looking at Emmie.

  I was captivated by the chateau and the grounds. Everything was just as it should be. Nothing jarred or seemed out of place. The sandstone buildings gleamed in the soft sun, a purple mist hung over the river and the sky was already turning into a deep blue with barely a cloud in sight. All was harmonious and unbelievably I felt an incredible sense of peace.

  I was seeing a different side to Philippe too. In Marrakech he had seemed arrogant and superior and I knew that he had thought me uptight and emotional, probably with good reason. We had rubbed each other up the wrong way and even now it was still slightly awkward. But here I was discovering a man passionate about his wine, devoted to his family and ambitious for the future. I could sense his anxiety but loved his new vision. He didn’t want to stagnate, he wanted to push the boundaries, explore new territories, and I had no doubt he would succeed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  As always, Nick was in his element in the market. He had forgotten to ask Rosa for any bags so had bought an enormous basket on wheels which was getting heavier by the minute. He cut quite a figure with his shoulder-length copper curls and wide boyish grin.

  He’d bought numerous different cheeses, some stupidly expensive foie gras, a variety of plump olives and spicy tapenade. On top of the basket lay bunches of multi-coloured tulips coupled with dark green ferns and a large chilli plant.

  He now stood in front of the oyster stall deliberating how many to buy. He had no idea what Rosa was cooking but oysters went with everything. He decided to buy a whole crate, nothing worse than skimping on the oysters, and he would nip into the wine shop on his way home and buy some Cremant de Bordeaux.

  Delighted with his purchases, he was dragging his basket back towards the car when he spotted a stall he hadn’t clocked on the way through. It was a hat stall, beautiful, bright coloured hats of every texture and shape imaginable. Pastel straw boaters, floppy velvet hats, cute felt caps and berets. Sky adored hats and Nick simply couldn’t resist buying her one. She may not appreciate it at the moment but he would take the risk and before he could change his mind he chose a dusky pink straw boater which would protect her in the sun and a dark blue velvet cap for the winter. At the last moment he spotted a cute cloth hat adorned with roses and ribbons which he grabbed for Emmie.

  Once in the car he completely lost his bearings, took the wrong turn and found himself driving around the outskirts of the town without a clue in which direction he should be heading.

  Fifteen minutes later not only was he still circling around but had somehow managed to cross the river twice. The countryside was gorgeous but now was not the time for a long tour. He was looking for a place to pull in and phone back to the chateau for instructions when he spotted a sign saying Hotel de Paris, where the terrace looked inviting and he could ask them for directions.

  ‘Can I help you?’ The young waitress appeared by his side.

  ‘I’ll have a small beer, please,’ he replied and then immediately contradicted himself. ‘No I won’t, I’ll have a glass of red wine, just the house wine, and a glass of water. Thank you.’ He smiled at her and she blushed.

  Once inside the young girl scurried to the counter. She had no idea where or what the house wine was but she spotted an open bottle without a label and assuming it must be the house wine grabbed it and quickly poured a generous quantity into a large glass. She knew she shouldn’t be serving but no one else was around and she was desperate to prove to her Uncle Arnaud that she was capable of working here. It would be a fantastic weekend job, she was almost sixteen, nearly old enough to work, and she really needed the money. She rushed outside and, nearly tripping up in her haste, plonked it down in front of him, spilling some out of the glass.

  ‘Mon Dieu, I’m so sorry.’ She wiped at it with her sleeve. Nick was amused, maybe this was her first shift.

  ‘Have you worked here for long?’ he enquired, gently mopping up the wine with a tissue.

  ‘Yes, well, no, not really, but I will be working soon, I hope. My uncle owns it.’

  That explained it, Nick thought. She rushed away and he took a sip of his wine and then he took another.

  This was bloody delicious and strangely familiar. He must have been getting used to the taste of Bordeaux wines. He wished his house wine was half as good. He would have to ask Philippe’s advice and then it suddenly hit him.

  Sitting up straight he gargled some water. Then he took another, longer taste of the wine, closing his eyes, rolling it around his mouth and letting it slide down his throat. He repeated the procedure and by the end he was positive he was right.

  This was Philippe’s wine, one of his superior wines. The Hotel de Paris must have been one hell of a classy establishment to serve this as a house wine. He was impressed.

  It was beautiful sitting out on the terrace. Nic
k lit a cigarette and let his imagination take over. He pictured a small chateau with a cheerful bar and brasserie at the front and a stunning restaurant to the rear. He envisioned a candlelit terrace with sweeping views over the vineyard. A gleaming kitchen with the same tranquil atmosphere he had experienced at Maad’s restaurant in Marrakech. He could see himself walking down the steps to the cellar, he could almost breath the earthy smell and imagined running his eyes along the rows of dusty bottles.

  ‘Can I get you another?’ The young wee lass was back at his side, breaking his thoughts. He was tempted but looking at his watch decided he had better get back.

  ‘No, but that was delicious.’ He drained his glass. ‘Was it Chateau Fontaine?’ He saw the hesitation on her face and grinned. ‘Don’t worry it’s not important.’ The poor girl clearly had no idea. ‘But you can give me directions back there if you can. I took the wrong turn from Libourne and am now completely lost.’

  She was bringing the glass in when her uncle spotted her. His brow darkened, as she had known it would and she hastened to reassure him.

  ‘It was just one glass, there was nobody around.’ She gazed at him from under her fringe, she was usually able to win him over. ‘I couldn’t leave him sitting on his own.’ She smiled sweetly.

  ‘Well where the hell is everyone?’ Arnaud was angry. ‘What the fuck do they think I’m paying them for?’ He quickly smiled at his niece. ‘Apologies for the language.’ She smiled beguilingly back. ‘What did he order?’