Arriving at the Vineyard

  

‘You always arrive on the rim of your wheels,’ Tom said, kissing Maggie hello.

‘I know, too many projects; it’s hard to let go.’ She grinned and turned to kiss the others. 

Bella asked, ‘When did you leave England?’

‘Yesterday; I stayed with my witches near Troyes overnight.’

‘Ooh, how are they?’

‘Mad as ever, with great art everywhere. They’ve got herbs drying in the kitchen and their new kitten keeps climbing up to them. I told them they’d never stop her as long as they’re drying catnip but they just laughed.’

‘Is it still a guesthouse?’

‘No, they’ve retired, so they just have a few guests who’ve been before, these days.’

‘Wow, you’re privileged, then,’ Bertrand sounded jealous.

Maggie shrugged and turned to Tom. ‘How’s the harvest this year?’ 

‘Looking good. That rain we had between the heatwaves filled the grapes nicely, and we’ve kept the mildew off.’ 

‘Allez, A la soupe,’ Annie called, ringing the bell kept by the door.

‘J’ai un faim de loup,’ said Tom, and they filed into the dining room to a chorus of  wolf whoops. 

 ‘Me too!’ Bertrand rubbed his stomach. ‘What do you say in English?’

‘I could eat a horse,’ Maggie said, ‘And I could.’

‘But…’

 

‘I know, we don’t eat horse in England, that’s why it’s exceptional.’

Bowls of home-made vegetable soup,  with thick slices of baguette, were followed by charcuterie, ratatouille, then fruit, washed down with bottles of Beaujolais.

As they arrived in the vines the next morning, mist lay in the valley and the vine leaves were turning red and gold.

‘Golden Beaujolais! All these years, and the beauty of this place still gets to me,’ Maggie exclaimed.

‘Here, you know the routine, secateurs, grapes, bucket.’ Tom gestured up the vines, grinning.  

They picked till half past nine, working up the rows in pairs and calling ‘Seau!’ whenever buckets needed emptying. Maggie stretched, easing her back, singing along as she heard Bella humming, ‘J’entends le loup, le renard and la belette,’ as she bent back to her vines.

As they stopped picking, Annie arrived in her 2CV with the team’s second breakfast. 

Maggie stood with a hot Lyonnais sausage and mustard sandwich in one hand and a glass of red in the other. 

‘This is when I feel I’ve truly come home,’  she said.

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