Vintage (32 page)

It was an easy choice. Antony would have agreed to
just about anything to stop the police searching his van, which was carrying not only his speakers but a considerable amount of ecstasy and cocaine that he had intended to sell that night. Antony already had a criminal record. One more arrest and he was going inside.

“You made the right decision,” Hilarian assured him. “A boy as pretty as you does
not
want to end up in jail.”

“OK, everybody.” Guy surveyed his team. While Kelly was getting ready for a day outside—it still involved full makeup—another two carloads of people had arrived. Altogether there were fifteen in Guy’s makeshift work-gang now. Everyone was surprisingly eager. “This is how we’re going to do it,” Guy told them. “I want you to split yourselves into teams of three. Each team will work a row. Now, we’re not going to pick every single bunch of grapes you find out there today. We’re making quality wine here, not plonk.”

His team laughed politely.

“So, before you remove a bunch from the vine, I want you to examine it. We want only the grapes that are properly ripened. No green bunches. But no moldy grapes either. Leave those on the ground for the birds. Come and look at this.”

Guy had them gather round and look at the bunch of perfect grapes he held in his hand. “This is what we’re looking for.”

The teams divided up. Gina and Antony joined Guy. Eventually Kelly came out of the house. She was wearing hot pants. Antony gave a low whistle.

“Fantastic,” he said.

Guy just shook his head. “You might want to put your jeans back on,” he told her. “You’ll get scratched to death by the baskets.”

Kelly stomped back into the house.

When she emerged, half an hour later, Guy was the only person left in the courtyard. Everyone else was already up in the vines.

“I guess this means you’re on my team,” said Guy. “No slacking.”

It was hard work and halfway through the day, Guy’s happy harvesting team started to wonder whether a day in the cells might have been preferable to a day in the vineyards, but they kept at it. Considering Guy’s poor opinion of Kelly’s friends, he was impressed to see how well they worked together. The smaller members of each team removed the grapes from the vine while the big lads, many of whom worked as roadies, made easy work of bringing the loaded buckets down to the winery, where they went through another check before they were tipped into the press.

Supplemented by the pickers Guy always used, the new team brought in the harvest in record time.

At sunset, the picking gang retired but it was still a beautiful evening and no one wanted to go home.

While Guy finished supervising the pressing of that day’s grapes, Hilarian organized some of the helpers to build a bonfire with a pile of debris Guy had been collecting all summer. Antony set up a couple of his decks in Kelly’s sitting room and opened the French doors so that the music could be heard in the little garden that backed onto the vineyard itself.

It was a mellow sort of night. Antony chose music to reflect that mood, no thumping beats but the kind of ambient music they played in chill-out rooms. The perfect soundtrack for a setting sun.

Meanwhile, Gina and a couple of other girls set up the barbecue. There was more than enough food, since they had been planning to cater for so many more. One of the
guys also had a carload of beer to go with the burgers, but, interestingly, not one of the pickers wanted beer that night. Everyone wanted to drink Froggy Bottom.

When Guy finally emerged from the winery, Hilarian led a cheer.

“I have had one of the best days of my life,” said Gina, throwing her arms around Guy’s neck and giving him a kiss. It was a sentiment that was repeated all over Froggy Bottom. Except for Kelly…

Hilarian caught up with Kelly while Guy led the rest of the crew in a South African drinking game. She was sitting a little way off from the others, nursing a plastic cup of white wine and a half-eaten burger.

“We need to talk,” said Hilarian.

Kelly blushed automatically in expectation of a telling off.

“Shall we take a walk?”

Kelly followed Hilarian out of the kitchen garden. They walked up through the vineyard to a rickety old bench that had a view across the vines to the farmhouse. They sat and looked down on the partygoers, silhouetted by the light of the bonfire as they danced like pagans involved in some ancient ritual. Kelly wrapped her arms around her body, partly because she was cold and partly, subconsciously, because she felt very small all of a sudden. Stupid too. Ashamed. Kelly and Hilarian sat in silence for a moment or two while Kelly lit a cigarette and took a few anxious puffs. Hilarian spoke first.

“Today very nearly ended in disaster. I think you know how serious things could have got if you and your friends had insisted on having your rave.”

Kelly nodded.

“As it is, they avoided arrest and the grapes are all safely harvested. Disaster averted. But I don’t want to have to call
in favors again like I did today. Have you got any idea how much I had to fork out to get the police to set up that roadblock to turn your punters away? It could have got nasty. Thank God you hadn’t already taken their money.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I can’t keep bailing you out.”

“You didn’t have to—” Kelly began.

Hilarian shook his head. “It’s not just today. I’ve been doing all I can to keep you on the right side of the trustees until now. Every time I turn up in Slough for a meeting, they’ve got some new reason to stop your allowance. There’s no way around it, Kelly. Together with me, those two old duffers are in charge of what happens here for the next four and a half years. Now, you can turn the next four and a half years into a struggle—a battle at every turn—or you can humor the trustees. The more you show that you can take responsibility for what goes on here, the less reason they will have to interfere.”

Kelly squirmed.

“I for one want you to be able to take over the reins here at Froggy Bottom as soon as you’re able. I think you’ve got the ability and I think you’re interested in what goes on here, but for some reason you’re resisting. It’s as if you don’t think it’s cool to want to take the vineyards seriously. Well, if you’re worried about what your mates might think, I hope today has shown you that they think making wine is great fun.”

Kelly gazed down at the people dancing around the fire. She’d spent much of the day worrying that Gina, her brother and all their mates would be furious with her for the cancellation of the all-nighter, but they certainly seemed to be having a good time right then.

“You could have something truly wonderful here,” Hilarian concluded. “But you have to make an effort. What’s keeping you from mucking in?”

“What’s the point? It just doesn’t feel like it’s mine. What with the trustees always interfering and the Mollisons still going over the will and trying to get me kicked out. They’re going to get it back before my five years are up anyway.”

“No, they’re not. Your father named you as his child before he died. I can’t see any way they can get their hands on this place. The Mollisons will just have to get used to it.”

“It’s not just that. How do you think it feels that they want to get rid of me so badly? They’re supposed to be my brother and sister and they won’t even see me.”

“You’re not missing much,” Hilarian assured her.

“All I ever wanted was a proper family but it’s like someone up there decided I don’t deserve one. Mum wanted to get rid of me. The Mollisons want me gone. I don’t belong here. I feel like I don’t belong anywhere,” she added in a sudden burst of angst.

“Oh, Kelly!” Hilarian wrapped his arm around her. “Of course you belong here. Your father wanted you to have this land.”

“I didn’t even know him.”

“Well, this is how you can know him. By being here. By giving your inheritance a chance to change your life for the better. We all want that for you. Me, Guy, even the crusty old trustees.”

Kelly laid her head on Hilarian’s shoulder.

“Just think,” said Hilarian, squeezing her tight. “In less than five years’ time, you could be drinking your own wine, made from the grapes we picked here today. It’ll be fantastic wine and it will win the
Vinifera
wager.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I really do. But only if you start believing that this is where you belong and act accordingly. Take this place
seriously. A hundred thousand pound’s worth of seriously.” He winked.

“OK,” said Kelly: “I will.”

The following Sunday, while Kelly accompanied Guy and Hilarian to the harvest festival at the local church of St. Jude’s, Madeleine Arsenault felt a sudden urge to go into the cathedral at Reims. She crossed herself automatically as she stepped into the cool austere darkness of the building, rebuilt by Rockefeller after the devastation of World War II exactly as it had been in Norman times.

Without quite knowing why, Madeleine went to the chapel of St. Teresa and lit two candles. One for herself and one for her brother, Georges.

“I wish you could be here, bro,” she murmured over his candle, then she muttered a little prayer of thanks for a harvest successfully completed.

Outside, a group of tourists gathered in the doorway, taking souvenir snaps of the most famous of all the cathedral’s statues: the smiling angel of Reims. Madeleine looked up at the angel as she passed on her way out. It was as though the angel were smiling down upon Madeleine alone.

In California, Christina walked to the top of her vineyards and remembered her own harvest weekend. The valley before her was balmy, warm and peaceful. If there is a God, Christina thought, then he probably lives out here.

PART

M
arch. All over Champagne, the producers eagerly awaited the moment when the first of the previous year’s still wine could be taken from barrel, blended and bottled, wherein the real magic would start.

Mathieu Randon and Odile Levert drove from Domaine Randon’s head office in Paris to the winery near Épernay in Randon’s sleek black Mercedes Benz. Odile could tell Randon was tense. Nervous almost. She couldn’t help but admire that he took his wine so seriously considering that Maison Randon represented such a small part of his luxury goods empire these days.

“Maison Randon will always be the most important part of my business. It’s about family pride,” he explained when she commented as such.

Odile nodded. She knew the Randons had been in Champagne for generations but it was hard to imagine that Mathieu Randon was ever part of anyone’s family. He was one of those men who seemed to have appeared like a toadstool, popping up in the boardroom overnight fully formed and already white-haired. She could not picture him as a tousle-haired toddler, chasing the family dog up and down the rows of vines while his father and mother set about pruning. Or as a seven-year-old helping with the
picking. Or even as a surly teen tipping grapes into the press. She couldn’t even imagine Randon without a tie on.

“Your opinion is very important to me, Odile,” he told her. “I want you to know that I trust your judgment on champagne above anyone else’s. Except my own,” he added with a half smile.

“Of course,” said Odile. “But I don’t know why you are so concerned. I don’t anticipate any problems. Axel Delaflote is a very competent man and your cellar master, Jean-Christophe, is one of the finest I’ve ever encountered.”

“He should be,” said Randon. Randon had paid a small fortune to tempt him away from one of the other big houses, at Axel’s recommendation.

When they arrived at Maison Randon, Axel Delaflote was already waiting on the steps of the large house that had once been the Randon family home but which now housed the company’s offices and Axel’s own apartment.

“Are they ready for us?” Randon asked.

“Of course,” said Axel. He had been waiting for Randon and Odile’s arrival all morning.

“I’m sorry we’re a little late,” said Odile. “I’m afraid it’s my fault. I had to finish my column for
Vinifera.”

Axel smiled tightly. Odile Levert was one of the few people for whom Randon would wait. Axel wasn’t sure he trusted her. He knew she didn’t like him. Whenever they were in the same room, they circled each other like a pair of cats. Axel knew that Odile had spent a lot of time with Madeleine Arsenault, as her champion for the
Vinifera
competition. He wondered if Madeleine ever talked about him.