‘I don’t know if you’ve been to a wine tasting before, but we’ll be tasting a range of different wines from a full-bodied red to a light rosé, so it’s customary to swirl and spit. There’s the receptacle.’ He pointed to a long, narrow metal bin. ‘It reminds me of the spittoons we used to have back home till surprisingly recently.’

Jo was impressed at the way he took such easy command of the situation, making them all laugh at once.

‘Do you remember,’ added David, ‘how they used to have Défense de cracher signs on French trains? That means No Spitting!’

‘Well, you’re very much encouraged to spit here,’ Liam smiled. ‘I’ll just fill you in very quickly about the background, talk a little about terroir and then we’ll try the wines. OK?’

They all nodded obediently.

‘We’re at the far east of the Bordeaux region here, so we have hot, dry summers.’

‘Great for a wedding,’ Nicky commented.

‘Yes, great for a wedding, although I must warn you we do occasionally have sudden hailstorms here, even in the middle of summer! Not so good for a wedding – but they are even worse for winegrowers, because they can ruin a crop in minutes. Thankfully they’re pretty rare. Our clay and limestone soil provides ideal growing conditions. And excellent terroir.’

‘What is terroir exactly?’ Jo asked with genuine interest. ‘I’ve always wondered. It seems to be so much at the heart of successful winegrowing.’

‘I would say a combination of soil, direction of the slopes and climate. Oh, and fertilization. You’ve probably noticed our herd of Blonde d’Aquitaine cattle? They’re very beautiful in the landscape, but we don’t keep them just for decoration. Their manure is used to fertilize the vines.’

‘I’m sure all this talk of cow shit is fascinating,’ Ronnie interjected witheringly, ‘but when do we get a damn drink?’

‘Mum,’ Nicky hissed furiously. ‘You sound like an old soak!’

Liam laughed as though Ronnie’s interruption was perfectly timed rather than the crass comment it actually was. ‘You are absolutely right. It’s time we all had a damn drink! Let’s start with the reds.’ He signalled to a young man standing in the shade of a large tree with a tray of red wine.

Jo watched him, increasingly impressed with his natural manner, right down to dealing with Ronnie the heckler. Did presentation just come naturally to him, or had he had professional training?

‘Merlot is our main grape for red,’ Liam explained, ‘with Cabernet Franc and the famous Cab Sav for blending.’ They tried both red wines, all dutifully swirling and spitting. Apart from Ronnie, who knocked back every drop.