‘Not leave permanently, just once in a while,’ she huffed. ‘When we came here I thought making wine would be a hobby, but it took over his life. Ted made excellent sparkling wines and I’m proud of him for what he managed to achieve so far north when most vineyards are on the south coast. But I resented the fact that there was a whole world out there to see and the only view I had of it was from our boundary wall down to the bottom of the valley. Now he’s gone and you’re right, there’s no reason for me to stay except that for me the world has now become a hazy place, where I don’t feel safe, where I can’t find my way—’

She broke off and took a napkin from the table, twisting it between her bony fingers. The rest of us remained silent and I felt a knot of sadness in my chest for her.

‘And there’s another reason too. Ted was convinced that the harvest we’re going to have this autumn will be our best ever. He asked me to stay and gather in the crop for him one last time, one last Butterworth vintage.’ She looked up with watery eyes. ‘How could I refuse?’

‘You did the right thing, Gran, but the problem is that without Granddad here, there’s no one with the know-how to run the winery. So …’ He blew out a breath as if psyching himself up. ‘I strongly recommend we try to find a buyer for the business as a going concern. Someone who can hit the ground running and get straight to work. There’s a lot that needs to happen before the next crop is ready.’

‘Lottie, what do you think?’ Betsy looked at me, willing me to side with her. ‘Can we manage by ourselves?’

My heart thumped. ‘Well, I—’

Jensen held up a hand. ‘With respect, Gran, by her own admission, Lottie knows nothing about wine.’

‘Shush, don’t be rude. Go on, Lottie.’

I shot Jensen a look of apology. ‘Your volunteers are all lovely and willing to do as much as they can. But Jensen’s right, Betsy, no one has Ted’s expertise and without that, last year’s wine can’t be blended and the previous year is waiting for two things beginning with “D”.’

‘Dosage,’ Marjorie supplied. ‘And dégorgement.’

‘Exactly,’ I continued. ‘No one has been able to get your input, Betsy.’

She winced. ‘Yes, that’s probably my fault. I’ve been a bit crotchety since Ted’s funeral and Clare caught me at a bad time and asked me a question about Ted’s notebooks. I bit her head off and told her I didn’t want anyone ferreting through his things. They’ll be in his office somewhere. I should look for them, I suppose.’