‘Brit Fizz they’re calling it.’ Betsy shuddered. ‘And so do the Americans. Ted would turn in his grave; although he’d be thrilled to know his wine was being drunk on the other side of the world. So swings and roundabouts.’

‘Exports are one of the areas I’ve been looking into,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘I’m hoping to pick Olivia Channing’s brains about it while I’m in London.’ Perhaps I should invite her along to lunch with Jensen and me, I thought; at least that would keep things on a professional level and stop me making an idiot of myself.

‘Oh?’ Betsy raised a hopeful eyebrow. ‘What other areas?’

I felt the weight of both of their stares.

‘Well, I’m only here for six months, but if I had time I was thinking we could convert one of Ted’s sheds into a little shop, so customers can drop in and buy direct from us.’

‘I like that idea.’ Marjorie’s eyes glittered thoughtfully. ‘A year-round income, cutting out the middle man. Very good.’

I continued, encouraged. ‘And I thought about putting a wine holiday package together: accommodation nearby, a wine tour and tasting and, for those who wanted hands-on experience, a few days volunteering in the vineyard and winery. It was Olivia who gave me the idea.’

‘You think people would pay to come and work for us?’ Betsy eyed me sceptically.

‘I do.’ In fact, I was sure of it. Wine tourism was well established in other parts of Europe but still new in England and owning your own vineyard was the new ‘escape to the country’ dream for people looking for a change of pace. The risk-free option was to try before you buy, and where better than an established vineyard where would-be winemakers could get real hands-on experience and learn from the experts. Well, expert-ish.

Marjorie slurped the last of her tea. ‘Told you, Bets.’

‘Told her what?’ I asked.

‘That you might not be a Butterworth but this place has got under your skin,’ she said smugly.

‘It definitely has.’ I laughed. ‘It’s the best job I’ve ever had.’

‘Good grief,’ said Betsy drily. ‘I don’t know whether to feel flattered or sorry for you.’

I laughed. ‘Be happy for me. Until now, I’ve simply drifted career-wise. And now I know that the wine business is my future. Whatever happens next, that’s my goal and I’ve got Butterworth Wines to thank for that.’

Betsy and Marjorie exchanged excited looks.

‘That’s the best news I’ve heard since you told us you were expecting,’ said Betsy, reaching for my hand to pat it.

‘If I could afford to buy the business from you, I’d do it in a heartbeat,’ I said. ‘Although I’m not family, of course.’