‘Hello there and welcome to “Love in the Afternoon”. I’m Fiona Love and joining me in the studio we have Olivia Channing from the English Wine Board, Lottie Allbright from Butterworth Wines and Thomas Devine, who many of you will know from his successful restaurant chain, Devine Kitchen.’

Thomas scowled and leaned into his microphone. ‘It’s not a chain.’

‘Pardon?’ Fiona gave a fluttery smile.

‘Devine Kitchen is not a chain of restaurants.’

‘Oh, Thomas.’ Fiona laughed coquettishly. ‘You have restaurants in five locations, surely that makes you a chain?’

He shook his head. ‘To call it a chain is to dismiss the effort we have put into each venue to make it different and special.’

‘Here we go,’ Olivia murmured to me under her breath. ‘Arguing already.’

Fiona’s smile was fixed. ‘But the menu is the same in each, no?’

‘Correct,’ he admitted through gritted teeth.

‘And the décor too?’

He exhaled so hard with frustration that I thought he was going to flounce out. ‘That’s hardly the point, the experience at each of our restaurants is unique and—’

‘It’s nothing to shy away from, Thomas,’ said Fiona soothingly. ‘Customers appreciate knowing what to expect, a certain quality, a guarantee of consistency.’

Thomas started to argue again but this time Fiona simply talked over him, addressing Olivia.

‘Which leads us neatly into quality English wine, and Olivia Channing.’ She smiled encouragingly at Olivia, who was trembling so much that I was worried the microphone would pick up the sound of her knocking knees. ‘Is it fair to say that one of the problems up till now with wine from this country is the lack of consistency?’

‘Um.’ Olivia swallowed in vain and managed to croak out an answer. ‘Not really.’

Poor Olivia; her saliva seemed to have deserted her. Fiona turned to look at Nigel through the glass and did the universal hand signal for drink.

‘I’m talking about unreliable weather coupled with an industry which, let’s face it,’ Fiona laughed affably, ‘we don’t exactly have huge experience in, do we?’

An assistant glided in with a plastic cup of water for Olivia, who gulped it down in one as if she’d been stranded in a sandstorm for a week, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and panted. Fiona was shooting looks at her, clearly waiting for an answer, and I realized I’d have to step in and say something. I cleared my throat and my heart rate speeded up but luckily Olivia found her voice in time.

‘Oh, that’s better now I’ve wet my whistle,’ she said with a giggle.

‘Excellent,’ said Fiona with a steely smile.