‘It’s crisp and fresh, full of minerals. I’m getting that nice brioche flavour. Creamy soft mousse. Not bad,’ he said after swallowing.

I could have punched the air; Olivia and I exchanged excited smiles.

‘And the second one,’ I said, mildly putting a glass of French champagne into his hand. He sniffed and sipped again and smacked his lips after downing it.

‘Well?’ said Fiona with a hint of drawl. ‘What do you think?’

‘Quite lively. Fizzier than the first one and yeasty aroma. I’m tasting toasted oats and apricots.’

He pulled the scarf off and stared distrustfully at all three of us, scared of making a fool of himself.

‘And the moment of truth,’ said Olivia, her eyes wide with anticipation. ‘Which did you prefer?’

I held my breath, crossed my fingers and prayed that he picked ours.

He scratched his chin, scowling. ‘They were both passable.’

I grinned at him; however this finished, an English sparkling wine had already been deemed passable by the impossible-to-impress Mr Devine.

‘We need an answer,’ said Fiona, glancing as the seconds on the wall clock counted down.

Thomas gave an exasperated huff. ‘Okay, I’ll go with the first.’

Olivia and I jumped out of our chairs and hooted with delight.

‘And the winner is the Butterworth Classic Cuvée,’ said Fiona. ‘We’ll be back after the news; over to you, Sarah …’

We came off air while a reporter in the next studio read the news.

‘Congratulations,’ Olivia whispered, squeezing my hand.

‘Thanks,’ I beamed back. ‘This has made my day. The Butterworth team are going to be so thrilled.’

I was so elated that I could have happily run from the studio and phoned the vineyard immediately, but we still had a few more minutes left to go to wrap things up.

Thomas’s expression was as hard as granite and he folded his arms. ‘Whatever. My opinion still holds. And any restaurateur who serves English wine in his restaurant is an idiot.’

‘Is that so?’ I said quietly.

I slid my mobile phone across the desk, displaying the photo I’d taken at his restaurant earlier. Pride of place on the table was the award-winning bottle of Cornish Brut we’d been drinking.

Thomas picked up the phone and stared at the picture in disbelief. ‘Is that …? How …?’

‘Also recommended by Her Majesty. I must admit it was the perfect accompaniment to your wild boar sausages.’ I smiled innocently at him. ‘An idiot, you say?’