My stomach flipped as I smiled back; this was the lady who’d captured my dad’s heart. The only woman he’d shown an interest in since Mum died. I knew she must be special.

‘It’s lovely to meet you face to face, Agnes.’ I’d seen her via Skype and FaceTime, but a digital image was a poor substitute for the real thing. ‘I love your jacket.’

She set the hardly touched glass down on the ground with a trembling hand. Bless her, she was just as nervous as I was.

‘It is very good to meet you too.’ Her English was perfect even if her German accent made her sound stiff. She edged towards me with her hand outstretched.

Her eyes slid sideways to Dad’s and he gave her an encouraging smile and my heart twisted with happiness for them both. Ignoring her hand, I hugged her warmly.

‘Thank you.’ I kissed her cheek, hoping I hadn’t overstepped some strict code of German etiquette.

She looked puzzled. ‘For what?’

‘For making my dad so happy.’

Dad slipped a casual arm around her waist and Agnes laughed shyly. ‘I was so nervous that you would be angry at me for taking your father away from you.’

And then an odd thing happened. I got the peculiar feeling that someone was at my shoulder and I could feel their warm breath on the back of my neck. Far from being creepy, it was a lovely sensation and I knew without doubt that Mum was giving her blessing.

I shook my head and felt a peace that I hadn’t felt in days.

‘I don’t feel like that at all,’ I said, smiling at them both. ‘In fact, I’d go as far as to say you’ve actually brought him back.’

Agnes’s gaze held mine. ‘Your mother did a wonderful job with her daughters.’

‘Ahem,’ said Dad, pretending to be insulted. ‘It’s hard work being a dad too.’

I hugged him. ‘But you rose to the challenge, just like you will when you’re a granddad.’

He rocked forward and back on his heels, looking smug. ‘I suppose I will.’

‘And talking of hard work,’ Agnes thrust her shoulders back, ‘we’re not here to party. Give us a job.’

‘You and I, Agnes,’ I said, looping my arm through hers, ‘are going to get on very well. How does picking fifty kilograms of grapes sound?’

‘Heavy,’ Dad muttered.

‘Stop moaning!’ said Agnes and I at the same time and we laughed all the way back to the vineyard.