This had been entirely his decision, although I might have sown the tiniest seed by suggesting that because he wanted to be around when the baby came, to be a hands-on dad, perhaps now might be a good time to do his own thing, like he’d always planned.

‘Bravo!’ cried Marjorie, punching the air.

‘Well …!’ Betsy gasped, speechless for once.

‘And there’s one more piece of news.’ I checked with Jensen who nodded.

‘We’ve set the date for the wedding,’ I said excitedly. ‘Easter Saturday.’

Jensen threaded his fingers through mine and drew me closer. ‘So the baby can be there with us.’

‘It’s perfect,’ Betsy sniffed, pulling her hanky back out of her sleeve. ‘Just perfect.’

‘And not only that,’ said Sidney, rubbing his hands together, ‘it’s also the perfect excuse to pop open a bottle of the new vintage.’

‘I’ll drink to that,’ said Marjorie, waggling her eyebrows.

Jensen reached for the bottle that had been sitting on the bottom step, put there earlier in readiness for just this moment. He peeled off the foil cap and wire and with an expert twist of his wrist the cork came out with a refined ‘phut’.

‘Just a small one for me,’ said Betsy, twisting a finger through her pearls, and we all laughed.

It was good to know that some things, at least, never changed.

‘Why don’t we let the next Mrs Butterworth propose a toast?’ said Marjorie, when we’d all got a drink.

I took a breath and glanced down to the valley below. The low sun lent a silvery glow to the winter landscape, completely different to the view on a summer’s day, but it had a beauty all of its own. The vines were bare now, and it was almost impossible to imagine that only a couple of months ago they’d been green and bowed down with fruit. But they’d bud again in spring, new shoots would appear, and the circle of life would begin again. This vineyard had brought me so much more than just a job: it was my haven, my happy place and the start of a new chapter in my life. My hand stole to my stomach and I felt our baby, who we reckoned was nine-parts boxer and one-part acrobat, move beneath my fingers. And next year, another new chapter, a new family and home.

‘Not like you to be short of words,’ Jensen whispered playfully.

There was love in his voice as his hand crept over mine and I felt his warmth wrap itself around me like a blanket. My heart skipped a beat; even now I had to pinch myself that he was mine.

I looked into his eyes as I raised my glass.

‘To new life, love and another vintage summer.’

The Thank Yous

Thank you to my talented, patient and wise agents for helping me through this book. I was lucky enough to have two in 2018 – Caroline Hardman and Hannah Ferguson from Hardman Swainson. I thank you (and congratulate you) both from the bottom of my heart for doing such a good job on my behalf.