Roger looked left and right as if he was hiding from someone and then crept towards what I’d guessed was the winery, gesturing for us to follow him with an impatient flap of his hand.

‘So you wouldn’t be my employer?’ I said, keeping pace with Godfrey who wasn’t as nimble as Roger. ‘I’m a bit baffled.’

Godfrey took out a large handkerchief and patted his shiny head. ‘I’m sorry, my dear; it has all been a bit cloak and dagger, but all will become clear shortly. Trust me.’

‘But there is definitely a job?’ I narrowed my eyes, wondering if all this was a weird and wonderful wild-goose chase.

Godfrey hesitated. ‘Roger and I believe so, yes. There’s certainly a need. But the situation is – shall we say – delicate.’

‘I see,’ I said, although I didn’t really. Maybe I hadn’t found a solution to my imminent homelessness after all.

‘So who does own this place?’ I stopped in my tracks as we reached the open doors of the winery, intent on getting to the bottom of the mystery.

‘Watch out for that pothole, dear girl!’ a familiar voice called from the far side of the concrete yard.

‘I know exactly where the pothole is,’ tutted a second voice. ‘And if you’re not careful I’ll tip you into it.’

I whipped round to see the two old ladies I’d met at the doctors’ the day before: Betsy and Marjorie. Betsy as usual pushing the wheelchair and Marjorie shouting directions.

‘They do,’ said Godfrey, shaking his head fondly. ‘The two Mrs Butterworths.’

Chapter 9

‘Morning, Pippa,’ said Betsy to me as she drew level, steering the wheelchair expertly through the winery doors.

‘Actually, it’s—’ I began, before I felt Godfrey tug on my arm.

‘Not yet,’ he murmured.

Marjorie did a double take and then her eyes lit up. ‘Why hello, dear!’

‘Don’t sound so surprised, Mar, Pippa spends more time here than you,’ Betsy said, heading towards a hosepipe which lay across the floor.

‘Taste this, Marjorie,’ said Roger hastily, thrusting a glass of cloudy-looking wine into her hand as if trying to change the subject.

Unfortunately, Betsy hadn’t seen Roger coming and so didn’t slow down. She ran straight over the hosepipe causing the wine to slop down the front of Marjorie’s blouse. She was in a bright pink one today, covered with yellow palm trees. She brushed at the spillage good-naturedly and sucked the end of her finger. I hung back at the doorway, unsure what to do. Nobody had corrected Betsy and I wasn’t sure whether I was supposed to pretend to be Pippa or not.

‘Ooh, yum scrum Betsy’s bum, apple pie and chewing gum,’ said Marjorie, smacking her lips and earning herself a poke in the back from Betsy.

‘Very funny. We’ll put that on the tasting notes, shall we?’ said Betsy drily.