Betsy frowned. ‘If you gentlemen have nothing better to do than show a pretty young lady around, then be my guest, but you’ll excuse me, Miss Allbright, if I don’t come.’

‘Of course.’ I glowed at being called pretty before remembering that she was partially sighted and had already mistaken me twice for a sharp cheek-boned woman who smelled of dog.

‘She’s not here for a tour, Betsy,’ said Roger.

‘She’s applied for a job,’ Godfrey added.

‘No vacancies at present. Send in your CV and we’ll keep it on file,’ Betsy reeled off as if she had to repeat herself daily. She gave me a brisk smile and stood up to terminate our exchange.

Godfrey clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels. ‘Actually I, well, Roger and I, have advertised for someone to come and help us out,’ he said, stuttering slightly.

Betsy sat down immediately. ‘I beg your pardon?’

You could have cut the atmosphere with a knife.

Marjorie poked me.

‘See that big metal monster?’ she said quietly, pointing at a huge horizontal machine with a funnel-shaped opening on the top. ‘That’s the wine press. Through that door is the wine store and through the other is where the bottling and labelling is done. Go and have a look around.’

I got the message and wandered off to examine the press; they clearly needed a private talk with Betsy. The trouble was that this place was like an echo chamber and I could hear every word.

‘So is someone going to explain why you thought it fit to go behind my back and advertise for staff?’ Betsy’s voice wavered. ‘I might be a widow, but I’ve only lost a husband, not my own mind.’

‘Nobody’s suggesting you have, love,’ Marjorie soothed. ‘But Ted worked all hours in the vineyard and now Pippa is your only member of staff.’

‘And she’s only part time,’ Godfrey put in.

‘And with Ted gone, well, everyone’s at sixes and sevens,’ said Roger.

‘Everyone?’ Betsy’s voice lifted an octave. ‘You mean me.’

‘We mean all of us, dear girl,’ said Roger softly. I glanced over to see him crouching down near Betsy’s knees and taking her hand. Gone was the sergeant-major act, the impatient tutting. He obviously genuinely cared for her. My heart melted a little towards him. ‘The vineyard needs managing. Someone who can coordinate the workload and look after Ted’s precious vines. Take the pressure off you a bit. And us, we’ve all been doing more hours, but now it’s time for someone to take over.’

‘Has Jensen put you up to this?’ Betsy asked sharply.