I’d met her for a drink at the Royal Oak on Friday night, the night after her disastrous evening with Darren, and she’d poured her heart out. We’d sat outside in the corner of the beer garden where she could cry unobserved if necessary. It had been going well, or so she’d thought, until she’d reached across the table to stroke his hand, taking a chance that that was what he wanted too. But he’d folded his arms, looked down at the table and told her that he’d found himself a solicitor, that he was prepared to make everything as painless as possible and that she could keep the house. Evie had been so shocked that he wanted such a quick end to their marriage that she’d burst into tears. Things had gone downhill from there, which must have been the point at which the commotion drew Betsy’s attention.

Since then Evie had thrown herself into redecorating the spare room and by Saturday evening she’d been feeling bright enough to invite me round for pizza and wine. I’d declined, telling her that I was enjoying my research into viticulture so much courtesy of Ted’s extensive collection that I couldn’t drag myself away.

‘You’ve never read a book in your life,’ she’d laughed.

This was true; while she’d been addicted to Judy Blume and all things Sweet Valley High, I’d been climbing trees and trying to train earthworms to go round an assault course I’d built in a shoebox. It was surprising we got on as well as we did, when you thought about it …

‘I’ve just never found one I’ve been interested in before, that’s all,’ I’d retorted.

So I’d been propped up in bed by nine, with a giant bag of Minstrels, a bottle of sparkling water – my new obsession - and a beginner’s guide to grapes from around the world. And this morning I was reaping the benefits.

The doors to the winery were open and a pick-up truck and a tiny hatchback were parked outside. I dashed back into The Stables, slathered my arms and shoulders with factor thirty, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and headed to the winery. After three nights of reading about it, it was time to add some liquid knowledge to all that theory.

‘Okay, ready!’ called a bright female voice from the depths of the winery.

‘Right you are,’ shouted a deep masculine voice in reply.

A mechanical whirring noise followed, which reminded me that I had a headache and I swigged at my water in case I was dehydrated.