Carlos had noticed Annette hanging around, her long blonde hair swinging around her shoulders making her stand out from the rest. He had watched her serving the wine and glancing in his direction.

‘You English, sì?’ he had asked her one day, daring to speak to the boss’s wife and at the same time breaking the ice with an innocent question.

‘Yes, I’m from London,’ she had said, and blushed.

He had laughed with her and the others at the tables, calling her the ‘queen’, because only the queen lived in London, and here she was serving the wine.

Carlos had flirted with her, and she with him, whenever possible, although she always ignored him when her husband or the foreman were around, and especially when Miriam’s eyes followed her like a hawk.

Annette hated her mother-in-law and resented the way she monopolised Antonias. She had to admit that, in some respects, Miriam was a good woman who wanted the best for her family, but Annette wanted more than just to be a wife and mother, buried in the back of beyond.

She wanted to go to Naples and Rome and enjoy the clubs and the nightlife Italy had to offer. Annette had expected married life to be so different.

She had met Marias on holiday, and it had been such a whirlwind romance she had decided to stay longer. Seeing the vineyard in all its glory, and realising the wealth it carried with it, had made it seem too good an opportunity to miss.

Marias worked the vines all day, and when they were able to go out, they did, but then Antonias came along and everything changed.

Annette had been expected to drop into a family routine of looking after little Antonias, and having more children to follow him. But she had soon grown bored with it all.

It didn’t matter that Marias told her that one day Antonias would be a rich man and inherit everything; Annette wanted her share now.

It was actually Miriam’s vineyard, and it hadn’t always been a vineyard. It had once been a farm, but during Miriam and Fredo’s married life, the farm had started doing badly. They had one bad crop after another, yet the bills still had to be paid. There was a living in it, but not much of one.

Fredo made wine for a hobby, using the grapes on their land. And so, to pass the time, he made a small number of bottles for himself, plus some he shared with friends.

His friends had enjoyed the wine and praised it; it had a taste all of its own. When word spread about this local winemaker, the owner of a small nearby restaurant had come to taste ‘Fredo’s wine’, and liked it.

He had taken half a dozen bottles on sale or return. It had surprised them both that the bottles had sold and the wine was popular.

More orders were put in, and soon Fredo was taking on extra help to pick his grapes. Eventually, they decided to give up on the farm and to grow more grapes, instead.