Read Online Grape Expectations by Caro Feely, Caro - Free Book Online

pressure we had put on Lambert. I planned to cunningly paint the rest of the tiles with a tile primer followed by a coat of cream paint. Removing more of them was out of the question.
    Â Â When we bought the new shower tray Sean and I struggled to move it a few feet so I told Jean-Marc to let us know when he needed some help to get it upstairs. Before I knew it he had the tray upstairs without a murmur. Within a day he had finished the new bathroom. The following day our tiler tiled the shower walls while I painted the primer over the remaining pink flowers.
    Â Â Once my final coat was complete it was a total transformation. The bathroom was gleaming cream, white, glass and chrome. Between my paintwork on the wall tiles, the new floor and Jean-Marc's fitting of the bathroom components that I had searched Bordeaux for, it looked like something that would happily pass in a stylish boutique hotel. Jean-Marc stopped by to fit the last element: the taps on the shower.
    Â Â 'It's very pretty,' I said.
    Â Â  'Ça fonctionne,' declared Jean-Marc, making it clear that in the world of plumbing, function was far more important than form.

    Sean got on with the pruning, key to the health of the vine and to excellent grapes. The vines looked like scraggly bundles of dead twigs attached to small tree trunks. The first step was to prune each vine from this unruly state down to one or two carefully selected canes that would be the bearers of next year's bounty. Canes are the young branches that grow from the main trunk of the vine. There are many and selecting the right ones for the following year is a skilled job requiring concentration, judgement and stamina. Sean lost weight, gained muscle and looked healthier despite the harsh weather. In their hibernating state the vines were becoming his friends.
    Â Â When we arrived, the farm was a large chunk of land distinguished by obvious markers like buildings and tracks. Now it was becoming familiar, each part of the vineyard had a name and a personality. In front of the house looking down into the Dordogne valley was the merlot vineyard we called Lower Garrigue. Running away from the pressoir , the part of the winery where the grapes are pressed at harvest time, were the vineyards we called Hillside, consisting of young sauvignon blanc, ancient sémillon and merlot. Beyond Lower Garrigue heading down to the valley floor were a set of vineyards called Lenvège which originally belonged to the Château Les Tours de Lenvège, a half-kilometre from us.
    Â Â The original medieval tower of Les Tours de Lenvège was built in the twelfth century for protection. It contrasted dramatically with the main château in the village built in the late seventeenth century in a more decorative style. Our farm was the look-out. This was particularly important during the period of English rule of Aquitaine, and also in the wars of religion when the powerful merchants of Bergerac were Protestant but most of the surrounding villages, like ours, were Catholic. We were slowly getting to know our new place.
    Â Â It was not just vines that Sean met while pruning; he regularly saw deer, hares and pheasant. One day he came face to face with a giant wild boar. The boar blew several smoky breaths into the cold morning air then sauntered off without causing any trouble. Still, when he didn't come in at the expected time I was thrown into a state of panic. The electric secateurs gave me a chill every time I looked at them. When Sean was out pruning I kept checking to see that he wasn't a blob of blood on the frost.

    Sophia was in great form and loving school. At first she struggled to say her teacher's whole name, Mademoiselle Fournier, and would regularly call her 'Fournier' which sounded hilarious and unwittingly insolent.
    Â Â A week before the annual Christmas outing a pressurised letter appeared in Sophia's notebook demanding proof of her school insurance. School insurance is