The Terroir

Colin studied the letter carefully for the third time and turned to address his wife Brigitte, “I still can’t work out what this is all about Bridge,” he uttered screwing his face up in puzzlement and a little annoyance.

“Surely the Clerk gave you some indication?” she answered, looking up from a pile of exercise book on her lap, pointing a red pen at him.

“No, he just said his duty was strictly to arrange transport and accommodation for Mr. and Mrs Bradman at the Herriott Hotel in Gloucester next Friday, and that we would be met by Mr. Wilkins after breakfast and taken to his offices.”

“You’re just repeating yourself Colin. Did he give any indication what it was about? He must have said something to give you a clue,” she said reverting back to a pronounced accent including the French pursing of the lips.

“No, not a jot. All he said was, he worked for an Agency and his job was to ensure we got there and were well looked after. He assumed that we knew,” answered Colin tetchily.

“But why wouldn’t he give you the name of the probable Law Firm, then at least we could call them and find out. There was nothing in the letter that helped us?”

“I’ve told you, that he didn’t know and it was as much a mystery to him as it was obviously to me. He was no help on that score at all, even though we can call him night or day to help in the arrangements.”

“OK, OK Col, we’ve been through this. Think who could have died recently in your family? Must be someone important, could be a reading of a will or something. They, who ever they are, seem very anxious to get us there with no costs spared,” she replied with the blue exercise book slipping off her lap onto the carpet.

“Look Brigitte, I have called all the family and they don’t know of any relative who has died in the last four years. The last one was Uncle Bill and that was five years ago, so I don’t think it will be a reading of a Will. You know I called Adrianback and asked him if he had arranged accommodation for anybody else but he said it was just for us two and no one else.”

“I don’t like spoiling a weekend away when we don’t know what it’s all about Col.”

“No, but at least it’s all paid for and as Adrian said ‘Don’t spare the horses’ on the expense front. He even offered to send a limo for us.”

“Why didn’t you accept Col?” with a cheeky grin.

“I thought we might pop over to the Black  Mountains, Ross or even Hay whilst we are in the area. Its lovely countryside out there,” rubbing his hands together with a gleeful smile at the thought of some fell walking in Wales.

“Sounds nice. Anyway, don’t let this spoil your week. I have this pile of marking to finish and then I’ll get on with the dinner.”

As soon as they had registered their names at reception, the tones of deference went up a notch and the formalities of signing in were dispensed with. They were shown up to their suite by the Manager and their bags were immediately removed by the bell boy and miraculously appeared in the suite before them. The bell boy showed Colin the workings of the huge TV whilst a maid explained to Brigitte the Jacuzzi system in the bathroom. Colin made an embarrassing attempt to tip the staff but the Manager assured him that all that had been taken care of and would they like dinner in their suite or the dining room. Fresh flowers and fruit adorned the suite and the drinks fridge was full with a note that it was part of the package. They decided to celebrate by cracking open a bottle of bubbly with some nibbles.

“Whatever this meeting is tomorrow, they are obviously out to impress us.”

“Yes, dear but I have this sinking feeling that there is a catch in all of this. As the good old English saying goes, ‘You don’t get owt for nowt!’”

“Don’t be such a bore Coland loosen up. Let’s just enjoy ourselves whilst we get an opportunity. We can’t afford such pleasures on a teachers’ salary. Let’s make the most of it. Look, there is a swimming pool here with gym and the lot. Pity we didn’t pack our swimming gear.”

“I’ll ring down to reception and see if we can hire or even, God forbid the expense, buy a new set.”

“Good thinking. You get on the phone and I’ll unpack, not that there is much to do other than hang up your suit carrier.”

“Brigitte, can you hear me. The receptionist insists that we put the cost of swimwear down on the bill and that also includes a session for you at the beauty saloon, all complementary. She recons I don’t need one.”

“Now don’t be cheeky. I’ll have to think about that one. I’ll probably do that in the morning.”

Mr. Wilkins met them in the hotel lobby with a greeting and a warning not to pester him with questions, since he was in no position to divulge any matters. He told them to be patient as they climbed into an ancient Bentley and Wilkins drove them to his office. Colin felt uncomfortable in his suit and tie, whilst Brigitte was enjoying looking glamorous in her blue two-piece and an expensive hair do and make up from that morning. They sat silently in the back of the car, consumed by their own thoughts and on the matters ahead of them. Wilkins showed them into a spacious office and sat them down before a large mahogany desk. Colin made a mental note of the two chairs set behind the desk.

“I’ll just get the gentlemen that have come to see you. Please don’t look so worried. I don’t believe there is anything bad in this interview,” whispered Wilkins as he walked briskly to a second door at the back. Colin and Brigitte looked at each other and pulled a face, more of a grimace, at the thought of what was to come. Wilkins opened the door and announced to someone in the room behind, “Mr. and Mrs. Bradman are ready and seated for you, gentlemen. Ring the bell if you need anything.” Two tall middle-aged men, expensively suited and manicured walked in.

“No, No, don’t get up please,” said the first, approaching the far chair behind the desk. “Let’s keep this informal although our main proceedings will have to be semi-formal. I’m Zach Tyler and this is my colleague Aiden Hartley,” he said pointing at his partner as they sat down. “As you can tell from our strong accents, we have flown over from the States especially to see you but before you ask us any questions, and I’m sure you have plenty, please be patient, until we establish to our satisfaction that we are talking to the right people. Aiden, I’ll let you begin the proceedings.” Aiden put a slim black leather portfolio on the desk and looked at them with piercing brown eyes as both Colin and Brigitte looked back with some expectation and trepidation.

“Now, I hope you are both being treated comfortably this weekend.” They both nodded. “If in our investigations this morning you don’t prove to be the people, we are looking for then I hope you will at least enjoy the weekend at our expense. Now Mr. Bradman, I will show you some photographs and I would appreciate you telling me the background. As much detail as possible,” as he slid a photograph over face down. Colin picked it up, handed it over to Brigitte with a wry smile. It was a photograph of a young boy, amongst some bushes, just in shorts, showing off a puny torso and stealing a kiss from a young girl, of the same age, in a flowery dress and no shoes.

“Where on earth did you get this?” asked Colin with a smile.

“Can you tell me the names of the subjects and any background information please,” asked Aiden in a cool manner as Brigitte looked inquisitively at Colin.

“That puny boy is me and the girl is called Myrtille. She had a schoolgirl crush on me.”

“Can you expand a little about the girl,” asked Aiden, looking at a copy or even the original. Without a second glance at the photograph, Colin continued.

“Myrtille was of a Romany family and I used to call her Marmite, because of her colour. Not politically correct these days.” Aiden looked at the reverse of his picture and nodded a sort of agreement.

“Go on, tell me more. You seem to be reluctant Mr. Bradman. Where was this photo taken?”

“Well as you can see, it was taken in late summer and in a vineyard. You can probably pick out bunches of ripe grapes, so it was likely to be just before the vendee. Marmite’s family were part of the itinerant workforce, there to pick grapes. We used to play hide and seek amongst the vines.”

“Yes, but where was this exactly? Geographically I mean,” asked Aiden pointedly as Zach was busy scribbling on a large yellow pad, occasionally looking up. Colin looked at Brigitte and pulled an apologetic face as much as he could muster and answered.

“On a French vineyard in the Bordeauxregion, near Libourne. My parents used to send me out there in the summer holidays.”

“You told me that you’ve never been to France!” said Brigitte rather crossly.

“No dear, that would have spoiled the occasion.”

“But you could have told me after we were married.”

“Yes, I should have done but it didn’t seem right to dispel the little white lie.”

“Can we stick to the point please Mr. Bradman. Now tell me something about this second picture if you please and don’t hold back on the detail.”

“Yes, this is me and Henry when I was older,” answered Colin, handing the photo over to Brigitte. “My parents used to send me each year to get me out of the way during school holidays and also to improve my French. Henry was the son of the owner of an adjoining estate that I palled up with and we spent most of the time exploring the region on bikes and finding secret ways into the various wine caves on the hillsides.”

“Thank you, and now this one. Tell me about this one.”

“That’s me just before I went to Warwick. My last visit,” answered Colin, handing the picture over to Brigitte who was becoming more and more agitated and developing a serious French pout of disgust. “The gentleman is the owner of the estate, a Mr. Duval. He was actually American and I used to call him Mr. Denver or Uncle Denver,” answered Colin as Zach scribbled furiously and Aiden scrutinising the back of the photograph. “The bottle there was presented to me by Uncle Denver as a leaving present for my parents.”

“Did you speak French to him?” asked Brigitte pointedly.

“I’m afraid so dear. They all spoke French over there.”

“Can you tell me more about the bottle Mr. Bradman,” asked Aiden, trying to diffuse the tension between Colin and Brigitte.

“Uncle Denver called me in to his office the day before I was leaving and apologised that he hadn’t spent more time with me. He asked me what I was going to do next and I told him that I was going to Warwick to study Chemistry. He responded by offering me some money to help me out but I responded by saying all I needed was a bottle of wine to take home to my parents. Why do you need all this detail?”

“Mr. Duval kept a meticulous diary and we are just checking the facts. Please go on Mr. Bradman.”

“Uncle Denver answered by suggesting we go down to the cave and choose a special bottle for the occasion. He took a key out of a secret hiding place in his desk, telling me the Estate Manager had the main key. He took me on a tour of the cave, explaining in detail all the wines stored there and he picked out a bottle which he assured me my parents would like and that he would send on a case if I wrote to him. I remember taking the dusty bottle to the estate office where Denveraffixed a label and even signed it. All this is recorded in the office ledger if you want to check. That was the last time I visited the vineyard and regrettably, never did write or get in touch with Uncle Denver again.”

“Who took the photograph Mr Bradman?”

“Marcel, the Estate Manager. Is this what all this is about? About Duval? Has something happened to him?”

“Thank you, Mr. Bradman and Mrs. Bradman. Thank you for your patience,” added Zach as he rose from his chair. “Please give us a few minutes to discuss things in private. Please help yourselves to coffee, soft drinks. We won’t be long.” Both walked out into the back office leaving Colin and Brigitte sitting there. Brigitte was fuming and wouldn’t say anything or even glance at Colin, who poured her a black coffee and placed it before her on the desk, including a peace offering of a chocolate biscuit.

In a few minutes, the Americans were back, smiling and looking very satisfied.

“We have finished our formal deliberations and satisfied ourselves fully with the fact that we are talking to the right people. We can now divulge the whole purpose of this meeting. Before we go any further, Zach and I detected that we have touched on a raw nerve accidentally between you. My sincere apologies. Can you expound on that Colin, since it is important that we have both of your cooperation on this matter.”

“Well, I told Brigitte that I had never been to France. That is before we were married. She came to my school in Huddersfieldas a French Assistant to brush up her English. She was training to be an interior designer and needed good English to progress her career. We all fell in love with her and the men on the staff were falling all over themselves for her.”

“But didn’t you have fluent French that gave you a head start?” asked Aiden.

“Oh, I was fluent alright. A native speaker by all accounts but I laid out my special devious strategy to woo her. Sorry Brigitte, really sorry. I joined her adult night class and then asked for more private tuition. After the lesson we would go to the local pub so that Brigitte could brush up on her English. As a result, we spent a lot of time together. We were married a year later and now we teach in the same school.”

“So, Colin, you have kept up this pretence ever since?” asked Zach.

“Well sort of, but I was a quick learner and had a remarkable good accent for an Englishman. Now can you tell what this is all about, please?”

“As you have probably gathered, this is about your Uncle Denver. You may not know this, but Mr. Duval was a very wealthy man, with vast financial interests. The vineyard was just a hobby and he only turned up each year for the harvest.”

“When you say ‘was’ does that mean he has passed away?” asked Brigitte.

“Yes, that is correct. Not long after Colin here left to become a student at War-Wick. I think you pronounce this differently over here. Never mind. We are handling the disposal of his vast estate. He had a large family over in Denver and they are all well taken care of but we have a problem with the vineyard in France. Mr. Duval’s last will stated that if it went to any of the family then they would have to run it for at least ten years and not sell it. None of them needed such a burden on their shoulders. They were all well provided for,” said Aiden, looking back to his notes.

“In the will was a side note that, if all fails, the vineyard should be offered to Colin but there was no mention of surname and our investigations showed that you were not even part of the family.”

“That’s correct, I believe that dad met Mr. Duval on a flight somewhere and they arranged to ship me over to France each year from an early age.”

“But who looked after you whilst you were there?” asked Brigitte to Colin’s relief that she had changed her demeanour at last.

“Oh, old Josephine, the housekeeper fed me and Marcel would keep a weather eye on me. Interestingly, I was never called Colin in France. Everyone called me Blanco, because of my fair skin.”

“Thank you, Colin, that’s confirmed another piece of the jigsaw. We had trouble finding this ‘Colin’ boy. Even Henry, your friend was of no help. All we knew was that you had gone to War-Wick University. We checked all the Colin’s there, looking for one who spoke perfect French and we finally narrowed our search to you. That’s why we had to interrogate you so intensely this morning.”

“Now what is this about a vineyard endowed to Colin?” asked Brigitte, expressing more interest.

“Ah yes, the Estate is yours to keep and manage for at least ten years if you wish. After that you can carry on or dispose of it as you wish,” said Zach.

“But it must be worth a fortune. Uncle Denver told me he only sold his wines to private clients and if the estate was a kilometre or so further East, he would be in the St. Emilion region and the price would be treble if not more. He told me the wines were just as good but out of the respected terroir,” added Colin.

“The estate is still being managed by Marcel and accounts are sent to us each year but I’m afraid we haven’t taken any further interest in it, apart from the initial valuation,” added Zach.

“But what do we know about running a vineyard, Colin?” asked Brigitte.

“Not a lot, though I can still feel the back pains of picking grapes.”

“May we suggest that you allow Marcel to continue to run the place and you can simply live there in style,” added Aiden. “I believe the house looks quite magnificent, if a little run down.”

“We don’t want to force the issue but you will be turning down a fortune and also it would finalise the case for us if you did take it on,” which sounded like a plea from Zach.

“But what would we live on?” asked Brigitte. “Sounds to me that the house would need a lot of upkeep and we wouldn’t have the spare money for day-to-day living.”

“I don’t think that should worry you Mrs. Bradman, or can I call you Brigitte,” continued Aiden. “There is a fine stock of wine you can sell and each year you should have a substantial income anyway. As Colin says, the estate produces fine wines.”

“I agree with Aiden there darling. The caves under the house were fully stocked with bottles going back years and years. I don’t think money for living would be a problem.”

“The real question you need to ask yourselves is do you want to change your lives and go and live in France?” added Zach.

“I would go like a shot, you know that. What about you Colin?”

“This changes my situation somewhat. You know I tried to get a job in Francebefore but there were many restrictions and hurdles to go through to get one. Now I would have one, a sort of one, looking after a large estate.”

“May I suggest that Mr. Wilkins takes us to a nice restaurant for lunch and that you folks mull it over for a while? The paperwork that we have here can keep, until you have a decision,” said Aiden as he pressed a button on the table and Mr. Wilkins appeared. “Take us to lunch Mr. Wilkins. You take Brigitte and Colin and we’ll follow with Mr. Henman, your Partner. These good people will be looking after you from the legal side on this side of the Atlantic.”

Brigitte snuggled into Colin as Wilkins drove them into the countryside.

“Do you forgive me?”

“I’m not sure that I should.”

“Well how else could I pursue you? I wasn’t the most handsome bloke on the block, was I?”

“No, but you made up for that in persistence, that I can give you. I feel embarrassed trying to teach you French when you obviously could speak it like a native. I even detected a Southern twang in your accent but put it down to being English. The most embarrassing thing is that I took money from you for the lessons and you always insisted on paying whenever we went out.”

“Well, it paid off in the end, didn’t it? I think it was worth it darling. Give me a kiss and then we’ll discuss this vineyard matter and moving closer to the outlaws.” By the time they had reached the exclusive hotel restaurant, set it its own manicured grounds, they had made their decision.

“Now, I have a folder here for you, with some of the details of the estate,” said Wilkins. “I suggest you peruse that at leisure over a glass of champagne before lunch and we will leave you in peace, then we will have a jolly lunch, hopefully to celebrate your decision on the matter. I have a sneaky feeling it will be the right one for you and the right one for our two Americans. May I also add, that my legal services are at your disposal for the next ten years should you require, all paid for by the estate of the late Mr. Duval.”

There was a lot of factual detail, mainly financial but the photograph of the house fascinated them. The cream-coloured local ashlar stone was covered in wild creepers, some obscuring the handsome tall windows.  It wasn’t particularly beautiful or impressive but it was large, or more correctly long. Colin explained that from the back there was access to the workshops and winery and the top floor was mainly accommodation. Workers in the past would lodge there rather than in their caravans or white vans as they used to today. The place looked in a sorry state, with missing tiles and broken window shutters. The gardens were overgrown and creepers had taken over part of the house and obscured the view.

“What do you think? I don’t remember it in that state. It was never immaculate but I don’t remember it being this bad. Do you think we could resurrect it to live in?”

“I’m quite excited. This is where my background in Design kicks in Colin. I always dreamt of a show place to exhibit my skills. This may be the chance.”

“But it’s going to cost a fortune darling, to put this place to rights never mind making it into a show place.”

“I know, but I can dream. We can’t let this opportunity go by.”

“But what do I know about viniculture and wine making?”

“You’re a chemist Col. You should know about mixing a few ingredients together and making wine.”

“I know Jesus made wine out of water but my alchemy is a bit rusty at the moment. A degree in Chemistry doesn’t include conjuring up bottles of plonk.”

“It’s not plonk Colin. It’s the finest wine that France can produce. You can go on a course and develop the taste. After all we have an established manager who should be able to run the place for us.”

“I know that but it looks like he’s let the place go to rack and ruin.”

“Yes, but that is only the building. He probably wasn’t living there so it was of no consequence. The vineyards should be in good order though. Just think of sneaking down to the cave for a bottle or two of some vintage Claret.”

“I think we have made our mind up Brigitte, don’t you?”

“I think so and I’m getting quite excited. I can’t wait to tell my parents.”

They gave in their notice at school to finish at the end of the Summer term and were too busy selling their house, car and packing to pay the French estate a preview, although they had pencilled in a weekend there. They planned to fly into Bordeaux, where Brigitte’s father would meet them with a Citroen estate car, he had purchased especially for them and they would all drive to the vineyard.

“Welcome Blanco, and hello to your beautiful wife.”

“Hi Marcel, meet Brigitte and this is her father, Claude.”

“Welcome to you all. I’m sorry but I have been too busy to get the house ready for you. I suggest you find accommodation in town.”

“Where is Josephine, the housekeeper?”

“No point in keeping her on was there, with no one living in the house.”

“Can we have a look around Marcel?”

“It’s your place now Blanco, I’m only the Manager.”

“Sorry Marcel. I only meant if you can give us the keys.”

“You can go in through the workshop. All the doors are closed on the inside. You’ll find the keys in the lock,” he answered brusquely. “Let me know if you need anything. I shall be in the winery. I’ve got lots to do.” And with a nod he walked off.

“Charming fellow isn’t he. He didn’t even kiss us all on four cheeks as is customary in France?”

“Maybe he is busy Coland we’ve caught him on a bad day.”

“Bad day be buggered, he had enough notice we were coming and could have pulled out a few stops Brigitte. I get the feeling his nose might have been put out of joint.”

“What do you mean by that? According to Wilkins, all the staff here were left a substantial sum in Duval’s will.”

“Yeah, but Marcel always bragged that he would one day own his own vineyard and maybe he had an eye on this one. Leave the baggage and let’s do a quick tour.” Colin led them through the workshop, along a long corridor to the farthest point of the building. “This used to be Duval’s quarters. Other than this office and the dining room where Josephine gave me a meal, I never ventured further. It didn’t seem appropriate.”

“Well, where did you sleep Col? Where was your room?”

“Upstairs, further down the corridor. Josephine had a room next door and lived in when Duval was in residence. The office here is as I remember it. At least the dust sheets are on and the shutters closed.”

“Looks fine to me, apart from dust and cobwebs everywhere. What’s next door?”

“That’s the dining room and kitchen beyond. I think this door leads to the stairs, up to the bedrooms. This is the second set of stairs in the house and I have never been up here.” They followed Colin up the broad stairs, switching the lights on as they went. They found three huge bedrooms and one ancient bathroom. All the furniture covered with sheets and layered with years of dust.

“Can we open the shutters?”

“Er, I don’t think we should until we check them out from the outside. Most of them were dodgy in my day and were liable to drop off their hinges. We need to get a carpenter to check them out first.”

“But how are we going to live here if we can’t open the shutters Col?”

“I suggest we contact Josephine in the village and get her to come out and make the place habitable for us tomorrow. She’ll be wise to which shutters are safe and which aren’t. I suspect that these ones are OK and we can certainly try the ones downstairs. Now do you want to see the rest of the house or shall we leave it for another day? It’s just room after room after room with an occasional bathroom in between, not that I did much washing in those days. The other stairs are at the other end. A bit inconvenient if you ask me now.”

“Let’s go and see this Josephine of yours and see if she will come and help. Do you remember where she lives?”

“Yeah, I used to go there for meals frequently and she had a grown-up daughter who was quite snotty with me; didn’t like the English for some reason. OK, you go back to the car and I’ll have a word with Marcel on his own and see what’s going on.”

They drove onto the village and stopped outside a small cottage. A woman was tending the vegetable plot and didn’t notice them until Colin spoke.

“Bonjour Josephine,” shouted Colin from behind the gate, as the elderly woman straightened her back, looked up and slowly recognition dawned. She gathered up her skirt and dashed towards the gate and gave Colin the hearty welcome that he expected. They were ushered into the house, introductions made and the husband was given at least fifty instructions to buy cakes, open wine, plump chairs, buy cheese, purchase bread, call the neighbours, call her daughter and announce to the world that Blanco was back.

“How nice of you to visit me Blanco and bring your beautiful wife. You haven’t forgotten your French then, with all that time away. And you have chosen wisely in a French wife. Her cooking will be good. You are on vacation? Where are you staying?”

“Josephine, too many questions. Now sit down and listen. Blanco here is going to live here, right in this Department so we are going to be neighbours again.”

“I haven’t heard of any foreigner moving into the district and I know all the gossip. Some Englishman called Bradman is taking over our vineyard but I haven’t heard that you were moving into the area. Tell me.”

“Josephine, I am Monsieur Colin Bradman, known to you all as just Blanco. Old Duval has bequeathed the whole estate to me and I’m going to be the new owner and live there with Brigitte here.” By this time her husband had returned with packages of cakes and baguettes.

“Did you hear that old man!” She shouted. “Blanco here has inherited the estate and going to live here with us again. Don’t just stand there gawping. Get the wine open and best glasses on the table and where is that daughter of mine? Now why didn’t you warn me and I would have had the place ready for you. You can’t stay there until it’s properly aired and cleaned.”

“I’m surprised that Marcel didn’t tell you in advance that we were coming. I did expect him to get the place ready for us but it hasn’t been touched.”

“That Marcel is crazy. He thinks he owns the place and now doesn’t even talk to people like us.”

“But he has staff and could have done the basics.”

“Hah! I spit on the ground he walks! He sacked all the staff after Duval popped his clogs and has never been the same.”

“But I understand that Uncle Denver, as we used to call him, left you all some money.”

“Yes, Uncle Denver was very generous but Marcel was very envious that we got the same as he did and sacked us all in spite.”

“So how does he run the place now?”

“Oh, he uses the gypsies and vagabonds on the lookout for a days work and everybody knows what they are like.”

“Oh dear, we came here to ask you if you could help us to make the house habitable?”

“Here, have a glass of wine. One of Duval’s best. He always gave us a case at Christmas, not that old bugger Marcel. Of course I will help; daughter and the old man here will be there the first light. Have you told Marcel? I don’t particularly want to see him.”

“I left him a note to say I would be coming here to get your help.”

“We will be there and I’ll get old Edward, the carpenter, to open the shutters. They’ll have rusted shut by now. You remember Edward, don’t you? Still hasn’t got a permanent job since Marcel fired him.”

“I presume you mean Joseph, the biblical reference. I remember him. He always chased me out of the vines, saying I was trampling on them and spoiling his good work.”

“Yes, but he didn’t like you pissing on Monsieur’s best vines. He always said English piss was poison. He didn’t mean harm.”

“We need to go now Josephine. Well stay overnight at the Mercure in town and we’ll be over in the morning.”

“Now don’t go eating in that restaurant. The chef would even poison his own mother if he had one. Eat at the place opposite, much better. And don’t hurry up tomorrow. Give us a chance to get the house half prepared for you. It’s so sad to see it in that state.” After many hugs and kisses in farewell, they manage to extricate themselves out of Josephine’s front room and on the road to Libourne.

Brigitte, Colin and Claude arrived next morning to be greeted by a completely different sight. The shutters at the living end of the building were open and so were the windows. A man was up a ladder cutting back the creepers and part of the drive, up to the house had been cleared of leaves which now sat in neat piles ready to be burned.

“You’re here at last!” shouted Josephine giving them all a perfunctory kiss on both cheeks and announced. “Too busy to stand here! Brigitte, you come with me and we have women’s things to discuss and you two don’t get under the feet of the workers. In fact just stay outside until we call you for lunch.” With that riposte, she grabbed Brigitte’s arm and dragged her inside, whilst Colin and Claude were left standing on the gravel driveway looking perplexed. The man on the ladder came down and walked towards them, wiping his hands on his blue cotton overalls.

“Blanco, isn’t it?” he shouted and enveloped Colin in a huge bear-hug.

“Hi Joseph, glad you could come over at such short notice to help out. This is my father-in-law, Claude.”

“We are all pleased to see you Monsieur Blanco. It’s sad to see the old place in such a state of decay. That bugger Marcel hasn’t spent a cent on the upkeep since Duval left the place. Where is the old bugger anyway? Want to give him a piece of my mind the way he welcomed you Blanco to his own home.”

“Can you check out the rest of the shutters for me Joseph?”

“Certainly but you want to see to the roof first Blanco. You might have some leaks. It’ll take quite a while. I haven’t been here for years.”

“I want the place weatherproofed Joseph, before another winter; roof, shutters and windows!”

“That’s a tall order Monsieur Blanco. It will take time and cost to do a proper job but I can do it. I kept the place shipshape for old Duval. Maybe you can see you way of keeping me on permanently Blanco. I don’t like moving from job to job.”

“Joseph, this is my first day here. I just can’t promise anything but if you do a good job and don’t cost me the earth then I will consider it.”

“Would I do just that Monsieur Blanco? I’m not that skinny flint Marcel. I will do you a good job at a fair price if Josephine provides lunch.”

“Good but cut out the ‘Monsieur’ crap. I don’t need it. Just Blanco will do for the moment and when this place is all done up, then I’ll consider an appropriate high-faluting title for myself. Have you seen Marcel?”

“The bugger rode off this morning in the truck packed with cases of wine.”

“Thanks Joseph, we’ll go and inspect the vines with Claude.”

The vines looked in good shape, a little overgrown maybe Colin surmised, thinking back to the old days where he was employed for days on end cutting back the leaves to give the bunches more sunlight but some protection from the rain. He winced at the frequent clouts across the ear from Marcel or Joseph for not getting the cuts right. He learned the hard way. Maybe it was too early in the season and he gave Marcel the benefit of the doubt. A shout brought them back to the house where two trestle tables were set up under the old beech and food was being laid out for about ten people, as Colin estimated. Josephine grabbed him by the arm and led him to the head of the table in the centre, where old Duval would sit, with Brigitte to his right and Josephine took the chair to the left which was customarily left for the estate manager Marcel.

“Back to good old French cooking eh Blanco? Not the crap they feed you in England,” shouted Josephine as all the old workers trooped up to greet Blanco and kiss his wife deferentially on the hand.

“He didn’t fend too badly, did he? Just look at him now!” shouted somebody.

“But he has a French wife,” came the riposte, amidst general laughter.

“Sorry for the quality of the wine Blanco,” apologised Josephine grabbing intently at Blanco’s arm. “The old bugger is away and all I had was a case of the kitchen stuff. I’ll catch him when he’s around again and he better watch out. I’ll bash his ear for him.”

“I shouldn’t do that Josephine. I’ll have a word with him and ensure we have a supply for general consumption, like the old times. But no watering it down for me any more please.”

“Oh, you remember. You were just a little whippersnapper in those days. I had to fend for you.”

“I don’t remember that but I do remember being chased with Henry by you for stealing your fresh baguettes.”

“You always used to sneak up to the window and pinch a baguette and I would shout and scream. I could have moved the tray away from the window Blanco, couldn’t I?”

“Never thought of that Josephine. So it was just a game was it?”

“I was proud of my bread then. Can’t get the right flour anymore. It’s all that plastic stuff and even the boulangères doesn’t make it the same anymore. Now eat up. There’s chicken for main course, your favourite.”

“Thanks Josephine and I bet its crème caramel for desert followed by Brie, your favourite, not Camembert.” Josephine smiled and nodded in pleasurable agreement. Colin turned to his wife. “How’s things in the house dear?” he asked in perfect French.

“Now, do I reply in my best English Mr. Fraud or revert to my native tongue?” she replied in English.

“I thought you had forgiven me for all that?” he answered in impeccable French.

“I have, but not totally so you better be on your best behaviour from now on, until I decide,” she answered in French, to Colin’s relief. “Yes, the living quarters are in good shape but needs some modernising. Plenty of space and lots of scope. We have prepared two bedrooms, although dad has to go off home after lunch, the ancient bathroom, the study, dining room and the corridors and stairs. And of course, the kitchen as you can see, the French do have their priorities. I’ve asked Josephine and her daughter to stay on for the week to give everything a good spring clean but yes, it is now habitable. We’ll stay here tonight.”

“Marcel has disappeared, probably when he saw my note. There’s not much love lost on him around here. I’ll have to have a word with him. I maybe too emotionally attached to these workers and may need to take a different view, now that I am in effect their Master. I don’t know but I’ll check out with Marcel first and size up the situation.”

“Oh, look darling, there’s someone at the door there?”

“Hey, it’s Henry, my old pal. Come and meet him, Brigitte.”

“Hey Blanco, you have been here over twenty-four hours and you haven’t been in touch yet. I am disappointed. I think I will have a word with your beautiful wife here to teach you some good French etiquette. Pleased to meet you Brigitte and welcome to our District. Here are some flowers for you and a bottle of special wine. I brought it for Blanco but he is such a bore I shall present it to you. It’s my first product as manager of my old man’s vineyard and it’s exceptional. Now why don’t you run off with me and leave this dour Englishman to drown in his warm beer.”

“Hey Henry, none of this French chivalry. It’s all a sham and this man is a blaggard and a good for nothing sportsman. He would never let me beat him at ping pong.”

“Yeah, but you stole the love of my life, Marmite, if you remember. I’ll never forgive you for that.”

“Oh, poor thing, I suppose you are still moping for her. I see no Madam Henry on your arm.”

“Too busy for that Blanco, I have an estate to manage just as you have.”

“Come and join us for the cheese course at least Henry. We’ll make some room. I presume you know these people here,” said Brigitte as Henry went off greeting everybody around the table, as old friends.

“Well Henry, what do you know of this old place? The locals seem to have a chip on their shoulders about our Marcel.”

“Don’t want to talk about it here. Blanco and Brigitte, come over for dinner at my place tomorrow and we can talk more freely.”

The next morning Colin confronted Marcel.

“Hello Marcel, we missed you yesterday.”

“Good morning, Mr. Colin, I was busy. As you may know, I’m the only permanent worker here. When old Duval passed away, the Trustees in Americaordered me to manage the place, with minimal costs until they sold it. I didn’t know that it was all going to pass to you.”

“Believe me Marcel, nor did I. I’m not even a relative or even a friend of the family. I came here each year for the sunshine and company; didn’t see much of the old fellow. Apparently, he was immensely rich and his relatives didn’t know of me. I got a bottle from him on my last visit here was all the recognition I got.”

“Some American came and questioned me about you and all I could tell them that I only knew this English boy as Blanco. He left bemused and told me to run a tight ship.”

“So how do you manage here without the old gang?”

“They were set in their ways and the old man was a bit soft on them. I subcontract and hire labour when needed, the modern approach to this business.”

“But what about the traditional skills you always drummed into me? Where are they if you don’t have permanent staff?”

“The skilful stuff, like tasting, evaluating can all be bought in and you get a better professional perspective. Skilled labour for the fields is cheap and plentiful. I can buy that in whenever I want. I know the locals were, and are, still upset with me but times are changing and I’m keeping up with the times. My field costs per acre are lowest in the region, I bet. The estates around here make so much money that they keep the old lags on for sentimental reasons. Don’t fall into that trap Mr. Colin.”

“How has production been in the past few years Marcel?”

“Up and down as usual. Vagaries of the weather have had an impact. A local hailstorm always seems to hit here and not there. Production has gone down but so has the investment. The place is being set up for sale, so the owners just want profit. I presume you are going to sell it?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m tempted to give the whole thing a try though.”

“Take my advice Mr. Colin. Spend a good summer here, enjoy the harvest, sell the place and enjoy the proceeds in Provenceor somewhere nicer. After all, as a teacher, what do you know about wine production?”

“Not a lot I suppose, but as you say I could buy in the expertise.”

“Only if you have a good manager.”

“What’s your point Marcel? Are you proposing to move on? You’ve been here all your life, haven’t you?”

“I have, for all the good it’s done me. The Trustees set me, how do you say it, ‘golden handcuffs’ until they find a new owner or buyer. I would be a fool to turn that down but there are plenty of jobs for my expertise around here. I plan to collect my bonus and go somewhere else for a change. I’m not welcomed in these parts so why should I stay?”

“Sorry to hear you say that, Marcel. I was hoping that you might continue for a while.”

“Oh, I won’t leave you in the lurch Mr. Colin. It’s not in my being but I’m just saying it straight so that you know my feelings and position.”

“I appreciate that, Marcel. I like straight talkers and no bullshit. Tell me, has there been any interest in the area to buy the place?”

“One or two of course but it would have to be at the right price. You know we are on the wrong side of the valley. If we were on the Emilion side there would be an army camped at the door, flashing Dollars and Yens by the ship load. Duval bought on the cheap so it will sell on the cheap I guess.”

“Thanks Marcel. I need to do some thinking, in the meantime carry on as if I wasn’t here.”

“You’re the boss. I’ll carry on for as long as you need me Mr. Colin, you can be sure of that. I have my bonus to think of.”

“Two things you can do for me Marcel. Firstly, will you stop calling me Mr. Colin and call me Blanco of old. Secondly can you send up some cases of drinkable stuff from the cave.”

“Sure thing Blanco, I feel happier with that name and I’ll bring up a trolley load for you and your wife to sample tonight before leaving. I hope you can make yourselves comfortable here.”

That evening, when the workers had departed, Colin drove Brigitte to the adjoining estate.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” greeted Henry. “I apologise for my mother and father, who retire early and can’t face the English idea of a late dinner.”

“Thank you Henry and we will come around tomorrow, during the day, to greet them. Colin here has told me so much about them and especially you Henry. You led poor innocent Blanco astray I hear.”

“Brigitte, it was one of one and one of another. Now I’m confused so put me straight. Is it to be Blanco or is it to be Colin?”

“Let it be Blanco. I shall reserve Colin just for England and my parents. Now, what have you got cooking for us? Smells good. Is the old crone that we used to tease still feeding you Henry?”

“She is and not quite as old as you probably remember her. For this special occasion its local Foie Gras and hare that I shot yesterday in that old corn field and a few bottles of my own fine wine, that I’m ever so proud of. We’ll eat out here on the terrace. You can sit opposite me Brigitte so that I can stare at you and get my fill and Blanco can sit at the end there, out of the way.”

“Thank you, kind Sir, mother has warned of too much flattery. You have a beautiful house here Henry?”

“It may be pretty Brigitte but doesn’t quite compare to your Manoir in size. Your place is huge. Help yourselves to wine and I’ll check on the old crone. She’s all in a tizzy, hearing that you will be here Blanco and now the proud owner of that great estate. She doesn’t know if she has to kiss you on all cheeks or clip you around the ear, as in the old days. I’ll try to tease her out of the kitchen. Be gentle with her.”

“Henry, you stay here and I’ll surprise her,” countered Blanco and rushed into the house. Screams, shouts of joy followed with lots of sobbing as the lady was dragged out by Blanco to be introduced to his wife.

“Harriette, meet Blanco’s wife, she’s French. Who would have thought that Blanco would marry such a delectable French girl? He was so ugly when he was here,” quipped Henry.

“Please to meet you, Harriette. I apologise for the trouble that these two lads caused you. They must have been a handful. You’ll have to tell me how to keep them in order,” said Brigitte, as Harriette wiped back her tears on her apron and rushed off with an excuse about the dinner. She was back in a few minutes with a large platter which she set on the table before them, with a ‘bon appetite’ followed by a quick curtsy and then disappeared into the kitchen again.

“Now Henry, tell us the gossip about Duval’s estate. We are dying to know what’s been going on around here. Let’s get that over with first.”

“OK, but you need someone to verify what I say, so don’t take what I say here as gospel. There were a lot of rumours and scandal mongering then when old Duval passed on. People were trying to settle old scores. The old hands at your Estate had it in for Marcel. They all got the same generous sum endowed to them by Duval and that gave them the God’s right to take the piss out of Marcel, or so they thought, until he rightly fired the lot of them. Then they really had it in for him, particularly when he slipped the rumour that Duval had left him the whole estate and he was only waiting for the legal stuff to be completed.”

“That was obviously untrue but the Trustees did set up a good deal for him. I checked in my file. For looking after the estate until they could dispose of it, the Trustees would double his salary as a bonus if he stayed on.”

“Well, he’s been managing the estate for over five years now. The original rumour died when the valuers arrived and let the cat out of the bag.”

“Were there any buyers?”

“Plenty, but they all smelled a cheap deal. One over the Americans and all that. Didn’t work out because they had absolutely no reply to their offers. There are still a few people interested but things have changed over time.”

“What do you mean Henry, spell it out!”

“Things haven’t been going all that well over there as far as people here see it. The quality and quantity of the wine has gone down. His customer base has deserted him. I’ve picked up on some of your customers to my benefit.”

“So what went wrong? Was it Marcel’s doing?”

“Bit of bad luck and bad management probably. For a couple of years disease has struck some of his fields and he wasn’t quick enough to eradicate it, not having permanent staff to keep an eye on the vines. Then before each harvest, the tradition around here, as you know, is to retain the gangs of pickers who party day and night long before the Master orders the start of the vendange. He would start about a week earlier and had us all jittery, when the weather was good. He used cheap labour from the vast pool of idle workers. Most years he got it wrong and the grapes were not ripe enough resulting in mediocre wines. But his costs must have been rock bottom.”

“That’s interesting. He bragged to me that his costs were the lowest but obviously at the expense of fine wine.”

“That’s right Blanco, as you know my old man would happily lose the whole harvest in an effort to get the best grapes and keep his reputation. I’m afraid your reputation is ruined Blanco.”

“And I haven’t even started. Marcel must have known all this, so why did he take such decisions? Was he being guided by the Trustees? I’ll check that out.”

“That’s what the whole district is pondering over. Why would he want to ruin the reputation of the Estate? The rumours say that he was being guided by orders from Americaand what do they know about wine?”

“Well thanks for that gloomy welcome Henry. You have just made my day.”

“You need to have it out with Marcel.”

“Yes, but my knowledge is minimal as you know Henry. Marcel will run rings around me. I think I will let this harvest run its course and just observe.”

“Not a bad idea Blanco. Just enjoy yourself but don’t get in my way too much. I’m a busy man these days. No more days of high jinks and pranks.”

“You could go on a crash course Colin,” interjected Brigitte after quietly listening to the conversation. They hadn’t even noticed that the main course of hare had been set out in front of them.

“That’s probably a good idea darling but that won’t make me into an expert.”

“No but with your chemistry background, it will give you a head start on most of us. We are too traditional around here. Starting from a low point you will have nothing to lose in bringing in new methods from Californiaand Australia. We are all too shit scared that it would affect our reputation.”

“So go on Henry, expound on the basics of fine wine making then, you are the expert around here.”

“Not the expert by a long chalk but in essence it’s quite simple if all the ducks fall into place as you English say. What you need is the soil, climate and the right chemistry to make the grapes into wine. Climate you can’t do much with. It’s a matter of luck, hence the vintage years but with the other stuff you can tinker to your hearts content.”

“But what about the importance in the cultivation?” asked Brigitte.

“As long as you are sensible, the long-established ways are fine. You don’t need to invent a new science for that.”

“So, if I get my soil right and have the right equipment then I should compete with you and the rest Henry?”

“I don’t see why not? I’m currently looking at upgrading my equipment with stuff from California. That’s not quite so new an idea around here. People just don’t want to advertise it.”

“OK, so I equip myself with the latest wine making gizmos, what can I do about the soil?”

“It will cost you but have it tested by the Association and they will even tell what you need to add to improve it.”

“Have you done that Henry?”

“No, I’ve thought about it but dad goes out and sniffs it, moulds it in his hand and even tastes the stuff and pronounces it perfect. I can’t go and test it the modern way, can I and upset him?”

“Any thing else I should be worried about?”

“Reputation, reputation, reputation, that prices the wine and sets your profit Blanco. Currently mine is hedging above yours and if you don’t get a good show this year, you’re doomed Blanco.”

“Sounds as if you are telling me to sell and get out? Would you buy my vineyard?”

“That’s a poignant question Blanco and worthy of consideration. Five years ago I would have paid over the odds to get your estate if I had the spare cash. Now I don’t think I would risk it.”

“Fair comment. Sounds as is we have a fair hill to climb, doesn’t it Brigitte?”

“You’re pretty glum for a friend Henry.”

“That’s what good friends are for. I could have bullshitted you and you would make some wrong decisions and where then would our friendship stand, eh Brigitte?”

“You’re right Henry, but it’s a pretty dreadful prognosis.”

“Maybe, but what is your interest in this Brigitte? I understand you were into Interior Design before you met Blanco?”

“My dream would be to convert the magnificent, although currently dilapidated, Manoir into a Palace. A boutique styled hotel to entice the rich Americans to hand over their dollars and be a show case for me and my profession. That’s all Henry.”

“I like the idea and others have tried it successfully. At least you’d have another string to you’re your bow but the investment would be high.”

“Well, we do have the Duval family to give us a kick start. I’m sure we can make them flock over to see what their benefactor did for a hobby. You really did shoot this hare. I’ve found some shot. It’s delicious.” The conversation moved onto lighter things and went on deep into the night.

The next day, Blanco trawled the net and came up with a residential course at nearby Saint Emilion. Blanco signed up for the fortnight. The course was more to do with fine dining and tasting but this was intermingled with down to earth stuff. Whilst Brigitte was busy getting the living quarters into some shape with the help of Josephine and her daughter, Blanco decided to tour the subterranean caves and do a cursory check on his wine stock. He found a serviceable torch and went into the study to get the key to the iron grill, closing off the entrance. The box on the wall by the door, where old Denverkept the keys was empty. Blanco surmised that Marcel would keep the key about himself now, rather than returning it all the way back to the study. Blanco then remembered that Denver had the same problem when he was getting a bottle for him, but he had a second key hidden in the leg of his desk. After much fiddling, Blanco managed to open the secret compartment and find the second key. Encouraged he went off to the entrance.

The cave was dark and only after ten minutes he realised that he should have switched on the generator, which powered the ancient twelve-volt lighting system. Since he didn’t know how to power up the generator, he decided to carry on with the aid of the trusted torch. He inspected a bay in which the bottles had recently been removed. He remembered Denvertelling him that you could tell the amount removed by the fresh mould markings on the wall. He consulted the board where the running total was meticulously chalked up. It didn’t quite tally with his reckoning. A thousand bottles had been removed but the fresh mould on the walls suggested that double the amount should have been recorded. Puzzled, Blanco moved on and checked another bay; that seemed to tally. The next bay again showed a major discrepancy. He decided to make a cursory check around the first few corridors, make a few notes and return back to the surface, before his torch batteries ran out.

Locking the gate, he made his way to Marcel’s office, where he rightly suspected the ledgers were now kept, rather than in Denver’s study. He checked the bay records twice and found the same discrepancy. The records matched the chalk boards but not the mould evidence on the walls. There was only one other way to confirm his dismal gut feelings. Denverhad told him, when he had labelled up his bottle in the same office, that he had all the labels printed in one go and if they faded in storage then it added to the kudos of the bottle. He checked the vast label draws and found the appropriate stock. The ‘73C’ bay notes confirmed that one thousand bottles had been removed, but on checking the labels, they confirmed Blanco’s suspicion that two thousand had been actually removed. Each label was numbered but that wouldn’t register to a cursory glance. The numbers, as Denver had explained to him in detail were in binary notion and to the normal untrained eye would appear as gobble-de-gook.

Blanco searched the workshop and found a length of chain and a serviceable padlock with a full set of keys. He chained up the iron grill at the entrance to the cave and stuffed a piece of cardboard between the rungs on which he had scribbled ‘No Admittance’ and signed ‘Blanco.’ He went back to the office and considered his action. He expected Marcel to rush in and demand an apology. He didn’t know quite how to handle it. Marcel did come rushing in and quite furious at that.

“You were giving me a free hand and now you chain up the cave, for heaven’s sake why Blanco? Don’t you know I have to prepare the cave for this year’s wines?”

“Calm down Marcel. I went down there and checked the stock, or some of it.”

“So, you broke in like a burglar?”

“No, it wasn’t like that Marcel. I have a key that I got from the Trustees,” answered Blanco with a white lie.

“OK, so what did you find in there, a few rat droppings to scare you?”

“No, but I did find a major discrepancy in the stock and the ledger. That needs explanation.”

“What makes you suddenly an expert on wine stock taking then? First time in a cave and you know it all. You English make me sick.”

“Calm down Marcel. Before I take over, it just seems right that I should have a stock take for the valuation, don’t you?”

“Whose been filling your mind with crap? Have you been listening to those old fuddy duddies? They make me sick. I have a good mind to resign now and leave you in the lurch.”

“That’s you decision but I’m not letting anyone have access to the cave until the stock take is done and the books balanced Marcel.”

“That’s it then. I can’t do my job now so I might as well leave.”

“I think that may be wise Marcel, until the stock-take and then we can review your position.”

“Bugger it Blanco, I’m off and you’ll be hearing from my lawyers about this. You are ruining my reputation Blanco, do you realise this?”

“It depends how you take it Marcel. Carry on without access to the cave or go home and take the consequences.”

“No point in me being here in this atmosphere. I suppose you want me to walk home then?”

“No, you can take the van home and I’ll have someone collect it tomorrow morning.”

“This isn’t the end of this and you’ll be hearing more from me Blanco. You can’t turn me out like that. The Association will black ball you. You won’t be able to work here, ever.”

“No threats Marcel, I’m not a boy who can be clipped around the ear. I think you better go off and consider the situation. I expect a letter on my desk of resignation by lunch time tomorrow. Your boy can deliver it. Or, if you change your mind, I want you in at work tomorrow morning. If I don’t hear by noon, then I will assume you have resigned. Now off you go quietly and stop clenching your fists. You may have noticed that I am taller than you now and many kilos heavier. So, trying to knock sense into me won’t work Marcel.” With that Marcel turned on his heels and a few moments later Blanco heard a screech of tyres as Marcel roared off in the Company van. Blanco let out a great sigh of relief to calm his nerves and wondered if he had done the right thing. His next step was to retrieve the ledgers and bolt up the doors from the inside and made the winery secure. He then checked with Joseph to make sure that all the downstairs shutters were firmly locked and secure and no ladders to be left outside that night. He didn’t want a break in and tampering with the evidence.

With a sad heart he found Brigitte and recounted the happenings in detail. She looked forlorn and dismayed that all her dreams would be shattered.

“Don’t fret dear. Even Marcel himself told me that expertise and labour can be bought in.”

“But what if the Association come down on us, what then?”

“They have no grounds as yet. All I have agreed to is to have a full stock take and an audit of the accounts. This is normal practise in these parts, especially by overseas owners. It develops a kind of trust or should do with their managers.”

“What are we going to do now?”

“I’m going to sit down, have a glass of wine with you, in the study, to cheer us up then I’m going to phone up Henry for some advice.”

“Blanco, with what you have told me, I suggest you have a clean sweep. Be ruthless and get rid of your current Accountants, Lawyers and advisers. Get new ones. They may or may not be involved in this scam you suspect but there is no harm.”

“But won’t that rub the locals up the wrong way. Won’t it suggest that I’m implicating them and they’ll sue me for defamation and all that?”

“Maybe, but if you put on your mad Englishman’s act, that’s what they will see. Just another foreign Johnny who thinks he knows better than the locals. If something come of this and there is, hanky panky in the cave, then you will appear strong not just ruthless and you will be respected.”

“Thanks Henry, I’ll get onto the Auditors and make it a priority.”

“Look Blanco, the Auditors will see this as a way of fleecing a stupid Englishman. They’ll charge you the earth but that’s the way you have to go. But make sure the head honcho comes out today to see you. Make it important. I’ll be over later with a list of Accountants and Lawyers that you can choose. I suggest you give the work to somebody outside the District. It will make the locals sit up and think. Go for it Blanco. I wish I had such freedom when I took over. Bye.”

That afternoon he contacted Wilkins who informed him he had copies of all the contracts and he would peruse them that night to check for any legal flaws in Blanco’s actions. He would also hold back on any monies and bonuses owed to Marcel. He also advised Blanco to check all outstanding invoices in the ledger and contact the clients and suppliers and instruct them that all monies had to be paid directly into the Company account and not handed to a person as a cheque, which was common practise as he was led to believe. Henry brought over a bottle of his best and they pored over the choices of future Accountant and Lawyers.

A Director of a large accounting Company based in Bordeaux came over and assured them that they would leave no stone unturned and carry out a full audit and stock take and he would be sending in his most experienced team, starting tomorrow morning. They spent a sleepless night discussing the possible consequences of their actions that day but felt that it would be for the best. Wilkins phoned at midnight to assure them that in the various contracts was a clause stating that the new owner or proprietor had the right to dismiss and appoint new support services and he bid them a good night, not that that helped much.

Early next morning a group of cars arrived and their occupants sat there awaiting the arrival of their boss. Blanco drove down to the boulangère and bought in supplies whilst Brigitte made coffee for all. They all congregated in the large dining room, chatting quietly, sipping hot coffee and munching on baguettes and croissants. Eventually, the boss arrived at twenty minutes past eight and sighs of relief went up from all.

“Bonjour, I’m Alain Bouvier and I’m heading up this team,” he said, shaking Blanco’s hand and then kissing Brigitte three times, as customary. “I’m so pleased to meet you Mr. Blanco and your wife. I was delayed by my Director who met with you last night. Some last-minute instructions. You know what Directors are like. Want everything detailed and correct.”

“Please sit down and have a coffee first Alain” asked Brigitte warmly.

“That would be delightful Madame. I understand an electrician should be arriving if he’s not here yet, to fix up the lighting in the cave.”

“I don’t think he is here yet but I will show you to the cave entrance and give you the keys. I suggest that you initially make yourselves at home in this dining room until we get some rooms opened up at the far end.”

“Thank you, Mr. Blanco. We don’t need much office space but my Director instructed me not to use the Manager’s office and keep it intact. We have divided ourselves up into three teams. One team is currently camped outside your Accountants office, ready to commandeer your accounts for scrutiny, one team here will do the stock take in the cave. We call them the Troglodytes and the third team here will do the office job of scrutinising the ledgers and verifying the paperwork.”

“Thank you, Alain. Once you have your teams working can you come and see me in my study. I need a few moments with you.”

“Certainly. Right men! To work!” and he clapped his hands as the men quickly rose and grabbed their equipment. Blanco led them down the long corridor to the winery and showed them the cave entrance. The electrician was already there, banging on the doors to be let in.

“I’ll be with you at nine sharp Mr. Blanco and we can discuss what is on your mind. We are accustomed to this type of work and my Director confirmed the system here follows the traditional pattern. One day, someone will install a computer and we will be redundant. Right men, don’t move anything in the office until you get permission from me. Take plenty of photographs for the record.” Alain continued to bark out orders as Blanco sauntered back to his study, deep in thought.

A light tap on the door interrupted Blanco’s thought pattern.

“Come in, come in Alain and sit down. Brigitte will join us in a moment. She is just fixing up some coffee.”

“Delightful!” exclaimed Alain and sat on an old sofa opposite Blanco. “You are probably eager to know how long this will take? I can only tell you that in a few days when we size up the cave and the state of the paperwork. So far, all looks in order. At least it’s all intelligible to us.”

“Don’t get up Alain,” said Brigitte, “I just brought another pot of coffee for us. Now before you gentle men start I need to know how many for lunch?”

“Oh, we didn’t expect this Brigitte. There are seventeen of us including me. The electrician has departed. Can you cater for all of us?”

“We certainly can but unfortunately all of our stock of wine is tied up in the cave and Blanco tells me that we can’t retrieve it as yet.”

“That is true Brigitte but unfortunately my men can be instructed to be rather clumsy, clambering about the bottles. There could be some breakages which we will have to write off. How many broken bottles would you like to record Mr. Blanco.”

“Thank you, Alain. It’s me you should be asking. The English know nothing about wines. I will give you a list that Henry our neighbour, has prepared for me.”

“Now Brigitte, please don’t feed the men too well. You and I wouldn’t want them to prolong their stay.”

“Armies move and fight best on full stomachs and I will make sure you are all satisfied. I’ll go and get the list. It is rather long. I hope your men can be clumsy enough.”

“Be assured, they will do their duty,” answered Alain with a wink as Brigitte went out of the room.

“I am interested in the process part of your audit Alain. The methodology of reconciling the stock to the boards and to the ledgers,” asked Blanco with a pen and pad at the ready.

“Ah, that is straight forward. The chalk boards should be up to date with the stock and the ledger should confirm that.”

“How do you check that the boards are correct?”

“By reconciling with the cave ledger then secondly, confirming with the Sales ledger but that is a long process but shall be done.”

“I am aware Alain, that there are telltale signs in the cave that indicate, that a quantity of bottles, have been removed.”

“Ah, you English know more than we French think you do. Yes, there are telltale signs on the cave walls. The way the fungus grows or re-grows but only if large quantities are removed.”

“Mr. Duval used to give strict orders that the bays were always stripped from wall to wall and that has been adhered to as far as I have seen.”

“OK, so you want me to instruct my men to double check. They can do that. They know the form, especially when instructed.”

“What about labels? Do they play a part in your methodology?”

“Labels? Labels are usually perfunctory to our ground investigations. The audit of accounts will show up any deviations in the printing costs.”

“What about if the labels are numbered and all have been printed at the time of the first sale.”

“Numbered bottles are generally of little significance in my experience. Estates print numbers because the clients demand them and don’t tell us much generally. What is your point here Mr. Blanco?”

“Tell me, if an Estate should number its bottles, in correct sequence, then that would be a help to reconcile the accounts?”

“I see what you are getting at but if I was a devious manager I would destroy a batch of labels to maintain the records.”

“What if the manager didn’t quiet understand the system?”

“You mean he couldn’t read Mr. Blanco? He shouldn’t be in the job then. I wouldn’t hire an illiterate.”

“Are you familiar with binary numbers Alain?”

“Of course, but I don’t think I could use them these days.”

“Well, Mr. Duval used a binary system of consecutive numbers on all of his labels and they are recorded religiously in the ledger.”

“I did note that there was an extra entry labelled on some pages, as ‘bar’ or Batch’ codes, so what you are telling me is, that if the manager couldn’t read binary numbers and thought of them as bar codes, he could be caught out in theory? Interesting! So what you want my team to do is to check the labels against the boards in the cave then confirm the totals with the labels and ledgers. Now what happens if there is a discrepancy Mr. Blanco? Don’t answer that yet, after all, it is for the auditors to find. All I can say is that you pointed us in the right direction, but I’m sure we would discover that through the sales and payment system.”

“If I wanted to sell a quantity of wine without the owner’s knowledge, how could I do that and not be found out Alain?”

“Take a hypothetical case, if you were an unscrupulous manager, then you would ask the client to pay by split cheques and pocket some of the cheques and show only half the order in the sales ledger. It is quite usual for clients to pay with multiple cheques around here anyway.”

“Why would that be Alain? Surely, it’s an accountants’ nightmare?”

“You would think so Mr. Blanco but the clients see is at a way of extending their credit. You would use the cheques to pay off the bottle supplier or the garage and they pass them on to their suppliers and so on. The cheque can pass through many hands before it is cashed and many months could pass by.”

“But wouldn’t the cheques be defunct after some time. Isn’t there a limit on cashing them Alain?”

“It’s generally ignored and God forbid anybody not honouring the payment. His reputation would sink like a stone and he would lose months if not years of free credit. Some traditionalists keep these things under their mattress rather than in the bank. It could be years before they surface but even these are honoured. Now Mr. Blanco I must leave you and add further checks to my process that you have identified for me and making me suspicious. The audit for me now takes a turn for the worse in that I suspect, that I, or my team will soon come across some major misdemeanours. This will lead us to the second stage of finding the culprit or at least identifying his tracks. The actual apprehension will be left to the Gendarmes and I have to report any criminal act I discover. Also, the local Association will have to be informed. Are you aware of that Mr. Blanco?”

“No Alain, I wasn’t aware but I can’t stop the procedure, if that is the case. Now I want you to discover or uncover the reason why my departed manager would want to discredit the reputation of this estate and in a way impact badly on himself too.”

“Leave that to us Mr. Blanco. We will surely have an answer for you. Something will show up in our extensive audit. Normally this process is very dull but this particular job is going to be quite different me thinks.”

The stock-take and verification of ledgers didn’t take too long and quickly the discrepancies were discovered, implicating Marcel in the first instance. He was being interviewed by the District Gendarmes and then by the National Police, who were concerned by the size of the problem. The police sealed off the cave, plus the winery and carried out their own investigations, calling on experts from the Association. There was little that Blanco could do and the time for the vendee was only months away. He was going to have a problem making his wine and finding some place for storage of his new produce. Henry helped as much as he could but he had his own problems at this busy time of the year. The police and auditors were now conceding that it would be months if not years, before the whole issue would be sorted out. Blanco’s main problem now was that he was running out of cash. The Company bank assets were frozen and his personal savings were getting hit hard. There was no chance of releasing some money from sale of stock in the cave, which they were relying on. Alain suggested that he approached his bank for a substantial overdraft but they were only willing to fund the current vendange and making of the wine and not for the refurbishment of the Manoir, that Brigitte so wanted to progress.

Blanco set off to his course in Saint Emilion in rather a bad frame of mind. He left behind Brigitte who was frustrated that the opportunity to start her true profession was on hold, and left four skilled men who would tend to the vines. He went as Mr. Colin Trueman from England whose French was just passable and made it plain that he was only there for the fine dining and tasting. That was the image he tried to portray and tried to keep a low profile. There were plenty of French and Americans there who wanted to hold forth and grab every ones’ attention. The first evening was spoilt somewhat by a call from Brigitte who told him the Marcel, the former Accountant and Lawyer were all suing him for defamation of characters, loss of business and damage to their reputations. She had passed this onto their new lawyers who told her they would study the charges laid out.

The elements that interested Blanco on the course was when they touched on factors that made fine wines, in particular, soil, type of vine, irrigation and aspect which the lectures termed ‘the terroir.’ One of the things he learned was how to take accurate soil samples using a soil auger. He acquired an auger for himself and on his guided tours of famous vineyards in Saint Emilion, he took a number of soil samples for himself, secreting the soil in labelled plastic bags. He expected the wine making processes to be very traditional but was surprised and pleased to find that the vintners had adopted modern scientific practises, that he, being a chemist, could understand and that a lot of modern equipment was being introduced, albeit in an unobtrusive way and away from the normal visitor’s gaze. He could comprehend the complexities of wine making when presented in a strictly laboratory way and was certainly more comfortable with the chemical methodology and the use of technology to control the wine making environment. He decided to pursue this further and noted the names of all the manufactures on the equipment he saw.

One evening, during his second week, his phone buzzed strangely telling him it was an unknown caller.

“Evening to you Colin; it’s Aiden from States side calling. I hope you are well. I had a job tracking you down.”

“I’m very well, thank you. I’m on a course in wine making in Saint Emilion. How are you doing?”

“I hope they are wining and dining you well. Look Colin, I have been kept up to date by Wilkins in little ole England. It seems we have sold you a pup or as we say it, a pig in a poke. We hadn’t realised that the manager was helping himself to the Company store in such a big way. We feel totally responsible for that in not keeping a closer eye on the place in the past.”

“Without carrying out a full audit, stock-take and knowing something about Mr. Duval’s recording methods, much of this wouldn’t have come out in the wash for a long, long time.”

“Yes, yes, Wilkins informed me of your own findings and it was very clever of you to inform the auditors. Short circuited the investigative proceedings and came up with some quick results. Now the reason for my call is that because this is now a criminal investigation, you can’t have access to your working areas or stock.”

“That’s correct Aiden. All I can do is till the fields and try and hasten the grape ripening process.”

“Wilkins tells me that the inquiry may go on well past the harvest time. Have you had any thoughts on how you will manage and how are you doing financially?”

“My bank here has given me extended overdraft to cover this season but they seem loath to offer me more. I’m currently considering various options on how I handle my wine making this year.”

“Wilkins tells me that you are a resourceful fellow and that you will manage. I have asked the President of the Trustees for the Duval Estate and Financial holdings if they can help you financially. They are looking into the matter favourably but you must know how slow these processes can be. I wouldn’t count on any help this season, maybe next but I don’t want to raise your hopes. If you can manage on your own someway, that would be for the best”.

“That’s very kind of you but I shall be able release some funds once I can access the stock of wine that Mr. Duval has built up. I don’t really want to increase my debt.”

“Very wise and business like of you Colin. Once you are out of the woods, some of the guys in Denverhave expressed interest to visit the old Duval vineyard and pay their respects. I know this is all just words, but we are all rooting for you over here. They are grateful that at least you stopped the leakage. It sounds that family could have lost a fortune if it hadn’t been spotted by you. Have you any idea what the stock levels are at this time and its value?”

“Aiden, do you know how many thousands of bottles are in the stock? It’s going to take a while before we come with a fairly good estimate.”

“I do have an inkling, Colin. Duval was one for putting down wines as an investment. Better than stock he used to say. Now you will find on the stock list large quantities of wine from other regions that he purchased. I suggest, when you get access, you get an expert in to give you some guidance on whether you hold or sell. I understand from Wilkins that the Duval’s home-grown stock may have taken a nosedive on price with all this debacle going on. Give my regards to Brigitte when you see her next. Oh, I nearly forgot, the President and the Duval family, all want you and Brigitte to fly over to Denver for a meeting. They are all following the progress of the estate with avid interest.”

“Thanks Aiden. Brigitte and I would like that but we need to find a quieter slot in our calendar. Now would you do something for me please?”

“Anything you say Colin.”

“I think it would be a nice gesture if we sent each family a selection of cases of wine that Duval produced. That is when I get access to my stocks. Therefore, I need a list with names and addresses please.”

“You English guys are such gentlemen. You certainly know how to charm the birds from the trees. I think that is a brilliant gesture, but I’ll keep it under my hat for the moment. Let’s make it into a surprise. I think it will speed up their thought processes about investing in your venture.”

“I would like to include you and Zach in this shipment.”

“Well man, that is mighty generous of you. I make lots of dough from servicing the family but that gift would be very much appreciated. Must go now Colin; Wilkins will keep me updated. Bye.”

Blanco hadn’t thought much about his financial predicament up to this moment, other than servicing of his overdraft. His whole focus was on finding a solution for this season’s harvest without having access to any of his own facilities but he had a list of options to progress and decision timing was not yet critical. He wondered if the moneys from the Duval estate could fund the re-equipping of his winery and improving the soils of his lands at some future date. In the meantime, he decided to phone and e-mail, next day the equipment suppliers he had listed, to send him catalogues of their products so he could peruse and dream.

The course ended with a celebration dinner but Blanco decided to give that a miss and caught a taxi back home. Brigitte was delighted to see him and was eager to share her news. After a light dinner of bread, cheese plus a bottle of decent wine, Blanco confronted his wife.

“Now you have patiently listened to my boring accounts but I can tell that you have something burning to tell me darling. You’re like a cat on a hot tin roof and it’s not my body you want to abuse, I can tell.”

“Is it so obvious dear? Yes, I do have something to impart. Did you know that old Joseph’s father used to be a stone mason? Family came down from Paris to get away from the pollution. He got a job here building this place.”

“I thought that the family was local and had wine flowing through their veins.”

“Apparently not. I invited him over for lunch and a chat to see what he knew about the history of the place. He came over for three whole days telling me about the original owner and his plans for the estate and the house. The first owner was wealthy doctor from Parisand bought the land for a song. In those days, most of the land was under wood and grazing, only a small vineyard. The doctor’s ambition was to grow vines and compete with the Saint Emilion houses.”

“So, you’re telling me that the building and caves underneath are relatively young then?”

“Don’t interrupt Blanco. I’m coming to the interesting bit soon. The stone came from the caves. Edward, Joseph’s father tells me that it cuts out like butter when it’s wet and new and been underground. So, the caves provided the stone but the doctor was impatient and wanted to speed up the build so he also opened up a quarry nearby. Soon after the first phase was completed and some field planted with vines the doctor contracted TB and decided to go to Switzerlandto convalesce. The building works were stopped and after a year it was all sold off to a local for a knock down price.”

“It wasn’t Duval then?”

“No darling, it went through a number of hands with odd bits of work done here and there. Eventually Duval bought it but he wasn’t interested in the house, just the vineyard. It was his hobby really and according to the local did very well at it. Edward tells me that his work put the district on the map as far as wines go.”

“And now we are in the process of bringing it all down.”

“That’s not our fault darling. No one can blame you for this. Now let me show you something. I found this in one of the storerooms. Look at this,” said Brigitte opening up a large sheet of parchment.

“Wow, is this supposed to be the plan of this place? It’s even bigger than it is now. Look at these towers at each end and all the embellishments. This looks like a real chateau, straight from the Loirevalley. Rather impressive.”

“That explains why the current building is so ungainly and unbalanced. Even you have commented that there are no decent staircases in the place. Now have a look at this,” she said, presenting him with a large sheet of cartridge paper showing a sketch.”

“Did you do this?”

“Well with the help of my computer and I had it printed to this size in Libourne.”

“So, what is this? Your dream? I must say I like it better than the original.”

“I hope so Blanco. I’ve added the two turreted wings at each end to hold magnificent staircases and the main commercial entrance is at the centre there to give the building some focus.”

“But you’ve built out a sort of extension, a conservatoire, all along the front.”

“I think in Englandyou would call this the orangery, not a conservatory Colin.”

“Sorry, but this makes the place massive.”

“That’s the idea. The front will hold the restaurants, cafes and public rooms and behind the central entrance will be a large reception hall with a third magnificent staircase, leading to fantastic bedrooms and suites above.”

“Nice dream darling. I love the idea.”

“Good because this is not a dream, it’s my ambition Colin.”

“Yeah, yeah darling but this will cost a fortune and you know how strapped we are for money.”

“Yes I know but I have to have a dream.”

“As soon as we have an accurate valuation on our stock in the cave then we can look at this again dear. I promise, I do but we have to invest in the winemaking first to set our future.”

“I know that darling but it doesn’t prevent me from doing some planning and more dreaming. Henry told me that you would have to install new equipment.”

“I hope he hasn’t been pestering you dear.”

“Not Henry! He’s been around checking on your men. He’s too busy on his own estate to spend much time here. You’ll have to move out of this building with your new equipment, that’s all-mine Blanco.”

“What do you mean? I would have to build another workshop and winery?”

“Yes, I know and I have the right place for it, in the quarry, where the smells won’t disturb the guests. Edward showed me the quarry and do you know that underneath all that vegetation is a stack load of already dressed stone brought up there from the caves. It was stored there ready for the builders to use for the completion of this house.”

“That’s convenient but how am I going to have access to the caves if not through the main building as now.”

“Easy darling; Edward tells me that for the decorative pieces, the door frames and windows, it would be better and cheaper to fashion the green stone straight from the ground. The stone masons could dig out a new entrance for you, out there in the quarry.”

“It would still take years to complete your build and I need to be producing wine this season.”

“The local Architect told me that with modern building methods the whole thing could be complete in a year, and clearing the quarry for your sheds would only take weeks. Edward showed me that the footings and foundations for the wings are already in place, underneath about thirty centimetres of debris that has covered them over the years. I’ll show you the holes I dug. So darling you better get your skates on and get your new building planned.”

“Too busy finding a solution for our current forthcoming problem.”

“I thought you had resolved that by now.”

“More or less dear. I have some appointments tomorrow to finalise my decisions. You seem to have made your decisions already. I don’t know whether to be proud of you or just down right envious. I think I’ll plumb for both, now lets drink to our future success.”

The vendange was not a success, neither for Blanco or even the whole region. Poor weather, rain at the most inappropriate time and a poor-quality grape crop meant that the wine produced would be unexceptional. This initially did not bode well for Blanco and his estate. His solution was to have the wine made at a local Cooperative who took pity on him. The Cooperative usually made wines for the small growers, who in good years sold their grapes to the bigger wine houses and the surplus was sent to the Cooperative. This year, all their harvest went to the Cooperative including Blanco’s large contribution. The manager there was young and ambitious. He wanted to make a name for himself to catch the eye of some famous estate in the adjoining District. He employed modern methods and made the best he could of the grapes sent to him. With Blanco’s huge contribution the Manager, Hubert was able to raise his efficiency and reduce his costs substantially. He was also able to offer the big buyer’s sufficient quantity to interest their supermarket clients around Europe. All the seasons production was bottled, sold and shipped out under the Cooperative label rather than an estate label. Suddenly Blanco, not only settled his overdraft but had a nice surplus. His reputation in the district suddenly took a turn for the better and he was feted as an astute businessman who did the best out of a bad season, whereas the other large houses were still looking for a suitable solution for the mediocre wines.

A shrill blast of the phone interrupted Blanco intense perusal of equipment catalogues.

“Bonjour Blanco, I’ve completed the tests so you can come to discuss the results tomorrow.”

“Hi Margot, I’ve been waiting for your call. You don’t sound very pleased.”

“I don’t think you have been honest with me Blanco?”

“Why is that, Margot? I gave you those thirty samples in good faith and you said you would give me a full report with recommendations.”

“Yes, but not all of those samples are from your estate are they?”

“Well, no, but does that matter Margot?”

“I’ve checked on you Blanco and you’ve spent some time on the grand estates in Saint Emilion, haven’t you?”

“That’s right and I took some soil samples there to see what they’ve got up their sleeves as far as soil goes. I wasn’t trying to check on you Margot.”

“Look Blanco, when I realised that the soil samples were not from your estate, from the rock chips, I did think that you might be testing out our lab in an undercover operation. I’m quite sensitive to that you know. I don’t like things being done behind my back.”

“I’m ever so sorry Margot. I just thought you would do routine tests and publish the results and that’s all. I didn’t know you were a female Maigret and spot the exact locations where I stuck my auger. I’ll make up for it Margot. You can either come to dinner with us, Brigitte would love to meet you or I send you a case of wine as an apology, but you may have to wait a while until I get access to my cave.”

“Be here at ten sharp and I’ll give you an answer,” she answered brusquely, as Blanco blew out his breath in a long stream of relief.

“A piece offering,” said Blanco as he thrust a bunch of flowers into Margot’s hands, before she could say a word. “Having discussed it with Brigitte I realise how wrong it was of me to not tell you the full story of the samples. Brigitte tells me you might just forgive me since I’m just a stupid Englishman.”

“I forgive you Blanco and Brigitte is correct. If you were English then I might have dismissed the matter but your French is so good, particularly your local accent, I think of you differently. Now come into my office and tell me exactly where you took these special samples.”

“What’s so special about them?”

“Well, we don’t often get soil from Saint Emilion to check here. The houses there either do their own tests or send them to Parisor Bordeaux so it’s almost a privilege to get so many here.”

“Have I done something wrong then?”

“I’m not sure the owners would want their secrets to be handed out freely so I shouldn’t shout it from the treetops that you have stolen ‘State Secrets’ and I’ll just treat it as routine.”

“But how did you recognise them, Margot?”

“Easy, by the geology Blanco, the rocks are different there and it’s easy to spot under a microscope. Now let’s discuss your soils and compare them with the best.”

“I was under the impression that apart from the special aspect of the landscape there, the vintners of Saint Emilion were particularly adept at the wine making process.”

“We have a saying here in this lab and that is it is the ingredients that count. If you have quality grapes and a vintner with a modicum of sense, then you can make good wine.”

“And you’re going to tell me that to get quality grapes you have to have good soil Margot.”

“Exactly Blanco, that’s our job but the French are too traditionalists and don’t often see the logic of that. They refer to the ‘Terroir’ as the Holy Grail of wine making. I think the English have a true saying, ‘the answer lies in the soil’ and that’s what we believe in here in this lab.”

“Isn’t that a bit simplified Margot. Surely soil can differ with geology, depth, slope and aspect.”

“True, but with a bit of simple tinkering you can improve your soil and get better quality grapes, that’s proven.”

“So if I check my samples and find them wanting, I then sprinkle some magic dust and they will turn into soils as found in Saint Emilion?”

“Yes Blanco, I believe that. The cultivators at Saint Emilion, probably started with a good soil to begin with which gave them an instant advantage in making quality wines, but over the years they have cultivated and improved their soils either through proper management or simply tilling them regularly.”

“So, what’s the prognosis on my soils Margot?”

“Because of the underlying geology your soils are poorer naturally but with proper management you can improve them considerably.”

“One of the things they seemed to go on about on the course was the terrior. It seems that an adjoining field produces different quality of grapes even though all aspects look the same. Why is that, Margot?”

“I’ve come across this frequently and usually it’s to do with drainage. If the soil drains too quickly then many nutrients can be washed out. That’s why it’s important to test the soils frequently to see what is happening to the essential nutrients and replace them.”

“OK, let’s go through my reports and see what I can do to improve my reputation.” They spent a couple of hours going through the notes and occasionally comparing the results to the ones taken illicitly.

“As a chemist you should understand all the science behind soil improvement but you will have to do it gradually and apply the soil improvers selectively to avoid creating separate terriors in your vineyards.”

“That’s good advice Margot. I have decided to invite you for dinner and also send you a case of my best wine for all the good advice I’ve had here. I shall be sending you regular soil samples to check out the changes. I’ll call you and bring your boyfriend.” Blanco departed a happier man and certainly more confident in what his course of action should be. His next step would be to trawl the internet for fertiliser and soil improvement material suppliers.

“Right dear I now have a clear plan of my priorities to improve the quality of the wines on our estate and maybe restore our reputation.”

“Why are you so concerned by ‘our’ reputation Blanco?”

“My concern is purely financial dear. The value of our own stock has dropped by fifteen to twenty percent according to the auditors. If we could improve on that then it would go a long way in helping you to realise your dreams for this place.”

“I didn’t think of that darling, so you think there is a chance that I could proceed?”

“I don’t see any reason why not, if we can improve on our price. I see you have been working on your dreams.”

“I have but I’ve scaled them down quite a lot. I’m planning and costing to open a number of rooms to take in paying guests and a couple of rooms as galleries to display my interior design ideas.”

“That will require a lot of modification, won’t it?”

“True but the whole place needs modernising so I’ve got some local builders and craftsmen to come in and provide me with some quotes.”

“So that means I don’t have to move the winery out straight away? But I still want to follow up on having a new building and equipment. What do I do with all that stone that you need?”

“No problem darling. When you prepare your site then I want all the stone piled up on wooden pallets so that it can be transported to the masons who can split it up for me. The architect told me that the new walls could be built up cheaply using concrete blocks and then faced with a thin layer of stone.”

It was a year since they had first arrived and the cave and winery were still sealed off by the police who were continuing with their investigations. Blanco was now deep into soil improvement and construction of his new winery in his newfound quarry. Brigitte was now establishing herself as a local interior designer by re-vamping a quarter of the Manoir into show place living area, four large bedroom suites for paying guests and two large galleries to show off her wares. It had been a huge investment and all their earning from the last season had gone to fund this venture. Blanco was totally dependant on credit from his suppliers and the bank who were starting to take a more favourable view of this mad Englishman in their midst. If he wasn’t overseeing the construction of his new winery, then Blanco was driving a small machine, in between the rows of vines, scattering fertiliser and soil improver in measured quantities.

Each week Henry and Margot would come over for dinner and discussion would go on at length about wine making, soil structure, vine cultivation and especially about terroir. Henry sided with the traditionalists and believed whole heartedly that terroir was a given and couldn’t be altered. Margot and Blanco put the case forward that it could be altered with correct tilling so that the different terroirs on the estate could become all uniform, producing the same quality of grape. This talk was allowed until the main course was served and Brigitte being out in the kitchen. During the main course Brigitte informed them about the latest Parisian tastes in interior fashions and how she was progressing and when the cheese course arrived plus some fine wine the discussions could range to other things. Wine and design talk were forbidden at this stage. As weeks went by Brigitte would arrange the chairs for Margot and Henry closer and closer together to help in the match making process, not that they needed much encouragement. Brigitte was most put out when she eventually discovered that, unbeknownst to her, Margot was spending a lot of time on Henry’s estate.

Hubert and his wife Jeanette were also frequent diners at the Manoir since Blanco was sure he would have to use the services of the Cooperative winery for another season. The hopes in the district were high that the grapes would be in good condition for the vendee to offset last seasons’ disaster. Hubert was anxious to reassure Blanco that with good grapes the Cooperative had the skills to produce fine wines. He was also eager to demonstrate to the local small time growers that they too should support their local Cooperative through good times and bad.

The President of the Duval Trustees and his family visited the estate and were treated royally. Blanco let slip that he would like to change the name of the estate to ‘Chateau Duval’ in honour of his benefactor. The President, Charles Grover liked the idea until Brigitte explained that they couldn’t call the building a Chateau because it had no turrets or towers and therefore had to remain a simple Manoir. She did show Charles her plans for the future and he did promise to hurry along the process of finding them some funding from the Trust.

A month before the vendange, the police had a breakthrough. They had been puzzled by the fact that a considerable quantity of fine wines had disappeared with no record or trace since the last stock take. These were mainly fine wines that Duval had bought from other estates in France as a future investment. There were stocks of various Saint Emilion vintages, thousands of bottles of Chateau Margaux, another stock of Chateau Neuf du Pape and many more. Marcel insisted that they were sold off by Duval a long time ago and since they weren’t produced on the estate, they didn’t appear on the local accounts. With more investigation and pressure on Marcel, he confessed that they were in fact stored elsewhere and that the former Accountant had the records. The Accountant professed he had done no wrong and since he had lost the account, he admitted he was in no hurry to part with that knowledge and it was up to the auditors and new Accountants to uncover. He explained that it was Marcel’s request to move the wines to make way for the new seasons’ stock. The police took a dim view of this admission and the poor man spent a number of days in custody until he admitted to some underhand methods, that he and the former Estate Lawyer had devised.

The Accountant and Lawyer persuaded Marcel, with a juicy carrot, to run down the reputation of the vineyard and blame it on the absent American owners. This would devalue the estate so that they could purchase it cheaply. The carrot for Marcel was that he could invest in the new vineyard and have a share in it, as well as being the Manager. Marcel had earmarked his large bonus for the investment but got greedy for more so he sold off a lot of the stock without recording it in the ledger, hence the discrepancy in the accounts. The disclosure of this scandal was a bombshell for the District. The estate owners were up in arms and all wanted special audits and investigations of their Accountants and Managers. The only people gleeful from this turn of events were the Auditors, who were in great demand. All this commotion didn’t do one jot to help Blanco’s case, only to enlighten him why Marcel’s actions had impacted on the reputation of his Estate. At least he was now allowed some sympathy, but sympathy alone was not going to pay his bills. The Commissioner for the Courts admitted that the legal process would take years and Blanco’s caves could be sealed off for a number of years yet.

The harvest that season was good, not exceptional but the owners at least went around with a smile on their faces. With the additional attention that Blanco had expounded on his soil, his grapes were the best ever on the estate for some time. It wasn’t a great vintage year but Hubert assured Blanco that he should lay down some of his wines to mature and increase in value. This was a detriment to the Cooperative because Hubert had now become a volume supplier and could compete for larger contracts. He managed to persuade Henry to forgo on his previous year’s mediocre production and the Cooperative would sell his stock on under its own banner and not impact on Henry’s reputation. This also proved advantageous to Blanco who was able to lay part of his new stock in Henry’s vacated caves. Celebrations were held that year and again Blanco’s reputation edged upwards as a vine grower. On the strength of this success, Blanco invested even more cash and effort into improving his soils by modern methods and Margot at the soil testing institute, basked in the glory. Even Henry had persuaded his father for some soil tests to be carried out in part of the vineyard where the yields were the lowest. Another high spot was that Margot and Henry announced their engagement. A celebration dinner was held at the newly restored dining room at the Manoir which gave Brigitte the idea of expanding her business into providing banquets, weddings and Company dinners.

As time went by their financial position was worsening by the minute with Blanco relying on extended credit from their suppliers and huge overdrafts from their bank. Brigitte’s businesses were doing well and she was getting more and more commissions in the area to refurbish large estate Chateaus and Manoirs but her overall investment were greater than their income and there were no signs of the police allowing them access to their cave. By now Blanco was employing five fulltime workers on the vineyard and Brigitte had to employ two assistants on her design business and six staff for her guest house and catering elements. A further two part-time gardeners were needed to keep the place looking spick and span. Joseph and his son were permanently at work on the roof, shutters and other maintenance jobs, whilst a local builder and labourer were constantly at work on reconstruction of the interior and renovations demanded by Brigitte. All this labour and materials had to be paid for. More rooms were let out as show rooms to two antique dealers, a replica furniture maker, a floor covering salesman and a lady selling furnishing fabrics. Brigitte insisted that the rooms were fully decorated before the new tenants moved in, to show off her taste and skills. That meant it would be some time before the rents covered her initial outlay.

To get them out of the financial crisis Blanco decided to sell his stock of wines held by Henry in his caves. On one of Wilkins’ regular calls, Blanco outlined his plans for the sale, moaning that he had to forgo the value increase of his stock but there was no other way out of the mess. They had to invest now to reap the benefits in the future and in the meantime, they were hamstrung by the slowness of the judicial processes. Wilkins promised to call the Duval family in Denverand see what the position was on the loan that had been offered. He called back that evening with an interesting proposition. One of the family had a major stake in a hotel chain and was interested in buying Blanco’s current available stock if it was labelled as ‘Chateau Duval’ with an interesting label in French and a second label in English giving some interesting background to the ‘family’ estate. After much discussion with Brigitte, and Henry, Blanco shipped over some cases to Denver as samples with an impressive label on the front showing the Duval Chateau as envisaged by Brigitte and a lengthy descriptive label on the back that mentioned ‘family’ owned, ‘exclusively bottled for the Excel Hotel chain’ and a location map which showed the Chateau’s close proximity to Saint Emilion.  The order came immediately for the full stock at the agreed price, with possible repeat orders the following season. Blanco was worried that the fictitious labelling might cause him some trouble with the local Association and the Appellation Controlee Board. Henry assured him that this was common practise in the area to sell off inferior wines under a different label to preserve the good name and reputation of the estate. This got Blanco’s mind working overtime and he went around the local large growers and accumulated a stock of sample cases which he sent over to his American contact, all labelled with the new Duval insignia. Blanco realised that he couldn’t provide the quantity of wines the hotel chain required from his own estate on a regular basis but he could supply them by including other producers, taking a nice commission for himself.

The police administrators finally relented and were persuaded to free up the winery, if not the offices and cave, which were locked and barred as evidence for the prosecution. Blanco was able to auction off the equipment in there which enabled him to contract the stone masons to carve out a new entrance to his cave, from the quarry. This was an opportunity for the masons to fashion the new green stone into arches and lintels to adorn the new doors and windows. With much discussion Brigitte managed to persuade Blanco to invest his newfound money into extending the Manoir and converting it into a Chateau as planned by building towers at each end. These would be pure shells for the moment, built out of blocks, steel and concrete, faced with thin layers of their own local stone. The open windows would be blocked by shutters and the only true structures would be the massive entrance doors, made up by Joseph and his son. The roof and spires would be made out of concrete rather than timber and cased in Chinese slate. To all intense and purpose, from the outside, it would appear to have been built by traditional methods. They could then truly call themselves a Chateau.

Blanco had long since been ousted from his study which had been converted to a gracious public salon. He took up office in a dusty room at the other end of the building and the masons and Joseph, the carpenter, had set up their shop in the old winery. The upstairs of the building was still largely untouched apart from their own original quarters that had at one time housed old Duval. The ground floor was slowly being refurbished, redeveloped into business units that would bring in some much-needed revenues. His new winery building was finished and the equipment supplier was now installing the vast array of huge stainless steel tanks and vats with piping, pumps and valves, all computer controlled. It was beginning to look more like an oil refinery than a winery.

Harold Duval, proudly called ‘Hog’ for some unknown reason, flew over to meet Blanco to discuss his proposal for supplying French wines to the American market. A dinner was held for his occasion and he was introduced to the local large and small estate owners and important managers. He was duly impressed and a deal was struck. Blanco was to supply Hog with a range of Bordeaux wines under the ‘Chateau Duval’ label and Blanco was to guarantee supply. The local estates were keen to clear their stocks of unexceptional wines and convert them into hard cash. This project again was against local tradition but immediate cash spoke louder than sentiment. Blanco was again feted for his business acumen and his own reputation soared, but as yet, not the value of his stock of wines, neatly sealed in his cellar. To his disbelief and despair, he was presented by a cave in Libourne with an enormous bill for storage of the stock of fine wines removed by the Accountant and Lawyer that was still held by the police as evidence. Until he could convert his locked-up stock into cash he would be in constant debt to the bank.

His foray into constructing his own winery was playing on his mind. For two seasons and probably a third, he had most successfully had his wine made and bottled by the local Cooperative. Now he was embarking on an expensive project to build up his own winery to process his own grapes and this didn’t sit comfortably with Blanco. He was of the opinion that he was following tradition, feeding his own ego, in having his own plant. He called in Hubert to console him and reassure him that he was doing the right thing.

“Blanco, don’t beat yourself up so. Yes, I believe you have been rash in spending so much but under the circumstances what else could you do?”

“Easy, I could have stayed with the Cooperative.”

“You made a brave decision there Blanco and got away with it so far.”

“It wasn’t brave Hubert, it was the only option I had.”

“Maybe, but in general Cooperatives are not held in high regard by the wine makers. They use us only as a stop gap and therefore we can’t rely on regular supplies of raw materials and generally we produce only mediocre wines because that’s all the grapes we get. Therefore our reputation suffers.”

“Yes but the locals couldn’t do without you. Where would they get that service without major investment?”

“True, but the nature of the Cooperatives precludes good management. They are run by Committees made up of locals who are frightened to invest in equipment and even more frightened to get good managers.”

“But you have had a good run there, free from intervention Hubert, haven’t you?”

“Circumstances Blanco. They got me on the cheap and fortunately for me they were all involved with local squabbles and allowed me a free hand. You then came along and suddenly gave me a boost and the results suddenly improved with everyone benefiting.”

“Surely they will see that as the way forward Hubert.”

“You don’t know people Blanco. Not these people. The Committee met last month without me and I heard on the grape vine that I’m getting too big for my boots. They want to trim my influence and trim my bonus.”

“That sounds a bit unfair Hubert. What are you going to do?”

“Well, I’m going to bide my time. This position is only a stepping stone for me. I’m waiting for an offer from a big house to manage their production, now that my reputation is secure, thanks to you Blanco.”

“I can’t offer you a job here Hubert, however much I would like to. I couldn’t pay you for the moment.”

“Thanks for the thought, Blanco but I’m looking for something with a big reputation nearby, if you understand my meaning. That doesn’t necessarily mean that they produce better wines than you, it’s just that they have a better reputation for fine wines, which fetch a higher price and therefore with more profit there is ample room for investment. Don’t look so glum Blanco, your time will come.”

“The real question I have for you Hubert is have I made the right decision to invest such huge sums?”

“If I go tomorrow and the Cooperative appoint an idiot, then you would be really screwed Blanco. I never doubted your intentions with the Cooperative as stop gap measure to see you through a crisis. I can only thank the legal system we have in Francefor forcing you onto me. I helped you out and you helped me in my ambitions for the future.”

“How can I stop them appointing an idiot, Hubert?”

“Look Blanco, I’ve heard about your business exploits recently. You have the ear of some influential growers around here. Get them together and have yourselves appointed onto the Committee and oust some of the current crop of fuddy-duddies there. That would make a difference and with your combined support the Cooperative would flourish and provide the community with the service it needs and deserves.”

“How can I get on the Committee Hubert? Be reasonable! I’ve only been here a few years; my estate is under investigation and I’m a bloody Englishman to boot.”

“There are annual elections and half the Committee have to stand down and some will have to retire. You guys could get controlling majority with ease. I have already put you forward to general approval since you have done so much for us. If you get Henry and others to put up, the locals will vote for you out of respect, tradition and fear for the gentry.”

“I thought it would be the other way around?”

“No, the French like to see powerful people in charge. Makes them comfortable and they will listen rather than just squabble amongst themselves. If you guys do that then I might just consider staying on for a few more years. This would breed success and my reputation will gain a few notches.”

“You all seem to be hide-bound by this word ‘Reputation’ Hubert?”

“Reputation is the ‘currency’ of the wine region Blanco. With your reputation intact, you would be a wealth man today Blanco and you wouldn’t be speaking to me. I doubt if you would even know my name, and you certainly wouldn’t be inviting me and my wife to dinner.”

“You’re over harsh Hubert. Yes, things might have been different but I wouldn’t ignore you or the other people around here.”

“That may be the English way Blanco but the French way is very different. On the face of it they may be all nice and welcoming but tell me how many invitations to dinner have you had and how many have actually happened.”

“Put like that, I can see your point but as this case developed, I suppose we were seen as pariahs and people were reluctant to invite us.”

“Again, you are just too kind Blanco. The social system is highly engrained in France. It’s almost as bad as the caste system in India. Open your eyes Blanco.”

“OK, where do I fit in then?”

“You don’t and people can’t make up their minds about you around here. They are a bit scared of you in that you speak the local lingo as well as they do but you are a foreigner in their midst. You own a huge estate and that puts you on a pedestal.”

“Even though I am broke and penniless?”

“Ah, but the Banks have supported you and that is a signal to the masses, that you must be kosher and have some worth. You must know how conservative the Banks are in France.”

“To sum it up Hubert, you think I should continue on my chosen path and make a takeover bid for the Cooperative.”

“Let’s drink to that Blanco, with Henry as Chairman or President as they like to call themselves around here and you can be the Vice President. They always have a good dinner after their meetings, ensures a good turn out. Tell Brigitte to get in touch with the current President and suggest they have their next dinner here. I know that they are curious as hell to give this place a once over, and it will be good for her business.”

Hog flew over again, bringing his family for an extended vacation in Europe. The family were so pleased that there were English speakers on site, they decided to stay at the Manoir a full week rather than go onto Parisafter a few days. Blanco brought in the large contingent of local producers and over dinner, they thrashed out a further deal. Hog was so taken by having his ‘own’ family vineyard and label that he wanted to extend the marketing on the Duval name and supply exclusive wine shop chains and fine wine clubs, particularly to ones selling their wares on the web. He told them that his American customers liked the idea of drinking French wine that had a touch of Americain it. Many of his diners at home wanted to take the empty bottle home as a souvenir. This prompted him to expand the volume and range and he was pleased that the producers had found a solution to his volume problem and guaranteeing supplies. Each month Blanco would arrange to ship a large consignment of mixed wines, under the Duval label and provide some interesting snippets about the region and the producers, to be printed on leaflets and on secondary labels on the actual bottles. Brigitte undertook to provide the design expertise and intersperse French words in the dialogue where possible to give a local twist. After dinner, Blanco and Henry nobbled some of his neighbours and enticed them into his scheme of taking over the Cooperative Committee. The turning point for most was that the Cooperative would be the focus of sales to Hog and the American market and they needed to influence the decisions and oust some of the traditional dead wood.

Blanco’s third harvest of grapes was even a greater success then previous year. The grapes were of consistent and uniform quality throughout his field and he had beaten the bogey of the Terrior. Again, the year couldn’t be considered as vintage but the wines were expected to be of a fine quality. Blanco didn’t even consider laying more than a few thousand bottles down for domestic consumption and selling the rest on to Hog to keep his own debts in check. This was the first year that he actually turned half of his harvest into wine on his own premises using his own equipment. The other half was processed by the Cooperative of which he was now the Vice President and Henry, the President. Blanco’s equipment and process worked efficiently and he produced a quality product, equal to that of the Cooperative, using the same grapes. The following season he would process a greater percentage of his crop although the consortium of growers under his direction, had guaranteed a defined quantity of their harvest each year would go to be processed centrally, to maintain the efficiency of the Cooperative plant. The status of the Cooperative had risen and they were able to sell their wines at a higher yield which benefited the smaller operators who previously had been uncertain of their income.

It was only in the fourth year of the pair arriving at the Manoir that they were able to get a date for access to their cave and their stock of fine wines. The prolonged case was settled. Marcel got a harsh custodial sentence for stealing his owner’s stock, more as an example to other managers and the Accountant and Lawyer were heavily fined. That seemed to put an end to the episode and now Blanco could take stock of his assets and release some much-needed capital. The fine wines were all sold at auction in Baltimore at Hog’s insistence and achieved a higher price than expected. Brigitte’s businesses were doing well and providing a steady income but she had decided to call a moratorium on expansion and any further developments, quite wisely thought Blanco, until their new baby was at least a year old or more. Blanco busied himself as a wine trader, producer and a soil specialist who could dispel the theory that the Terrior couldn’t be altered. He still had lots of work to do to improve the reputation of the now Chateau Duval and that would take many seasons of producing good grape yields and fine wines. This judgement was out of his hands but a good outcome would significantly improve the yield on the wines laid down by old Duval and beneficial impact on his family wealth.

He got a call that the local Commissioner of Police was going to pay him a visit and he would like Blanco and his wife Brigitte to be present.

“I’m not sure that you are aware Monsieur and Madam that we have been using your case for educational purposes,” said Commissioner Roman, looking rather grave.

“I have noticed some sporadic activity from time to time and have had some requests for refreshments and lunches” added Brigitte “I thought it was just part of the legal process.”

“You have been very kind Madam. We don’t often get to handle cases like yours and have caves sealed off by the police.”

“Well, we don’t mind do we Brigitte? Particularly if it helps to speed up the process?”

“I don’t think it will do that but the Chief at the Police Academywas keen to get his students in here to study a real live case. There were some interesting elements uncovered and a few questions unanswered.”

“What do you mean by questions unanswered?” asked Brigitte pouring out the coffee.

“The purchase of this vineyard by the former Accountant and Lawyer didn’t ring true even though they were both involved in some wrongdoings with covering up the accounts. Marcel’s contribution financially was too small to be pertinent.”

“So, what are you getting at Roman?” asked Blanco. “Is there somebody else involved?”

“Let me explain what we have found and how we discovered these things. We put two teams of students on this same case as a sort of competition. They had the same information and access to the caves and documentation. They weren’t allowed to interview any person or contact anybody outside the Police team.”

“And what did they find?” asked Brigitte inquisitively.

“Let me unfold the story a little until we get to the important finds. The students realised that this was a one-off opportunity to tackle a real case which hadn’t yet come to final conclusion so took it on themselves to go one further than the old hands. This is something that their tutors encouraged, to hone their investigative powers.”

“So what did they come up with?” asked Blanco.

“Both teams went over the old stuff until they were totally familiar with the case and then both went off at a tangent. One group investigated the cave and the other group took up the case of the fine wines. Now Monsieur Blanco please confirm to me that you use an electric truck to move your stock in the cave?”

“Correct Roman. The last owner Mr. Duval didn’t like the smell of diesel in the caves so he purchased a couple of electric, battery driven tractors which pulled the wine trolleys.”

“Thank you, Monsieur Blanco, that’s what we knew but the team found evidence of a diesel truck being used down there recently.”

“Marcel could have rented one?”

“We have recently questioned our unfortunate Marcel and he says he only used the electric trucks and there was no record in the accounts of renting a diesel one.”

“So why do you suspect that a diesel truck was used and how did it get there and why?” asked Blanco rather impatiently.

“I shall get to that. The team spotted drips of gasoil on the roads and couldn’t explain them so one of the students drew up a distribution pattern and came up with some pointers. We know where the truck was used and how it got there. Now before I disclose more can I ask you another question? The usual practise in most caves is to store the bottles up to a certain height and no more. That is not to the very top of the bay.”

“That’s what was practised here. I remember Duval telling me that each wall contained a set number of bottles so it was easy to check the stock. You can see how many walls there are behind by peering over.”

“OK, so if you came across a bay that had been stacked to the very top, what would you make of it Monsieur Blanco?”

“In the current situation, I would be suspicious and want to find out why and what was behind the wall. What was it hiding?”

“We asked Marcel the same question and he had a simple answer. The bay was the farthest from the entrance and he just filled it up with a small quantity of stock he had, using up a nearer bay. He told the labourers to just make a neat job and stack to the top. The boards confirmed exactly what was there. There was no suspicion attached.”

“So why are you so interested in that bay?”

“The main investigators hadn’t picked up on the significance of this bay or the diesel on the floor but they were connected. Let me go off on another tangent. Mr. Duval was obviously very wealthy and a major investor in fine wines. He bought and sold lots of French wines and made lots of money from that activity apart from producing his own good wines here. The other group of students investigated this particular area of his activities and have come up with a result that your auditors and the police investigators missed.”

“And what was that and how does it affect the case?” asked Blanco moving to the edge of his seat.

“Are you aware that Mr. Duval kept two accounts of his fine wine dealing, one book for the very expensive vintages which he kept and one for his day to day dealings? In our initial investigation we didn’t pick up on this and didn’t uncover this ledger but our eager beaver students questioned this and tried to reconcile the purchases with the sales and couldn’t make a match.”

“Does that tell us that there is some other stock of wine that hasn’t been discovered? It could have been sold by now?” asked Blanco.

“Our students checked with all the fine wine auction houses and they would have known if such a stock had come up for sale, anywhere in the world. This was top vintage and buyers would be clamouring for it. It wouldn’t be sold privately.”

“So where is this stock of fine wine? Is it being stored elsewhere?” asked Brigitte eagerly.

“Correct. We know the location of the stock and we have in our possession the ledger and all is intact.”

“Roman, you are playing us like a fat trout. Please tell us everything.”

“Before you get too excited, I wanted to describe the methodology of our investigations. It soon became clear that we had a further case to investigate and had to call off our students and bring in more experienced investigators. Plus I must admit we had to chastise our original team for missing the obvious. Your Auditors don’t come out very well either and you may be in a position to claim substantial compensation from them. By putting the students’ findings together we discovered the true essence of the plot and who was actually behind the scheme to defraud the estate.”

“And who was that Roman? I thought the old Accountant and Lawyer were behind it?”

“They were but we were puzzled by the fact that between them they didn’t have the security to purchase this estate, however much the price was depressed. There must be other people behind them but they wouldn’t confess and in fact their defence was that they couldn’t raise such an amount themselves, so they were convicted on a lesser charge.”

“So do you know who these people are Roman?”

“Yes, I do and it’s only one person. This is a delicate matter so let me continue. We knew the special wines were removed from the cave and hidden somewhere, not in public storage. We checked with all the estates that have space. The volume suggests that a number of trucks would have been used. We have checked with all the hauliers and they have no record of any such activity in the area in the last seven years. We then checked with the masons for their records of work on estates. Owners often enlarging their storage. There was quite a few and we came across records where the owners have accidentally broached into a neighbour’s network. In fact, Marcel and your neighbour confirmed that this actually happened a number of years ago but was bricked up.”

“I don’t like the sound of this Roman. Where is this leading?”

“I agree it is a delicate situation. Very unfortunate for the police but fortunate for the outcome. Our students took the matter into their own hands and broke down the wall behind the barrier of bottles. They shouldn’t have done that next stage without a warrant but they did. They explored the caves behind and found your missing stock, again hidden behind an unusual wall of bottles. The drips of oil on the roadways led them directly to it.”

“If I understand this correctly Commissioner, it was my friend and neighbour Henry who was behind all this deception,” asked Blanco in despair.

“I’m afraid to tell you, that is correct! Your neighbour is the only one with a large enough security of his own estate to be able to afford the purchase and no doubt at some later stage some of his costs would be offset by sale of the Duval’s fine wines.”

“Oh dear, what a mess! I don’t suppose he would have known at the time that I would be taking over the estate. What would have happened if you hadn’t let loose your students Roman?”

“Life would have gone on but your friend and neighbour would have had a major problem with his conscience. I just left him earlier looking very sorry for himself. He is in custody and doesn’t want to be bailed out. We are having him watched day and night. I think it would not be wise of you to visit him or be in contact with him for the moment. Let him stew in his own thoughts for a while. The whole case will be retried and all the people involved will be subject to some heavy punishment for their part, I can assure you. I had to divulge the background to you carefully so that you had the whole story. I’m afraid that your caves and wine stock will be impounded until the new trial is all over and that could take a few more years.”