Solomon’S Vineyard: The Diary of an Accidental Vigneron

By Roger Dixon and Sophie Woollven

This is the Volume 1 of the book Solomons Vineyard, The Diary of an Accidental Vigneron.

Andrew Solomon , a young bank clerk, is let go in the course of the banks reorganization, whereupon his wife leaves him for a wealthy lover. These are both almost immediately killed in a car crash however and Andrew finds himself, with both the compensation from the bank and his wifes insurance, a rich man. He takes a Mediterranean cruise to get away from it all but falls off the boat one night and is rescued by some French fishermen. He buys a small car, and on the drive home stops at a small town in thes Avergne and finds himself looking at a notice in an Estate Agents window: For sale established riverside B&B with small vineyard.

He is hugely attracted to the idea also to Sabine, the young Eastate Agent, and with the help of her uncle Gabriel puts his considerable funds into developing the Vineyard and making their own wine instead of sending the grapes to the local co-operative, which incurs the growing hostility of some of the neighbours ; Geoges Cortou, President of the Co-op ,in particular. Despite this, the reputation of the Vineyard contines to grow until some decide they have to get rid of the English at all costs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jan 9, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546285168

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

1965

Andrew Solomon had a row with his wife Susan the night he came back from the bank where he was assistant manager to say the staff had been told the branch was to close and that only some would be relocated. They were to be interviewed about that individually the following day and he was fairly confident he would be relocated. But Susan did not share his optimism. She had a much better job with a merchant bank in the City and had been disappointed that her husband had been passed over when he should have been promoted two years ago and blamed him for not being forceful enough. But the young graduate she had married eight years previously and who had done so well in his exams had failed to live up to that early promise.

‘The fact of the matter is you just don’t assert yourself’ she told him. ‘You are just too nice Andrew - with everybody!’

‘But I thought you liked me because I was nice’ Andrew had protested.

‘There’s nice and nice! You just let people walk all over you!’

It was true that on several occasions he had been reprimanded for being too lenient with customers’

‘You believe anyone who tells you a sob story’ Susan had scolded. ‘And You never seem to get any of the bonuses I keep reading about’.

‘They don’t give them to people like us…’ he began.

‘People like you, you mean! Why don’t you ask? You really are the most exasperating man!’

‘I’m lucky to still have a job. They’ve let a lot of people go’

‘You talk about starting a family’ his wife went on relentlessly. ‘Where would we be if I didn’t go out to work?’

‘We could manage’.

I don’t want to just manage Andrew. I want to have a life before it’s too late’

‘You seem to be enjoying yourself’

‘Because I go out with friends after work? It’s called net-working. How do you think I got the job I’m in?’

‘I’ve no idea’

‘And that just about sums you up!’

‘They had slept in separate rooms and the following day things were no better.

She was ready to leave before him.

‘Aren’t you going to wish me luck?’ he asked just before she closed the front door.

‘What for?’ Susan paused with the door half open.

‘You know, the interview this afternoon’.

‘Oh, that. I suppose so. Good luck. By the way I have decided to stay up overnight with Leslie at her flat’

‘You seem to be get on well with Leslie’

‘Don’t start that again!’ The door closed behind her.

He heard the car back out of the drive. She had a smart BMW which she left at the station.

He never saw her again. But he was not to know that at the time.

‘Thank you, Andrew. Please sit down,’

He sat in the chair in front of the desk while Mr George, the Manager turned to a large man, seemingly about ten years younger than Andrew himself who was sitting beside him.

‘This is Andrew Solomon, our assistant manager. He has been with the branch longer than most of us’ He made it sound like an apology, then turned back to Andrew. ‘And this is Simon Gavin from Head office, Andrew, who is helping us with our assessments.’ Gavin nodded seriously as Andrew’s boss continued. ‘Firstly, I have some good news. As you know we are closing a number of branches in the interest of efficiency, but I am pleased to say that you are to be offered re-location.’

‘To Coulsdon?’ Coulsdon was only a short distance away

‘No I’m afraid not’

‘Coulsdon is already fully staffed’. Gavin spoke for the first time and Andrew was surprised to hear such a high pitched voice emanating from someone who obviously did not hesitate to fill his large frame daily with a plentiful supply of goodies.

Andrew turned to him ‘May I ask where, then?’ he asked politely.

George shifted uneasily in his chair, but Gavin spoke for him.

‘Bristol’

‘Bristol!’

‘We realise it will mean moving house’ George began but Andrew interrupted him.

‘Bristol is out of the question!’ he said with unexpected force.

‘The Bank would be prepared to contribute to the cost’

‘It’s not that. My wife works in the City’

‘Could she not get a job in Bristol, it’s a very…’

‘Not like the one she’s got.’ Andrew insisted ‘She’s already been given shares and will probably end up a director’

‘I see’ The Manager nodded sympathetically.

‘It would have to be within commuting distance.’

‘There are no such positions available’ Gavin trilled. ‘It’s take it or leave it’

‘Then what’s the alternative?’

‘Redundancy, I’m afraid’ his boss said more gently.

‘I see’

‘We are having to cut back everywhere’ Gavin said impatiently. ‘I can tell you, if it had not been for Mr George here speaking so highly for you, you would not have been offered the Bristol position’

Andrew looked at his boss and nodded appreciatively. Then he said ‘Thank you for that. But I’m sorry’

The other nodded in return. ‘You should be able to find something else. How old are you?’

‘Thirty five’

‘Really’

‘You look older’ Gavin put in unhelpfully.

After a few seconds, Andrew rose to his feet. ‘Well, that’s that, then.’

‘I’m afraid so’

‘Thank you anyway’

‘I’m off to Purley for my sins!’. George forced a smile as he stood up, but the fat man remained seated.

‘There are some places, then’ Andrew said

‘Just a few’

‘Quite!’

He turned for the door.

‘Our people will be in touch regarding the numbers’ Gavin called after him as he opened the door.

Andrew paused and looked back.

‘Numbers?’

‘Compensation’ George explained.

‘Oh. Yes’

‘Won’t be as much as if you’d carried on a few years, I’m afraid’ George admitted.

‘Right’ He went out, but just before the door closed he heard Gavin say: ‘Just as well. we’ve too many hacks!’

Resisting the temptation to go back and empty the fat man’s coffee into his lap, Andrew went back to his desk but spent most of the rest of the afternoon worrying how he was going to break it to Susan. Who would give him hell, no doubt.

As she had told him, Susan did not come home that night so he had an extra day to think how he was going to break the news.

He was called back into the Manager’s Office mid-morning the following day. Gavin had thankfully returned to the loftier realms of head office and Mr George immediately invited Andrew to sit down.

‘I expect you’ve been giving a lot of thought to yesterday’ he began affably. ‘Try not to take too much notice of people like Mr Gavin. I think HO deliberately choose cold fish to do their dirty work!’

Andrew smiled, and when George saw he was not going to say anything, he cleared his throat and went on ‘Anyway, I expect you’ve had a chat with your wife.’

‘No, actually’

‘Oh. Any particular reason? Not that it’s really any business of mine’

‘She was out’ Andrew told him

‘Ah!’ The Manager nodded, digesting this information then went on ‘That’s a pity. The Bank is prepared to give you the opportunity to change your mind’

‘About going to Bristol?’

‘Yes’

Andrew shook his head.

‘That’s very kind. But there is no chance she would agree’

‘I see’

‘Not with her job’

‘I understand. Well we will be sorry to lose you’

Andrew did not refer to what he had heard Gavin say as he left after the interview yesterday, and the interview moved to the question of his redundancy pay. George told him the bank were prepared to offer eleven thousand pounds providing he was willing to sign an indemnity absolving them of any further obligation to him and, of course binding him to observe total confidentiality regarding the bank and its customers in future. The Manager picked up the form which had been lying on his desk. If he would like to sign it now the money would be transferred to him by the end of the month.

‘Of course, you can take it away and think about it’ George added reluctantly.

Andrew hesitated. But It was going to be bad enough telling Susan he had lost his job without endless argument about whether or not he should sign the form.

Back in his office Andrew sat and looked out of the window.

He supposed the offer was not ungenerous - not that Susan would think so. ‘Insulting!’ he could hear her saying. But either way, it would not last long and he would have to start looking for something pretty soon. The trouble was what, exactly? The only thing he knew anything about was banking - and apparently, he wasn’t very good at that. At least some of his customers would probably miss him. Perhaps one of those would give him a job? Or might the bank then accuse him of favouring a customer with just such an object in mind?

Andrew sighed as he thought about his customers, many of whom he looked on as friends. What about them? Where were they to go? He didn’t suppose the bank gave a toss about any of those who would find the journey to Coulsdon difficult. He remembered the old clerk under whom he was placed when he first joined. One of the first things he had taught him was that banking was not just about money but service.

He shook his head. ‘Try telling that to them up in London nowadays!’

He tried to do some work during the rest of the afternoon, but they had not told him how long it was before he was to go. Perhaps he should go back and ask - but decided to leave it until Monday and did a cross word until it was time to go home.

When he got back, he poured himself a stiff drink, then turned on the television.

Susan normally did the shopping at the week-end, but as he usually got in first, it was he, more often than not who started the dinner. But this evening he sat and gazed at the screen without taking much of it in. When she got back, he would suggest going out for a meal, which normally put her in a good mood and he might be able to tell her what had happened without having a row. She might even be pleased. He knew she had come to hate where he worked; maybe a new job might even see a new beginning between the two of them as well.

He waited until past nine, then went to the desk where he found Leslie’s number and gave her a call, but all he got was her answer machine.

He had just put down the phone again when he heard the door bell. She must have forgotten her key. But when he opened the door there were two policemen standing there.

‘Mr Solomon?’

Andrew nodded frowning.

‘May we come in?’

‘What about?’

‘Please, let’s go inside’

After a moment’s hesitation he nodded and stood to one side to let them.

‘Shall we go into the living room?’ he said uncertainly closing the door, but the one who seemed the senior shook his head.

‘That will not be necessary’ he said quietly. ‘I am afraid we have some very bad news, Mr Solomon’

Andrew stared at him.

‘Your wife has been killed in a motor accident.’

‘Killed?’

‘Please accept our sympathy. But I’m afraid I am going to have to ask you to come with us’

‘What for?’ Andrew finally managed still staring at the policeman. This could not be happening. It was like one of those out of body experiences you read about - where you look down on yourself from the ceiling.

‘We need you to identify her body’ The younger one spoke for the first time and Andrew turned to him.

‘Unless you would prefer to leave it until tomorrow’ the first one said sympathetically. ‘We know what a shock this must be’

After a moment Andrew shook his head. ‘No. I must go to her’ he said firmly.

And so the out of body experience continued. He sat in the police car which drove him to St Thomas’ hospital where he was then led to the morgue where the bodies of three recently admitted fatalities lay on narrow tables covered by green sheets awaiting identification.

He had no difficulty in recognising his wife despite a massive injury to her skull, which must have killed her instantly

The sheet on the adjoining table was then removed and he was asked if he could identify the other passenger of the car Susan had been in.

He was shown the body of a man about his own age who looked vaguely familiar - probably someone from her firm he might have been introduced to at one of their Christmas parties. But he had no idea who he was.

He learned several days later that the car they were travelling in was hit sideways and at speed by a Bentley driven by a man who had proved to have been drinking and was well over the limit but who had, amazingly, suffered only a bruised face. At the trial, he pleaded guilty to driving without due care and attention and was banned from driving for five years. On advice, Andrew left the insurance companies to agree the compensation to which he was informed he was entitled together with the widow of the other occupant of the car, who was confirmed to have been be a member of Susan’s firm. He only met the widow once. She cornered him in a corridor at the inquest before the trial and tearfully demanded to know why he had allowed his wife to seduce her husband.

Later, Susan’s friend Leslie confirmed that Susan had been having an affair with Peter for almost a year. She did not know where they used to meet; probably at some hotel as Susan had asked her at the beginning if they could use her apartment and she had told her she did not want anything to do with it. She hoped Andrew would understand that although she disapproved of what was happening and told her so, she did not feel it would help anyone to betray her friend and had hoped that in time the infatuation would burn itself out and she would come to her senses without anyone else getting hurt.

Andrew rang his elder sister Joy, who denied any knowledge of the affair but expressed little surprise. Susan had never been content as long as she had known her. Then she suggested he treated himself to a long holiday seeing he had some money - possibly a cruise where he could try put it out of his mind for a while and get to meet people.

Although he had yet to receive anything from the compensation, Andrew settled his affairs at the bank who were as good as their word and paid him the redundancy money in time for him to book a two week Mediterranean cruise starting from Southampton.

He closed up the house and gave a key to one of his neighbours who promised to water the plants and keep their eye on it.

CHAPTER TWO

Andrew had not been on a cruise before because, for all her determination, his wife had only to put one foot on a gang plank to start feeling sick. For the same reason, this had inhibited trips abroad when they were younger

It was late September by the time he booked, but on the advice of Joy he checked the weather conditions in the ‘Med’ and the places the ship was due to visit and these had been encouraging: it seemed there would still be plenty of sun, although not as hot as mid-summer, but this suited him. Also, the summer crowds would have gone and they would be able to enjoy such places as Venice and Athens without being elbowed by Tourists. What he did not check, and the young travel agent, who flirted with him a little - saying she wished she was going with him - did not mention, was that as the ship left from Southampton, they would be sailing down to Gibraltar through the Bay of Biscay, notoriously rough at this time of year before entering the Mediterranean,.

Andrew was pleased with the cabin he had been allotted and the steward was very attentive helping him settle in and asked to be called Mac.

While helping him to unpack, Mac went on to explain that although formal dress was expected at dinner in the first class dining room, this never applied on the first night so that the ladies had time to sort out their wardrobes.

Andrew opted for the first sitting, which was as well because it was the last meal he wanted to eat for three days. As they were sitting down before the liner had even moved out of the Solent into the Channel, the ship’s stabilisers started to thrum gently as they began what was to prove an increasingly hard battle to keep the ship on an even keel. But who was to know that then!

He found himself sitting with the Ship’s purser, three married couples and a single woman, probably a little older than himself, a recent widow she told him and who admitted she had been more or less been pushed on board by her two grown-up children in the hope that she could put what had happened behind her.

They sat together in one of the lounges after the meal over a brandy. ‘Stella’ was attractive, and seemed very nice. She assured him with a twinkle in her eye that he needn’t worry, she was not on the lookout for a romance, but would be happy to chaperone him if needed as there were obviously quite a few ladies on board of ‘a certain age’ who would be only too happy to take him in tow.

They laughed together and Andrew felt very comfortable -even to confiding a little of his recent past. Stella told him she had had a wonderful relationship with her husband and had been devastated when he literally dropped dead beside her on the tennis court.

The boat by this time had started to move a lot more, and after a second brandy they agreed that as neither of them were particularly brilliant sailors they would go to their cabins and hope to meet up in the morning for breakfast.

It never happened.

The sea grew progressively wilder as the ship continued out into the Atlantic and Andrew spent the next two days confined to his cabin being ministered to by Mac. But when he was woken up by him on the third morning he realised he had actually slept quite well and glad to have the cup of tea Mac put on the bedside table. He told him they had turned past Gibraltar in the night and the weather was now set fair.

Andrew drank the tea and got up as soon as Mac had gone, realising he was famished.

Stella was already at breakfast and they agreed to spend the day together. The liner stopped at Barcelona, which they explored then met again for dinner.

Andrew never knew whether it was the sun or possibly having more to drink than he was used to, but he did not feel at all ready for bed when Stella yawned and said she really was exhausted and hoped he would not mind if she went to her cabin.

He sat in one of the bars by himself with another large brandy wondering what would happen if he knocked on Stella’s door. He even found himself outside, but then lost his nerve and went out on one of the life-boat decks to clear his head.

He watched the lights on shore as the now almost silent ship glided past a few miles away. It was so peaceful, and after a while he climbed up on the lower rail steadying himself with a rope securing one of the life boats for a better view

After he had fallen into the water, he realised it must have been held in place by a quick release knot. It had certainly released him in a hurry! The sea was quite warm and he had always been a fair swimmer, but the dinner jacket was not going to help. When he came up for air, he had the presence of mind to strike out away from the still passing vessel before the propellers sucked him under. He then watched the ship continue on its way. Clearly no one had seen what had happened and he realised that to shout for help was a waste of energy. No one would ever hear him There was nothing for it but to swim ashore.

Feeling strangely calm, he managed to wriggle out of his pants and dinner jacket then set off. He judged the shore line to be about five miles distant and with the lights, at least he knew in which direction.

Andrew had only been swimming for a few minutes however when he saw a small craft approaching slowly with a bright light mounted on the rear. When it was about fifty yards away he realised it was a fishing boat and began to shout.

After what seemed an agonisingly long interval, he heard the sound of the engine drop to a whisper and shortly after found himself being hauled over the side into the bottom of the boat with the rest of the night’s catch.

When they reached a small harbour the local gendarme was woken up. None too pleased, he assumed Andrew was a drunk party goer who had got out of his depth, which Andrew had to admit was not far from the truth, although the details varied somewhat.

Eventually, telephone calls were made to the shipping line, who in turn contacted the ship, and it was not long before they were able to confirm that it appeared that a Mr Solomon, one of their passengers, had not slept in his cabin, and after questioning one of the stewards and a thorough search of the ship, it appeared the man being held in the Gendamerie did appear to be telling the truth.

No one seemed to know the proper procedure for dealing with someone illegally entering the country in such a manner and by now Andrew himself had such a hangover, he hardly cared if the penalty was death. But the Gendarme’s wife bustled in with some old clothes of her husband and persuaded the prisoner to eat a plain croissant and drink some black coffee while the others grappled with the forms which someone had unexpectedly produced insisting that the authorities were bound to require them to be completed.

The skipper of the fishing boat which had rescued Andrew volunteered to accommodate him for a few days while his fate was being decided - this last, not being wholly altruistic as the small crew had agreed there would probably be some kind of reward. They argued amongst themselves whether salvage might apply. In any event, it would be better not to lose sight of their prize.

After breakfast, Andrew felt a lot better and even began to enjoy all the attention. He was told he was in a small town called Collioure, and when he had rested, calls were put through to the British Consulate in Montpellier; the Shipping Company - who denied all responsibility, and the Travel Agent who had made the booking in the first place and who had arranged travel insurance for him The agent admitted she had never handled a similar claim as people did not fall off cruise liners very often, but she was pretty sure the insurance would hold the Shipping Company liable.

The last call was by Andrew to his sister Joy who agreed to transfer some money to the local Credit Agricole bank so he had enough to buy some proper clothes, amongst other things.

She asked him pointedly if he had deliberately jumped then changed his mind and took some convincing until he reminded her how he was always falling out of trees when they were children.

It took some days before a temporary passport arrived from Montpellier and in the mean time, he explored the town, buying what he needed, after which, he borrowed a car belonging to one of his new fishermen friends and drove further afield.

He was sad to leave when the time came for his return. He had made so many friends in such short a time - ‘so much for the English view that all the French were snotty’ he thought to himself, and really meant it when he promised to return. He realised too he would finally have to face the fact of Susan’s infidelity and death without all the distractions that had helped him keep such thoughts at bay since leaving home.

London did not seem like home anymore. It was grey and wet - but it was not just that: during the short time he had spent in Collioure he had felt more alive than he had in years, and on the short flight back had made a decision.

He told Joy who met him at the airport on the way back to her house, where they had agreed he would stay until he ‘felt himself’ that he felt very much ‘himself’ and had definitely decided not to look for a job in London with its recent memories. His sister listened patiently, and did not argue but he knew that expression which clearly said ‘You wait. I bet you’ll soon change your mind!’

It was agreed Andrew would return to his own house after a few days, and which, unbeknown to her, he promptly put up for sale.

He discovered he had acquired a certain fame - or notoriety, depending on which newspaper you read. The Paparazzi visited him and his travel insurance company and the shipping line locked horns over compensation for his brief dip in the Mediterranean with its attendant costs. But it was not long before the estate agents told him they had found a buyer for his house. It was not a good offer. They fully expected him to turn it down and were surprised as well as delighted when he accepted. It meant there was not much change after the mortgage was paid off, but he judged it enough, with the money already received from the bank to give him a new start; and so, with a sigh of relief, he kissed his anxious looking sister and her children goodbye again, and having promised the insurance company that he would keep in touch and come back to give further evidence if needed, he boarded the ferry at Dover with his old car and two hours later left Calais heading south. With an overnight stop, he should be in Collioure by lunch time the following day.

CHAPTER THREE

It was the only advert in the estate agent’s small window in English:

‘For sale owing to illness - established bed and breakfast business with small vineyard. River views.’

Andrew had stopped overnight in a small town where the two rivers, the Lot and the Truyer met. He had gone out for a stroll after dinner and stopped in front of the agent’s window and was immediately intrigued by the combination advertised.

He had had no intention of stopping in Les Deux Damoiselles. But having taken a wrong exit out of the Paris ring road, where he had became flustered by being tooted loudly for going too slowly - then for not signalling as expected - it was not until he was able to stop at a service station and get out his map, that he discovered he was on a road that would take him to Marsailles instead of towards Bordeaux. All was not lost however, as he saw he could cut across country on minor roads if he left the road he was on just south of St Flour, and six hours later, found himself driving west beside the river Truyere.

Stopping for another look at the map, Andrew saw he only had to follow this to where it lost itself in the river Lot and from then onwards until it rejoined the road he was looking for just north of Toulouse, but by then it would be late afternoon, and as he was in no hurry, he decided to stop at the first likely looking hotel.

Having made this decision, and consequently with time to admire the scenery, he dawdled along, becoming progressively more enchanted with the lush beauty of the country bordering the river.

Around six o’clock he stopped at a small hotel overlooking what the owner told him was the ‘confluence’ of the two rivers, and being only the beginning of the season, there were few other guests and he was warmly greeted and shown into a room with ‘river view’ - a feature of the hotel he was told later, then treated to a wonderful supper, which in turn led to the evening stroll and discovery of the agency.

Bisected by the two rivers the town huddled round a narrow central square, with the Marie (Town Hall) at one end and a small medieval church at the other. The two sides were lined with shops and small businesses, now all closed except for a cafe and bar which had a few tables on the pavement outside; but these were for the tourists and currently empty, the regulars preferring to stand at the bar inside so the happenings of the day could be discussed and glasses refilled without interruption. Andrew thought It was everything holiday brochures promoting rural France loved to feature, and before he fell asleep found himself wondering if he should not consider other places to live quietly for a while besides Collioure. The possibility of a little business was also intriguing. His main intention had been to do nothing for a while, but perhaps that would soon get boring?

The sun woke him early. The full length net curtains stirred gently in the morning air and for a while Andrew lay listening to the sounds from the river below: some ducks disputing - probably over scraps the kitchen staff preparing breakfast had thrown them, and the gurgle of water from where the two rivers met a little lower down. His mind lazily returned to the Agent’s window, and after thinking about it, he decided it would do no harm to ask for more details. He had not far to go today and was in no hurry, so after a leisurely breakfast of ham, hard boiled eggs, rolls, jam and coffee taken, at the suggestion of the waiter, on the terrace overlooking the river, he made his way back to the square but was disappointed to find the agency still closed although, by then, it was past nine.

Andrew waited a few minutes and was just on the verge of giving up the whole idea when he noticed a post card sello-taped to the middle of the glass doorway.

This advised phoning a number in the presence of absence - which seemed something of a contradiction - but he found a call box and dialled the number.

Almost immediately, a female voice answered.

‘Hello?’

Andrew said ‘Hello.’ Then ‘Do you speak English?’

‘Not very well’

‘Oh. It’s just that I saw the details of a business for sale in your window in English’

‘Are you English?’

‘Yes’

‘So’….. you have interest in Roussanne?’

‘Is that the name of the house?’

‘Yes’

‘I thought that was the name of a wine?’

‘It is. The owner changed it. It used to be called ‘Poussin le bas’’

‘What does that mean?’

‘The junior chicken’

‘What happened to the senior chicken?’

There was a pause, then the voice said with a trace of impatience ‘Are you interest?’

‘Yes. At least I’d like some more details’

‘Well…I was doing something else, but I can come over’

How long?

‘To come?’

‘Yes’

Just half an hour. Are you outside the bureau?’

‘Close’

‘Go and have coffee at the cafe then. I will find you there’

Andrew was about to tell her his name when the phone went dead.

It was too early for any tourists but warm enough to sit at one of the tables where he was able to admire the little square and watch the townsfolk - mostly women at that time of day, going about their business.It seemed no time at all before a young woman wearing a cycle helmet and with a small child strapped to her back pulled up alongside him on an old bicycle.

‘Are you the English?’

‘Yes’. Andrew stood up and smiled as he took her proffered hand.

‘I am Sabine’

‘Very nice to meet you Sabine’

‘I am Immobilier Cevant’ She let go of his hand and removed the helmet to shake out hair the colour of chestnut before glancing over her shoulder. ‘This is my son Christian. He had to finish his breakfast’

‘Andrew smiled.’ Of course. How old is he?’

‘He is three.’

Andrew nodded thinking this was going to be even more pleasant than he had anticipated. She really was very pretty. Blue eyes set wide and with a flawless complexion. He shook his head slightly to stop himself staring, but the young woman gave no sign she had noticed

‘He only goes to small school two times a week so he had to come with me’

She smiled as she swung the little boy off her back and set him down beside her where he promptly tried to hide in his mother’s long skirt, thus succeeding in giving Andrew a flash of a long slim leg before she tugged the garment back into position.

Seeing his expression she said: ‘Shall we go to the Bureau now, or would you prefer to stare at my legs.?

‘I’m sorry!’ Andrew said quickly, then added ‘Do I have a choice?’

Sabine laughed and said, ‘Don’t worry, this is France!’ Then to the child ‘Come on Chichi’. She started to wheel the bike in the direction of the bureau with the child trotting alongside’

Andrew fell in step beside them.

‘Do you always talk to him in English?’

‘Only at home. His father was English’

‘I see’ Andrew was silent for a moment, then he could not resist adding; ‘Was?’

‘He was killed’

‘I’m sorry.

‘We don’t miss him’ She glanced down at her son. ‘We have many friends, don’t we Chichi?

The small boy looked up and nodded happily.

Andrew guessed she was about thirty years old. Her skin was the colour of pale amber - a legacy surely from the previous summer. He found her disturbingly attractive

They reached the small office and after she had lent the bike against the side of the doorway, Sabine fished the key attached to a length of string through the letter box and opened the door.

‘The child trotted in without invitation, and Sabine followed without looking back to see if he was still there. She pulled up a blind which allowed the sun to flood into the office then went to a filing cabinet and pulled out a folder, only then turning back to him.

‘Please sit down Mr…….?’

‘Solomon. Andrew Solomon.’

Please sit down Mr Andrew’

She sat behind the desk and he obediently took one of the two visitors chairs facing her.

‘Chichi go and find your toys in the back room. Don’t bother us for a while.’

‘Yes, Mama’ He dutifully disappeared and Sabine examined the folder laid out on the desk between them.

After a few seconds she looked up.

‘It is a four bed-roomed farm house with five hectares, of which two are a small vine yard’ she turned the papers round to face him.

‘Here is a picture of the house taken from the road. And here is another taken from the river looking up towards the house with the vineyard.’

‘I don’t know anything about vines’ Andrew said.

Sabine nodded. ‘Neither do the present owners, but my uncle Gabriel does everything for them, in return for half the produce. I am sure he would be willing to carry on if you wanted?’

Andrew smiled and she thought, not for the first time since they had met, he would really be quite attractive if he got rid of those awful clothes and got some sun.

‘I must say, I never thought about it’ Andrew said ‘But people are starting to plant vineyards in Southern England. It would be nice to have your own wine.’

‘I think the paying guests enjoy it. Do you have children?

‘No’

‘So, you and your wife would only need one room leaving three for visitors.’

‘My wife was killed in a car accident’

‘I see’. Sabine thought for a moment then she said ‘Perhaps it would be too lonely for you? But only until you got to know people, of course. There are other English in the town and close by.’

Andrew shook his head ‘If I stayed, I’d rather get to know the local people’

‘Well, there would be plenty of opportunities if you were prepared to join in.’

‘I’d have to learn to speak French properly of course’.

‘I’m sure that could be arranged.’

There was a pause while Andrew examined the pictures more closely. Then Sabine said, ‘Would you like to see it?’

‘How much do they want?

‘Two hundred and fifty thousand francs. But that includes the business. I understand they already have some bookings’

‘It’s a lot more than I have at the moment.’

‘I expect they would consider an offer. Or we could arrange a loan if you like’

‘Who is we?’

My sister and myself. Our father left the Bureau to us together.’

‘Does she work here as well then?’

‘Marie has just graduated as a teacher. She wanted to travel a bit with her boy friend before she settles down’.

In the end, they did not go and look at the property together. Attractive as the idea of spending more time with this young women was, it really was out of his league and he did not want to waste her time. But the possibility had put all kinds of ideas into his head.

He arrived at Collioure by late afternoon. His friends greeted him warmly and after a few days, Andrew started to look in the local Agents windows to see if anything was for sale that would earn him a living and something to do while he was thinking what to do with the rest of his life. He realised that if he had stayed in Les Deux Demoiselles he could easily have fallen for the young Immobilier, but sensed there was no future there. She was obviously a strong and independently minded young woman who was not looking for romance - at least, not with him, and he’d had enough of being the one most in need of love. Besides, lovable as the little boy was, would he really want to start again with a ready -made family?

He looked at one or two places, but the more attractive properties were on the coast with ‘sea views’ - a preference of most buyers, but his mind kept returning to the river at Les Deux Demoiselles, and the more he thought about it the less the seaside appealed. Also, it soon became apparent that properties on the coast were far more expensive than those further inland. But all such deliberations were brought to a sudden end by a phone call from his solicitor in London requesting his immediate return for a hearing concerning the compensation payable by the insurance company of the driver responsible for the death of his wife and her companion.

CHAPTER FOUR

Sister Joy was happy to see him - a feeling not fully shared by husband Alex who remembered the last time Andrew stayed it was impossible to leave the house without being besieged by the press. But news of his return had gone unnoticed. It was a small house however, and with Andrew’s car blocking the drive, it was not long before his brother-in-law suggested it really would be better if they found somewhere for him to live on a permanent basis.

As it happened, a solution soon presented itself. Alex’s mother Mavis had a friend recently widowed with a house in Richmond - far too big for her in the present circumstances, even ‘though her daughter Isobel, who worked in a racing stables near Epsom, usually came home most week-ends. ‘One of these days she would summon up the will to sell the place, but in the mean time a friendly lodger would certainly help ends meet’

Joy drove Andrew over to meet Mrs Worth. They got on well enough and it was agreed that Andrew would move in for a trial month at the week end on a bed and breakfast basis.

Later that day, he went up to the City to meet his solicitor; a meeting he was not looking forward to as Mr Boroughs reminded him of one of the managers of the bank where he first worked and who always seemed to be looking over his shoulder and then moving on where ever he was goin’ with a sigh. Undoubtedly, he was going to tell him that it would be necessary for him to appear in court and cross questioned as to why he was such a lousy husband that his wife had been forced into the arms of another man, and was thus largely guilty for what had happened.

He was shown into the solicitor’s office which was in the shadow of St Paul’s Cathedral and sat opposite Boroughs determined not to be intimidated. But to his surprise, the other rose to his feet and greeted him affably and with a smile for the first time ever and began by saying he had some good news.

The driver of the Bentley, who it appeared was a very wealthy man, had been stricken with remorse when he had sobered up, and against all advice had made the offer of an out of court settlement of one hundred thousand pounds each to Andrew and the widow of the other victim.

‘Of course, there was no need for him to accept this first offer, although the solicitors acting for the widow had already done so. There was always the possibility that if the matter were to go to court the award could be in excess of this.’

Boroughs lent forward slightly. ‘It might be in my interests to advise you to do so’ he said smiling modestly. ‘There is nothing we lawyers like better than a good court battle. But you may know the saying ‘The Law is open to all - like the Ritz hotel!’ The Solicitor allowed himself a brief chuckle. But seeing the joke had passed his client by, cleared his throat and went on: ‘What I mean is, Mr Solomon, that although it’s possible you would be awarded a larger sum, the various costs could more than balance any addition.’

Andrews face cleared. ‘You mean, I’d get less?’

‘Precisely.’ The solicitor lent back in his chair stifling a sigh. But Andrew’s mind was racing.

‘What about the costs so far?’ he demanded.

‘Those would be paid by the other side as part of the settlement.

‘So I would get the whole hundred thousand?’

‘Yes’

Andrew sat back in his own chair as the implications of this swept through him. But then he frowned slightly.

‘I wouldn’t have to appear in court?’

‘No Mr Solomon. In a few short weeks we shall receive the agreed sum on your behalf.’

‘And that would be the end of it?’

‘Not quite’

Andrew’s face fell.

‘Tell me!’

‘I think you would want me to.’Boroughs opened another folder on his desk and glanced down briefly.

Your wife had taken out a pension scheme through her Firm. Like most, it had a life policy element providing a capital sum should she not survive the full term - to be paid to her estate. In effect you.’

Andrew’s jaw gaped for a second before he clamped it shut.

‘How much?’

‘Thirty thousand pounds. You are a rich man, Mr Solomon. I don’t know that congratulations are in order. I’m sure you would far prefer that none of this had happened’

‘Quite’ Andrew tried not to smile

‘But you still have to decide whether or not to accept the settlement’

‘Accept it.’ Andrew said quickly.

‘A wise decision. In which case, that concludes our business for the moment.’ Boroughs rose to his feet and held out his hand.

Andrew also rose and took the proffered hand.

‘My Chief Clerk will be in touch at your new address as soon as the funds are to hand’.

Andrew nodded.

‘I know you worked in a bank,’ the Solicitor continued helpfully, ‘but you might find the investment advice of our brokers useful’

Andrew nodded again.

‘I’ll put them in touch with you then.’ He walked to the door and opened it, standing to one side. ‘Goodbye for now Mr Solomon. Don’t hesitate to get in touch with us any time.’

Andrew moved the last of his things into the house in Richmond two days later and made an appointment to meet the financial advisor recommended by Boroughs firm the following week.

He told Joy and Alex of his good fortune and promised to buy them a new car as soon as his money came through. He noticed a marked change in his brother-in-law’s attitude towards him. Alex was not a bad person. He did not dislike Andrew but, rather like is late sister -in-law, had been exasperated by Andrew’s apparent lack of ambition. Now he kicked himself for not having foreseen the possibility of recent developments and the advantages of having a rich brother in law. He did however tell his mother who in turn confided to her friend Mrs Worth - in strict confidence, of course.

With so much going on, Andrew himself had not really had much time to think - although the possibility now of buying somewhere in France like the B&B near Les Deux Demoiselles was, of course, one of the first things he considered. But he was not going to jump into anything immediately and determined to instruct the Broker when they met to put his money for the time being - above all, where it would be safe.

He invited his landlady out for a celebratory dinner but when he came back from Lords Cricket Ground on Saturday evening where he had watched Middlesex play Somerset in one of the early summer matches, he was met at the front door by a small but strong looking young woman with curly blond hair, bright blue eyes and a broad, almost school-boy smile.

‘Hello. I’m Isobel. Come in. There’s a new front door key for you by the phone, by the way’

They shook hands then the girl stood to one side and made a mock sweeping gesture ushering him inside before closing the door behind him. He saw she was dressed in blue jeans and a white shirt, within which a bra fought to accommodate its owner’s generous occupants.

‘I hear we are to congratulate you!’

‘Thank you.! Andrew smiled and forced himself not to look at her chest.

‘I’m afraid Mother’s got one of her headaches. She really doesn’t feel up to going out’

‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

‘I can rustle up something for you… or we could get a take- away?’

‘Either would be fine, but…’

‘I think I should stay with her. She doesn’t get migraine very often, but when she does she sometimes gets quite disoriented. She’s very disappointed not to be able to go’.

Andrew nodded. ‘We’ll go another time. Meanwhile, why don’t I go and fetch something. What do you fancy? Indian - Chinese?’

‘I really don’t mind. Surprise me!’ Again, the grin which challenged him not to return it

Then he said ‘OK. But I’m not familiar with what there is around here.’

‘There’s no need to take the car. If you walk to the end of King’s road and turn left you’ll find quite a few places.’

‘OK. Shall I go now?’

‘Why not. I’m starved! But then I usually am. I have to keep my weight down to ride out’

‘Ride out?’

‘Exercise the race horses. They like us to approximate to the weight of the average jockey. It’s hard I can tell you!’

By the time he got back with a ‘Chinese’ she had laid the table, found a bottle of wine and changed into some smarter trousers and a lacy top’

The evening passed pleasantly. Andrew told Isobel a little of the events which had led to his present situation, and in between checking up on her mother upstairs, she told him about her work at the stables - which she adored. That is, she adored the horses, but one or two of the stable ‘lads’ whose ambition was to become jockeys were jealous of her ability and the regard with which she was held by many of the owners. This had become more acute since some of the steeple chase had been opened to women riders. She admitted it was her ambition to ride in the Grand National one day. She promised to take him out to see where she worked if he would be interested. She had several friends who would lend them rides when she had a free afternoon.

Andrew was not sure if Isobel was serious about this, but did not want to spoil the evening by admitting he had never sat on a horse in his life and that this was a state of affairs he was more than happy to continue. But he was certainly interested to see where she worked, and as the evening drew to a close and he helped her with the dishes he realised he had not enjoyed an evening so much for a very long time.

As they stood by the sink their bodies brushed against each other and Isobel turned so they faced each other.

She smiled then stood on her toes and kissed him lightly on the mouth. Then she laughed.

‘I’d better go and have a look at mother. Are you in a hurry to go to bed?’

Andrew shook his head.

‘Then you can wait for me if you like’ She gave him an amused look then hung up the dish cloth and went upstairs.

He heard voices, but Isobel did not come down again so he started for his own bedroom meeting her on the landing coming out of the bathroom.

‘I’m sorry’ she said softly.’ I really should stay with Mother’

Andrew nodded and smiled.

‘Of course’

‘We must do this again though. I really like you’. She reached up as she had before and kissed him again. But this time she reached for his right hand and held it tightly against her left breast before letting go suddenly, and without another word slipped into her mother’s room, closing the door quietly behind her.

The following morning Andrew was disappointed to find Isobel had left before he came down for breakfast.

Mrs Worth seemed to have made a complete recovery; so complete, a more suspicious man might have wondered if her migraine had not been a diplomatic illness designed to make room for her daughter and their guest to get to know each other.

With the idea of starting a business of his own in France still uppermost in his mind, Andrew spent the day in the local library doing research into the different regions and the French tax regime - particularly as it affected foreigners. He discovered that anyone, French or foreigner who was prepared to take on one of the many small family farms that did not lend themselves to being incorporated into a larger unit and were therefore in danger of being abandoned could get generous subsidies from the Government and his mind kept returning to the small vineyard by the river Truyer.

The following day he visited the Broker and agreed on a plan that would favour safety and perhaps some capital growth if not much income. The day after he spent with his sister Joy who asked archly how he had got on with his landlady’s daughter; and again, someone more informed in the ways of the world might have wondered if there was some conspiracy afoot. But if there was, either Isobel was not a party to it or was playing a very long game.

He did not see her for several weeks, during which time his thoughts on how he could manage a place like Poussin-le- Bas, as he liked to think about it - preferring the old name, took up much of his time He phoned the Agents in Les Deux Demoiselles and ascertained that it was still for sale. He must have spoken to Sabine’s younger sister back from her travels because she did not remember him and spoke better English with a slight Australian accent.

He had just decided to take another trip down there when Mrs Worth said she was going to visit her brother and his family in Weymouth and hoped he did not mind her not being there to look after him. He was about to tell her of his own trip when she added that Isobel was taking part of her vacation from the stables to take her place.

Mrs Worth left and Isobel, this time driving an ancient Morris Minor, arrived later the same day. She drove him to a pub on the Thames by Teddington Lock for dinner, where they ate outside, and when they returned home she opened another bottle of wine from the ice box and asked him with a wide eyed expression if he would like to go to bed.

Andrew’s sexual experience had been limited, although Susan, when they were first married, had helped him overcome some