Travel Reference
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The dream was in fact seeded long before Pierre-Jacques. Sean's grandfather, long dead,
was a winegrower. In our mid-twenties we had nearly bought a vineyard but a career op-
portunity with the large technology multinational I worked for put the vineyard on hold.
Now, ten years later, here we were, confirmed city dwellers living on M&S dinners.
It was still raining. I dragged myself away from the window and opened my laptop. Even
on maternity leave I logged in every day to see what was going on at work. Ellie, our
second daughter, had arrived safely and was exactly six weeks old. I felt vaguely like a
super-mum having given birth with no epidural thanks to a few white lies from the mid-
wives: 'You're only minutes away.' Yeah, right.
As I flicked through work emails a property newsletter popped up on the screen. It was
filled with tantalising images of cottages in France... And a vineyard: it was the closest to
perfect I had seen. The property matched our criteria: 25 acres of vines, a large house, a
wineryandequipment, andwithinourpricerange.Inafrenzyofexcitement Iemailed Sean
then read the description again. It seemed too good to be true. Patrick Joseph, the agent,
answered my call. I explained the property we were interested in and asked for more de-
tails. He hesitated before extinguishing my excitement.
'I'm really sorry, it's been sold.'
Disappointment enveloped me like a wet blanket. He tried to sell me the other vineyard
in the newsletter but it was way out of our price range. He could tell we were on a mission
and wanted to help. I had to remind myself and him that if our dream ever was to succeed
we had to keep to our financial reality. The phone rang again as I hung up and it was Sean.
Iannouncedthebadnews;webothknewthatpropertieslikethisonewerelikehen'steeth.
Through years of searching, the vineyards that matched what we wanted were always out
of our price bracket. This was the first that looked right and that we could afford, but it was
sold. I was gutted.
'It must have been a fake announcement to get people like us in contact. It probably didn't
even exist,' I said bitterly.
'Maybe. We'll have to keep looking,' said Sean sagely. 'I've got to go.'
That last phrase meant someone had arrived at Sean's desk. Our search was in stealth
mode. We couldn't let on to his work that he was on a mission to completely change his
life.
Tryingtotake mymind offthe lost vineyard, Istarted unloading the dishwasher.Nowwas
not the time anyway. Ellie was too young. It was a crazy idea. We had no experience work-
ing in a vineyard or winery. Sean's night wine classes were just theory. We had thought
about taking a few weeks' leave to go and work on a vineyard but it hadn't worked out.
A cry from the lounge stopped my internal debate. I grabbed a nappy, picked Ellie up,
snuggled her tiny body close to mine, and climbed the stairs to the changing station.
