Travel Reference
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'We have to sell the farm. We'll never make a living. We aren't going to make it through
the next twelve months with this extra charge.' I burst into tears. 'I don't want to sell,' I
sobbed.
'I know, Carolinus, but we can't carry on if we can't pay ourselves. We can't carry on until
the bank forces us to sell.'
The writing was on the wall. We could not continue. I felt angry, sad and frustrated. We
had put so much into pursuing our dream. Our wines were good, critics and clients loved
them and yet we could not make a living. Since arriving, I had never seriously entertained
the thought that we might fail. Now we were facing it full in the face. I wanted so badly for
us to succeed, now more so than ever.
Once I got control of myself we discussed it further. After looking in every direction for a
solution we agreed there was no way out. We had to sell. There wasn't enough time for us
to build up the wine tourism business to make up for the shortfall.
We had to return to city lives and normal jobs. At least we would have most weekends
off, holidays, sick leave and some money for our work. There was that upside. But even the
idea of being paid could not help me shrug off the devastation I felt. The next day I called
an estate agent and asked them to come around to look at Garrigue.
Laurence was still in the Basque country with family so that Sunday I set off on my own
with my MP3 player, running along the road, my feet beating in time to U2. I turned onto
the high vineyard track that runs along the ridge above Saussignac. As I crested the hill, a
panoramic view of the village floating above the Dordogne valley with the castle, solid like
an anchor in the sea of green vineyards and forests, engulfed me. I felt a deep love of this
place. Our life, full of priceless riches, stretched out before me. Rich relationships, simple
food, a passion for what we were doing and magnificent countryside.
I stopped and lifted my arms into the air in silent homage to this exceptional place into
which we had haphazardly fallen. I felt part of it. I loved what we were doing. I wanted to
stay. I wanted to stay so badly it was like a physical force sinking down into the ground. I
felt like I was rooted to the spot. I could see my children and my children's children on this
hill looking down towards our farm. It was like an ancient force. A spirit well. This was my
home. This was our home. I felt at once powerless and powerful. Grief for the imminent
loss of this place overtook me. Sobs racked through my body. I stood with tears flowing
down my cheeks staring out at the landscape. That week I felt like I was in a bad dream. I
went about my work in a mechanical daze. Thursday evening the phone rang.
'Hi, Caro. It's Andrew.'
I hadn't spoken to Andrew since my last trip home. It was great to hear his familiar tones.
We worked together for more than five years and had known each other a lot longer.
'How are things?' I said. We had a chat about the new job that he had started. It sounded
like a good place to work.
'They don't need more people do they? I need a job.'
