Grape Expectations by Caro Feely, Caro Read Free Book Online
Authors: Caro Feely, Caro
Ellie was still in the habit of throwing up on me. Monsieur Ducasse was chunky and dark with serious eyes framed by bushy eyebrows. He welcomed us politely, clearly taken aback by the arrival of a seven-month-old to the meeting. I wedged Ellie's buggy between Sean and myself, gave her a bottle of milk, then explained our situation. Sean's French wasn't up to participating so he left it all to me.
  Monsieur Ducasse's severe look darkened with each word.
  'We want to know what help we can get from you since we are new to this business,' I said.
  'What farming experience do you have?' he asked.
  'None really... But we both grew up in a rural environment,' I said helpfully.
  Monsieur Ducasse's Gallic eyebrows rose.
  'But you must have some practical farming experience?' he pressed.
  'Well, we had a small organic vegetable patch in our city garden,' I replied.
  The eyebrows shot up.
  'We had two grape vines in the garden,' I added quickly.
  His eyes popped out.
  'What about an agricultural degree?' he asked.
  'No, we have masters degrees in economics and finance,' I said.
  Ellie watched him suspiciously, sensing his discomfort, while he made urgent notes on the page in front of him.
  'How many employees do you have helping in the vineyard and winery?' he asked at last.
  'None. We can't afford employees. Anyway, the property is small enough for Sean to farm on his own.'
  'Not even part-time?' he gasped, wedging his hand under his chin to stop his mouth from gaping open.
  'No... But we have a neighbour who is giving us lots of useful advice,' I said hoping to save him from cardiac arrest. 'He told us to contact you.'
  His eyebrows were now within a whisker of his hairline. There were a few minutes of silence wherein he sought to regain control of his facial parts. Ellie watched him intently, finding the drama of his expressions very entertaining.
  'There is nothing we can do to help you,' he said eventually, delivering a massive blow to our hopes of aid money to help keep our leaking ship afloat.
  Seeing my dismay he tried to explain his position.
  'You need an agricultural degree from a French university to get onto the young farmer aid programme, or you need to do a university equivalent programme in Périgueux.'
  I started to ask something about the programme.
  'It's in French,' he said, stopping me in my tracks and making it clear he didn't consider my language skills up to the level required.
  'I thought your organisation was here to help farmers, especially new farmers, like us,' I said bitterly.
  'I think there is someone who can help you in the vineyard. I'll give you the number for Cécile Bernard, she's our vineyard advisor for your area.'
  We thanked him despite feeling that we got nothing from the exchange except depression at our lack of farming credentials. The young farmer programme opens the door to layer upon layer of aid, something he didn't explain. By not being on it at the start, we were excluded from benefits that multiplied through the system.
  Fortunately, we got more than we realised when Cécile Bernard became our advisor.
Cécile was a wonderful woman with a heart of gold, brown, curly hair, and a ready smile. She was in her thirties and knew vineyards. When she arrived to meet us a few weeks later Sean dragged me out despite my reluctance to get involved in vineyard work. His lack of French meant that I already knew more about tractors and other farm equipment than I wanted to.
  With Ellie on my hip we walked the vineyards with Cécile. She and Sean made good progress despite the language barrier. I tuned out and busied myself with eating the delectable botrytis sauvignon blanc that had been left on the vines. Botrytis is a miraculous 'noble' rot that develops on
  Monsieur Ducasse's severe look darkened with each word.
  'We want to know what help we can get from you since we are new to this business,' I said.
  'What farming experience do you have?' he asked.
  'None really... But we both grew up in a rural environment,' I said helpfully.
  Monsieur Ducasse's Gallic eyebrows rose.
  'But you must have some practical farming experience?' he pressed.
  'Well, we had a small organic vegetable patch in our city garden,' I replied.
  The eyebrows shot up.
  'We had two grape vines in the garden,' I added quickly.
  His eyes popped out.
  'What about an agricultural degree?' he asked.
  'No, we have masters degrees in economics and finance,' I said.
  Ellie watched him suspiciously, sensing his discomfort, while he made urgent notes on the page in front of him.
  'How many employees do you have helping in the vineyard and winery?' he asked at last.
  'None. We can't afford employees. Anyway, the property is small enough for Sean to farm on his own.'
  'Not even part-time?' he gasped, wedging his hand under his chin to stop his mouth from gaping open.
  'No... But we have a neighbour who is giving us lots of useful advice,' I said hoping to save him from cardiac arrest. 'He told us to contact you.'
  His eyebrows were now within a whisker of his hairline. There were a few minutes of silence wherein he sought to regain control of his facial parts. Ellie watched him intently, finding the drama of his expressions very entertaining.
  'There is nothing we can do to help you,' he said eventually, delivering a massive blow to our hopes of aid money to help keep our leaking ship afloat.
  Seeing my dismay he tried to explain his position.
  'You need an agricultural degree from a French university to get onto the young farmer aid programme, or you need to do a university equivalent programme in Périgueux.'
  I started to ask something about the programme.
  'It's in French,' he said, stopping me in my tracks and making it clear he didn't consider my language skills up to the level required.
  'I thought your organisation was here to help farmers, especially new farmers, like us,' I said bitterly.
  'I think there is someone who can help you in the vineyard. I'll give you the number for Cécile Bernard, she's our vineyard advisor for your area.'
  We thanked him despite feeling that we got nothing from the exchange except depression at our lack of farming credentials. The young farmer programme opens the door to layer upon layer of aid, something he didn't explain. By not being on it at the start, we were excluded from benefits that multiplied through the system.
  Fortunately, we got more than we realised when Cécile Bernard became our advisor.
Cécile was a wonderful woman with a heart of gold, brown, curly hair, and a ready smile. She was in her thirties and knew vineyards. When she arrived to meet us a few weeks later Sean dragged me out despite my reluctance to get involved in vineyard work. His lack of French meant that I already knew more about tractors and other farm equipment than I wanted to.
  With Ellie on my hip we walked the vineyards with Cécile. She and Sean made good progress despite the language barrier. I tuned out and busied myself with eating the delectable botrytis sauvignon blanc that had been left on the vines. Botrytis is a miraculous 'noble' rot that develops on
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