‘Yes, I’d say so,’ Eleni says. ‘This is essentially our production line. Just down there is where we age the wine. And further along where we bottle the wine. So, we do everything on site, which we are incredibly proud of.’ She comes to a stop by a doorway, pushing it open. ‘But here is what matters.’
Her eyes twinkle as we take in the rows of bottles all lined up, full and ready to be sold.
‘This looks incredible,’ Ollie says.
There’s a table standing in the middle of the room, two candles burning in the middle. It looks almost romantic, and I shiver, remembering that Eleni thought Ollie was coming with his fiancé, and not his strung-out ex.
‘Alec shouldn’t be missing this,’ I whisper.
‘He’s dealing with some logistics. This is my task,’ Ollie replies.
‘Best not let him down.’ It’s meant to come out as a joke, but it feels more like an accusation.
Ollie sniffs, rolling his shoulders. ‘I’m assuming these will be ready to ship out?’
Eleni nods. ‘We supply selected shops, as we believe our brand should be desirable, rather than something you can get anywhere.’
‘Ah, exclusivity,’ Ollie says, eyebrows rising.
‘Precisely.’
‘Nothing wrong with a supermarket wine, though,’ I say.
But it goes down like a lead balloon, judging by Ollie’s stricken face.
‘Ours is better,’ Eleni says, recovering. ‘Come.’
We walk the short distance to the table, where two wine glasses are waiting.
‘First up, one of our refreshing white wines.’
She cracks the bottle, artfully pouring a sample into both glasses. Taking mine, I swig and swallow. ‘Tasty.’
But Ollie is swishing the wine, and Eleni is smiling.
‘There’s a hint here of… Is that apricot?’
Bloody hell. When did he become such a wine connoisseur? He was obviously downplaying it in the car. When we were together, he was forever telling me to get whatever wine was cheapest. We even had whole conversations when he would insist on how wine is wine, and the whole industry is built off pretentiousness.
‘Yes, there’s apricot there.’
I hold my wine out, hoping Eleni will refill, but she doesn’t.
‘I like that one.’ Ollie inspects the bottle, holding it to the candlelight. ‘Will, did you like that one?’
I think of how quickly I drank it, and how I enjoyed it. ‘I did. Lots of… fermentation has gone on with that, I think.’
Eleni doesn’t smile. Ollie laughs, though I can see him glancing at Eleni to gauge her reaction.
Our next wine is a red, poured into a fresh glass that Eleni got from a box underneath the table. ‘Now that is fruity,’ I say, after I’ve purposefully made a show of holding it in my mouth. I sniff the glass for good measure. ‘Yes, very fruity.’
‘Really?’ Ollie, who only sipped it, takes a larger gulp. His brow creases as he swallows. ‘No, I wouldn’t call it fruity.’
Eleni holds on to Ollie’s every word. ‘Interesting. What would you call it?’
Ollie tilts his head, staring up at the ceiling. ‘Earthy, but not overpowering. Kind of like…’ He searches for the words, reminding me of Jeff Goldblum. ‘Like the changing of seasons. The first signs of autumn.’
I laugh, because he must be joking. There’s no way Ollie is talking like this. Like, who is he trying to impress? This isn’t poetry class.
