An Unexpected Affair by Jan Ellis

wander around town, but all through the rest of the morning Eleanor felt as though they were just killing time until lunch.
    As promised, Thomas came to collect them from the hotel promptly at 2pm to drive them to the Vauban family home. Looking at him in daylight Eleanor could see that he resembled his father around the mouth, but had the fine features and grey eyes of his mother. “He’s going to break a few hearts,” were Jenna’s words of wisdom.
    As the road climbed out of the city and wound up into the hills away from the river, the air got hotter and stiller.
    “Wow, look at that,” said Jenna, as they drove past huge fields full of sunflowers.
    Thomas smiled. “We are not far away now.”
    A little further up on the left, there was a modest wooden sign at the entrance to the vineyard with the family name decorated in vine leaves. They drove down a rough earth track past rows and rows of vines clinging to steep slopes. Thomas explained that they were mainly Syrah grapes from which his grandfather made the Côte-de-Rhône that they had sampled at Chez Christophe.
    “Of course grandpère makes other wines, too. You will taste them later!”
    He parked the car by an old barn and escorted the sisters to a stone farmhouse where a long table was set out under a shady veranda. Two dusty brown dogs of indeterminate breed lolloped over to greet Thomas, who wrestled with them enthusiastically.
    Christophe came out of the house with a huge grin on his face. Beside him was Rosanne who looked cool and elegant in a green print dress. “Welcome to Château Vauban,” she said smiling, and shooing chickens from beneath the table. “I hope you don’t mind that we are a little rustic here.” She smiled again. “Can you excuse me while I finish lunch? Please have a drink and relax. It won’t be long.”
    “Come, come and sit down,” said Christophe. Thomas unseated a scrawny grey cat and dragged chairs over to the table. “Please, sit,” said the young man. “I will tell my grandparents that you are here.”
    “I feel like I’m in a commercial for olive oil,” whispered Jenna under her breath. “Do these people really live here?”
    Eleanor smiled and nodded. “They come here at weekends and for holidays. It’s the old family home. I believe that Christophe’s father grew up in the farmhouse. I remember hearing about it, but I never came here.”
    They could hear pans crashing somewhere inside the house then old Madame Vauban appeared in the doorway, followed by her husband carrying two bottles of red wine. It had seemed unlikely that they would remember her, so Eleanor was touched by the warm reception she received from the now-elderly pair whom she had not seen for so long.
    Elena came out next, carrying a tray laden with crisp green salad, blocks of homemade paté, chunks of salami and fresh baguettes, which she set on the table. Monsieur Vauban spoke barely any English, so Eleanor translated for Jenna as he told them the history of the house and the vineyard, and explained how his wine was produced. Madame nodded and smiled, correcting her husband when he got something wrong.
    In the background, Christophe flitted to and fro, bringing out plates and glasses. Although Eleanor tried to concentrate on Monsieur Vauban’s story, she couldn’t help glancing over at her former lover. She reddened as she framed the word in her head, and Jenna caught her eye, making her feel even guiltier.
    Thomas returned with a tray of ice cold glasses on an enamel tray. “Ooh, this is lovely,” said Jenna, sipping the pale pink liquid. “What is it?”
    “It is called pineau des Charentes,” he said, “and it’s strong so take care!”
    Just then Rosanne appeared with a roast chicken on a pile of potatoes, all cooked in garlic and rosemary. “Please, dig in,” she said, in immaculate English.
    Christophe went around the table filling glasses with different types of wine which Jenna and Eleanor duly peered at, swirled