Despite the Angels - By Madeline A Stringer Page 0,64

you do. And that man heard nothing, he agreed to nothing. And you are so used to being deferred to, you did not notice. You must realise not everyone is hanging on your every word. You are not all that special in the world, you know. Special to me and to Eloise, but not to that foreman. You are simply his means to an end, his children must eat and you have the money. Simple. But you must share it more fairly.”

“So this will be fairer. I think they will be pleased.” Daniel leant over and shut the ledgers. Jotin sighed.

“He did not hear you. You did not hear me. I wish you would listen more.”

Daniel went to the door. It was very hot, nearly midday. Just time for a cooling drink before lunch.

Chapter 24.

September stayed hot and heavy. There were morning mists now, rolling in from the estuary and bringing the salty tang of the marshes. Daniel watched the grapes anxiously, for signs of the mould that would spoil his wine, but the days were dry and the grapes ripened well. It was a quiet time on the estate as they waited, hoping the grapes would mature enough before the inevitable storm that would end the sunshine. On the marshes the collection of salt continued, the evaporation a little slower now because of the shorter days and morning mists. But not many workers were needed for the vines during this waiting time, and now that Daniel had been alerted to their dissatisfaction, he imagined he could hear the grumbles of those he had not hired. Not all of them had concessions on the salt-marshes, and for the first time he found himself wondering how they fed themselves during these slack times.

“They often do not,” said Eloise when he asked her.

“What do you mean?”

Eloise looked at him, and shook her head. “Just that. If you have no food and no money, you do not eat. The neighbours help if they can. But they do not often have much to spare.”

“Did you have enough to eat?” Daniel looked at his attractive curvy wife and found it impossible to imagine her starving. Though come to think of it, she had not been so plump when they met.

“I always had something. But mostly not enough, never enough. Well, enough to stop you dying, but not enough to fill your belly. I do not think anyone in the village knows what it is to eat enough. You always want more. We were luckier than most. My father collects salt and has some small crops from the edges of the marsh; and my mother has a goat so we often had a little milk, and now and then the kid, of course. But we had to share that with the man who owns a billy, because he made the next kid.” She fell silent, remembering the time she had gone with her older brother to bring the goat to visit the billygoat. A long walk to the village of Jau, but a good day.

“Same as us. We have to pay for the bull.” Daniel was thoughtful. “But of course, a calf can grow bigger, so there is more meat; and we are a smaller family, so we can sell some.”

“In the village, there is never anything to spare. Only the men get money - from what they can sell, like the salt. But the nuns take half as rent and the taxman takes most of the rest. If there are surplus crops they can be sold, but that is rare. Nobody can sell the piquette: who would buy it? After all, that is why you give it away, it has no value. You would pour it away after rinsing the vats, except that it has a little flavour.”

“They like it, otherwise why would they do the work? It tastes good, I drink it too sometimes. Anyway, I think we will invite the wives and families to the harvest supper this year. I think we will have a little good news for them, so it would be good to give them a pleasant evening too.”

“That would be kind, Monsieur. I hope we do have good news. I do not like this weather, it is too warm, maybe it is too good to last.”

Luckily Eloise was wrong. The weather lasted through the harvest, which was one of the best Daniel could remember. The crushing of grapes started at once and spirits were high. On the day of