‘Hey, guys,’ Luc called. ‘Come and help me move this,’ The three of them began to take down the assortment of old boxes and tools that had gathered on the big wooden shelving unit over the years. It was so old and heavy that Hattie figured it must have been built in situ.
‘What do you reckon?’ asked Alphonse.
‘I’m not sure but we’ll have a better idea when we move these shelves out of the way.’
‘I was worried you were going to say that.’ Alphonse rubbed his hands together. ‘Come on then, let’s do it.’
With a good deal of effort and a good many grunts, the two men dragged the heavy shelves a few feet away from the wall.
‘Think you can squeeze in?’ asked Alphonse, even as Luc was already wriggling his way through the heavy wooden uprights. Luc shone his torch on the back wall.
‘I think there’s a doorway here!’ His excited shout made Hattie, Fliss and Alphonse squeeze their way in behind the shelves to join him. ‘Look. I’ve never noticed it before.’
‘Bloody hell,’ said Fliss. ‘Even looking for it, I can only just see it. You’re right, there’s a doorway.’
Hattie leaned forward, still not convinced. ‘Look,’ said Luc, using the torch on his phone to trace the outline. Studying it, Hattie thought perhaps the brickwork did seem a tiny bit neater.
‘The pointing is ever so slightly different.’ Luc’s torch wavered back and forth to make his case.
‘So now what?’ asked Alphonse. ‘You need a sledgehammer.’
‘I think we can manage a bit more subtlety,’ suggested Luc. ‘If I take just a few bricks out, we can see if there’s anything on the other side.’
‘Do you think there’ll be anything there?’ asked Fliss.
‘Who knows?’ Alphonse’s big shoulders lifted. ‘During the war quite a few champagne houses bricked up cellars to hide champagne and stop it being shipped out of France. This area was occupied for most of that period.’
‘But wouldn’t they have unbricked it after the war?’ said Hattie.
‘Yeah,’ agreed Fliss. ‘Surely. No one’s going to forget they have a lost fortune of champagne squirrelled away.’
‘You’d have thought so,’ said Luc, his grin a little maniacal in the torchlight, ‘but Bollinger discovered an unknown cellar in 2010 full of pre-war vintages.’
‘And no one knew it was there?’ asked Fliss, disbelieving. Hattie had to agree, it didn’t seem possible.
‘Apparently not,’ said Alphonse. ‘Do you remember, Luc? It went for a fortune at auction. But what a fantastic story. It would be an amazing coup for us if we found lost vintages of the original St Martin champagne.’
‘If we were allowed to make it,’ grumbled Luc. ‘And there might be nothing here.’
‘A find like that might make people change their minds. Especially your father. He’s going to love it and the papers won’t be able to get enough of our handsome faces,’ said Alphonse with gleeful delight, already getting carried away.
Fliss rolled her eyes and, ever practical, asked, ‘Would it still be drinkable?’
‘Very possibly,’ said Alphonse. ‘Bottles of 1825 Perrier-Jouët were opened in 2009 and it was tasted by the top wine tasters and found to be drinkable.’
Hattie studied the wall again. ‘And you think there might be champagne in there?’
‘Doubtful.’ Luc frowned. ‘But I think there’s another cellar here. And Marthe knows. She was twenty-one when the war ended and she was heavily involved in the winery and to some extent the resistance movement, although she’s very cagey about it.’
‘Yeah,’ agreed Alphonse. ‘My father told me once that the cellars here were used extensively by the resistance.’
‘Surely if she knew there was champagne in there she’d have unbricked it before now,’ said Fliss. ‘Sorry to rain on your parade and all that.’
‘True,’ agreed Luc, his face falling a little.
‘But it’s still interesting,’ said Hattie, directing a quelling glare at Fliss, not wanting to spoil Luc’s excitement. ‘There must be a reason for bricking it up.’
‘Probably because the roof was unsafe or something.’ Luc sounded despondent. ‘I ought to ask her.’
