‘Did you see? Did you see?’ Alphonse was practically dancing on the spot.
‘I think I did,’ said Luc, grinning from ear to ear, his teeth white against his grimy face.
‘What?’ asked Fliss.
‘Bottles. I’m sure I saw bottles,’ said Luc, clearly itching to go back.
After an impatient wait of five minutes with Luc and Alphonse pacing up and down outside the cellar like restless expectant fathers, they could wait no longer and, despite the grey dust cloud, insisted that they went back down. Hattie and Fliss weren’t going to miss out and insisted on going too, so Alphonse, in a particularly heroic gesture, took off his shirt and ripped it into pieces to create makeshift masks to cover their noses and mouths. Fliss sighed, her eyes going a little dreamy at the sight of his stocky muscular chest and whispered to Hattie. ‘Told you, all man.’
Hattie gave the clear blue sky one last reluctant look and followed the others back down the stairs.
What had once been a wall was nothing but a pile of rubble, and the dust was still settling, but as the torch beams cut through the murky gloom, they lit up the ghostly shadows ranked like a battalion of soldiers. Rack upon rack of bottles lay beyond, thick with dust.
‘Mon dieu!’ gasped Alphonse. ‘This is amazing. No one has been in here for years.’
Luc stepped forward and touched one of the bottles, leaving a fingerprint in the thick dust. ‘There are hundreds of bottles here. Why did no one know? Marthe can’t have known. She wouldn’t have left them untouched, surely.’
Suddenly the room was flooded with light. Alphonse had found an old switch and most of the lamps studding the walls at regular intervals lit up, except for a few blown bulbs. They must have been made to last, thought Hattie a little irrelevantly.
‘She must have known,’ replied Luc. ‘The only reason to hide champagne would have been during the war, from the occupying forces.’
‘But then why has she never said anything?’ argued Alphonse.
Luc and Alphonse walked the length of the room, wandering up and down the rows like two schoolboys in a storeroom full of sweets, muttering to each other, ‘This is amazing.’ ‘Incroyable.’ ‘Mon dieu.’ ‘Look.’
‘Do you know how old they are?’ asked Hattie stepping forward and gazing around. The room was full of the distinctive riddling racks, each filled with dark green bottles.
‘No idea. None of them have labels,’ said Luc. ‘There must be records somewhere but every vineyard had its own system for storing and recording its stocks.’
The four of them wandered around.
‘This will make a brilliant story,’ said Alphonse. ‘Put St Martin’s champagne on the map, reminding people of its proud heritage. Champagne had been made on this site for the last two hundred and fifty years.’
‘Someone must have known about this and why it was bricked up,’ said Hattie.
‘Well, no time like the present. I’m going to ask Marthe now,’ said Luc, grabbing one of the bottles. ‘I think it would be best if we don’t mention this to anyone until I’ve spoken to her.’
‘Er hello!’ Hattie said, shaking dust out of her hair and brushing down her dress. ‘You don’t think people might notice something? And Alphonse is going to need a shirt.’
‘Shame,’ murmured Fliss.
‘Luc and I can change on our way to the restaurant. It will be fine,’ said Alphonse, running his fingers through his shaggy hair, which didn’t look very different from its usual bird’s nest state.
‘Eeuw,’ said Fliss, wiping her sleeve across her face. ‘I’m going to be blowing my nose for a fortnight to get the dust out.’
ChapterThirty-Eight
Marthe appeared to be dozing in her wheelchair in a shady spot under one of the trees. Luc watched her for a moment, Hattie, Fliss and Alphonse standing a little way behind him like three coal-mining musketeers.
‘Are you going to stand there scowling at me all afternoon?’ asked Marthe, her milky blue eyes sharp with awareness.
‘I thought you were asleep.’
‘I was resting my eyes. And don’t think because I’m in a good mood and have had two glasses of champagne I’m going to change my mind. You look serious and … what have you been doing?’ Her gaze skirted him and came to rest on the other three. ‘You look like you’ve been…’ Her voice trailed off.
He gave her a reluctant smile as he sat down on the bench next to her wheelchair, brushing at the sleeves of his shirt.
‘Not serious, exciting. We’ve found a fourth cellar behind a wall, full of champagne.’ He grinned at her, the exhilaration of discovery still coursing through his veins. He held up the bottle of champagne from the hidden cellar.
