‘I don’t know how she does it,’ said Tina.

‘Long-distance?’ said Dylan.

‘And open. Recipe for disaster.’ 

A meaningful silence dropped. Tina realised what she’d said and mumbled an apology to Helena and Dylan. Dani’s eyes were on stalks. 

‘Not at all, darling,’ Helena smiled. ‘That was an experiment we shan’t be repeating.’

‘Oh. So you’re—’

‘Closed,’ said Dylan, rather glumly. 

‘Well, there you go,’ said Bette, sounding more bored than she’d meant to. 

A quiet cascade of zzz-bkkk sounds filled the kitchen. Helena and Bette checked their phones; Dylan and Tina ignored theirs. 

‘Kurt’s off-site,’ said Bette, quietly.

‘Bollocks,’ rejoined Helena.

Tina sighed. Dylan drained her wine.

‘What is it?’ asked Dani.

‘Punch down,’ said Helena. She looked at Bette. ‘If you go now, we’ll do the late one. I have to stay up for Mummy anyway.’

‘Oh, is that tonight?’ asked Tina.

‘She lands at ten,’ said Dylan, refilling her glass.

Back at House 2, Tina and Bette changed into gym shorts and running vests, tucking their hair under Amistad baseball caps. A swipe from a shared Chapstick and they bounded downstairs to pick up Crocs from the boot room. 

Outside, the sterile LED lighting of the fermentation block gleamed like a slash in the twilit sky. Concetta was already there, ready to spot them. Punching down the cap on the huge vats of red wine was a gruelling task that took fifteen minutes per vat, four times a day, for two weeks. A tool like a huge potato masher was used to push the thick, leathery layer of grape skin down into the  liquid. Huge amounts of carbon dioxide was released, hence the spotting. But as free cardio workouts went, it was a doozy. 

When they’d finished, Bette and Tina were drenched in sweat and festooned with dark-purple splashes. Concetta got a pressure washer and blasted them clean, which never stopped being tickly, and they were giggling like kids when they noticed lights from a car coming up the main road.

‘Who’s that?’ Tina wondered, tipping water out of her Crocs.

‘Whoever it is, they’re not alone,’ said Concetta, before heading back into the fermentation block.

Another vehicle was trailing behind the first one, much further back. Tina and Bette shielded their eyes as the first car’s headlights turned towards them, right up the private driveway.