At the same time as Caroline was getting better acquainted with the Old Somerset Hunt hounds and their master, Jonathan was preparing himself for something he hadn’t done in a very long time. Despite being back in the family firm for a little while now, he’d avoided this particular activity; it brought back too many memories of the times before the split in the family, when he, his brother and his father had been a cohesive team. But he didn’t want to keep avoiding it; it was time to immerse himself fully in the duty of being a cider producer and the weekly event that he was about to take part in was a huge signifier of that duty.
As Jonathan walked into the main barn, his eyes took a moment to adjust to the more subdued lighting. Even during the day, the gloom was accentuated by the heavy, dark oak vats and the slightly lighter wooden joists that ran across the roof of the building. Although the shell of the barn these days was steel, the beams of the old one remained. He could hear the voices of Sophie Henderson and David Armitage, the Carter’s Cider chief tasters, coming from the gantry above the main vat where they were carrying out the first checks. He mounted the steps to join them.
‘Thought I’d sit in on this one, today, if that’s all right?’ Jonathan said as he reached them.
‘Of course,’ Sophie said. Tall, blonde and in her mid twenties, she’d been at Carter’s Cider since she left school after her A Levels. ‘It’s always nice to have a member of the family on board when we do this.’ She leaned over the side of the platform and pulled the handle that was attached to the hatch on top of the vat. ‘What brings you out here today?’
‘He’s not sat in on a tasting since he’s been back,’ Matthew’s voice, with just the slightest trace of amusement, came drifting up from the barn floor before he also ascended the gantry steps. ‘I suspect he wants a reminder of what the stuff tastes like!’
‘All we need is the old man and we’d have a full house,’ David muttered under his breath to Sophie. Both of them withdrew to the vat on the other side of the gantry to continue their tests, giving the brothers a little bit of space.
Once he’d joined Jonathan, Matthew, immediately, assuming control, stepped forward and dipped the second glass jug from the tray into the top of the vat, then poured a glass from it. Pausing briefly, he held it out to his brother.
Jonathan looked at the glass warily. ‘Are you sure you haven’t poisoned this?’
‘A year ago the thought might have crossed my mind.’ Matthew gave a tight smile, ‘but I wouldn’t want to ruin a hundred and twenty thousand pints just for you.’ Filling his own glass, he took a sip and watched as his brother did the same. It was the first taste of the family cider direct from the vats that Jonathan had taken since he’d returned to Little Somerby.
‘Christ, that’s good,’ Jonathan said. The sweetness of the blend, combined with the subtlest flavour from the barrels themselves was what Carter’s Cider was famous for, but this was truly something special. ‘I’ll go out on a limb and say it’s better than anything we produced when Dad was MD.’
‘Don’t let him hear you say that,’ Matthew replied. ‘He still has his doubts about the Dabinett Royal cross blend, even though it’s been a massive seller this year.’
Jonathan smirked. ‘I never thought I’d hear you contradicting the old man’s wisdom when it came to apple blending.’ He glanced around the barn where the eight oak vats stood. ‘But I suppose things have changed a bit.’
‘Yes. They have.’
Jonathan took another sip from his glass and then called across to Sophie and David. ‘Not that I’m an expert as yet, but this one seems to be coming along all right. Are you happy with it?’
‘As happy as can be expected,’ David, as ever, was deadpan. ‘The one in the right hand vat needs a bit more time, though.’
Jonathan let the atmosphere of the place, the ceremony of the occasion, wash over him for a little longer. He remembered coming up here when he was much younger with Jack as well as Matthew, his father’s insistence on tasting the product come rain or shine every week when he was in charge. Even the time he slipped a disc in his back couldn’t keep him away from the vats. It was a history that Jonathan had run from, one he’d forsaken, but now one he desperately wanted to reclaim.
The clunk of Matthew’s glass back onto the tray broke Jonathan out of his reverie. ‘I’d better get back to the office,’ Mathew said. ‘Got a lot on. I suspect you have, too.’ Without waiting for his brother’s reply, he jogged down the steps.
Jonathan drained his glass and put it carefully back on the tray, too.
‘Thanks,’ he said to David and Sophie, who were apparently engrossed in checking one of the other vats. As he descended the steps back onto the barn floor, he was sure he didn’t imagine David’s gruff voice muttering ‘that’s a turn up for the books.’ David was right, he supposed. After all, this was somewhere that not so long ago he’d never imagined being either.