As far as David was concerned, Friday couldn’t come quickly enough: dinner chez Madeleine. Before leaving his flat – confident and self-assured as he was - he felt butterflies in his stomach, so he drank a couple of large whiskies, he needed something to calm his nerves. It wasn’t every day that one was invited to the home of the most attractive woman in Rennes. He set off in good time to call in at a classy wine merchant’s shop that he had found a few streets away. Faced with the racks on three walls containing fine wines - that he knew little or nothing about - he caught the eye of the smartly dressed assistant sitting on a stool behind the till.
“Bonsoir, monsieur. Je peux vous aider?”
“Y-yes, please. I’m looking for a light red wine – better get something that there’s a decent chance
