Page 64 of The Bordeaux Book Club

Bella was asleep in her pram.

Monica rocked her slightly as she sipped herchocolat-chaud, marvelling as she always did at the tiny details of her – the eyelashes, the impossibly small fingernails. The little bit of fluffy hair just showing under her bonnet. It was the first of June and although the weather was warm, the mornings were still cool enough to bring Bella out without having to worry about the tiny girl overheating. Today, the sky remained resolutely white, and although heat was promised for later in the day, the freshness of the morning was invigorating.

Monica glanced at the time on her phone. It was still only five minutes to. There was time to disappear if she wanted to. Time to forget it all. And nobody would know.

She’d managed to fit into a pair of navy jeans she’d owned before motherhood – the button undone at the top – and a black, fine-knit jumper. She knew she looked more like her old self – more like the Facebook profile she’d created. But she felt constrained and uncomfortable and wished in some ways she’d stuck to her baggy cast offs.

Perhaps this wasn’t a good idea. Perhaps…

‘Are you Monica?’ a voice said.

Monica looked up to see a woman with brown, curly hair, dressed in a light summer dress and carrying a baby in a sling. She hadn’t mastered a sling herself – whenever she’d tried one, it felt awkward and uncomfortable, and she envied the ease at which some women seemed to wear their babies as if they were still an extension of their own bodies.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Marie?’

‘Yes,’ the woman smiled and pulled out a chair, sinking into it with a sigh. ‘God, what a relief to have a bit of a cool breeze,’ she said. ‘I’m roasting in our apartment.’

Monica didn’t mention that her own apartment had air-conditioning and was always at an even temperature. ‘I know,’ she said instead.

They were both silent for a moment and it felt a little like a first date.

‘So, you want to start a mothers’ group?’ said Marie.

‘Yeah,’ Monica said. ‘Just something informal. They run one at theSalle de Fêtes, and I tried it a couple of times, but…’

‘Too French?’ Marie said.

Monica felt herself blush. Although there was no shame in speaking imperfect French, when she’d lived here such a short time. ‘Well, that,’ she said. ‘But more… well, I wanted something more informal. A bit more ad-hoc. For mothers like me, who can’t get ourselves organised enough.’

Marie laughed at this.

‘And I suppose, yes, for those of us who can’t speak perfect French yet,’ Monica admitted. ‘I know, if we decide to stay longer term, I’ll get there. But with Bella already here…’

‘You need something now?’ Marie nodded. ‘Yes, me too. When I saw your post on the Facebook group, I thought, “YES! Someone on my wavelength.”’

They smiled slightly shyly at each other, and Marie tucked some of her curls behind an ear. The clump of tousled hair fell forward again almost immediately. ‘Is anyone else coming?’ Marie asked.

‘There should be one other,’ Monica said, feeling a little embarrassed that she’d had so little interest. ‘But hopefully more next time.’

‘It’s great,’ Marie said. ‘I’m sure more people will come once they hear about it. I’ve got a friend just outside the city who’s got a two-year-old and I’m sure she’d be interested.’

Monica nodded. ‘That would be lovely,’ she said.

The waiter came over and took Marie’s order. Bella, still sleeping in her pram, began making sucking noises and moving her lips back and forth.

‘Oh, she’s precious!’ Marie exclaimed.

‘Thank you.’

‘Timeo does that,’ Marie said, rubbing the lump of baby strapped to her front. ‘Honestly, he’s a typical man. All he thinks about is food… and boobs.’

They laughed. Monica shifted slightly in her chair.

It would take time, Monica realised, to feel completely at ease. But she was doing it. She was building what she needed into her own life.

Another woman began to wheel a pushchair towards them. ‘This’ll be Jess,’ she said, standing up and waving.

The woman waved back and began to make her way towards their table.

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