Page 77 of The Bordeaux Book Club

‘Nathan, I don’t believe you’re having counselling with this woman. I did… sort of. I think I wanted to believe it, so I kind of clutched onto it. Then tonight. It suddenly struck me when I was talking to Grace. It’s not true, is it?’

He looked down at the kitchen surface as if hoping to find an answer there, then shook his head no. Just once. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

There’s a huge difference between suspecting something and having it confirmed. Leah felt it now, like a punch to the stomach. ‘Oh,’ she said.

‘But wait, it’s not what you think,’ he told her.

She looked at him then, anger surging through her. ‘That,’ she said, ‘is an exact quote from the cheating bastard playbook.’

‘No, I swear, I…’

‘Whatever lies you want to tell me this time, Nathan, I’m too tired to hear them. I have a suspicion that it’sexactlywhat I think.’

‘You have to hear me out…’ he began. He reached for her and she moved away. But before either of them could say anything, there was an enormous, thundering crash from upstairs. Their eyes met, united in parental fear. ‘Scarlett?’ he said.

They leapt up. ‘Are you OK?’ Leah called.

There was no answer from upstairs.

‘Scarlett?’ They both raced up the stairs towards their daughter’s room.

Later, Leah would wonder what had made them run like that. They were used to the odd thud or crash from Scarlett as she went about her way with no consideration for the loudness of DMs on wooden floors, or decided randomly to tidy her bedroom at eleven o’clock at night, after being nagged about it all day.

Nathan was first, pushing the bedroom door open. ‘Scarlett?’ he said. ‘Ouch!’

‘What?’ Leah pushed in behind him. ‘Oh.’

An enormous glass dish, usually kept on Scarlett’s windowsill, had crashed to the floor. The window, left slightly open, had clearly nudged it and it had fallen, smashing and spilling its contents – a collection of marble eggs, each heavy enough to practically break through a floorboard. No wonder it had made such a noise.

Nathan reached down and lifted a shard of glass that had pricked his foot. ‘Bloody hell,’ he said. ‘I could have lost a limb there.’

‘At least the crash wasn’t anything worse,’ Leah said. Then remembered they were mid-argument and stopped. Nathan had been about to confess something. This was no time for shared parental relief.

Only Nathan’s face didn’t look relieved. ‘But Leah,’ he said. ‘Where is Scarlett?’

‘Bathroom?’ Leah suggested. But there it was again, the feeling of dread that had only just left her, creeping back with a new, determined certainty. ‘Scarlett?’ she called. ‘Scarlett!’

Then they saw the note on the bed.

31

The note was written on pink paper, decorated with horses. Something Leah had bought for Scarlett a few years ago but that she’d rarely used. Nathan unfolded it and quickly scanned the content. ‘Silly girl,’ he said under his breath.

‘What is it?’

‘Apparently, she’s gone to Mathilde’s house for a few days. She’s sick of us and needs a break.’

Leah was flooded with relief. ‘Oh,’ she said. Then, ‘But how…?’

‘Exactly,’ Nathan looked at her. ‘How did she get there?’ He quickly dialled Scarlett’s phone and put his mobile to his ear. ‘No answer,’ he said, frustrated.

Mathilde, one of Scarlett’s best friends, lived a twenty-minute drive away. Not far at all. If you had a car. But it would take an hour or two at least to walk the same distance.

‘Perhaps Mathilde’s mum picked her up?’ Leah said, hopefully.

‘Wouldn’t you have heard something? Seen something?’

‘I don’t know,’ Leah said, pulling her phone from her pocket and dialling. Mathilde’s mother, Manon, answered almostimmediately. ‘I’m sorry. I know it’s late. It’s Leah. Is Scarlett with you?’ Leah asked, not bothering to try French as she would ordinarily. Manon spoke fluent English, but was very tolerant of Leah’s French – patient and encouraging. But this wasn’t the time.

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