Page 89 of The Bordeaux Book Club

‘Well, when in France,’ she joked, and he laughed.

‘Afraid you’ll find I’ve got terrible taste,’ he said.

‘Don’t worry,’ she smiled. ‘So have I.’ And she looked at him with pointed humour. ‘After all, I was a big fan of Heathcliff until recently.’

As they walked towards the restaurant, he linked his arm in hers. And it felt nice.

41

JULY

To: Bordeaux Book Club

From: Grace

Subject: Meeting

Hi all,

Thought it might be time to book a date for a meet-up, if that suits? George has got a couple of books up his sleeve to suggest, but can’t decide. And I thought – why not just have a get-together, catch-up and decide together? It’s been far too long.

It’s George’s turn to host, officially, but I’ve offered him my place if that works for everyone? Shall we say 7p.m.?

Look forward to seeing you all!

Grace

This time, Grace had set everything up in the garden. Chairs had been arranged under the cherry tree, with an enormous sunshade to give them extra cover. It had been a hot week and although the temperatures often dipped around 8p.m., the heat was set to remain above twenty-five until at least midnight.

Grace had set a table with wine glasses, home-made vegetable crisps and a dip; George had brought along some beer and bags of ice which he’d emptied into a bucket along with Grace’s four bottles of sparkling.

Nobody had said anything outright when George and Grace had answered the door together, but it was clear to everyone from the interactions between the pair that something had shifted. Grace’s hand left momentarily on George’s arm; George going to the fridge without asking, to find the orange juice for Monica’s Buck’s Fizz. Leah caught Monica’s eye when George had his back turned, filling up Grace’s glass, and made a face that said everything. They both grinned. It was surprising. But brilliant.

Alfie looked a little pale, but was soon installed in a rather low deckchair with a beer in his hand. Monica leaned over and gave his arm a little squeeze and he shot her a grateful look. Nobody needed to say anything more. Camille was busy in the kitchen, laying tiny pastries and olives on a platter for them to enjoy.

‘So, you’re signing thecompromistomorrow?’ Grace said to Leah, once they’d all settled down.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It’s quite exciting really.’ They’d accepted the offer the previous week, and once this document was signed the transaction would be binding.

She’d met Grace for coffee the day after that terrible, wonderful night with Leah.

‘Thank you,’ she’d said. ‘For coming. For helping.’

‘Where else would I be?’

They’d smiled at each other, both tired but relieved after the night’s events. Leah told her about Nathan, how he’d explained everything. How everything now seemed to make sense.

‘And you feel OK about it?’ Grace had asked.

‘I will,’ she’d said. ‘I think.’

They’d spoken about Scarlett. How upset her daughter had been. How she, too, had sensed something was wrong. ‘I’m going to try harder with her, to talk to her,’ Leah had said. ‘Even if she… well, if she dismisses me. I’ve got to grow a backbone, I suppose. Be the adult.’

Two weeks later, she and Nathan had put the house on the market and shortly after had found a couple who wanted to buy. ‘They’re so excited about the allotment,’ Leah had said quietly to Nathan. ‘I hope they know what they’re getting themselves into.’

They’d decided to rent an apartment closer to the centre, but still near enough that Scarlett could attend the same school. ‘We’re not going to leap into buying something brand new and regret that too,’ Leah had told Grace on the phone once they’d made their decision. ‘We’re taking it more slowly this time.’

‘Sounds like a very good idea.’

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