Page 10 of The Bordeaux Book Club

‘Right,’ she said to no one, as she opened the front door and felt the chill of the morning air, sharp on her face. ‘Right, no time to waste.’

She made her way as swiftly as she dared across the iced front drive and slipped into her Peugeot, starting the engine and letting the warmth blow vigorously against the windscreen. She had time; she didn’t have to stand in the cold and scrape the ice. Eventually, the windscreen wipers broke through, sending shards of icy water dripping wetly from her screen.

She put the car in gear and steered it slowly to the end of the drive, stopping to look for non-existent traffic before disappearing around the corner, on her way to the market.

4

‘You’re looking smart,’ Leah said, as Nathan appeared in the doorway wearing a fresh pair of jeans and – for the first time in an age – an unsullied jumper in place of his usual mud-stained hoodie.

He walked into the kitchen and poured himself a coffee, leaning against the counter to drink it. ‘Thanks,’ he said, looking down at his outfit as if realising what he was wearing for the first time.

Leah shut her laptop. She’d reply to Grace later. ‘I thought we were rotavating?’ she said. ‘You said we’d be at it all day.’ In truth, she hadn’t been looking forward to it, but it wasn’t the point. She was there, duly dressed and now feeling incredibly scruffy in her tracksuit bottoms and one of Nathan’s old jumpers, and he was looking – comparatively at least – as if he was about to attend a wedding.

‘We are,’ he said. ‘I just… I thought I’d pop out first. You know, we were saying we ought to keep an eye on prices at the market. So when we’re ready to sell…’ the words trailed off. They were months, probably years, from having surplus to sell at market. It sounded 100 per cent the lame excuse it was.

She didn’t blame him, though, for wanting a break. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you wait a few minutes and I’ll slip into…’

‘Do you mind if I get on?’ he said, draining the last of his coffee and clinking the mug down on the kitchen worktop. ‘I just thought I’d shoot off on my own, if that’s OK. I’ll be back soon.’

‘Oh, OK.’

‘And Scarlett’s here, so…’

‘Scarlett’s fourteen. She hardly needs a babysitter.’

‘I know.’

‘And she won’t be awake for a couple of hours probably.’

‘I know.’

Leah scrutinised her husband. It was fine, of course, for him to take a bit of time for himself. It was no different to what she was doing, joining the reading group. And she had a few different clubs and associations she attended from time to time by herself. Even so, the fact that he clearly didn’t want her to come made her feel a childish sense of rejection. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it felt as if something was up. ‘Is this about the carrots?’ she said at last clutching the only straw – or vegetable – she could think of.

‘What?’

‘Are you still upset about the carrots?’

A smile spread across his face. ‘Don’t be ridiculous! I’m petty but I’m not that petty.’

She grinned in response. ‘Sorry,’ she said, feeling embarrassed. ‘Look of course, it’s fine. The ground’s probably frozen solid anyway. I just wish you’d given me a heads-up, is all.’

‘I’ll be back by lunchtime, and we can get that patch done this afternoon if you want?’ he said, picking up his wallet and keys.

‘Sure,’ she said, getting up to give him a kiss, noticing the fresh smell of aftershave and suspecting it clashed a little withthe musty smell she was giving off in her work clothes with her unwashed hair. ‘You smell nice,’ she said. ‘Who’s the lucky lady?’

He laughed, briskly. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ he quipped. ‘So, see you twelve-ish?’

‘Sure you don’t want me to…?’ she trailed off. ‘Sorry. You go. Have fun. Scope out the competition.’ She smiled, as he turned at the door and blew her a kiss.

‘Oh, and I haven’t brought the eggs in this morning,’ he said. ‘Get Scarlett to do it?’

‘Chance would be a fine…’ she said, but the door shut before she could finish.

Once the car had pulled away, she poured herself another coffee, wrapped herself in Nathan’s work coat – which was enormous and sheepskin-lined and smelled of mud and chickens and cats – and took it out to the little bench in their front garden. From here, she could watch the ice-cold sun play on the barren fields and imagine how life was hiding, just under the surface, ready to burst forth in a few weeks’ time.

March was her favourite month. Not in terms of the work it involved with planting and watering and harvesting and planning, but the way in which the world came back to life after the winter. Living on the land the way they were trying to do made you more aware than ever of the weather – how it affected your daily life, how it made you change plans, how it made a crop thrive or falter. Back home in the UK, working in the glass-fronted offices of theCambridge News, they’d been under the illusion that they – the humans – ruled the world. Here, she was in no doubt that it was actually nature in charge.

Although their lives seemed to revolve around their growing – or at least trying to – when they’d decided to make the move three years ago, it hadn’t really been born from a desire to live off the land, but simply the desire tolive…

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