Page 15 of The Bordeaux Book Club

The bell on the door pinged.

‘My shoe!’ Scarlett said, disappearing towards the ground. ‘I’ll just…’ She began fiddling with her trainer.

Waiting for her to finish her sentence, Leah took a sip of coffee which was warm and sweet. She used the tiny fork she’d been provided with to break the crust of the lemon meringue, feeling it crumble satisfyingly onto the plate. Lifting a forkful to her mouth, she sighed as the tang of lemon and the sweet, crumbly mess of pastry melted on her tongue. This was simply to die for.

She’d always imagined life in France would be like this. Not just sitting and scoffing cakes all day, but taking time out, exploring little cafés and quaint high streets. Enjoying a slower pace of life and having time to appreciate the smaller things.

When they’d first arrived, it had felt like bliss – for a while. They’d relished the fact they were no longer slaves to their alarm clock, enjoyed planning the garden at leisure, shopping for DIY materials or seeds. Going on recces to local markets to try out the produce. Leah hadn’t even minded her shifts at the laptop – after all, she was still in France and enjoying the beautiful scenery whilst typing. But over time, they’d had to get real, had to actually try to make their plan of sustaining a life herework and she’d begun to realise how unrealistic it was. She was worried she might never be able to quit the copywriting. Yet Nathan was so fixed on their project, his self-esteem somehow so tied in with making this a success, she just couldn’t raise the subject with him.

‘It’ll be hard graft for a while,’ Nathan had told her as they’d rotavated their first bed. ‘But once things get going, I reckon the garden will almost take care of itself!’ She’d believed him – why wouldn’t she? He’d been senior to her at work and had always seemed to know what he was doing there. She had simply transferred her faith in him (based on his being an editor) to this new situation. Ill-advisedly, as it turned out.

Because three years on, she was still up at dawn, muscles aching, trying to be positive about a day of planting or plant care. Or looking up endless egg recipes online and pretending they tasted different from each other; desperately trying to become self-sufficient rather than nibbling away at their ‘savings’ – the equity they’d had left over after moving. She tried not to think about whether they’d be properly set up for business by the time they ran out of funds. Plus, she…

A movement below the table interrupted her train of thought. What on earth was Scarlett doing? She was still under the table, still fiddling with a lace that looked perfectly fine to Leah as she glanced down.

‘Scarlett?’ she said. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yes, shut up, OK?’

Leah was about to admonish her daughter in no uncertain terms, but a movement near the counter caught her eye. Two girls of about Scarlett’s age were there, buying takeaway hot chocolates and chattering with each other. Was Scarlett hiding from them?

She waited until the door clanged shut behind the teenage customers before saying. ‘They’ve gone, Scarlett.’

Scarlett emerged from her under the table hiding spot looking… well, scarlet.

‘What’s going on?’ Leah said, fixing her daughter with knowing, yet hopefully understanding, look. ‘Is everything OK?’

‘What? It was just my?—’

‘Scarlett – you were hiding!’

‘Yeah,’ her daughter admitted, shoulders slumping.

‘What’s going on? Do you know them from school? Scarlett – are you being bullied?’ This would explain, Leah thought, the temper, the locking herself away. The way Scarlett was speaking to her these days – it was classic lashing out due to stress/fear. How had she been so blind… how had…?

‘No, I don’t know them.’

‘Oh.’

‘It’s you.’ Scarlett said flatly.

‘Me?’

‘I just…’ She shrugged a shoulder and began to play with the edges of the macaron. ‘Going out with your mum. It’s kind of lame.’

‘Oh.’ It was hard to know what to say. Leah remembered being embarrassed of her mum, occasionally, back in the day. But her mum had been… well, old-fashioned. And Leah was… Leah looked down at her outfit. She’d thought she looked pretty chic.

They finished their pastries in silence, before making their way back to the car.

6

‘Mum!’

The shock of Scarlett’s sudden yell almost caused Leah to swerve from the road. But there was nothing there – no oncoming vehicle, no animal cowering in front of the car. She looked at her daughter with thinly disguised annoyance.

‘What is it, Scarlett!’ she snapped. ‘I nearly crashed the car.’

‘Sorry, Mum,’ Scarlett said, her eyes wide. ‘I just… it’s just I think I saw Dad?’

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