Page 18 of The Bordeaux Book Club

‘Yeah, it was good,’ said Monica, earning herself a look of disapproval.

‘Good?’ Grace said, an eyebrow cocked. ‘I should say so! Was there anything specific you enjoyed or related to?’

Monica looked at her text. ‘I liked the bit in London,’ she said. ‘You know, when Pip’s trying to become a gentleman. Must be hard. Trying to be a new sort of person.’

Grace nodded. ‘Yes, I tend to agree. I’m sure Dickens wanted the reader to sympathise with young Pip there.’

‘I don’t know. I couldn’t help but see Pip as selfish,’ Leah found herself saying. ‘The way he turned his back on everyone and everything he knew – and for what? False friends, high society and strutting around in fancy clothes – just leaving his sister and Joe to rot!’

‘But you can’t fully blame him,’ Monica said. ‘The times he lived in… Well, he was kept down by his class. He had to sort of shake people off so that he could properly enter high society.’

They all nodded their agreement.

‘His brother-in-law, Joe, is so lovely, though,’ Leah said. ‘I mean, Pip was looking for something more – more money, orwhatever, but the way he treated that man who’d taken him in…’ She found herself feeling slightly tearful. What was wrong with her at the moment? She took a large gulp of wine.

‘He gets his comeuppance in the end, I suppose,’ George said. ‘You know, when he finds out that the money came from a criminal not from someone upper class. And Estella as his love interest isn’t exactly a recipe for happy ever after – not the best prize for him.’

‘Not that a woman could be considered as a possession, of course,’ Grace interjected.

George flushed. ‘No, not by me anyhow,’ he said, hurriedly. ‘But…’ He waved the book and trailed off.

‘They were different times.’ Leah nodded.

‘What do you think Dickens is trying to tell us in this tale?’ Grace prompted. ‘That we ought not to trust our instincts? That we ought not to seek better for ourselves lest we fail?’

Leah had not heard Grace use the word ‘lest’ before. She must really mean business.

‘Maybe more to appreciate what we have,’ suggested George. ‘Like, I know at the start of the book, his sister’s a right… um, cow, but he’s got Joe. He’s got a profession ahead. Then he’s taken in by this money…’

‘But to be fair,’ Monica said, ‘he doesn’t know the money’s not from Miss Havisham, the rich old spinster he meets as a kid. He thought he was going to be a legitimate heir; be welcomed into proper society.’

‘Yeah, but Miss Havisham!’ George said. ‘Who’d want to take money from her? Some screwed up old bint rotting away in her old wedding dress. She only gets away with it because she’s got money and status. Can you imagine her these days?’

‘Maybe these days, she’d have had a bit of trauma counselling?’ Alfie suggested. ‘Like, she’s sort of allowed to get in that state after what happens to her – being left on her weddingday – because she’s rich and because maybe people didn’t understand…’ he took a deep breath as if to refuel, ‘…sickness then. But maybe her money becomes a bit like a cage for her – it, like, traps her. She doesn’t have to do anything. Go out to work. Mix with people. So she kind of… rots away?’

Monica looked at Alfie and smiled. ‘That’s such a good point,’ she said. ‘Miss Havisham is a bit… weird. But she’s not exactly living her best life, right?’

Leah saw one of Grace’s ‘looks’ drift across her features. She assumed it was either the ‘whatever’ or the ‘living her best life’ reference. It was the schoolteacher in her, judging their choice of words.

‘Yeah, I get that,’ said George. ‘But Joe is such a great guy – a great dad to Pip. He’s kind, he loves Pip, he stands by him through thick and thin. Then, just because he works with his hands, just because they don’t have much money, Pip shrugs him off.’ He took an enormous gulp of wine as if this had been hard to say. ‘There’s nothing wrong with working with your hands,’ he concluded, causing them all to momentarily glance at his weathered fingers, which looked out of place against the delicate crystal.

He sees himself as Joe, Leah thought.Because of his work. But she’d also identified with Joe because he’d been rejected by his surrogate son. She wondered whether the others had identified with anyone. But found herself unable to ask – because if she mentioned anything, she’d have to tell them all about Scarlett’s behaviour and how it made her feel. And she felt shy about it, somehow. As if, once she acknowledged it, then it would become a permanent fixture. As if telling everyone how Scarlett was behaving towards her would make them judge her effectiveness as a mother.

‘I’m just glad I didn’t live then,’ Alfie piped up, his voice quiet. ‘At least now people have a chance. You know, to maketheir own fortune. They’re not held back by, well… class or whatever. Or if, like, they’re a bit poor, it doesn’t matter. Not to the way people see them.’

Leah found herself smiling at his innocent take on the world. She wanted to tell him about invisible barriers that still lurked in workplaces and society. Barriers that you can’t see until you hit them smack in the face. But she held back – it was nice that this young man had such an optimistic view of life. Or perhaps it was growing up in France. All that fraternity and solidarity. Maybe things would be different here, for Alfie.

An hour later, the books had been set down (or in Alfie’s case, dropped to the floor at the side of his chair) and they had moved on to talking about wine, and France, and anything other than a young boy with a mysterious benefactor.

‘So, what brought you to France?’ Grace was saying to George. Leah noticed her friend’s cheeks were flushed – perhaps too much of theSaint-Émilion?

‘Oh, I’m just here on a temporary visa,’ he said. ‘Helping a mate with some renos.’

‘Renos?’

‘Renovations.’

‘Oh, of course. And what do you think? Would you be tempted byla vie en France?’ Grace continued, leaning forward in her chair and rolling her ‘r’ like a pro. ‘Think you might make it permanent?’

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