Page 31 of The Bordeaux Book Club

‘I couldn’t help think about the loneliness in the book,’ Monica said quietly. ‘Like, with Heathcliff, he has people around him. But the only person he wants is Cathy – it doesn’t even matter to him whether it’s her ghost. He just wants to be near her. I get that. The idea of feeling alone, you know, despite everything. I guess it shows that loneliness can come from within.’ She trailed off.

Leah looked at her. ‘Are you OK?’ she said.

Monica flushed. ‘Yeah. Sorry,’ she said. ‘Just tired – despite the extra sleep. And Peter’s doing a three-weeker next time. Not looking forward to that.’

They all made sympathetic noises. ‘But don’t worry!’ she said brightly, ‘no ghostly hands through the window yet for me either.’

‘It’s weird,’ Alfie said, out of nowhere. They all swivelled to look at him and he flushed. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean… not you Monica or anything. I was just thinking how this book was written – what – two hundred years ago? Well, almost. And it’s about this orphan and his adoptive sister kind of falling in love. Which is pretty, well, unusual. And the property, and the things that happen – Heathcliff going mad. All of that.’

‘Yes?’ Monica prompted gently.

‘It’s just…’ he looked at Grace. ‘Like you said about classic books being relevant now and I didn’t know what you meant, but I suppose we’ve all found something inWuthering Heightsthat, like, spoke to us. A bit anyway.’ He took a sip of his orange juice and sat back, exhausted, seemingly, from the enormous input.

Leah nodded. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘It is weird.’

They all murmured. ‘Well, talking of classics,’ Grace said, ‘I think it’s Leah’s turn to choose the next book, am I right?’

They all looked at Leah expectantly. She coloured – she’d been set to mention a contemporary book about a midlife woman having a ‘hilarious’ (according to the critics) breakdown. But with all the talk of classics, she suddenly felt inadequate. ‘Um…’ she said hesitantly.

Alfie’s phone, placed in front of him on the table, began to buzz excitedly. He picked it up. ‘Yeah?’ he said. ‘Oh, hi Mum…’

Grace looked at Leah and raised an eyebrow.

‘Yeah, no, don’t worry. No, I’ll come home now. Yeah, sorry,’ he glanced at his watch, ‘I didn’t realise. Yeah, I reckon about twenty minutes. No… yeah. OK, love you.’ He hung up and looked at the group. ‘I’ve got to go,’ he said, standing up. ‘That was my mum, so…’

‘Of course,’ Grace said generously, officially releasing him from any obligation. ‘I’ll email you details of the next book.’

‘Yeah, mate. Say hi to Mummy for me,’ George said, with a wicked grin.

Alfie went red.

‘Ignore him,’ Leah said. ‘I think it’s sweet.’

This didn’t seem to make Alfie feel any better. ‘You know…’ he began, taking a step forward, then, ‘Never mind.’

‘See you next time, Alfie,’ Monica said.

He nodded, once, to affirm and then turned and walked quickly out of the café. Once on the street, he started to run.

12

They sat in silence for a minute, the dynamic slightly broken by Alfie’s hasty exit. ‘Shall we grab another coffee?’ Grace said. ‘Or do you have to get off too?’

Leah checked her watch. It was only half past six. It was nice to have arranged the group for an afternoon instead of an evening for once – it gave them more flexibility on time. ‘I think I could manage another,’ she said. The rest of them agreed and Grace duly got up, taking their empties on a tray.

‘That kid,’ George said, sitting forward slightly in his chair. ‘You know, he seems so… but the minute his mum calls, he’s like…’

‘I know,’ said Leah. ‘You do wonder whether… I suppose when British kids are brought up somewhere else, without wider family, well, maybe he’s been a bit cut off. Maybe he’s a bit… reliant on his mum?’

‘Yeah, or she’s reliant on him,’ George suggested. ‘Either way, you’ve got to worry if it’s healthy.’

‘How old do you think he is?’ Leah mused.

‘Nineteen, twenty, maybe?’

‘Yeah, I think so too. He seems a bit… I mean, I love that he’s joined us, and he really seems to enjoy the books. But you have to wonder…’

‘Why he wants to hang out with us oldies?’ George said, with a grin. ‘Yeah, I thought that. I asked him, actually.’

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