Page 21 of The Bordeaux Book Club
‘But it can’t be the carrots, surely?’ she said. ‘I mean, that was weeks ago now. It’s just… I can’t think of anything else that might have upset him!’
‘Don’t underestimate the impact of the carrot situation,’ her friend advised. ‘Think about it – he’s gone from a pretty amazing job: lots of status, that sort of thing. Now he’s running a veg patch. They weren’t just carrots. They were his achievement –a symbol of how things were going for him. And you kind of crushed that.’
‘Oh,’ Leah said, feeling suddenly guilty. She was often a little envious of Nathan, the fact he was living the life they’d dreamed of living – working the garden, trying to build something akin to self-sufficiency – while she still worked online a few shifts a week and had to be stuck to the laptop for set hours. But she hadn’t imagined what it must feel like to put all your eggs – or carrots – into one basket, a basket that also held your self-esteem.
‘Don’t get me wrong,’ Grace added, ‘it is ridiculous and I’m completely with you – but men, they can be quite needy about these sorts of things.’
‘I suppose so.’ Leah always tried to take Grace’s thoughts on men with a large pinch of salt – or glass of wine.
‘Believe me, when Stephen and I were first here, he got in a sulk about paint colours that lasted about three weeks,’ Grace confided, in a rare moment of self-revelation. ‘He was head of finance in some huge firm in London – not sure if you remember that – and used to being the boss at work. I married his ‘home self’ – the bit that was left over after a week of bossing his secretaries or the junior solicitors around. He was as laid-back as you like back then. Only – when we got here, I got the whole package – home Stephen and work Stephen – and it was a different story.’
Leah listened interestedly. Despite their knowing each other for three years, Grace had never really opened up about what had broken her relationship up. ‘France didn’t suit him,’ was all she’d ever got out of her. Leah wondered whether it was the wine or her own admissions of ‘trouble in paradise’ that was driving the conversation.
‘Different story?’ she prompted, taking a sip from her now cooler tea.
Grace waved a hand. ‘Oh, he wanted to be in charge of everything. Before, it had been me when it came to the house stuff. He’d left the colour scheme, curtains, everything to my choice. But when it was all we had – well, he used to get quite disgruntled about it all.’
‘Is that why he…’ Leah began, pausing and wondering whether she ought to ask at all.
‘Left?’ Grace said, looking at her pointedly.
‘Well, yes. Is it?’ she asked, wondering whether couples really split up over paint colours. Or carrot crops. And whether she ought to worry.
‘Oh, not entirely. Not really. In the end, he chose being a city hotshot over life with me,’ Grace said, shrugging her shoulder as if it was no big deal. But her eyes were moist. ‘It’s just a blessing we hadn’t any children to screw up,’ she added, swatting a tear from one eye as if annoyed at its presence.
Leah thought of Scarlett. How she might be if her parents broke up. But she shook the image away. She was just feeling a bit vulnerable at the moment. ‘Do you ever…?’ she began.
‘Miss him?’ Grace asked. ‘No, not at all. Better off without.’ Her voice was firm and the phrase sounded slightly rehearsed.
‘What about…?’
‘Finding someone else?’ Grace finished. ‘No, I think I’m better off without another old man to look after.’ She took a sip from her tea and fixed her eyes on Leah. ‘Seriously, I spent most of my adult life in relationships. And I never really thought what it would be like to be… well, on my own. But I’ve come to like my own company. Plus, I have Hector. Male cats require far less maintenance than their homo sapien equivalents.’
Leah found herself laughing. ‘Hector is definitely that rare thing – a low-maintenance male,’ she said, reaching out to stroke the cat who’d settled himself in a neat ball on one of therattan chairs. She doubted he’d mind how many bags of carrots she bought. Perhaps Grace had a point.
‘Indeed, plus I’m not sure what his highness would make of it if a new man came and usurped his position,’ Grace told her.
Hector opened one eye and looked at them both with undisguised disdain. They laughed.
The conversation moved on to less personal topics – Grace’s involvement with a bake sale, the fact that the weather was bleak for March. But Leah’s mind kept returning to Grace’s relationship. How she’d chosen to stay in France after Stephen had left. Would she do the same if Nathan left, she wondered? Would she be able to make a life for herself here without him? But she couldn’t imagine life without him anywhere, France or not.
‘Do you ever think of moving back?’ she blurted, just when Grace was telling her about the latest trials and tribulations in the knitting circle.
‘Back? To England, you mean?’
‘Yes.’
‘No. Never. Why?’ Grace’s sharp, inquisitive eyes fixed on hers and she had to look away.
‘I just wonder sometimes whether France… suits me. I mean, it’s romantic, isn’t it, from a distance. The idea of being self-sufficient, not answering to anyone. But in reality, it’s…’
‘Bloody hard work?’
Leah laughed. ‘Exactly. Bloody hard work.’
Grace shook her head. ‘But it doesn’t have to be.’
‘What do you mean?’
