Page 25 of The Bordeaux Book Club
‘I’m asking you for six more months,’ she’d said, feeling herself flush as she realised what she was about to say.
‘I can’t. It’s Grayling, Grace. I’m not sure you understand…’
‘I’m not sureyouunderstand,’ she’d said, her voice wobbling a little. ‘But I’m telling you now. If you love me, you’ll stay. You’ll give me this little bit of time to try. Because I gave up everything for you and I don’t see why I should do it again, just like that. Just because you decide one day that it’s not for you.’
‘You’re just feeling emotional.’ Stephen had shaken his head sympathetically.
She’d felt her temper rise. ‘I’m just asking for a few months.’
‘But…’ he’d said. ‘It’s Grayling.’
‘Stephen,’ she’d whispered. ‘It’s Grayling or me. Grayling or us.’
‘Well, now you are being hysterical.’ His blue eyes had flashed with something close to anger. ‘I get it, OK? You’ve made your point. I’ve messed up. But don’t do this, Grace.’
‘Do what?’
‘Sabotage my career just to make a point. I’ll make it up to you, OK? Whatever you want. A car? Holidays? Just don’t be difficult on this. Please.’
When he’d left two days later, she still wasn’t sure he understood exactly why she’d refused to come with him. ‘Come for the trip,’ he’d said. ‘I might not even get the job’. But that wasn’t the point. She’d realised he hadn’t factored in that she was a living, breathing human in her own right, rather than just an extension of him. And she saw that she’d been another check on his list of life goals, rather than an equal.
Grace had cried for a week.
Then she’d got up, brushed herself off. Had her hair done. Gone to a DIY store. Watched YouTube videos on how to paint, how to plaster, how to repurpose furniture.
And within a year, a whole new Grace had come to life. And she wasn’t going to follow anyone, ever again.
10
‘Do you want me to collect the eggs?’ Leah asked Nathan, handing him a cup of tea. Two weeks had passed since her talk with Grace and although he’d popped out a couple of times during the fortnight, her fear about him having an affair had more or less dissipated. It helped that each time he had disappeared, he’d returned with something – a box of treats from the patisserie; some new mugs from the pottery shop – that proved (if proof were needed) that his trips were purely innocent.
‘I just need a bit of time out sometimes,’ he’d said when she’d questioned him about it. ‘You must understand that? Just see a bit of life! Forget about the garden?’
She did. She had the group, her reading, French classes that she attended sporadically. She sometimes went to gardening club with Grace. She was working throughWuthering Heights– a book she’d last read aged seventeen and was looking at from a whole new perspective now she was undoubtedly older and possibly wiser (because, really, who did Heathcliff think he was?). She should probably start arranging more activities forherself too – it wasn’t healthy for them to simply live at home, working on the land, eating the meagre results of their labours.
It was natural for Nathan to want to carve out a bit of life for himself separate from their family. He’d been slow to learn French, finding it difficult to conjugate his verbs and preferred to work his way through online courses and apps rather than join a group as she had. It meant that in the years they’d lived here, he had become a bit isolated. Really, she ought to be pleased he was getting out and about.
Scarlett hadn’t mentioned the fact she’d seen Nathan with a woman since their car screeching dead-end over a month ago, and Leah suspected her daughter had felt embarrassed about her faux pas. She hadn’t spoken to her about it since, either; talking to Scarlett was becoming increasingly difficult – her daughter’s one-word answers to her cheery questions were deflating at best – and she was on a mission for self-preservation. She stuck to safe topics like, ‘What would you like for dinner?’ and slightly riskier but necessary questions such as, ‘Have you done your homework?’
Nathan straightened up, grimacing as his back gave its habitual spasm, and stuck his fork into the earth. He took the tea and they both watched as the fork started to lean slightly in the soft soil and gently give into gravity until it was prone. ‘Know how it feels,’ he said, and they both laughed.
Spring had finally made itself known and the air was bright and fresh. Trees were beginning to break out in blossom seemingly overnight, creating a riot of pinks and bright whites. Insects were beginning to buzz in the undergrowth and crickets sometimes chirped into the evening. She loved summer, but spring was her favourite season – because it was on the cusp of everything, as if nature was giving a preview of coming events.
She watched as Nathan sipped his tea, then she made to walk towards the coop.
‘Don’t be an idiot,’ her husband said, taking the basket from her firmly. ‘I’ll get them.’
‘But I ought to…’ she began, secretly incredibly relieved that he’d yet again taken on the task. She wasn’t sure whether chickens had big enough brains to hold a grudge, but if they did, Gollum had certainly had it in for her since she’d stepped on the bird’s tail. The angry chicken seemed to eye Leah through the wire whenever she got close, with barely disguised hatred.
Leah felt stupid, of course, to be afraid of a bunch of hens. It was ridiculous, really, that she felt so relieved whenever Nathan brought the basket of eggs to her and she knew that the job was over for the day. Then as the time to collect or change straw or feed their poultry approached, she began to feel apprehensive. She’d overcome it, she’d decided. But there was no rush.
She smiled as she watched Nathan stride across the garden, basket in hand, like a conquering hero. He opened the door without hesitation and the chickens scattered in his wake. Even Gollum seemed to look at her owner with a degree of respect. Moments later, he was back, four eggs in the basket. She handed back the rest of his tea. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘At your service, ma’am.’
She laughed. ‘You know what, you’re pretty sexy for a farmer,’ she quipped. ‘My hero.’
He laughed again and grabbed her around the waist. She felt the electric charge of it – how long had it been since they’d touched? They were so exhausted sometimes from digging, or battling Scarlett, or chicken attacks, that they fell into bed and virtually passed out each night. She wrapped her arms around him in return. ‘Love you,’ she said.
