Page 27 of The Bordeaux Book Club
‘But…’ she looked again at the tiny vegetables. Had she missed something?
‘I was happy,’ he said, the ‘happy’ coming out in almost a sob. ‘For the first time in what – months? – we’d got enough to make a meal. And all you can do is laugh at me.’
‘Enough for a…’ she looked at the potatoes doubtfully.
‘See!’ he said. ‘This is what I mean! You’re meant to be supporting me in this. And what are you doing instead? Taking pictures so you can laugh at me with your friends on Facebook. I suppose…’ he said, drawing himself up. ‘I suppose you’re going to get some potatoes from thesupermarketnow.’
He was so very angry. So angry that it was hard not to let the corners of her mouth turn up with a mix of incredulity and surprise. ‘Nathan, I thought you were… you said dining in style. I thought you were… I thought you were joking,’ she said.
‘Oh, sorry if I can’t meet all of your potato needs,’ he said, sarcastically. ‘There are twelve of them there! Twelve! That’s, well, four each!’
Four potatoes did sound like a lot, she reasoned, until you looked at their size. Had he really thought she’d be pleased – proud? She felt suddenly guilty. ‘I’m sorry, I just…’ she said. ‘I misread the tone, is all.’
He sank onto a bar stool. ‘Yes, but don’t you see,’ he said, ‘you revealed what you really think. You think my growing is pathetic. You think I am pathetic.’
‘Hey!’ she wheeled around and cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. ‘I do not think you are pathetic, Nathan. I’m sorry. You’re right. Four potatoes each is quite… something.’
He looked at her. ‘Do you realise,’ he said, ‘how emasculating it is to have my wife mock my potatoes?’
Sometimes she wondered whether her mouth was being controlled by her at all. Because honestly, why would she smile at a time like this? But her lips seemed fixed on the idea of stretching out despite her trying to keep a straight face.
He pushed her hands away. ‘Maybe if you believed in me more, I’d be better at it,’ he said.
‘Oh, come on!’ she was annoyed now. ‘Nathan, you’re not being rational.’
‘So, now I’m mad as well?’ he questioned.
‘Let me make you a cup of tea,’ she suggested. ‘We can talk about it.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m going out for a bit.’
‘Again? You only went out yesterday… You…’
‘Well,’ he said, getting majestically to his feet. ‘Someone has to buy potatoes, I guess.’ He made to put his hand in his pocket, perhaps to check for money, but managed to knock the basket of eggs with his elbow. They both watched, transfixed, as the rounded basket base rocked on the wood, gaining momentum until it tipped, spilling its contents messily onto the floor.
‘And I suppose that’s my fault too, is it?’ he demanded.
It was. But she thought it was better not to say anything. ‘Look, I’m sorry,’ she said instead. ‘I’m sorry if I upset you.’
He shook his head. ‘You didn’t upset me. You just showed me the truth. That you don’t believe in this. In what we’re doing.’
‘I do…’ she felt her voice waver. Did she? She had to admit that after three years in France, she’d begun to wonder whether they hadn’t made a giant mistake in thinking they could make do – even make a living! – off their own land. She was scared of the chickens, reluctant to get any other animals. If she was honest, she didn’t even like carrots that much.
But she had to be positive about it; it meant so much to Nathan that they live this life.
Nathan looked at her, shaking his head slowly as if he’d just caught her out in a terrible lie. ‘Well, thanks,’ he said, backing from the room. ‘Thanks for your faith in me.’
Moments later, the car revved up and he was gone.
Wiping the eggs from the floor with a cloth, feeling their gooey stickiness against her fingers and trying not to retch, Leah still didn’t feel entirely sure what had just happened. She lookedat her copy ofWuthering Heights– unlike Heathcliff, Nathan (thankfully) wasn’t prone to outbursts. So why this? Why now?
And where exactly had he raced off to when things had gone wrong?
She sent him a text saying simply:
Hope you’re OK.
She stopped herself from apologising because, honestly, she hadn’t really done anything wrong. They’d talk later; it would be OK.
