way back from school I call Sarah. As I dial her number, I wonder how she’ll react; she’s always got on well with Nick. She’ll probably tell me to do a couple of sun salutations, breathe deeply and hope he comes back.
“Hi sweetpea, it’s me,” I say.
“Hi my darling, how are you?”
“Not good. Nick has another woman.”
There is a crash.
“Sarah?”
“Oh God, sorry Soph, I was in downward dog and I dropped the phone. What the fuck is going on?”
“He’s gone; he’s got some woman called Cécile from Paris. They’ve been having an affair for about five months, I found out yesterday. I’m in shock.”
“Bloody hell. What a bastard. Who is she? Have you told the children?”
“She’s a client, apparently. And no, I haven’t said anything yet.”
“How did you find out?”
“I found one of her bras in his luggage.”
“Shit, shit, shit. How indiscreet. What the hell are you going to do? Will you stay over there?”
“No, I don’t think I can,” I say. “I mean what would I do? It’s not like I can find a job and we’re going to need money.”
“What do you mean what can you do? Run the frigging vineyard, like you went out there to do.”
“But I don’t know anything about wine,” I protest.
“Neither did your husband, unless you count drinking it as previous experience. But that didn’t stop him. You were going to market it, weren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, now you’ll just have to do the other bits too. How hard can it be? Millions of people all over the world grow vines and make wine out of them, even Australians.”
Sarah’s last boyfriend was Australian and he chucked her and moved in with his male yoga instructor. She is still quite bitter.
“Can’t you get your mysterious French château-owning neighbour to help?”
“No, he’s hateful. He won’t even let us walk on his blessed land. Oh Sarah, I just don’t think I’ve got the energy. Where the hell do I begin? I don’t know the first thing about it. I wouldn’t even know when to pick the damn things. In fact I wouldn’t even know how to pick them.”
“Don’t be silly,” says Sarah. “If you can find out how to make a bomb on the Internet, then I’m sure there is some information about running a vineyard. Soph, you can’t just give up and come back. What the hell would you do here?”
“Find a job I guess, and somewhere to live.”
“If you think being a single parent in a lovely house in France is tough, then try it in South London. Not that I know anything about being a single parent, but I see them Soph, and they look stressed. You don’t need to come home. Nick the faithless bastard will have to support you all to some extent, so take advantage of that and get the vineyard up and running.”
“Oh Sarah, I just can’t face anything, I feel so alone. But enough about me – how are you?”
“Oh for God’s sake, Soph, stop being so thoughtful. I’m fine of course – more than fine actually. I’ll tell you when I see you.”
“When will that be do you think? Not that I am desperate. Well actually, to be honest, I am.”
“I’m looking on the Internet for a ticket right now, Montpellier isn’t it?”
I nod.
“Hello? You still there?”
“Sorry, yes, I forgot I had to speak, I was nodding.” The tears have started again.
“Soph darling, I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but you need to be strong. Are you eating?”
“Hell no, I can’t face a thing. Mind you I could do with losing some weight; it’s probably my fat thighs that drove him into Cécile’s lissome arms.”
“Loathsome more like,” says Sarah. “But losing weight and getting yourself in shape is a good thing to do at a time like this, it makes you stronger, you feel empowered. I’ll email you my fifteen-minute toning yoga workout now and run you through it when I get there. It’s great for your abs, bum and all flabby bits. You’ll be in shape within a month. And there’s that
“Hi sweetpea, it’s me,” I say.
“Hi my darling, how are you?”
“Not good. Nick has another woman.”
There is a crash.
“Sarah?”
“Oh God, sorry Soph, I was in downward dog and I dropped the phone. What the fuck is going on?”
“He’s gone; he’s got some woman called Cécile from Paris. They’ve been having an affair for about five months, I found out yesterday. I’m in shock.”
“Bloody hell. What a bastard. Who is she? Have you told the children?”
“She’s a client, apparently. And no, I haven’t said anything yet.”
“How did you find out?”
“I found one of her bras in his luggage.”
“Shit, shit, shit. How indiscreet. What the hell are you going to do? Will you stay over there?”
“No, I don’t think I can,” I say. “I mean what would I do? It’s not like I can find a job and we’re going to need money.”
“What do you mean what can you do? Run the frigging vineyard, like you went out there to do.”
“But I don’t know anything about wine,” I protest.
“Neither did your husband, unless you count drinking it as previous experience. But that didn’t stop him. You were going to market it, weren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, now you’ll just have to do the other bits too. How hard can it be? Millions of people all over the world grow vines and make wine out of them, even Australians.”
Sarah’s last boyfriend was Australian and he chucked her and moved in with his male yoga instructor. She is still quite bitter.
“Can’t you get your mysterious French château-owning neighbour to help?”
“No, he’s hateful. He won’t even let us walk on his blessed land. Oh Sarah, I just don’t think I’ve got the energy. Where the hell do I begin? I don’t know the first thing about it. I wouldn’t even know when to pick the damn things. In fact I wouldn’t even know how to pick them.”
“Don’t be silly,” says Sarah. “If you can find out how to make a bomb on the Internet, then I’m sure there is some information about running a vineyard. Soph, you can’t just give up and come back. What the hell would you do here?”
“Find a job I guess, and somewhere to live.”
“If you think being a single parent in a lovely house in France is tough, then try it in South London. Not that I know anything about being a single parent, but I see them Soph, and they look stressed. You don’t need to come home. Nick the faithless bastard will have to support you all to some extent, so take advantage of that and get the vineyard up and running.”
“Oh Sarah, I just can’t face anything, I feel so alone. But enough about me – how are you?”
“Oh for God’s sake, Soph, stop being so thoughtful. I’m fine of course – more than fine actually. I’ll tell you when I see you.”
“When will that be do you think? Not that I am desperate. Well actually, to be honest, I am.”
“I’m looking on the Internet for a ticket right now, Montpellier isn’t it?”
I nod.
“Hello? You still there?”
“Sorry, yes, I forgot I had to speak, I was nodding.” The tears have started again.
“Soph darling, I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but you need to be strong. Are you eating?”
“Hell no, I can’t face a thing. Mind you I could do with losing some weight; it’s probably my fat thighs that drove him into Cécile’s lissome arms.”
“Loathsome more like,” says Sarah. “But losing weight and getting yourself in shape is a good thing to do at a time like this, it makes you stronger, you feel empowered. I’ll email you my fifteen-minute toning yoga workout now and run you through it when I get there. It’s great for your abs, bum and all flabby bits. You’ll be in shape within a month. And there’s that
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