‘He’s enjoying it, and spending time with his brother has been good for the both of them. Dad told me he can’t wait for his first British winter in years.’
Margot’s rectangle on the screen illuminated around the edges when she said, ‘He’ll soon lose that desire when he can’t feel his fingers or his toes.’
Faye admitted, ‘I miss it too sometimes. I have good memories of winters, rugging up in coats and hats and big woolly scarves.’ Her family had emigrated when she was a teenager.
‘Rugging up?’ Howard interrupted.
‘It’s what you say as an Aussie,’ said Faye.
‘Bundled up,’ Howard put in.
‘Wrapped up,’ said Joel.
Faye’s smile grew as she noticed what Howard was wearing. ‘May I just say, very nice PJs this evening, Howard. Are they new?’
He chuckled. ‘Quite the opposite. These are my oldest pair. You don’t want to see the bottoms, but the top passes as acceptable – otherwise my Bonnie wouldn’t let me be on camera.’
‘You should get your wife to join in with us.’
‘We’d all love to meet her,’ said Sarah, squinting from behind a pair of glasses. She’d been coming to the book club intermittently for five years.
‘Bonnie doesn’t particularly like late nights. And she’s not into books, remember.’
‘I’ll never understand how anyone isn’tintobooks?’ said Faye with a shake of her head.
They all felt that way, and it was easy to forget that not everyone in the world did. Ever since Margot was a young girl and got her first library card, she’d read whatever she could get her hands on. She couldn’t even remember a time when she hadn’t had a book next to her bed. Whether she’d had an exhausting day in pregnancy, or after the boys were born, or with the demands of catering work functions for Perry, doing all the laundry and keeping the house clean, she always found time to read at the end of the day. Even if it was just for five minutes. It was always worth it. It was a step back from the real world, after all.
‘Bonnie really doesn’t understand what the fuss is all about,’ Howard went on. ‘But then I don’t understand her love of splashing colours all over a piece of paper.’
He’d told them before that Bonnie was a painter. ‘What’s she working on at the moment?’ Margot indulged his desire to talk about his beloved. Part of what she loved about the Midnight Book Club was that it was as much about friendship as it was about the books. And she needed that desperately.
Howard momentarily disappeared from camera and came back into view with a picture resting on an easel.
‘That’s the bay!’ said Faye. ‘I recognise it. Oh, it’s beautiful. I do miss Dorset.’
‘With all that Queensland beauty?’ Margot doubted. ‘Surely not.’
‘Oh, I do. There’s something about the Jurassic Coast especially.’
‘I wholeheartedly agree,’ said Joel who lived in Scotland but had grown up in Devon. He was another member who had found the book club because he struggled to sleep most nights.
Margot admired the painting some more while Howard pointed out that the bottom of the picture was the foot of their garden and everything else was the view beyond – the road winding down towards the bookshop and then on to the sea, Lulworth Cove in the distance.
With no sign of Winston this week Faye announced that they should make a start.
‘Whatever has happened to the Australian contingent?’ Howard asked before they could get going. ‘Are they all away on their summer holidays?’
Faye shook her head. ‘It’s winter here, remember.’
‘That does not look like any winter to me.’ Margot twirled her index finger. ‘Turn the camera a bit.’
Amused, Faye turned her laptop, and into shot came the ocean, curved, with golden sands and white-tipped waves. It was stunning. And the vast expanse of blue sky didn’t speak of winter in the slightest.
‘Do you honestly miss winter here?’ Howard asked.
‘Sometimes I go down to Melbourne to get some proper cold,’ said Faye and to a few doubtful faces added, ‘You’d be surprised. We get snow in some parts of the country.’
Margot knew. Sebastian had skied over there last month.
