By the BOOK

Were Julie and Cheryl about to begin new chapters in their lives?

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Is there anyone who's not just here for the village gossip?' grumbled Julie, turning to Cheryl and almost upsetting her friend's glass of wine. 'Or are we at least going to pretend we're here to talk about the book?' Julie brandished a copy of One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez in one hand, while balancing both her phone and a glass of sauvignon blanc in the other.

The pair looked around the room. It was packed as usual for the book club gathering, but Julie was fighting a losing battle if she was expecting genuine debate. Every fourth Tuesday at Somersby's wine bar, The Grape Escape, gossip was exchanged under the not-veryconvincing guise of a highbrow literary discussion. But the atmosphere was cosy and Julie and Cheryl never missed it.

'Well, have you read this?" asked Cheryl, holding up her own copy. 'Even you must have found this one hard work.' Julie elbowed her friend, giggling. 'Keep your voice down, they'll rumble us.' The chaise longue where she and Cheryl were perched I gave an ominous creak as she tentatively sat back on it. The Grape Escape was too full of furniture. The decor was presumably meant to resemble a stately home's drawing room, and spindlylegged antique chairs fought for space with overstuffed chintz sofas. But as Julie had pointed out, the effect was somewhat spoilt by a large LCD screen where a YouTube video of a lit fire crackled away as soothingly as electric static.

Still grinning, Julie looked down at her book. A Colombian writer, this one and not really her kind of thing. Her taste was more Agatha Christie, while Cheryl was a Jilly Cooper and Fifty Shades of Grey kind of girl. Her friend had suggested to village librarian Beatrice - who secured 15 copies of the latest book club title every month - that they try an EL James offering.

Beatrice's position of power had led most members to fawn over her when it was time to select a new novel, but not Cheryl.