‘Good news?’ asked Paige.
‘Oh… just Lewis. He’s sent me aMatrixGIF and a wow face. He also liked the photo of the beach I sent him. Said it reminded him of our honeymoon and first time in Greece. We chose a peaceful area, so far so good. But then most of the restaurants closed early, our bedroom aircon didn’t work and our toilet got blocked.’ She smiled. ‘It’s a while since we’ve laughed about something together.’ Emily put away her phone. ‘How about a meal out tonight? I couldn’t provide flights or a villa but I can stretch to a dinner and bottle of wine. I might need to borrow some make-up and shampoo, though. I didn’t pack much.’
‘Remember how we used to love alcopops?’ said Tiff. ‘Your mum was always happy for us to raid her stock, Emily. She was so cool.’
‘Yeah. Booze didn’t affect her treatment, that’s what she said.’ Emily grimaced. ‘She had quite old-school tastes in alcohol, looking back, cocktails out like Pina Coladas, Martinis or alcopops at home. She’d get them cheap from a bargain booze shop down the road and drink them in front of the telly at night with a bar of chocolate.’
‘She used to drink Babycham as well, I remember,’ said Morgan, ‘my gran’s favourite.’
‘My mum always did like to get attention for being different,’ said Emily and sank into deep thought for a few moments. ‘You liked Reef, didn’t you?’
‘Yes,’ Morgan replied. ‘It was fizz free. Paige preferred Apple Sourz.’
‘I did – it wasn’t as sweet as the others. Emily, you liked Two Dogs.’
‘Always a fan of lemonade, and the label was cute. Tiff, didn’t you drink… Bacardi Breezers?’
‘Sure did. They sounded so Hollywood.’
Emily disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a bottle of wine from the night before. She poured the last inch into a glass. Knocked it back.
‘Right. Who’s going to do something with my face?’
24
MORGAN
They found a pizzeria a short distance away, with an open kitchen, the chef spinning the dough in the air that was filled with the aroma of garlic, herbs, and tomatoes. The server wasn’t in a waistcoat, nor did chandeliers beam out light, but disdain hung in the air from Tiff asking if she could have pineapple on her pizza.
‘Wine, Morgan?’ asked Paige and lifted the bottle.
She shook her head, preferring water.
‘Everything okay?’ asked Paige. ‘Back in the day, you hardly ever turned down alcohol. Mind you, opportunities to drink it were far less common, when we were at school.’ She gave an awkward smile.
‘Just thirsty,’ she said and smiled back. ‘Tell us, Paige, about your work. You teach companies how to improve the way they deal with people?’
‘Effectively, yes. Non-verbal communication is like our superpower; it enables us to influence others secretly. Also, if you learn how to read it, you can tap into people’s thoughts and feelings just from their gestures. Say, for example, you work for a PR agency and are pitching to a potential client. You tell them you can double their profit in six months, but if you’re nervous, your body language won’t match your words, and the likelihood is the client will sign elsewhere and…’
Morgan listened to her friend, full of admiration for her drive, her work ethic, despite her well-off background. Morgan wasn’t a daydreamer but occasionally imagined winning the lottery. She’d buy Mum and Dad a detached house, with decking and hot tub, like they’d always talked about, one for her and Olly too, with a telescope room in the loft for him. They’d travel to Iceland, Olly had always wanted to see the Northern Lights. She’d never craved fancy possessions, only things you couldn’t see, like job satisfaction and Olly’s happiness.
‘I love this silk blouse you’ve lent me,’ said Emily to Tiff. ‘Even though it’s a bit of a squeeze. Is the showbiz industry really still as harsh when it comes to appearance?’
Tiff sipped the Merlot. ‘I was once told to lose a stone in two weeks. I tried practical things – went to the gym twice a day, only drank juice, manifested a size six. In the end, with no energy, stomach pains and light-headedness, I pushed back and lost the part.’
At least it didn’t matter what Morgan looked like for her job. In fact, quite the opposite. These days, customers often didn’t even meet her eye, packing the reduced and essential line goods she swiped through, paying the card reader, dragging their feet away as they studied the receipt.
‘I reckon I’ve put on a stone the last couple of months,’ said Emily. ‘Too much sleep. Too much Netflix. Too much wine, according to Lewis. My therapist wants me to get out at least once a day, even if it’s just for a walk around the block.’
‘Therapist?’ asked Paige.
‘Yeah. Work has… screwed me up. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my job for years. The emergency department is a unique environment. The pay-off is often fast, seeing patients arrive in distress, waving them off hours later, more cheerful and mended. You see the very best of human nature – brave patients, supportive friends and family who’ll go above and beyond to get their loved one fixed, and colleagues giving more than 100 per cent. It’s high-pace, high-stress. A big adrenaline rush of a career – combined with gentler moments, like holding a patient’s hand, softening the shock of having their clothes cut off, of being examined despite the hurt. Looking after traumatised relatives.’ She stopped for breath. ‘But it’s all gone to shit in recent years. The final straw was New Year’s Eve. A man came in drunk, he stank of whiskey, couldn’t walk straight. He didn’t want treatment. He’d come in to throw abuse. He cornered me, by reception, said it was my fault his wife had died here, the week previously. The ambulance had been delayed, then she had to wait in a corridor for eight hours. She’d been coughing up blood, didn’t get to intensive care until it was too late. She died from sepsis. He said we didn’t care.’ Her voice caught. ‘Sorry to kill the atmosphere. I’ve not even spoken that much to my therapist.’
‘So you’ve left for good?’ asked Morgan gently.
‘Yes, although my manager assumes I’m going back and Lewis says nursing is who I am.’ She shrugged. ‘I’ve always felt he knew me so well, but lately… We used to seem like such a good match. Looking back, he brought me out of myself. I was still a little shy in my twenties, but Lewis, he… he gave me confidence, laughed at my jokes, wore the jumpers I knitted even though the arms were always too long, even though his mates used to tease him about them in the pub.’ Her face lit up for a second. ‘I knitted him a pair of boxer pants for a joke, one Valentine’s Day. Every Valentine’s Day after that, he wore them to work, even though they shrank and developed holes.’
‘What are his family like?’ asked Paige. Emily had so many happy memories with her husband. Like she did with Felix. Paige couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.
