She followed up that statement with her trademark laugh: that slow, deliberate sound that seemed to have its own gravitational pull. It was unchanged since we were kids, but now it carried 33 years of knowing the effect it had on people. The kind of laugh that made nearby conversations pause. I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed it.
Our chat was interrupted by a couple who looked to be in their 60s approaching the table with our dining car hostess. She introduced us to Cindy and John, and the couple sat down. They radiatedA Place in the Sunenergy: like they’d both just retired and decided to blow their nest egg on a two-bed flat in Mallorca.I hoped it didn’t have a leaky roof. Cindy wore a floral-print shirt, while John was a walking monument to the power of beige.
“How thrilling!” Cindy declared before introductions were fully complete. “We never take trains, but sleeping on one feels positively Victorian, doesn’t it? We’re touring Britain. We just did the south coast, now we’re heading as far north as possible. Retirement’s marvellous for spontaneous adventures!”
She barely paused for breath. “This is part of our ruby anniversary celebrations. Forty years married, can you believe it?”
“You get less for murder,” John joked with a broad Yorkshire twang. “Are you two married?"
I blinked. “We’re not.”
“Old friends,” Eliza added smoothly.
Cindy’s face lit up. “Old friends, that’s what I’m picking up. You have lovely energy together. Our niece just married a woman who looks exactly like you,” she pointed at Eliza, “doesn't she, John?”
John nodded obediently. “Spitting image.”
“You’d make a lovely couple if you ever changed your mind,” Cindy added. “Very photogenic.”
I bit down a smile. No show needed. Was I right to feel a little sad?
“Are you on holiday?” Cindy continued, clearly viewing conversation as a competitive sport.
“Work trip,” Eliza replied. “Though I’m hoping to explore a bit. Poppy and I grew up in London, but we used to come up to Scotland the occasional summer in our childhoods. It’ll be nice to revisit some of our old haunts, and find some new ones.” She gave me a shy smile.
Was Eliza actually looking forward to this?
Interesting.
CHAPTER 7
It turned out, Eliza’s room was double-booked, so I had to squeeze her bag into my room and share my bunk beds. Something I hadn’t done since the last time Eliza and I were together as kids in Scotland.
This was not how I’d expected tonight to go. Having Cindy’s constant chatter over dinner had been a blessing as buried feelings about Eliza crashed through the careful barriers I’d built around those memories.
The truth was, I had liked Eliza back then.Reallyliked her. But every cold interaction, every eye roll, every moment she’d treated me like an inconvenience in the interim had helped rewrite our history. I’d told myself I’d simply admired her, looked up to her as someone to emulate. That when she smiled at me, the butterflies in my stomach had been about wanting her approval, nothing more.
But now, trapped in this tiny train compartment with nowhere to hide, those old feelings flooded back with uncomfortable clarity. That summer at the lake and her white swimsuit. The way I used to find excuses to sit near her during family dinners. How I’d memorised which books she read so I could casually bring them up in conversation. The devastationI’d felt when she got her first serious girlfriend and suddenly had no time for me.
I’d buried it all so deep that I’d almost believed my own revisionist history.
Almost.
However, even if I was starting to reconsider whether or not Eliza was a totally terrible person, nothing would ever happen. First, because my aunt and her dad were knocking boots, and I didn’t want to keep things in the family too much. Second, because the next six months were really important, and I couldn’t afford to be sidetracked by a pretty face.
She’d told me she wanted to help, and she seemed sincere. But it had been 15 years of avoidance. Of slights and knocks. And now? I was lying on the top bunk listening to her pee in our teeny-tiny toilet.
My plan, post dinner, had been to decompress and give Amina a call. Now, I had Eliza in my face. Not part of the plan. However, lately my life hadn’t gone fully to plan, had it? Was this my mother and Gran meddling, getting me to trust Eliza again? If I believed in the afterlife —which I clearly didn’t— I wouldn’t put it past them.
Eliza eased herself out of the toilet which also served as the shower. She gave me a pained smile, then disappeared from view onto the bottom bunk with a sigh.
“Are you okay up there? You always used to sleep on the bottom when we were kids.”
I blushed, despite myself, then leaned over the top.
“I’ve got more versatile as I’ve got older.”
She grinned. “Good to know.” She held up a card. “Have you seen there’s a gin menu and you can order to the room? What do you say we order in and get comfortable? They’ve got Pringles, too. Sour cream and chives, or salt and vinegar?”
