Things shift around inside Tilly’s brain, new understanding blooming like a light being switched on in a darkened room.
‘Rachel … I’m sorry. If I’d known –’
‘Then you would have been sensitive about it, I know you would have been. But I never told you. And even if I had, it doesn’t make how I acted any better. Regardless of my own shit, I should have been there for you. I’m so sorry, Tilly. I wish I could have been a better friend.’
Tilly’s grief has always felt so earth-shattering, so new. And yet looking at Rachel she realizes that all around her there are people carrying their own losses, their own scars, even if you can’t always see them. She thinks of the Paris Grief Gang and her conversations with Alfie, and of everything Rachel has just told her.
‘You’re here now. In this soggy tent in the rain with me. I think that makes you a pretty great friend.’
She reaches across and pulls Rachel into a damp but tight hug, aware of how bad they both smell but just going with it.
Rachel’s chin is still resting on Tilly’s shoulder when she lets out a groan. ‘Oh no.’
‘What is it?’
Rachel tilts her head, looking up at the roof of the tent that still shudders with the force of the rain.
‘I need a wee.’
Alfie:
Good morning. How’s camping going? Hope you managed with the tent OK. x
Tilly:
Alfie, camping is awful.
Alfie:
??
Tilly:
We’ve had so much rain. And wind. EVERYTHING I own is wet.
Alfie:
Oh no! Are you OK?? x
Tilly:
I’m alive.
Alfie:
That bad then? I’m sorry, I feel like I did the hard sell on camping.
Tilly:
There have beensomegood moments. We’ve seen some amazing wildlife and it’s incredibly beautiful here. But I’ll be glad to get back to somewhere that is DRY.
Alfie:
When do you get back?
Tilly:
Rachel is heading off tomorrow afternoon to meet family. I’m on a flight that gets me back to Stansted around six. I’m going to look a right state on the Tube, covered in mud and smelling like a bog.
