Claire finally made her way through the bushes and stood about a foot away from the edge of the cliff, not sure if she should join Rachel by sitting down, or even if she wanted to. It didn’t seem like Rachel wanted her to.
Then Rachel scooted over, and Claire saw she was actually sitting on the thick, twisted roots of the gorse patch. They’d jutted out from the soil and provided a nature-made bench. With seeming reluctance Rachel patted the space to next to her, and gingerly Claire sat down. She didn’t like the sensation of her legs dangling down, touching nothing, but Rachel didn’t seem to mind it.
“So what do you remember about the rhododendron bush?” Rachel asked.
“I remember us sitting under there,” she began. “Talking.”
“Right.” Rachel stared out at the sea. “Do you even remember us being friends, Claire?”
“Yes, of course I do.”
“But not much.”
“Do you have a lot of memories of when you were seven?” Claire asked, slightly stung.
“Enough,” Rachel answered flatly, and looked away.
Chapter thirteen
Rachel
“Ido remember.” Claire’s voice sounded strong, for her anyway. Rachel glanced at her.
“We were friends for four years. I’d hope you’d remember something.”
“I remember lots of things. It’s just that it was a long time ago—”
“Trust me, I know that.” Next to her Claire shifted a little, clearly uncomfortable. Rachel wished she hadn’t started the conversation. What did she want Claire to say?
“I was just remembering the other day how you always waited for me at the bottom of the school lane,” Claire said. “So we could walk up together.”
Ridiculously, Rachel felt a lump form in her throat. She stared hard out at the sea, her eyes starting to water.
“Do you remember that?” Claire asked.
“Yes.” Rachel took a deep breath. Enough with this little stroll down memory lane. She didn’t want to go there, didn’t want to revisit those bittersweet memories. They’d both moved on.
“Do you hate me?” Claire asked abruptly, and Rachel turned to her, discomfited by her rare bluntness.
“No . . .”
“Because you seem angry with me—”
“I’m not angry.” It would be pathetic to be angry about a friendship that had ended nearly twenty years ago. And yet sitting there together, both of them staring out at the sea, Rachel couldn’t keep herself from asking abruptly, “Why did you dump me in Year Six?”
Claire stared at her, blinking, her mouth open. “What do you mean... ?” Claire looked so blank that Rachel almost laughed. Almost.
“Are you bloody well joking, Claire? Don’t you remember?” She sounded far too angry for this conversation. Rachel took a deep, calming breath. “How else do you explain that one day I came to school and you weren’t even talking to me? You had your posse of Wyndham wannabes surrounding you like a flock of highlighted crows. You didn’t even look at me.”
“I...” Claire shook her head. “It wasn’t like that.”
“It felt like that to me.”
“But you never... You never came over,” Claire burst out, and Rachel knew Claire remembered that moment just as well as she did.
“Why would I come over? You were surrounded by a bunch of snobs who couldn’t even bother to sneer at me.” They’d simply ignored her instead, Rachel Campbell with her secondhand uniform and free school dinners.
“I never liked any of them,” Claire said in a low voice.
