Nor was barefaced lying to your friends, but needs must.
‘Can I make it up to you by taking you for a posh coffee at the Hotel Artemis tomorrow? Same time?’
Angeliki raised her eyebrows.
‘Sure, see you there.’
Grace managed to get back to her room before she allowed herself a proper cry. She lay on the bed face down and wept into the pillow. When she raised her head, all the extra makeup she’d put on earlier was smeared across the pillowcase. She’d have to get it in the wash as soon as possible.
The computer in the corner sprang into life, and Sofia’s icon appeared on screen. Her best friend was the only person she could bear to talk to. She’d messaged both her daughters earlier saying she was thinking of them today and put a picture of the four of them together on the WhatsApp group. They’d replied with kisses and hearts but, based on what had happened on the same day last year, they’d all agreed in advance that it would only be agony to try and speak. There was an added pressure not to get upset this year. Lottie needed to keep calm for the baby.
Sofia’s smiling face appeared on screen but dimmed as soon as Grace appeared in vision.
‘You look bloody awful.’
‘Thanks. You’re supposed to be my friend.’
‘I am your friend. And I’m telling you that you can’t go out looking like that.’
‘I know. Thankfully, I’ve finished work for the day, and I’m not planning to leave my room again until after dark.’
‘OK, that doesn’t sound weird at all.’ Sofia blew her a kiss. ‘I’m not going to ask you how you’re feeling, as I can see for myself.’
Grace let out a big sigh.
‘Oh, Sof. I thought it would be better this year, that it would get easier, not harder.’
‘The human mind is a strange thing. Its complexities can never truly be understood.’
‘Crikey. Are you channelling Freud or something?’
‘At least it’s made you smile.’
‘Seriously though, I don’t know why everyone says that all the bad memories will go away quickly and be replaced by only good ones. That’s bollocks.’
‘Yeah, bollocks.’
‘Some people seem to think that after a year, or two at the most, you should be over it and move on. That you’re somehow’—Grace drew quotation marks in the air—‘“wallowing” if you show any signs of still being heartbroken. That there’s some strict grief timetable to follow that’s written down somewhere, like the Bible.’
‘But we don’t care about the people who say that, do we?’
‘No, we don’t.’
A couple of serious-looking young women had appeared in her friend’s office, and were standing waiting behind her.
‘Really sorry, but I’m going to have to go into a?—’
‘Meeting?’
‘Yes, I’ll try you later. Chin up. Love you lots.’
‘Love you too.’
Even the briefest chat with her friend had cheered Grace up a bit. She had a plan to get through the rest of the evening and night. It involved beer, crisps and a blanket.
A crime caper starring George Clooney took up a chunk of the afternoon, but Grace was relieved when dusk arrived at long last, and she could set out on Operation Phil. She walked to her special cove and set up camp between some big rocks on the beach. A night under the stars would do her the power of good. Phil had loved camping, so he’d approve. It would make her feel closer to him.
Everyone had left the beach for the night, and the little bar was closed, but she felt completely safe. The air was warm, and she had chilled beer and cheese and onion crisps in her bag. What more could a girl need? She could always get a taxi back if it all got too much.
