Nora isn’t speaking to me, Freya says, when she lowers her glass.
I know, Bren says.
So she’s speaking to you?
Why wouldn’t she be?
Josie implied you’ve been somewhat … solitary, for a while. I wondered if something had happened, between you two.
You mean after we clocked that you’d lied to us both?
Maybe Bren is imagining it, but after he’s said this, Freya looks almost relieved. She cocks her head at him, then tucks her legs into a lotus position. Puts her glass down.
Liedis a bit strong, she says. You need to communicate, for that, and you and I barely spoke, Bren.
Unbelievable, he says.
Am I?
It’s notourrelationship that matters here, Bren says, and you know it. You feel bad about Nora, and frankly, Freya, you should. You had no right to withhold that message from her. No right to rob her of that chance.
And what chance is that?
To see theworld! Get out of here! Do – more.
Chase some crush across the globe, you mean? Freya shoots. It seems, Bren, that I’m the one who wantedmorefor her, here.
Somecrush?!
Yes, Bren! I’m sorry, but what would you rather coin yourself? What have you proven yourself to be, to her, over the years?
Bren’s mouth hangs open, astounded at how assertive she’s being. At how he, in spite of everything, is the one on the back foot here.
We’re, he says. She’s my.
Freya raises one eyebrow.
My best friend, Bren says, and it sounds infantile as soon as it’s left his mouth. The wind blows then, sweeps their hair over their heads. Freya’s glass, left on the decking, tips over. And it’s because of how he’s been feeling, because of how agitated she’s made him, because he can’t get on a plane this second or bungee off a bridge that he has to take a risk some other way so he says, without holding back: maybe more than that.
He thinks this will stun her. Provoke a staggered silence, at least. But Freya simply scoffs as she picks up her glass, takes another swig and says comeon, Bren. When have you ever been more than that, except in your own head?
It is harsh, and she does not apologise for it. But Bren has nothing to apologise for here, either. So instead he asks hera question: the one he’s been asking himself, ever since he got home.
You think she’s happy, marrying Robin?
I really do. She loves him. She loves her home, and her business. Loves herlifehere, even if it’s a life you wouldn’t touch with a barge pole.
But it’s a life she might not have touched either, Bren says, if you’d given her my message!
And not doing that was a selfish, impulsive move I can’t take back, Freya says, and I hold my hands up, there, I do. I’ve been waiting for you to piece it together, for years, but it turns out I needn’t have worried, because the pair of you never talk properly. Which only proves my point.
Which is?
That you don’tknowher, Bren. Just because she was there for you, on the other side of that wall, when you were kids, or at the end of a webcam, when you called? That does not make her yours. She’s moved on, Bren.
But I don’t think she has, Bren says, and he feels as childish as he sounds, now. Stands up, wants to pace back and forth. Settles for shoving his hands in his pockets.
This thing, between Nora and me, he says, it’s two-way. She replied to my emails. She calledme, too. She was there, because she wanted to be, and I –
