Beth shook her head. ‘No, I need to talk about it.’
So she did. About Luke’s apologies, his sudden yearning to make amends, his plan to retreat to some windswept island with a name she couldn’t pronounce, to carve driftwood into art and maybe himself into someone new.
‘I’d carve hisheartout and mount it on a spike,’ Nina hissed. ‘Only in my imagination, mind. But still.’
‘He’s hurting, too,’ Beth said softly, remembering his face when she’d told him she couldn’t see a way back.
‘He left you when you were broken,’ said Kit, hugging her fiercely. Seconds later they were all entangled, a damp, mascara-streaked knot of limbs and snorts.
Beth surfaced first. ‘Aren’t we meant to be havingfun? I’m fairly certain ugly crying isn’t on the agenda.’
‘Too right,’ said Diana, grabbing tissues and passing them round. ‘Let’s toast something less tragic. To friendship. Because when life throws muck, friends are the best splash guards.’
‘To friendship,’ echoed the others, raising their glasses.
Beth smiled, but as the glasses clinked, her thoughts betrayed her. Kieran’s face flickered across her mind. Kind, curious, cautious.And cute.
She groaned inwardly.No, no, no. Do not go down the cute path.
The thought was quickly replaced by an image of Gigi’s smirking, jewel-toned face.What’s it like to have friends?he’d asked her.
Oh, Gigi. Human life is messy, exhausting and beautiful. Maybe being trapped in a pinball machine isn’t so bad.
‘Did you just mumble a name?’ Diana eyed her suspiciously.
‘What? No. I didn’t?—’
‘I swear you said “gee-gee”. Like horses. You betting now?’
The absurdity cracked Beth’s composure and she burst out laughing. ‘No, absolutely not! Let’s move on and pour another round before you sign me up to Gamblers’ Anonymous.’
An hour later, the laughter had softened to snores. Diana, Kit, and Nina were draped in an ungainly heap on the big sofa, limbs and onesies forming an avant-garde sculpture of friendship. Beth, still sober, crept into the small guest room, immaculately made up with her favourite bedding. It was cosy and quiet: her little pocket of calm for the coming hours.
She put down her mug of tea, kicked off her slippers and climbed into bed. The duvet was soft as a cloud. The mattress dipped in just the right place. It reminded her of childhood, a bittersweet memory.
‘Can you hear me, Gigi?’ she whispered into the darkness.
For a moment, nothing. Just the hush of the street outside and the faint creak of the old radiator.
Then: ‘Loud and clear, darling.’ His voice shimmered through the air like distant chimes. ‘Though your internal acoustics could use a little soundproofing. Bit echoey in there.’
Beth groaned into her pillow. ‘Don’t give me a hard time, Gigi.’
‘Excuseyou. You summoned me. Long-distance metaphysical hotline. Premium rates apply.’
‘I didn’t summon you! I was just … thinking.’
‘Darling, I can hear your breathing. You sound like a punctured bicycle tyre. You’re moping.’
‘I’m decompressing,’ she said.
‘Same thing. Just less glamorous.’
Beth rolled onto her side, smiling despite herself. ‘Have you been reading self-help books?’
‘Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus. Riveting read. Absolute nonsense, of course. Both men and women are aliens, as far as I’m concerned.’
Beth snorted into the duvet. ‘So what now, Gigi? I just move on?’
