One of the Girls(12)

It was the first dress Lexi saw – right there at the front of the rail, waiting, as if it had known Lexi was coming for it. A soft champagne colour in French lace. Not fussy and heavy but understated, floor-length, no train, with a deep V at the back.

When Lexi had emerged from behind the heavy curtain, hair loose over her shoulders, the lace falling from all the right points of her body, she’d beamed.

No veil. No tiara. Hair worn long, threaded with a delicate vine of baby’s breath, that’s what they’d decided, Ana touched that Lexi valued her opinion in matters of style.

‘Do you mind if we don’t mention this to Bella?’ Lexi had asked as they’d emerged from the boutique into late afternoon sunshine.

It was a telling question, and everything she suspected about Bella in the asking of it had been confirmed today when they’d met: the exaggerated swing of her hips as she sashayed through the airport; the loud, throaty laugh as she was patted down by security; the proprietorial arm around Lexi’s waist as they boarded. On the plane, just as Lexi had been about to take the seat beside Ana, Bella had tapped the empty space beside hers. Lexi had thrown Ana an apologetic glance and then moved where instructed.

It was interesting to witness the dynamics of childhood friendships playing out into adulthood – but it didn’t bother Ana. She was a grown woman. She had a teenager. A mortgage. A career. She wasn’t going to sweat over who sat next to the bride-to-be. Let Bella stake her territory.

Taking her drink, Ana moved away from the photos, crossing the terrace. She found Fen standing alone, her gaze on the water. ‘Beautiful view,’ Ana said, coming to her side.

Fen smiled easily. ‘Yes. It is.’

‘It’s so quiet on the island. So isolated. Quite a sea change from London,’ Ana admitted. ‘You live in Bournemouth, is that right?’ She was trying to piece together the who’s who of the group. She knew that Lexi, Bella and Robyn had gone to school together in Bournemouth – and that Fen was Bella’s girlfriend.

‘I’m from Gloucester, but I came to study in Bournemouth when I was eighteen – and ended up staying.’

‘You must have fallen in love with the place.’

‘Once you’ve lived by the sea, it’s hard to leave.’

‘I bet. Are your parents still in Gloucester? Are they tempted to head south?’

There was a pause. ‘Actually, we’re estranged.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Ana said with meaning. ‘That must be hard.’

‘What must be hard?’ Bella asked, tripping towards them with the bottle of Prosecco.

‘I was just saying I’m not in touch with my parents.’

‘Devout evangelists,’ Bella informed Ana. ‘Still,’ she said, hooking a protective arm around Fen’s waist, ‘their loss, my gain.’

Fen lifted her beer, drinking deeply, her thumb ring clinking against the bottle.

Ana admired the wide silver-hammered band. ‘Beautiful ring.’

‘Thank you. Bella had it made at the jewellers where she works.’

‘Oh. I thought someone told me you were a nurse?’ Ana said to Bella.

‘Past life,’ she answered with a tight smile. ‘Swapped the night shifts and bedpans for retail hours and diamonds.’

Fen adjusted her position ever so slightly, turning her shoulder on Bella.

‘Do you miss it?’

‘The bedpans?’ Bella gave a bark of laughter. ‘You’ve got to be kidding.’

There was a beat of silence. Fen finished her beer. Said she needed another.

Bella watched Fen cross the terrace, a crack of vulnerability caught in the way she pressed her teeth against her bottom lip.

When Bella turned back to Ana, her smile was fixed in place. ‘So, what about you, Ana? Lexi’s newest bestie. What do you do? How did you and Lexi become such great friends?’

Bella’s tone was friendly enough, but Ana understood the point she was making: Ana was the newcomer here and she’d do well to remember it.





9

Eleanor

Eleanor tore open a paper bag to reveal a fresh, stone-baked loaf. She sawed it into generous hunks, breathing in its warm, yeasty scent.

‘Have you been to Greece before?’ Lexi asked, perched on a kitchen stool.

‘Once. With Sam.’ There, she’d said his name. It was like she needed to say it aloud several times a day for him to be real. For him to have existed. ‘It was the only holiday we took.’ It had been beautiful and magical and perfect, and if there was a week in her life – one week that she could relive again and again – it would be that one. A cheap hotel in Corfu. Paper-thin walls. A teenage couple in the room next door who got ragingly drunk every night and took turns to throw up in the windowless en suite. A strip of tavernas that catered to a British palate – burgers and chips and pizzas, with a wisp of Greek salad on the side. But nothing could touch them because they were together.

‘I wish I’d met him,’ Lexi said. ‘I know Ed thought he was great.’

Is that right?

She wanted to tell Lexi that he was more than great. Once, when Eleanor had mentioned there was nowhere to store her sculpting tools, he built her a floor-to-ceiling cupboard that same weekend – and he did it cheerfully, radio on, singing to nineties rock. He loved everything she cooked, often sitting and looking at a meal for the first minute, marvelling and asking questions. Halfway through he’d leave his knife and fork askew on the plate and pause to absorb it. He never rushed. He loved computer games, and when he disappeared into their spare room with his games console, he’d say with a grin, ‘Just off to meditate.’ He knew himself so completely – and he looked at Eleanor like he knew her too, and still loved her.