One of the Girls(95)
Did they have to kiss for quite that long? Bella thought.
In fairness, it did look like a sensational kiss. Being the only person in the audience who’d kissed them both, she’d know! See – she was making jokes! Smiling! She almost felt a genuine flush of happiness for Robyn and Fen.
There were many things that were taking time and adjustment. After the hen weekend, she’d handed in her notice at the jeweller’s, which had felt like a good step. Still haunted by Sam’s death, she knew she’d never return to nursing, but she’d found a new role working in a residential home for the elderly. Old people loved her – and she loved them. Eleanor came in twice a month, after visiting Wren, to run the table-tennis club, and Bella would slip off-duty for a few minutes to give her a game. She rarely got a point off Eleanor, who had a particularly deadly backhand, but it didn’t stop Bella baiting her.
Strange that she and Eleanor had become friends of sorts. Life. What a big fucking mystery! Other people, smarter than her, could try and figure it out.
Lexi, standing next to her, slipped her hand into Bella’s. Squeezed.
She squeezed back.
She adored this woman with her whole being. Always would. Lexi’s ride into motherhood hadn’t been easy. A difficult labour followed by complications from an emergency C-section, followed by two spells of mastitis, meant those early months as a single parent were particularly tough. Bella tried to stay over a couple of nights each week, bringing takeout, cabbage leaves, and pretty outfits for Wren, as what girl wanted to be dressed in neutral-toned organic vests Monday to Sunday?
The biggest surprise of Bella’s life was how hard she’d fallen for that little milky splodge of a baby. It was ironic to think she’d campaigned so hard to keep party-girl-Lexi aflame – when it was motherhood that deepened their friendship in new ways.
When Wren was three days old, Bella had carried her reverently from the maternity ward, clicking her baby seat into the back of her freshly valeted car, double-checking the Isofix. Then she’d helped Lexi shuffle into the front, reaching across to buckle her in, mindful of her C-section wound. Lexi had caught Bella’s arm. ‘I’d like you to be Wren’s godmother.’
Bella had turned to look at Wren, a tiny, perfect being, swamped within a car seat, eyes closed, lips pursed. So innocent and unmarked.
Bella had shaken her head. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m not a good role model.’
Lexi had looked Bella straight in the eye. Her skin was pale and wan, mauve shadows ringing her eyes – but her voice was fierce as she said, ‘You might have made mistakes, Bella, but you got back up again. That makes you an excellent role model for my daughter.’
Tears spilled onto Bella’s cheeks.
‘Anyway,’ Lexi added, ‘who else is going to teach her how to walk in four-inch stilettos?’
So, godmother she was.
Robyn visited Lexi often – and sometimes those visits coincided with Bella’s. At first their encounters were painfully raw, but over time, they gradually began adjusting to a new dynamic. It wasn’t easy, and there were often heated arguments – usually when wine was involved – but there was a fresh honesty between them, and that was something.
There’d been one evening, a few months ago now, when Robyn had seemed edgy, unable to sit still. She kept getting up to fetch more wine, open bags of crisps, check her phone. ‘D’you want to tell us what’s going on?’ Bella had asked impatiently.
Robyn had cleared her throat, pressed her hands at her sides as if she were about to deliver a school presentation. ‘Fen and I are engaged.’
Bella had waited a beat, employing the technique her counsellor recommended of simply taking a breath or two before speaking. Eventually she’d smiled. ‘I’m really happy for you.’ She said those words and, as she did, she realised she meant them. She was happy.
As they’d raised their glasses to toast the wedding to come, Bella had to say it, didn’t she?
‘Shall I organise the hen weekend?’
Author’s Note
Over the past few years, I’ve been lucky enough to visit several Greek islands, which have shaped and influenced this novel. However, I chose to set One of the Girls on the fictional island of Aegos, because I wanted the hens to have full artistic licence to explore a setting that arises from imagination.
Acknowledgements
Firstly, thank you to Charlotte Brabbin and Kim Young, who are everything I could want in an editor and publisher. I am so grateful for your creativity and thoughtfulness, your passionate vision for my books, and your smart editorial input. I am incredibly lucky to work with a team of talented people at HarperCollins, including Jaime Frost and Alice Hill in Publicity; Hannah O’Brien, Maddy Marshall, Katy Blott, and Jeannelle Brew in Marketing; Sarah Munro and Izzy Coburn in UK Sales; Alice Gomer in International Sales; and Claire Ward in Cover Design. I’m so thankful for everything you do for me and my books.
Thank you to my beloved agent, Judith Murray at Greene & Heaton, who heard the idea for One of the Girls when it was no more than a one-line pitch and said, ‘Yes! That one! It’s given me goosebumps!’ Your instincts are as sound as the great care you take of each of your authors. Thank you also to the brilliant Kate Rizzo for handling my international rights, and to Sally Oliver for her continued support.