Page 10 of When We Were Friends
Tiff smiled broadly for the selfies. She never used to get recognised, but the last TV show had started to change that. Now it happened about once a week, so she never went out in messy clothes or without make-up. Unlike her former friends. Emily had let herself go and what was with that attitude? As for Morgan, she’d clearly messed up her life big time, whilst Paige was as together as ever, just a bit of an ice queen. Tiff wondered about her husband. It was crazy to think that Paige was married. What about the love lives of the other two? Thank goodness they hadn’t asked about Tiff’s. Magazines had only recently taken an interest and Tiff told them what she told her parents: that she was far too ambitious to settle down. The slightest whiff of a romance and her mum would have gone out and bought a hat.
At Dailsworth High School, Tiff had been the geek who was a bit overweight, but that didn’t stop her pulling on a sparkly hair bobble in the hope that her latest crush would notice. Seeing Jasmine again reminded her of a secret Tiff had kept in a desperate attempt to be liked. Thank goodness Jasmine hadn’t told the others all these years later. They’d have seen it as such a betrayal. The shame still came back whenever Tiff thought about those days. The new headmistress looked more content with herself now. Way back, Jasmine was always refreshing her lip gloss or primping her hair, as if she feared she might become as unpopular as Tiff if she didn’t. Perhaps that insecurity was why she used to be so mean. Once, her clique called Tiff ‘Eddie’, after Eddie Murphy in the movieThe Nutty Professorwhere he dreamt he was so fat that he exploded, just because she had curves. Morgan, Paige and Emily would moan they hadn’t got boobs as good as Tiff’s. They reckoned Jasmine was jealous.
Tiff consulted her watch and cut the conversation short with the young women, not wanting them around when her date arrived. He would be here any minute. The prospect filled her with emptiness, even though he was charming, attractive, witty and intelligent. She reached into her bag to fish out her compact mirror when her fingers touched a piece of paper. She pulled it out. Morgan’s phone number. She sipped a mouthful of wine before holding the note in the candle’s flame, letting go as it turned to ashes.
A tall, well-dressed man strode over. Tiff stood up and extended her hand. He kissed it.
‘Lovely to see you again, Carter,’ she said.
‘The pleasure’s all mine, Tiffany.’
6
MORGAN
Morgan threw down her rucksack, glad Olly was out, went into her room and without turning on the lights, fell face first onto the bed, tears streaming down her cheeks. She’d always been the least emotional member of The Secret Gift Society. Tiff used to say that’s why she liked her so much. Morgan could be relied on to bring her down from the latest crisis. But she’d had another bad day at work, a week of bad days, following on from last weekend’s disastrous reunion with the girls. Particularly challenging work shifts had started in 2020 and when retail was still recovering from that particular world crisis, the cost of living one hit and customers continued to take it out on the workers. Today, an elderly woman had berated her over the price of eggs, and another customer almost succeeded in shoplifting and threatened to punch Morgan when she confronted him. Security got there just in time. Life in the supermarket never used to feel like being on the frontline.
Olly had a Saturday job in the local garden centre and always got in just after her. He’d easily got hired, having picked up snippets of knowledge over the years, from Morgan and his great grandfather. She’d almost applied for a position there once, but the pay was less and hours not as flexible as her job at the supermarket, and frequently the end-of-day food items, reduced for staff, had helped Morgan feed the two of them.
Her nails dug into the duvet. If she and her three friends had never fallen out, she could have rung Paige, Emily or Tiff, gone for a drink and laughed off the stress. Friends had come and gone during the last nineteen years, but her day-to-day life rarely matched theirs, with often no partner and no progressing career. Her pregnancy had come well before everyone else’s too.
Morgan sat up, wiped her nose and flicked on her bedside lamp, exotic looking with its colourful pewter base. Den had bought it, the only man she’d had a long-term relationship with. It lasted for five years, from her late twenties to early thirties. He wanted kids, but Morgan didn’t want another. She knew how much hard work and money having another child would be. And she still harboured a dream that, one day, she’d become a teacher. She did her maths A-level on an evening course at the local tech as soon as Olly was old enough to leave at home for a couple of hours. The next year, she did further maths. Den didn’t understand. He had a good job as a car salesman, they could get married, have babies, holidays abroad, without her needing to have a career. Morgan’s parents didn’t get it either, wanting her to enjoy a marriage like theirs.
Teacher? What a dunce she was. As if Morgan would ever be able to afford to put both herself and Olly through university. But what did she have without dreams? A son about to leave home, a rented terraced house with a miniscule garden, a job where she was insulted and snapped at…
She shook herself. Had a shower. Grabbed a plate of beans on toast and then sat in the kitchen, in front of her laptop. Neither Paige, Emily nor Tiff had contacted her since last Saturday. Morgan gritted her teeth. No matter, she’d try again to find Hugo Black herself. She drew up a list of potential online places to check and investigated them one by one. Facebook? Nothing. She searched on Instagram, Twitter, TikTok, LinkedIn, then simply put his name into Google. Perhaps Paige was right, she should hire a private detective. She searched on websites, finally found one that listed prices. Her eyebrows shot up. Their hourly charge was more than her daily pay.
Her phone pinged. Morgan ignored it as the front door clicked and Olly lolloped in. His bag fell onto the floor and he came into the kitchen. He drank a glass of water, despite there being a large bottle of Coke in the fridge, his favourite brand – Morgan bought it occasionally for a treat.
He stared at her face. ‘All right?’ he asked, with his familiar teenage mumble.
‘Never better,’ she said brightly. ‘Saturday night, I’ve got a date with Ant and Dec, a packet of chocolate digestives and that book you gave me for Christmas about cool maths facts.’
‘Isn’t it Samira from your work’s birthday drinks?’
‘Did you know that in Thailand, teenagers text each other the numbers five-five-five to indicate something is funny, because the word five sounds like ha in Thai, so they’re actually texting ha, ha, ha?’
‘Mum. Don’t change the subject.’
Yes, everyone was going out for Samira’s birthday. A meal at a fancy restaurant in Spinningfields, but Olly needed new trainers.
‘I’m worn out, love. What about you? Clubbing? The pub?’
‘It’s because of money you’re not going, isn’t it?’
‘Olly. You know what it’s like, working with the public these days. I’ve had a really bad shift, that’s all. I’m not in the mood for going out. Anyway, I can live vicariously through you and expect all the gossip when you get back. I’ll be asking “what’s the tea?” Isn’t that what youngsters say these days?’ She didn’t get why. Tea was clear, strong, reliable – honest.
He focused on his glass.
‘What is it?’
He spoke to the glass. ‘Do you ever regret having me?’
Her chair scraped back and she stood up. ‘Are you serious? What’s brought this on?’
His eyes met hers that were still red and blotchy. ‘You’ve not had it easy.’
‘Who does?’
