Page 32 of When We Were Friends
‘I set the alarm for seven tomorrow morning and told Emily and Tiff to do the same,’ said Morgan as the shutters rattled. The wind had got up. ‘Hugo’s old address is about a ten-minute drive away. He or whoever owns it now might go to work, so if we get there before eight, we stand a good chance of catching someone in.’
‘Go to work on a Sunday?’
‘Possible if they work in retail or hospitality.’ She hesitated. ‘Night, then.’ Morgan tugged on Paige’s hair and quickly turned away.
A wave of emotion swept over Paige. It used to be their sleepover goodnight ritual. It was now her turn to tug on one of Morgan’s short locks, before going to sleep. But Paige was wary, so wary of losing her friend for a second time. She couldn’t let herself get attached, couldn’t go through that again. Instead of reaching out, Paige turned on her side, slid her hands in between her knees and closed her eyes.
* * *
Seeing the girls again. The flight. The villa. Too much wine with dinner leading to sad thoughts about Lewis, about her career. The wind that now howled intermittently. The rain that meant she couldn’t get to sleep. Eyes wide open, Emily turned her head, stomach churning, feet restless, mouth dry.
‘Tiff?’ Tiff was still on her phone, muttering about making a booking. ‘Isn’t Paige quieter than she used to be? She’s hardly said a word.’
‘We’ve all changed.’
‘Tell me about your love life.’
Tiff put down her phone and turned her head to meet Emily’s gaze. ‘I’d much rather you tell me about Lewis. How did you first meet?’
‘It was ten years ago. Emergency departments have always been under pressure but there was a lighter atmosphere back then. I’d seen Lewis often enough before, wheeling in patients. We’d chat. Share a laugh. I mentioned once how much I liked Snickers bars, some days that was all I had for lunch. It was his favourite too and a few days later, he brought a multi-pack in. Didn’t even expect to share. I knew, then, that he was a keeper.’
‘Cute.’
‘A couple of weeks after that, his mates wheeled in a trolley. Lewis was under the blanket and when they pulled it off, he sat up and asked me out on a date. He was holding a bunch of red roses.’ Pretending to be dead was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for her.
‘How long have you been married?’
‘Almost eight years. We both loved our jobs – making a difference in people’s lives, meeting patients from a variety of backgrounds, watching them heal, witnessing miracles.’
‘Then why leave the profession? Won’t you miss it?’
‘Nope.’
‘I went through a bad stage with my career. Rejections at auditions. Directors taking me aside for “the fat talk”, saying I needed to drop seven pounds. My agent’s told me often enough I’d get more parts if I lost weight.’
‘Sounds to me like you need a new agent.’
‘The point is, it’s my vocation. I can’t imagine doing anything else. Surely nursing is like that?’
How many times had Emily been told that in recent months? Firstly by the emergency care manager. Then Lewis. His family. Her dad. Next door. The woman from the post office. None of them would last one shift and would have got out well before things became so desperate. At least Smudge understood and knew to keep quiet.
‘You probably just need a break like I did,’ continued Tiff. ‘Two weeks in a spa in Cleethorpes sorted me out.’
Two weeks living in the Dalai Lama’s palace wouldn’t clear Emily’s head. With a concerted effort, she’d stay calm with Lewis, in front of her parents, even her fucking therapist. But it wasn’t in her to hold back any more. What was it with people, thinking that being a nurse meant you should put up with all sorts of other crap, on top of dealing with bedpans, catheters and commodes? Barely hearing the rain that slashed against the shutters, she jumped out of bed.
‘So my needs still come last?’
‘No, Emily, I didn’t mean—’
‘I’ve held the hands of dying patients desperate to see relatives who weren’t allowed anywhere near them. I’ve worked shifts back-to-back in a mask, mummified in PPE. That’s on top of the usual challenges of sore feet, a bad back, extended shift hours. Then I’ve gone home and struggled to pay bills and had no money to relax and unwind, to enjoy myself.’ She paced the room. ‘How are you so unable to put yourself in my position? Oh, but wait – that would require empathy. But you’ve lost it like I’ve lost my kindness, because adulthood has stolen our four gifts away.’ Emily strode into the lounge, shouting at the top of her voice, ‘The Secret Gift Society is an effing joke, set up by a bunch of silly girls who’d read too many Enid Blyton books.’
Morgan and Paige appeared.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Paige.
Tiff looked at the other two and shrugged.
‘I’ve lost my kindness,’ continued Emily. ‘Tiff has lost her empathy. Paige’s intuition screwed up a long time ago – she never saw through Hugo’s twisted plan – and Morgan’s sense of logic must have worn away over time, because only a lunatic would reunite us after what happened.’ Emily yanked open the French windows, went outside and stood by the pool, in the rain, arms outstretched, head tilted up at the sky, cotton nightie drenched, hair sopping. ‘Maybe this will help me feel alive, getting back to the basics of nature, forgetting how complicated modern lives are. Come on, clouds, do your worst,’ she hollered.
