Page 59 of When We Were Friends
‘All of us, none of us… We each had issues back in the day.’
Lewis finished the last mouthful. ‘I treated a woman in her eighties earlier in the week. Nancy. She’d had a fall. Fractured her pelvis. It didn’t stop her chatting. She even made us laugh. I checked in on her later, after my shift the next day. She was in fine spirits after a partial hip replacement. She wasn’t worried about going home because of two friends who’d make sure she was okay. The three of them had been friends since school, stayed in Manchester and kept in touch – apart from the years they weren’t talking, the sixties when they were in their twenties.’
‘Why did they fall out?’
‘At that time, one became a dope-smoking hippy, her other friend a staunch member of the women’s liberation movement, whereas Nancy got married young and revelled in looking after her husband and home-making. On the surface, their common ground had disappeared and eventually this led to a big row, each calling the others patronising and judgemental. They didn’t speak to each other for almost ten years.’
‘How come they are still friends now?’
‘She said she reckoned childhood friendship is unique. Special bonds are formed that cut through the nonsense of being an adult. They met up again when one of the others suffered a miscarriage. Nancy believes that when you become friends with someone as a child, you’ve seen the core of their personality that doesn’t change. Whereas friends you make as adults never know the full picture, the backstory, they only meet the current version of you.’ He sipped his coffee. ‘Sorry, I’m going on. She was also a big Man City fan. I stayed far longer than I intended with her. What I’m saying is… the friendships we make as kids, don’t often come along later in life. In fact, when I got home last night, I reached out to Tommy Chapman on Facebook. We were best friends throughout school and lost touch when he worked as a holiday rep. We’re meeting for a drink next week.’
They gave each other a tentative hug in the car park after arranging for him to come around one evening next week to help Emily research more veterinary nursing colleges in the area. As she drove home, Emily thought about Nancy. Whilst other people were probably going to question her choice of moving from treating humans to pets, she wouldn’t need to explain to Morgan, Paige and Tiff. Years ago, come rain or shine, Tiff would accompany her when she’d sometimes walked next door’s dog, knowing how much Emily loved doing it. And Paige would laugh about how her cat bolted straight for Emily whenever she’d visited because she always snuck in Dairylea cheese triangles for him, and Morgan had once helped her bury a dead magpie they’d found in the street, even saying a prayer over it despite being non-believers.
Emily had finally come home to her true self.
33
TIFF
Joe gave a wave as Tiff walked into the Corn Exchange. He stood outside Mowgli’s. Saturday night and the building was bustling. She’d booked a table for seven, simply telling her parents she was meeting a friend. A friend that made her heart race in a way Carter and Marlon hadn’t. Mum and Dad didn’t need to know that. Carter looked like James Bond in a tux, Marlon like a rock star when he wore his leather trousers with a chain belt, but the flutters were superficial, whereas Joe sent blood rushing to deeper parts of her body.
And just like that, Tiff sounded like the scriptwriter of a B movie. During recent weeks, she’d done her best to ignore the growing sense of wanting to be with Joe. She found herself looking out of her window for him, jogging more often, and she made sure she looked her best when nipping out for milk or bread. All this despite one of Joe’s most attractive qualities being how he acted as if he wouldn’t care if she looked as scruffy as the local stray tabby he always talked to.
The waitress took them to their table, in a corner, dimly lit by fairy lights. Tiff breathed in the aroma of spices.
‘How was your meeting with Max?’ she asked once they’d sat down.
‘First things first – I need a beer. Wine for you?’
She nodded before proceeding to point out her favourites on the menu – sticky chicken, the restaurant’s amazing treacle fries, a special coleslaw, butter chicken, Himalayan cheese on toast. Joe insisted she choose the dishes and they share them.
‘Tell me about your week, that’s far more important than my day,’ he said, after the waitress had delivered their drinks. ‘Did you find this Hugo? What was it like meeting him after all this time? How did you and your friends get on?’
Tiff had given Joe the barest details before leaving London: that she and her friends hated this Hugo at school and that he’d caused a rift between them.
‘He’s called Felix now. I didn’t get to meet him. My friends – old friends – and I got on okay, until a big argument at the end, so now we’re back where we started. I won’t get in touch with them again.’
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ he asked gently.
‘I’d much rather hear about Max’s new venture. Are you signing up?’
Don’t. Don’t come up and live in Manchester. We’ll almost never see each other once I’m back in London.
There’d be no one to make her do a warm-up before running, no one to laugh at the eighties headband and leg warmers she liked wearing, or to pretend to be blinded by her favourite sparkly eye shadow. She didn’t know anyone else who loved doing butterfly stroke in the pool, a way of swimming she’d had to learn for a bit part in a straight-to-DVD movie, or who also insisted on putting takeout pizza on plates and eating it with a knife and fork. Smooth Carter and Marlon kept their quirks hidden – they weren’t paid to show their true personality – whereas Joe’s were on display for all to see: how he sang as they jogged, old school rock like ‘Under Pressure’ by Queen, and he had a habit of smelling food before he ate it, drinks too, and books, even new running shoes.
They’d first met when she was out jogging; it used to be a rare thing for Tiff that only took place just before a new shoot. For motivation, a fellow actor had recommended an app to listen to, that made noises as if zombies were chasing you. Her earbuds lead had somehow worked its way out of the phone and a loud zombie moan sounded just as Joe passed. He’d given Tiff the weirdest look and unable to stop laughing, she’d had to stop and explain.
Those dimples, twinkling eyes, the uneven mouth, the warm laughter that said Joe was joining in and not taking the piss… a shiver had run up and down her spine. She hadn’t forgotten it because it still happened now.
Yet she had no clue as to whether Joe felt something too. Over in France, she’d pictured her and Joe on the beach, learning how to windsurf, both of them expending far too much energy teasing each other, holding hands as they walked into the sunset on the sand, carrying their sandals. With Carter and Marlon, she’d always dressed up in sexy dresses for dinner, frequented fancy bars, attended starry parties, all the things she’d done over the years to prove to herself that she was worthy. If Joe complimented her, it was about her even breathing after a run or her accomplished moves in the water. She’d come home from a cast event once, sparkling from head to foot. He’d been out for a late jog and sped over to say hello. He didn’t comment on her diamante studded jacket, didn’t ask for the gossip; instead, he spoke about how much he admired her ambition and professionalism, and took her arm when she yawned, insisting he make both of them a hot chocolate.
Unless all of this meant he didn’t fancy her. Tiff took a glug of wine.
‘Max’s business sounds well planned,’ replied Joe. ‘He wants to run drama workshops, in the “Make you a star” vein. In fact, that’s what he’s called the venture. He’s got on board a make-up artist and photographer to create a more fun atmosphere, make it more appealing to youngsters.’
‘Right, that sounds interesting, albeit quite different for you to working in a school.’
‘Sure does. Apparently, there’s big money in it though; social-media-led parents are always looking for clubs like this for their kids, and with celebrities more accessible than ever these days, that’s fed into older children on Instagram who want to access the glamorous lifestyle they see daily.’
