Page 107 of Where Do We Go From Here?
‘But this is why you come here,’ Manon had pointed out. ‘To think. To sort your life?’
‘Yes, that’s exactly why I came here,’ Wendy had agreed. ‘But… I don’t know… I kind of feel like I have. Or I’ve started to, anyway. I feel like I’ve sorted my head out, a bit, at least. And the next step involves everyone else, really.’
‘Your husband?’
‘My husband, my kids… my brother, my sister-in-law. I think I need to go home and fix it all.’ As she spoke, an internal monologue had started trying to trip her up, saying,You’ll go home and everything will be exactly the same as before, and what will you do then?
Manon had raised her glass then and said, ‘I think you can do this. I think you are a strong woman now.’ And by Christ, Wendy had loved her for that!
She drags her gaze from the flickering fire to check the screen on her muted laptop. The UK countdown has now reached eleven minutes to midnight. Harry will be calling soon.
She goes to the fridge for her Champagne, but even as she crosses the room she’s realising that she can’t remember having moved it from the coffee table. One of the girls must have done it.
She opens the fridge door but the bottle isn’t there.
She scans the room. There’s no sign of it.
Her phone, on the coffee table, lights up with a message, so she returns to check if it’s from Harry. Instead there’s a message from Manon.
I take your Champagne. Do not look for it. You will not find. Bonne année my friend. P.S. Celine really like you. :-)
‘Cheeky!’ Wendy mutters, but then realising that this was not an act of theft but support, she shakes her head and tries to laugh instead. But genuine laughter is hard to come by. She has been looking forward to that Champagne all day. She’s salivating just thinking about it.
At five minutes to midnight – UK time – her phone rings with a call from Jill, which she ignores letting it go to voicemail. And then at exactly midnight, as the Sky News fireworks burst into the night sky, it rings again with a call from Harry.
Harry: Sorry, I bloody missed it. I called five minutes ago, and it was busy. And then by the time I’d made a cuppa, midnight had come and gone.
Wendy: Hey, it’s fine! It’s not even a minute past.
H: So who were you on the phone to?
W: Just Jill. I didn’t even take the call. I probably have a very drunken voicemail.
H: Because?
W: Well, she’ll be drunk, won’t she?
H: No, I meant, why didn’t you take it?
W: Oh, because I was waiting for you.
H: Eek. Good job I remembered, then.
W: Yes, it really is!
H: I just got in, actually.
W: In? From where?
H: … had to take Fifi to a party at that Paradise place. She was raging because we were late.
W: Fiona? In a nightclub?
H: I know. But her mate Cindy got free tickets or something, so… Are you worried about her drinking? She says they ask for ID at the bar. Though I’m sure they can get around that. I always did.
W: To be honest, I’m relieved to learn my daughter has a social life.
H: Yeah, me, too, actually. She has a tendency to play safe, doesn’t she?
