Page 49 of Midnight in Paris

‘Exactly. So call this what it is – a bad day. A day of grief. And maybe it was inevitable. You were saying goodbye to… well, a lot. Him, of course. Part of your life, too.’

‘A shit part,’ she said, half laughing.

‘No,’ Libby said. ‘I mean, I’m not saying thatnoneof that time was shit. Finding out about Tom was… well, it was rightdown there. And the baby stuff. Really tough. But you had some good times, too. Maybe think about those.’

‘Yes,’ Sophie sniffed and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. ‘You’re right.’

‘Damn straight, I’m right!’ her best friend said, sounding more invigorated somehow. ‘Come on, Soph. Get yourself sorted, get yourself home and then you can have a good cry on my shoulder or Will’s, or both if you like.’

‘OK,’ Sophie said, obediently. ‘I will. And Libby?’

‘Yes?’

‘Thanks. You know. For being there.’

‘Pfft, what am I for, if not to pick you up and set you back on the tracks. You’d do the same for me.’

It was hard to imagine Libby ever needing that sort of reset – she was practical, successful in her role as a curator in an art gallery and seemed completely unbreakable. But she was right: Sophie would do the same for her if there were ever a need.

She ended the call and was about to start clearing her debris from around the room when her phone flashed again. Will.

‘Hi,’ she said, her voice steadier than when she’d tried to call him earlier.

‘Hi, you,’ he said, his voice warm and so welcome in her ear. ‘All OK?’

‘Yes. All OK. Just… emotional.’

‘Of course you are.’

‘I’m coming home tonight. I can’t stay. Libby is sorting it.’

‘Very sensible,’ he said. Then, ‘Does this mean I have to hoover?’

She smiled. ‘Damn right it does. I expect everything shipshape when I get home!’

‘Righto, Captain!’ he joked. ‘But look,’ his voice settled into a more serious tone. ‘Just be careful, OK? Get yourself home. I’m proud of you.’

‘Proud?’

‘Can’t have been easy, what you’ve done. Lots of people would have… I don’t know, taken a shortcut. But you did our Tom proud.’

‘Thank you. And you know… I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to come with me. It seemed like something that was better alone…’

‘I get it, don’t worry.’

‘I know, but you loved him too, I know that.’

‘But I love you more,’ Will said simply.

She leant her head against the wall, steadying her breathing. ‘You too,’ she said. ‘I love you too.’

22

THE FIFTH SUMMER – 2015

She’d been looking forward to the trip all year. Every time she’d had a difficult class, or a mountain of homework to mark. At each commute on a rainy, winter’s day and every time she’d woken up to realise it was Monday morning, she’d tried to think of Paris, the trip they’d booked during her six-week summer break where they’d be able to relax and discover each other again.

Now, stuffing items into her suitcase, all she could think of was her conversation with her mum. Innocuous at first, then potentially life-altering. Told over a cup of tea as if it were just another conversational titbit.