Page 67 of Midnight in Paris

‘Ha. Yeah, the ultimate conversation stopper.’

Sam wiped her eyes, still giggling a little. ‘But seriously, Soph. How are you getting on?’

‘Yeah, not bad. Work’s going OK and the flat is… well, it’s fine for now.’

‘Yes, but,’ Sam leant forward on the table, her face suddenly serious, ‘how’s itreallygoing? Are you doing anything, outside work? Are you getting out?’

‘Now you do sound like Mum,’ Sophie deflected.

‘Come on, if you can’t talk to me, who can you talk to? I know it’s hard on the phone, but I thought…’

‘Hang on, is this an intervention?’

Sam laughed. ‘No. I’m just worried…’

‘Are you telling me you slept with a guy who lived in Cambridge just so you could come over and interrogate me?’

‘Ha. He should be so lucky. No, but I thought while I was here I could just… ask.’

‘I’m OK,’ Sophie said firmly. ‘Now do you want another coffee?’

‘But you’re not really… going out or doing anything besides work?’

‘It’s a difficult job,’ she said. ‘It takes up so much of my time.’

‘Sophieeee,’ Sam wheedled.

‘What? It does. And I’m OK. I’m OK doing it and living in my flat. Everything’s fine.’

‘Sophieeee.’

‘What?’ she said again, feeling herself get hot.

‘I guess I just want you to be more than fine, you know? Like, you’re still young. You’re right at the start of things. I just hope… you know. Don’t forget to live, is all.’

‘I am living.’

Sam looked at her, a sidelong glance that penetrated through all the bullshit.

‘OK. OK. I get it. I have no social life. I’ve locked myself away in a shitty flat like… like…’

‘Miss Havisham?’

‘Sam! No. She’s a complete recluse. I can’t see her delivering the GCSE curriculum to a bunch of Year 11s.’

‘Fair point. OK, so Boo Radley.’

‘Boo Radley?’

‘The Grinch?’ Sam suggested. ‘Look, I’m not like you. I don’t know many literary characters. But I do know that I’m worried about you, sis, that’s all.’

Sophie looked at her sister, the genuine concern etched on her face, and softened. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘OK, you got me. I’m a recluse, sort of. I don’t do anything.’

Sam grimaced sympathetically.

‘I just… I’m just sad, Sam,’ she said, her mouth wobbling. ‘I know people think it’s easy to move on. That I’m young, that what happened is just a tiny part of my story. But I don’t know how to move on and I’m not sure I want to.’

‘Oh, Soph.’

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