Page 4 of The Village Cafe in the Loire

Yes, perhaps she’d been foolish to rush into signing up for the London flat she’d seen. But in her defence, she was currently throwing away £1,500 a month in rental and the flat she’d earmarked was bloody gorgeous. She’d paid a reservation fee there and then, assuming she’d be able to sell the café and would get the money in time to pay the deposit. Now she’d passed the deadline and despite negotiating an extension, it was looking less and less likely she’d be able to complete in time.

Surely anyone in that situation would be tempted to chuck something across a room?

‘And you told the doc it was a personal matter that made you feel… frustrated?’ Amber asked.

‘Burnout is burnout apparently. And I reckon she probably just thinks of me as some entitled rich girl now, too.’

‘To be fair, youarean entitled rich girl. At least compared to some.’

Becky gave her friend a little shove. ‘Hardly!’

‘Oh, I inherited a café in a French village from a distant great-aunt. And I want to buy a really posh flat for myself withthe money. But I can’t sell it and release thousands of euros because there’s a sitting tenant!’ Amber teased, putting on a posh voice.

‘Amber!’ Becky laughed. ‘If anything, it’s a poisoned chalice. Mum said Great-Aunt Maud used to be a bit manipulative. Reckons I should just sell it as is and take the hit.’

‘That does NOT sound like your mum.’

‘I know. She’s all for squeezing every last penny out of investments, usually.’

‘But maybe you should?’

Becky shook her head. ‘No. I’m not a quitter. I’ll get rid of that stupid tenant.’

‘If anyone can, you can.’ Amber unlocked the front door and they both walked instinctively to the kitchen where Becky got out some mugs as Amber boiled the kettle. ‘You know I wanted to talk to you about my work, if you’ve got a?—’

‘Do you mind if we save it? I don’t think I can face talking about work stuff right now.’ Becky made a face. ‘I’ve got to call Mum yet, and she is going to go insane.’

Amber nodded, filling the cups. ‘Sure. Later maybe?’

‘OK. And film night?’

‘Definitely.’

It had become a tradition a few years ago: Thursday nights were old movie nights where they’d slip a favourite, battered DVD from a sleeve and rewatch. The DVDs had been theirs since their teens and were for the most part romcoms of the sort they’d never admit to watching. Using the DVDs despite their ability to stream almost anything was part of the tradition – the cases and their contents were as comforting as old friends.

‘Jerry Maguire?’

‘You mean the film about a guy who’s fired? Who flips out in the office and has a breakdown?’

‘Ah. Yeah. Maybe not this time.’

‘Four Weddings?’

‘Sounds splendid!’ Becky said, putting on a posh English accent in place of her usual sub-posh Hertfordshire one.

‘Yes, I agree, splendid.’

‘Well, then, splendid!’

‘Splendid.’

Becky took her mug into her bedroom and slumped on her bed, scrolling through her phone. Six months ago, she’d felt on top of the world. Now she was signed off work, had an eye that had taken on a life of its own, and hadn’t slept properly for as long as she could remember. It was amazing how quickly things could change. Sighing, she found her mother in her contacts and pressedCall.

‘Mum? Yeah, I’ve got something to tell you.’

2

Her mother’s voice was as artificially gushing as always on answering. She must have been in earshot of some colleagues. ‘Hello, darling!’

---