Page 63 of The Village Cafe in the Loire

‘Oh, poor Amber.’

Hannah was silent.

‘Well, I can cover her rent for the foreseeable.’

‘It won’t be necessary. She’s coming home with me for a while. I’ll look after her.’ The clipped, defensive tone was back.

‘Oh.’ The Amber Becky knew wouldn’t be too happy with this scenario. But perhaps things had changed? It seemed as if she’d completely lost touch with how her friend was feeling. ‘OK. Well, text me the details of the hospital, the ward? And I’ll find a flight now.’

She ended the call and jumped slightly, seeing Pascal still at her side.

‘So Amber is very sick?’

She told him, her words stuttering and failing at times. ‘It’s my fault!’ she told him then. ‘It’s all my fault.’

He held her shoulders. ‘Becky, it is not your fault. Of course it isn’t.Oui, perhaps you could have listened more. But you would never hurt your friend.’

‘I have to go.’

‘Bien sûr! Of course you must. I can handle things here.’

She nodded and disappeared to her room, rapidly booking a ticket for the afternoon – thankfully there were plenty of flights – and shoving a few things into a bag. She texted her mother: ‘Amber’s sick, flying to UK. Will update.’ But ignored her mother when she tried to call. She simply wasn’t up to talking, speculating. She needed to see Amber first.

When she reappeared in the café, Pascal was chatting to some men in the corner. He saw her and came over.

‘You have a taxi coming? I can give you a ride if not?’

‘No, I’ve booked a taxi. You’re busy.’

‘Will you be OK?’ he asked, brushing back her hair slightly and looking into her eyes. She blinked, hoping the tears would stay away. The last thing Amber needed was for her to fall apart. She needed to get to her. Then they’d figure everything else out.

‘I’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘Or OK at least. You mustn’t worry.’

‘Call me?’ he said, ignoring a customer who’d come to the counter and was tapping his hand slightly on the wood. ‘When you get there, when you are safe, when you have seen Amber?’

She nodded. ‘I’ll try.’

‘When will you be back?’

She had hoped he wouldn’t ask that question. She wasn’t sure how to put the answer into words. Couldn’t explain how the news of Amber had pierced through the bubble she’d been livingin, exposing her trip to France for what it was. A distraction from real life. She’d had a sudden yearning, when packing her bags, for normality. Her normality. Life with Amber in the flat, her job. Feeling on top of things. Being present. She’d even started to miss Mum.

Yes, the idea of Maud – and her miraculous return to life – had been intoxicating. And she’d fallen for Pascal, she knew that she’d miss him. But there was no way to knit these two lives together, it was all or nothing on both counts. And Amber. Amber, who’d been there for her through thick and thin, needed her.

‘I’m not sure,’ she said at last, not ready to have that conversation. ‘I’ll know more when I’ve spoken to Amber.’

‘But for the launch, I hope?’

She nodded. ‘I’d like to be,’ she said, figuring that this wasn’t really a lie. She would like to be. Whether she was or not was another matter.

As she exited the building to wait on the pavement for her taxi, she stepped a little into the road so she could look up at it in its entirety. The polished glass of the window, the warm welcoming light inside. The light stone, the slightly sun-bleached shutters. The open window at the top that she knew was Pascal’s room. The other one, hers. Closed. It was beautiful. It had been a beautiful adventure.

‘Be careful,madame.’ The voice in her ear made her jump. She turned to see a smiling Georges, then watched as his expression changed. Clearly her face was still streaked with tears. She tried to smile, not really wanting to talk about it to yet another person, not wanting to set herself off again. ‘You are sick?’ he asked.

‘No. No, I’m OK,’ she assured him. ‘Just… I need to get back to England. To home. My friend is ill.’

‘Oh no,’ Georges said, shaking his head in sympathy. ‘Your friend who was here? I am sorry to hear this.’

‘It’s OK.’

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