Page 78 of The Village Cafe in the Loire

‘It was fine,’ Becky lied. ‘Let’s not bog ourselves down with work talk. What about you? What do you think you’re going to do this week?’

Amber grimaced. ‘Look, I know I told you off for being self-obsessed. But right now? I don’t want to talk about me. I need a distraction. Please tell me about your spreadsheets and your emails – I need a dose of normality.’

Becky made a face. ‘Not sure you’re going to get a dose of normality from me after today’s complete disaster.’

‘Come on, now youhaveto tell me,’ Amber said, looking and sounding momentarily more like her old self.

‘OK. Well, you know our favourite comfort film?’

‘Love Actually?’

‘No!Jerry Maguire.’

‘Oh no.’ Amber said, making a face.

‘What? I haven’t even told you yet.’

‘But it doesn’t bode well. Don’t tell me you wrote a mission statement for your firm?’

‘Not quite.’

‘Someone made you promise to show them the money?’

‘You’re getting closer.’

‘Your fiancé punched you in the face?’

‘I wish. Not that I have a fiancé of course.’

‘Insignificant detail.’

‘OK, well, I flipped out in the office, stormed out. And oh God, Amber, for a minute I thought about grabbing one of the fish.’

‘You… what?’

‘Yeah, I saw the tank and?—’

‘No, back up. You flipped out at work again?’

‘Yeah, kind of.’

‘On your first day back?’ Amber’s face was creased with concern. ‘You didn’t throw another?—’

‘Oh no! It wasn’t like that. Not stress-related at all, really. No laptops or interns were harmed. I did a good day’s work, more or less.’

‘So, what happened?’

‘Maurice wanted me to stay and I refused. Told him I had to see you. And he lost it!’

‘So you quit? Tell me you didn’t actually quit. Not for me. Oh, Becky!’

‘I did quit. And not just for you. I need a job that allows me to have some sort of life. And I guess I was scared that if I agreed to stay, then it would be a slippery slope back to… well, back to the way I was living before. Because I wasn’t happy. Not really.’

‘Your mum is going to kill you.’

‘I know.’ Becky covered her mouth and looked at her friend’s shocked face. Then, as was always customary in the past when they’d been sent out of class for talking, or got into trouble for sneaking sweets into lessons, or that one time when a bouncer denied a relatively sober Amber access to a club for being too drunk, they descended into giggles. Hysterical, disbelieving, life-affirming giggles.

‘Oh my God. I can’t believe you did that,’ Amber gasped at last.

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