Page 90 of The Village Cafe in the Loire

‘Seriously.’

‘It’s not a pity offer is it, because…’

Becky shook her head, rat-tails flying, slapping at her skin. ‘No! Of course not. I came because I realised that whatever’s happening with Pascal is wonderful. But there’s only one person I’ve ever truly loved. And it wasn’t the person waiting for me in the café. It was the one here, watching me from her bedroom window.’

Amber rubbed a hand underneath her eye. ‘You, Becky Thorne, are completely crazy. But I love you too.’

‘And I don’t see why I should have to give up the love of my life just because my life has changed.’

‘You know I’ll be OK, don’t you? That I would love to spend time – have an adventure – with you. But I’m not… I don’tneedto. I’m… I’ll figure it out,’ Amber said.

‘Definitely. Look. The only needy one here is me. Because I need you. For fuck’s sake. You and me. We complete each other.’ She looked up again, grimacing.

Amber was silent. Her face, serious. ‘You think that could work?’

‘Yes. Why not? Why not try at least?’

‘Well, Iamunemployed.’

A silence. Becky could feel water begin to pool in her shoes. She shivered. ‘Any chance I could come in for a minute?’

‘Oh God. Sorry. Yes, I’ll open the door.’ Amber began to turn from the window.

‘No! Wait. You have to answer first. Are you coming? Are you going to try this crazy adventure with me?’

Amber looked at her and she looked back. Their eyes locked and they were there again. The playground, Amber helping Becky up after a fall. Doing homework together and swapping answers. The moment when Becky took the blame for a note that Amber had sent whizzing across the classroom. Weekends spent at each other’s uni accommodation, drinking, dancing, putting the world to rights. When Amber moved in after Becky’s dadhad died. Becky rushing home when she heard Amber was sick. The thread that connected them was strong, reinforced over the years by their shared experiences. And in that moment, they both realised – no matter their future relationships – that there might never be a person who knew and loved them so well.

‘Becky,’ Amber said.

‘Yes?’ Becky looked up, still nervous despite Amber’s grinning face that her friend might, after all, turn her down. That she might have to turn back and go to France without her found family. The silence between them was almost painful; then finally Amber leaned forward a little and called down into the wet garden.

‘OK. Let’s do it.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. You had me atbonjour, Becky. You had me atbonjour.’

34

Cynthia walked into the smart London restaurant wearing her habitual dark trouser suit, bright blouse, steely expression. Her hair was, as always, perfect. She scanned the dining room for a moment until she saw Becky. If she was surprised that Amber was there too, she didn’t show it.

‘Hello, girls!’ she said, sliding into her chair. ‘Well, isn’t this a lovely surprise! Amber, how are you feeling?’

‘Yeah. Not too bad, thanks,’ Amber replied. She glanced at Becky, whose expression looked rather frozen, her jaw, tense.

‘So,’ Cynthia said. ‘I suspect I know what this is all about.’ She gave a knowing smile that sent a chill down both their spines.

‘You do?’ Becky asked. It wouldn’t be the first time that her mother had seen right through her. She’d wondered, on occasion, whether Cynthia might have some sort of psychic powers. But she’d never dare suggest it.

In the week since she’d returned to the UK, she and Amber had been planning, packing. They’d bought a car to make the trip in – opting to take it slowly rather than rushing. They’d visited the doctor and made sure everything was in order. They’dchecked out their rights and applied for visas. Not everything was finalised, but they were almost ready to go.

Cynthia was their last hurdle.

‘Of course. Lunch at my favourite restaurant? I expect we’re talking flats, aren’t we?’ She looked at them both expectantly. ‘Deposits?’

‘Oh. No. Actually, I cancelled the reservation,’ Becky admitted.

‘Oh? Why’s that?’ Her mum’s tone was suddenly sharper. ‘Second thoughts?’

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