One Minute Later. Susan Lewis

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СКАЧАТЬ a luxury spa for some M and D bonding, or should I expect a back brush for the shower to replace the one that broke?’

      ‘Did it break? You didn’t tell me. I can return it.’

      ‘If I didn’t know you were joking I’d think you were weird.’

      ‘You think that anyway. So what are you doing today?’

      ‘Meeting the GaLs for lunch at Beaufort House. We’ll probably still be there at teatime.’

      ‘Well try not to make a fool of yourself. Drink tends to do that to a person.’

      Vivienne mimed yadda yadda yadda and smiled as she said, ‘And what are you doing today?’

      ‘Working, of course. You know Saturdays are my busiest day, and Jan left yesterday so there’s no one to run reception. I’ll be frazzled by the time we close, so lucky I’m not going out tonight.’

      That wasn’t unusual for her mother; she hadn’t had much of a social life since her marriage had ended, although Gil still frequently drove the fifty or so miles from his home to take her to dinner. Strange, but Vivienne kept reminding herself that it was her mother’s life, not hers, so if Gina and Gil wanted a long-distance relationship with unspecified benefits it was their business, not hers.

      ‘Are you seeing Greg today?’ Gina asked.

      ‘No, but we’re supposed to be meeting some friends for lunch tomorrow. I might have to cancel, though. I’ve got so much on at the office …’ She checked to see who an incoming text was from and said, ‘Mum, sorry, I have to go. I’ll call again later, OK?’

      There was a brief silence, and Vivi wasn’t sure whether her mother was hurt or annoyed, probably both. ‘If you have time,’ Gina replied. Her tone betrayed nothing more than a soft sigh that said she was used to being cut short, since it happened all the time. And where did I get that from? Vivi thought defensively as she rang off. Her mother had been cutting her short all her life.

      The text was from Michelle, her best friend since they were five; Michelle who’d been like a sister to her until their lives had taken such different paths, Vivi to go off to London and uni, Michelle to stay in Kesterly, marry young and have a family. They’d remained in touch mostly through birthday cards and the occasional text, but in spite of Vivi being godmother to both Michelle’s children they hardly ever saw one another now. There was a time when it would have broken Vivi’s heart to think of them drifting apart, in a way it still did, but life, ambition, motherhood and all sorts of other demands meant they no longer had much in common.

      Michelle never forgot Vivi’s birthday, and Vivi desperately wished she could say the same, but more often than not she was late with a text, and later still with cards. She was generous with presents, though, especially for the children, and Michelle always sent photographs to show how delighted they were with the new toy or book or outrageously expensive designer wear.

       Happy Birthday to you. Hope you have a fabulous day. We all send love. What are you planning? Are you even in the country?

      Remembering she’d been in Dubai the last time she and Michelle were in touch, Vivi couldn’t help wondering how interested her friend really was in her life. Probably not very, for Michelle had never been ambitious, caring little for the crazy kind of jet-set existence that was so totally at odds with the plodding and predictable world of Kesterly. But it was typical of Michelle to show an interest: kind, considerate, full of fun and mischief, she had a way of making a person feel valued and special even if they no longer shared girlhood dreams. What a gift that was. Vivi wished she had it, but every time she tried to focus more on matters outside work something would come up and everything else would be forgotten.

      She texted back: Tx for the happy birthday. You’re amazing. In London. Seeing the GaLs at Beaufort House. Should be fun. Had Michelle ever heard of Beaufort House? She’d know who the GaLs were, though she might not remember all their names. She was aware, of course, that they were Vivi’s closest friends now, just as Sam, Michelle’s husband, had become her closest friend.

      What mattered was that they’d always been there for one another while growing up. Nothing would ever change that; Vivi just hoped a time would never come when they lost touch completely, though she was aware that it easily could.

      Kicking off her flip-flops, she was about to read her other texts when Michelle came through again. Millie wants you to know that her little brother should be called Eeyore because he cries like a donkey.

      Vivi broke into a deep, throaty laugh, and for a few minutes they texted back and forth as though almost five-year-old Millie was sending the messages about her new pony and the present she and Mummy had sent to Vivi for her birthday that smelled lovely.

      Ten minutes later Vivienne stepped into the shower and closed her eyes as a power-charged flow of warm water cascaded over her. She spun around, lifting her face to the jets, and put a hand to the wall as she swayed. She was thinking about her sweet little godchildren, Millie and Ash, and what a pity it was that her own children (when she finally got round to having them, and that wasn’t going to be any time soon) would be so much younger than them. And maybe, with her living in London and them way across the country in Kesterly-on-Sea, they wouldn’t even really get to know one another. That felt sadder than sad, given how close she and Michelle had always been, but the only solution would be for her to meet and marry someone who wanted to live in Kesterly, which was never going to happen. Nor, considering Sam’s business as a local builder and Michelle’s own ties to Kesterly, were they ever likely to move to London.

      By the time Vivi was ready to leave the flat she’d taken three more calls from various friends, and had managed to book herself a Shellac manicure for eight on Monday evening. She probably ought to make a hair appointment sometime soon, too, for the random whirl of waves clustered around her face and neck was in need of some taming.

      Wearing ripped skinny jeans, a pair of flat strappy sandals and a waist-length leather jacket, she decided to walk to Beaufort House. The weather was too good to miss a moment of it, and capturing its buoyancy in her stride she seemed about to break into a dance as she started off down the street.

      As she was turning into the Fulham Road her phone rang again, and seeing it was her half-brother, Mark, she swiftly clicked on. ‘Hey you! What are you doing up so early?’ she cried.

      ‘My phone went off,’ he grumbled. ‘I was working until four this morning and I’m back on at five this evening, but no one cares about me.’ A sport and exercise student at Birmingham Uni, he’d taken a job as a barman at Pitcher and Piano to provide himself with some spending money. His father, Gil, was covering the lion’s share of his other expenses, including his rent and the small car he used to bomb around town. ‘Happy birthday,’ he said with a yawn.

      ‘Thanks. So Mum called to remind you?’

      ‘What do you think? Not that I’d forgotten, I just wouldn’t have remembered until I woke up. So, are you back from New York?’

      ‘Yesterday. Off to Singapore on Wednesday.’ Of course. That was why she couldn’t make a sushi dinner with Greg and the others. She’d better check her calendar to be sure she was up to speed with everything else. Waiting for an ambulance to cut its siren as it pulled into Chelsea and Westminster A & E, she started across the road, saying, ‘Any chance of you getting to London sometime soon? I feel as though I haven’t seen you for ages.’

      ‘Since Christmas,’ he reminded her, ‘but I get that you’re missing СКАЧАТЬ