Page 27

‘Excuse me,’ she asked a nurse. ‘But can you tell me where the cardiology department is?’

‘Next floor,’ the nurse said, rushing by with a box in her hands.

Confused, Becky returned to the lift, waited an age for it to arrive, then got in.

The interior was mirrored and she saw herself, bedraggled and red-eyed and not like herself at all.

Her blonde hair, which had lightened in the French sun, looked wild and was tousled from the flight.

She pulled it back as best she could and tried to smile.

It was no use, she looked absolutely dreadful.

But it didn’t matter, she told herself as she rushed out of the lift again.

She found the right ward almost instantly and entered, slowing her pace, sensing a different tempo in the air.

It was quiet. Machines beeped. There were six beds, curtains around two of them.

A desk with a couple of nurses dressed in blue scrubs.

Someone with a clipboard was talking to a man in a white coat in hushed tones.

The air smelt like antiseptic and sweat, like the changing rooms at school.

It was, of course, raining outside and the large windows only revealed a grey sky dotted with the tops of buildings, through scattered water droplets.

She wished she could whisk her friend back to France, sit her in the sun.

Tell her never to go back to the job. Encourage her to talk about her worries.

Prevent her from ever having to spend time in this place again.

At first, she thought that Amber must be in one of the curtained-off cubicles – but then the woman in the bed at the far end of the ward caught her eye.

Her curls were flattened against the pillow, and there was a drip partly obscuring her face, but something about her called to Becky. It was definitely Amber.

Relieved, she walked over to her at pace. Amber was sitting, propped against a pillow, her eyes on a tattered book she was reading. ‘Hi,’ Becky said softly, not wanting to alarm her.

Amber looked up from the book, her eyes weary, and gave a double take. ‘Bloody hell,’ she said, giving out a heavy sigh. ‘I take it my mother’s been on the phone to you.’

‘Well, yes. But… come on, Amber. Why didn’t you tell me?’ This was not the way Becky had wanted to start things.

Amber looked at her, her expression unreadable. ‘Seriously?’ she said. ‘You’re making things all about you?’

‘No! No, of course not!’

Amber nodded. ‘I know, really,’ she said, looking down at herself in the generic hospital gown she’d been assigned by the hospital. ‘I’m just feeling a bit shit.’

‘Well, with cause.’ Becky pulled up a chair and sat as close to Amber as she could. ‘It must have been terrifying.’

‘It was, a bit,’ Amber admitted. ‘I mean, I’ve had chest pains now and then for a while, but…’

‘And you didn’t get it checked out?’

‘Becky, we’re in our thirties. It just doesn’t happen. I kept thinking it was indigestion or stress. And it kind of was… stress-induced. I just didn’t realise it could have been… heart-related. Serious.’

Becky put her hand on Amber’s. ‘Pascal said you didn’t look well, when he saw you,’ she admitted. ‘But I reassured him. Said he didn’t understand what he was talking about. What an idiot.’

‘You’re not a doctor.’

‘No. But I’m not a great friend either.’

‘You realise we’re still talking about you, right?’

‘I’m so sorry!’ Becky blurted, immediately feeling tears pool in her eyes. ‘I just feel like this is all my fault.’

Amber looked at her dryly. ‘I mean, you’re capable of a lot of things, Becky, but I honestly don’t think you can be responsible for my cardiac health.’

Becky laughed, slightly. ‘Still.’

Amber smiled a little now. ‘Look, shall we just agree you’re a bit shit sometimes and then move on?’

‘I will if you will?’

Amber wrapped her fingers around Becky’s hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘Done. Officially shit.’

‘That’s me!’ Becky tried to smile.

‘But you know I still love you, right? You’re the only one who can make me laugh, forget about my problems. I know it hasn’t been long, but I’ve really missed you,’ Amber added.

‘Aren’t you going to say that I complete you?’

‘We complete each other.’

Becky looked into her friend’s eyes and felt the deep connection of their shared history. ‘We really do,’ she said.

Whatever had been broken between them seemed to be fixed for now.

‘So, what’s the…’ The word prognosis came into her head. But it didn’t seem the right thing to ask. ‘What exactly is wrong?’

‘They’re not entirely sure. Not a heart attack, apparently. Thank God. But my heart was beating a little more quickly than it should. It might be all the stress hormones. They’re worried about a bit of inflammation. They’re just keeping an eye on me, honestly.’

‘Shit though, Amber.’

‘Yep!’

‘And you’ve quit your job?’

It was brief, but she saw Amber blanch. ‘Looks like it,’ she said.

‘Sorry, it doesn’t matter, does it? Not under the circumstances.’

‘Maybe not to someone like you.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Oh, come on, Becky. We have very different lives. Very different circumstances.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning, if you quit your job or needed some time… or had your career prospects thrown back in your face, you’d have a safety net.’

‘What, Mum?’ Becky made a face.

‘Sure. Yeah. She’s a pain. But she’s wealthy and she has your back. You might not appreciate that. And, God knows, I realise the woman’s driven you mad at times. But those are the facts. You are not going to starve.’

‘Come on, Amber,’ Becky said, trying to keep her tone gentle. ‘Neither are you.’

‘No. But my mum can’t support me. Not for long. And it’s fine. It’s OK. It’s normal, for a lot of people. That’s why I’ve always worked so hard. But now this thing with Rufus…’

‘He won’t get away with it, you know! We can take him to a tribunal. Get some compensation.’

Amber nodded. ‘Maybe. Eventually. But then what?’

‘I don’t know. But we must be able to do something.’

‘The thing is, I didn’t even like my job, not really. It was OK. But it was basically just fancy number-crunching. Stuck in a cubicle office in a faceless building.’

‘I thought you loved it?’

‘I thought I did at first. But it’s amazing what having a suspected heart attack does. Sitting in bed, you think about things. And I realised I haven’t been happy. Not for a long time. Not really.’

‘Oh.’

‘And no , it’s not your fault.’

‘Am I that bad?’

But Amber was smiling. ‘No. Just busy. Preoccupied. In the middle of your own health crisis.’

‘Health crisis?’

‘The burnout. Like it or not, chick, you were displaying the signs. I’ve been worried about you.’

‘Oh.’ Becky looked down at her hands. ‘I haven’t got much going for me, have I? Shit, burnt out and self-obsessed.’ She was only half joking.

‘Ah, but you do have your good points. I mean, who else is going to let me indulge my obsession with 1990s Hugh Grant movies?’ Amber smiled. Touched her hand.

‘This is true.’

‘Besides, you can’t mess up a lifetime of friendship that easily.’

‘I wish I’d listened more though, about Rufus.’

‘Oh, he’ll get his comeuppance eventually.’

‘Tribunal?’

‘Karma.’

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

Amber shrugged. ‘Not really. He was just a sleaze, basically. He asked me out about ten times in his first month at the firm, then when I said no, he started getting… well, mean. Finding fault, sending me emails. Making me feel… he made me feel as if my job were in trouble every single day.’

‘What a bastard.’

‘Yeah. And I’ve got a lot more to say about it, believe me. But right now, can we talk about something else?’

‘Sure. Sorry.’

‘It’s OK. Just don’t want to waste any oxygen on him.’

‘So what will you do now? When you get out, I mean?’

Amber raised an eyebrow. ‘Go back to Mum’s for a bit.

Get pampered and worried over. What else can I do?

Try to figure out my next steps. Get some sort of online job if I can.

If I can even do that.’ Her face crumpled slightly on the last sentence, but she regained control of herself.

‘I’ll be OK. You can get back to your café, your Pascal. ’

‘He’s not my Pascal.’ Becky thought of his eyes; that moment of feeling they’d known each other forever, then the conversation she’d heard on the phone; his easy dismissal of life in Vaudrelle. ‘And it’s just a café.’

‘Is it though? You actually seemed really happy.’

‘Yeah. I thought I was. But all this… It made me realise it’s not real life is it, Amber?

This is. Being here for my friends, doing my job.

Getting on in life. That… the French thing was a bubble.

And it was lovely. And yes, perhaps I did have a fantasy that I might stay for a bit.

’ Becky laughed, softly. ‘But it was a fantasy. Being back here, having distance, I can see it now. It was a bit like being drunk.’

‘What, and this is the hangover?’ Amber raised an eyebrow.

‘OK, maybe more like having a daydream. But then coming to. Realising how things are.’

‘You’re seriously not going back to France?’

Becky shook her head. ‘We’ve planned a launch for the new decor, so I might pop back to do that. Say goodbye.’ She swallowed. ‘But this is my reality, Amber. You and Mum and my job. My future here is… well, secure. Planned.’

‘What about the flat?’

‘I think Mum will lend me the money for the deposit if I want, but I’m not even sure I want it now. And our flat won’t be the same without you. But that’s life, isn’t it! I’ll find somewhere new to rent or whatever. It honestly, honestly doesn’t matter.’

‘Oh, Becky.’

‘I wish you’d said,’ Becky told her. ‘I wish you’d told me sooner that the rent was too steep.’

‘It was OK. I managed to pay my share all those years. Just some months, it was a bit of a stretch. But you loved it so much, it was infectious. I’ll never regret living there with you.’

‘It’s only a flat. A gorgeous flat, admittedly. But I only enjoyed living there because of you. Not because of the en suites.’

Amber gave her a look.

‘OK,’ Becky smiled. ‘Maybe a little bit because of the en suites too.’

It was nice to see Amber laugh.

Behind them, a nurse coughed pointedly.

Becky looked at the clock. ‘I think I’m going to get chucked out soon.’

‘It’s alright. I’m pretty tired, to be honest.’

‘You’re feeling better though, right? I mean, you’re going to be OK? There isn’t anything else wrong?’

‘I’m fine. Well, fine-ish.’

‘Because if… I can’t lose you, Amber. Without you I’m… well. Incomplete.’

‘I know.’ Amber said, smiling tiredly. ‘Me too.’

As she exited the sterile light of the hospital into the fresh summer evening, Becky drew her phone from her pocket and booked an Uber. Then, after texting a quick, ‘All OK. Speak tomorrow’ to Pascal, she rang a number that she’d ignored for too long.

‘Barringtons?’

‘Hi, Julie. It’s Becky. Can I speak to HR?’

It was time to get things back on track.