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At three, they brought Maud to the café again. The paper had been removed from the windows, revealing the interior, and already there were one or two would-be patrons in the street, waiting for the three-thirty launch.

When Maud was installed at a table near the counter, her stick leaning up behind her, Becky handed her a paper package, with a blush.

‘For me?’ Maud said. ‘You shouldn’t have, honestly.’

‘Wait till you open it. It’s nothing special.’

Maud carefully unwrapped the picture, her eyes sparkling as they alighted on the drawing in its new wooden frame. ‘You did this?’

‘Yes, but you don’t have to put it up on the wall or anything,’ she said, feeling quite embarrassed. ‘I know it’s quite… rudimentary.’

‘That’s so kind. And it’s lovely.’

‘It’s… I mean, the colours aren’t quite…’

‘No,’ Maud said. ‘Don’t apologise for your work. Be proud of it. It’s good. Truly. And what makes it more beautiful is that you’ve painted the café the way you see it. Something only you can do.’

They smiled at each other for a minute and Becky felt herself glowing. It was a bit like when she’d been seven, showing her teacher a picture at school, or the times when she’d called Mum to tell her she’d been given a pay rise or promotion. A contented glow washed over her.

In reality, it didn’t mean much. Maud would probably love her picture no matter what.

But her approval fed into some sort of need in her, fed the part of her that was afraid to tell her mother that she’d quit her job.

Was that it? Was it her need to please others – or impress Mum – that made her as driven as she’d been?

Maybe it was the same for everyone, she thought, considering Pascal’s own situation. Maybe all of us are just children trying to make our parents proud.

But if our parents, in turn, are trying to fulfil the wishes or desires drummed into them by their own parents, then are any of us actually living the life we would choose? When does giving someone advice and direction turn into mapping out their life for them?

She had never told Mum what she thought, what she wanted.

She’d never really had the space to find out what that might be.

Mum had such confidence that her way was right, Becky had never really questioned it before this point.

She was reliant on the guidance and structure she’d been given, she realised.

If she stepped away, who would she be? Would she simply be lost?

But this was no time for introspection. ‘Ready?’ Pascal said, and unlocked the door, throwing it open to let people inside.

There were twenty-four in all: young; old; couples with children; people in their work clothes, sports gear, gardening overalls.

They shuffled in and Pascal showed each to a table.

The next twenty minutes were a whirlwind – offering and making coffee, handing out madeleines and macarons. By the time everyone had been served, Becky felt hot and sweaty. She dabbed her skin with a disposable napkin and looked at Pascal, who nodded. It was time.

Feeling nervous, she struck a teaspoon against a coffee mug and all went quiet. Twenty-four faces were looking at her expectantly.

‘ Bonjour ,’ she said, glancing at Pascal then at the piece of paper in her hand, on which she’d written the translation of what she wanted to say.

‘Welcome everyone to La Petite Pause . Your local café, with a new look.’ It was all the French she could manage and she knew her accent was off.

But she’d wanted to show that she was trying.

Pascal then took over, speaking in rapid French. And at the end, Maud said a few words. There was silence. Then applause.

They milled around afterwards, collecting plates and cups, being congratulated. People dropped in and out, exclaiming, conversing together. Noting the art on the walls and the softness of the chairs. The newly painted decor and the new beverages and snacks on offer.

Sitting at the corner table with Maud, Becky sipped her latte and felt a warm, contented feeling come over her. They’d done it. They really had. And if she wanted, there was a beautiful life here for her. Even if it wasn’t forever. Even if it was just for a heartbeat.

When the café was closed and the final cup washed, she turned to Pascal and sank into his arms. He wrapped her in a tight embrace. ‘You did it,’ he said. ‘It was marvellous.’

‘ We did it,’ she said. ‘And yes, it really was.’

He kissed her softly.

‘Is there something I should know?’ came a voice, as Maud brought her cup rather unsteadily to the sink and looked from one to the other.

They laughed. ‘Perhaps,’ Becky said. ‘We’ll see.’

‘And in the meantime, we should eat,’ Pascal said.

In her bedroom, working out which outfit to wear for dinner, she messaged Amber.

Becky

How are you today?

Amber

Yeah. OK. Kind of.

Becky

Wish I’d stayed.

Amber

No, you don’t. And it’s fine. Miss you though.

Becky

Me too. We complete each other!

Amber

Yes we do. Although it’s OK if you decide to move on, you know.

Becky

I’ll never move on from you! Are you OK really? Emotionally?

Amber

Not really. But I will be. Love you.

She felt something sink inside. She should be there. If she was any sort of friend, she’d be there.

Feeling sick, Becky made her way down to the kitchen to get a glass of water and found Maud sitting there at the table, the local newspaper open on a small article about the launch. ‘Hi,’ she said.

‘Hello again!’

She sat down with her glass and took a sip. Then sighed.

‘Are you all right, love?’ Maud said softly.

She looked up and saw Maud’s intelligent blue eyes watching her.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Just thinking.’

‘What about? Maybe I can help?’

‘I’ve quit my job,’ she said. ‘Not necessarily to come here. But… well, I might. For a bit.’

‘Well, that’s wonderful news! I did wonder when you said about my coming over more often, but…’

‘But it’s so complicated. Complicated to stay and complicated to leave.’

‘How so?’

‘Mum?’ Becky said, raising an eyebrow.

She expected Maud to say something derogatory – perhaps that her mother had to learn a bit of humility, or not to take her into account. But she didn’t. ‘Yes,’ she said instead. ‘Poor Cynthia. She probably would take it hard.’

‘So you think it’s a bad idea?’

‘No,’ Maud said, shaking her head. ‘Not at all. As long as you accept that the consequences may not be as you’d like.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, initially of course she might be hurt, angry. But hopefully she’ll come around. And maybe visit. Perhaps even start to enjoy spending time here again. After all, she’s done very well for herself, the financial pressure on her isn’t what it was in the past.’

‘Yes, hopefully.’

‘But she might not. She might dig her heels in and decide to resent you for it. And that could be difficult.’ Maud reached out a hand, covered Becky’s.

Her palm was soft and cool. ‘But you mustn’t let that sway your decision.

Because if you bend to your mother’s will, you’ll end up resenting her .

Just as painful, but with more regrets from your side. ’

Becky nodded. ‘Yes. I can see that.’

‘Don’t be swayed by me either, of course!

’ Maud said. ‘I know, perhaps I… well I hoped to encourage you over. But I’m not here to manipulate you.

I just wanted to… show you what was possible, I suppose.

Because you were never much like Cynthia, yet I saw that you were living a similar life – the sort of life she would choose for you. It made me worry.’

‘Thank you,’ Becky said, resting her head on her hand, keeping the other tucked under Maud’s. ‘It’s Amber too,’ she admitted. ‘My best friend. I feel bad about abandoning her. She… she really helped me in the past and I feel like I should be there for her too. She’s not well at the moment.’

‘Oh yes. The girl with the heart problem? Pascal told me. Poor kid.’

‘Yes. I think… she’s going to be fine. Health-wise. But she needs me right now.’ Becky shook herself. ‘But listen to me! I’m thirty. It’s normal that Amber and I should move apart, not be in each other’s lives so much at this age.’

‘Do you think so?’ Maud looked at her intently. ‘Really?’

‘Yes. I mean, it’s natural that we would… move apart as we get older.’

Maud’s eyes were fixed on hers. ‘Why is that, Becky? What makes it natural?’

‘Well… it’s what people say…’ Becky shrugged.

‘It’s most people’s experience, I suppose.

People grow up, have families. Time gets stretched and friends fall by the wayside.

Sooner or later Amber or I will meet someone and we’ll move apart from each other anyway.

Maybe I’m putting too much stock into holding on to something that’s… well, kind of doomed, long term.’

‘Yes. People do say that. And it’s true of most friendships I suppose.

But it’s not a given. Nothing is. Just because things have happened before to other people doesn’t mean that our lives are made inevitable.

Everyone, everything, every situation is different.

When I stepped off the kind of… carousel of work that I’d created for myself, the world didn’t fall apart as I’d thought.

And I was able to live differently, on the edge of it all. It made me realise?—’

‘What?’ Becky prompted gently.

‘That all the things we take for granted – the life recipes we’re given – the benchmarks we’re expected to hit… Education, work, relationships, children. Someone at some point made them up. And if measuring ourselves against them makes us unhappy, well then there’s something wrong.’

‘So you’re saying I should choose Amber? Try to stay close to her?’

‘Being with Amber… it makes you happy, doesn’t it?’

‘I never had a sibling,’ Becky said with a shrug. ‘She’s it, I suppose.’

‘Then why do you let other people’s assumptions affect you? People only grow apart if they neglect their friendships. It’s not necessarily the path you have to take.’

‘But it’s hard. Because I can’t have it all, can I?’

‘None of us can,’ Maud said softly. ‘But perhaps you can have more than you think.’

A moment later, Pascal entered the kitchen. He’d changed into a powder blue shirt, black jeans. His hair was gelled. ‘Are we ready, ladies?’ he said jovially. Then his smile disappeared as he saw the expressions on each of their faces.

Standing up, Becky shook her head. ‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, Pascal. I know what I said. But I just can’t.’