Page 36

Of course it was raining. It might be June, it might have been dry for the past week. But if Becky was going to do something like this, then fate dictated that it would rain. She’d watched enough movies to know that.

Her lightweight coat was soon saturated.

Her hair hung against her face in thick wet strands and she understood perhaps for the first time why people tended to call them ‘rat-tails.’ She thought of the café; now closed for the night, how well the launch had gone and how, for a moment there, she really thought she’d found her niche.

Part of her wished she was there, ready to climb the stairs to her room and fall into bed.

Instead, she had decided to rush here. Soaked to the bone and completely alone. On a mission that might well end in tears.

It was dark, and she’d felt vulnerable walking the last hundred metres or so.

Nobody was about, but the street that looked so welcoming in the daytime had taken on a more menacing air in the blackness; the lights gave out little halos but didn’t share much brightness with the street below.

The rain made things even more impossible, hammering on her head, running into her eyes.

She was bedraggled, freezing, and would give her right arm now to be tucked up in her bed above the French café.

But she was here. And it was important, she reminded herself. It was one of the most important things she’d ever done.

She opened the gate and crept along the side passage, hoping that there weren’t any security lights to spring to life and alert those sleeping above to her presence. Luckily, everything stayed dark.

Feeling a little shaky, she stood on the darkened patio and looked up at the window.

There were no lights on in the house; clearly everyone was asleep.

Was she being completely insane? Could this not wait until morning, when she could return in dry clothes with an umbrella? She checked her watch; it was 3a.m.

But for some reason she felt it had to be now.

Taking a deep breath, she selected a stone – one with enough weight to make it possible to project and aim it, but not so much that it would cause any damage, hopefully – and threw it at the window. It bounced on the sill and landed back next to her with a gentle click.

Annoyed, she picked up another. This one struck its target, making a little clink against the glass. She held her breath. But nothing.

This time she picked up a handful of smaller stones and flung them with all of her might.

They sprinkled the window, making a tiny clatter.

She was bending down to pick up another stone, wondering whether to risk a bigger one, and feeling the rain drip down her back from her wet hair, when there was a voice from above.

‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing? I’ll call the police!’

She straightened, looked up, allowed her face to be seen in the light now emanating from the window.

‘Fuck’s sake. Becky! What are you doing here?’ Amber’s voice was softer now. If anything, concerned. ‘Has something happened?’

‘Kind of,’ she said.

‘Why aren’t you in France?’

‘Well, I was. I was at the launch. And it went wonderfully.’

‘That’s great. But?—’

‘But then I realised something. I realised I’d made a terrible mistake.’

‘And you couldn’t tell me, say, in a text message? Or call around in the morning? You had to tell me standing out there in the driving rain?’

‘Is it raining? I didn’t notice!’ Becky said, putting on an American accent and doing a pretty good impression of Andie MacDowell.

Amber smiled. ‘Idiot.’

‘Guilty as charged.’

‘So you’re back? You’re going to stay in London?’

She shook her head. ‘Going to France wasn’t the terrible mistake,’ she clarified. ‘You were right. I ought to take the opportunity. Try things out for a while. I’m lucky. I have the option.’

‘OK? Don’t take this the wrong way, Becky, but have you been drinking?’

Becky let out a bark of laughter. ‘No! Only rainwater, and that’s been accidental.’

Amber leaned on the window. ‘You know I’m always glad to see you right? But you’ve totally lost me.’

Becky sighed, wiped a strand of hair from her eye, looked up again at her friend. ‘I came here tonight because I realised I wanted to spend the rest of my life with someone. And I wanted that to start right now!’ she said.

‘Hang on, isn’t that from When Harry Met Sally?’

Becky thought. ‘Well, not a direct quote. But maybe,’ she admitted. ‘I knew it sounded good in my head.’

‘But seriously, what are you saying? Because I love you, hon, you know that. But not… well, not romantically! Not like that .’

Becky laughed again, looking, no doubt, completely insane in the driving rain, soaked to the skin in the dark garden. ‘I’m not propositioning you!’ she said. ‘At least, not romantically.’

‘Then what do you mean?’

‘I mean, I don’t work without you, Amber. I never have. And just because we don’t love each other like that, in a physical way, doesn’t mean our love isn’t important.’

‘Of course .’

‘I started thinking about it. I’ve had a lot of time to think over the past little while. Lots of dull plane journeys and quiet moments. And I realised. You’re the most important relationship I’ve ever had. You’re my missing piece.’

‘Oh Becky.’ Amber smiled at her fondly.

‘Well, it’s true!’

‘Well, you’re that person for me too. But I understand you’ve got to do this thing right now. I’m OK with it. I’ll still be here for you.’

Becky shook her head. ‘It’s not enough.’

‘What?’

‘Amber. I’m asking you to come with me.’

‘What? Are you insane?’

‘Never been saner. Come with me! Help run the café for a bit! I’ve thought about it. I’m crap at accounts. You’re an accounting genius. I need you, not just because you’re my best friend but because you’re a math whizz. We can work together, work things out together.’

Amber looked at her. ‘Seriously?’

‘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’t need to. 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, I am unemployed.’

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 dad had 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 at bonjour , Becky. You had me at bonjour .’