Page 4

In the end, after a restless and wakeful night, Becky awoke with a solution.

It was a quarter to six, but Amber was going to be getting up for work in fifteen minutes anyway, and Becky was sure she wouldn’t mind being woken. She walked into her friend’s room and gave her a nudge.

Amber snorted, turned over, her eyes opening slightly and then more widely in alarm. Finally awake, she sat up with a little cry. ‘Becky, what the hell?’

‘I’ve had a brilliant idea,’ Becky said, sitting on the edge of the bed and grinning.

Amber groaned. ‘And this brilliant idea couldn’t have held off for, say, another twenty minutes?’

‘It really couldn’t. Sorry,’ Becky grimaced.

‘You know it’s not Christmas morning, don’t you? And you’re not seven?’

‘I am aware.’ Becky smiled at her friend and, after a moment, the smile was returned.

‘Go on then, you idiot, what did you realise? Have you found that elusive cure for all diseases? Discovered a way to save the planet?’

‘Better. I know what I’m going to do with my month.’ Becky’s eyelid twitched and she held it in place for a second. Luckily it settled down.

‘You do?’ Amber’s eyes widened; clearly she was genuinely interested now.

‘Yeah. I’m going to France!’

‘What, like on a retreat or something?’

‘No! Retreats are for people who actually have burnout, not those who are misdiagnosed by a vindictive doctor. I’m going to Vaudrelle.’

‘To the café?’

‘To the café. And I’m going to get that tenant to leave, if it’s the last thing I do!’

‘Hang on. Hasn’t he got the legal right to be there? What are you going to do? Smoke him out? Attack him with a laptop?’

Becky laughed. ‘No. Believe it or not, I’m going to go reason with him. Get difficult if I have to. Get him out so the place can finally sell. And you know what that means?’

‘You’ll have thousands in the bank? Buy this dream property you keep going on about?’

‘No! It means I won’t have any more stress! Think about it, Amber. I’ve had this job for years. It’s only since Maud left me the café that I’ve felt… twitchy.’

‘Twitchy, what, the eyelid?’

‘Especially the eyelid. I’m serious, Amber.

I think I’ve actually solved it! The café will sell, I’ll get another extension on the flat reservation – sure I can pay another fee if necessary – I’ll get the deposit in time and my burnout will be a distant memory!

’ Becky looked at her friend, delighted, but was slightly perturbed that her wide, enthusiastic smile wasn’t being shared. ‘That’ll sort everything, right?’

‘So you’re going to cure your burnout by buying a luxury apartment?’ Amber said slowly.

‘No. Keep up! The burnout doesn’t exist. Stress over the café does. I get rid of that place and voilà! The road to happiness is cleared of debris!’

‘ Voilà? ’

‘What can I say? I’m practically bilingual.’

‘Ha.’

‘So, what do you think?’

‘Honestly?’

‘Honestly.’

‘Listen, I know the idea of a month at home sounds a bit… impossible for you,’ said Amber gently. ‘But if it were me, I’d give it a few more days to really sink in. Don’t go rushing off trying to change the world. You’ll end up worse off, if you aren’t careful.’

‘You’re seriously not supporting me in this?’

‘No, idiot. I’ll support you in anything. Who was it that took the blame when we were caught forging a “get out of PE” letter at school?’

Becky rolled her eyes. ‘You did.’

‘And who lied to her mum so that her best friend could sneak away with her boyfriend overnight?’

‘You, again. I get it.’ Becky smiled at the shared memories. ‘But I’ve got this time. It seems like a sign… and you know how much easier things are to handle in person.’

‘Even if the people you’ll be dealing with only speak French, and operate under a completely different legal system to the one you’re used to?’ Amber asked, eyebrow raised.

‘I can speak a bit of French. Not a lot, admittedly…’

‘Becky! You had to use Google translate just to understand that solicitor’s letter! And you let all his calls go to voicemail so you could listen twenty times if necessary.’

‘I know. But that’s on the phone. I feel like if I can see people in person, they’ll see how important it is – even if my French is awful.’

‘At least hire a translator?’

‘Seriously, I’ve got this. I’ll talk to this guy. Maybe even find him somewhere else to live. He’s probably just an old guy who needs a bit of help to resettle.’

‘So you’re swooping in like Florence Nightingale?’

‘If Florence Nightingale is secretly trying to evict an old man from his forever home, then yes.’

Amber shook her head. ‘This is a lot to take in before coffee,’ she said.

‘But how about this. My annual leave renews in a few months. I could book a couple of weeks off. We could go together. Rather than rushing to France, you could use this time to chill, maybe Marie Kondo the flat or do something useful. It’s June – summer will kick in any moment.

You could go to the park, read a book. Get some sun on your face. And then, later, we’ll go.’

‘I couldn’t ask you to waste your holiday on me!’

‘In all honesty, I could do with the escape.’

‘Well, it’s really appreciated…’

‘But?’ Amber prompted.

‘Honey, you know what I’m like when I get the bit between my teeth.’

‘Then stay for me? I’m pretty stressed at work myself. Not feeling great. I could do with the company.’

‘Ah, poor baby,’ Becky said, scrunching up her face. ‘Nice try. But I’ve already booked my flights.’

‘Oh. OK,’ Amber looked a little downcast, then shook herself slightly.

‘Plus, I’m against the clock what with the flat and the deposit…’

‘What about your mum? What are you going to tell her?’

Becky lay herself fully on the bed – a gesture of mock surrender. ‘Haven’t said anything about France yet. Thought I might give her a call once I’m there…’

They’d been friends long enough for Amber to know exactly what Becky’s mother would think about the trip.

For some reason, any talk about France had always been shut down in the past, especially if it involved Maud.

Becky had vague memories of summer holidays with her great-aunt, but they were hazy and ended abruptly when she was ten.

She’d been too young to know why they’d stopped going back so had just accepted it when their four weeks in Vaudrelle had morphed into package holidays to Greece or Spain.

They’d always received Christmas cards from Maud, then over the past two years, they’d dried up. The next thing they’d received had been a letter telling them about Maud’s legacy and how she wanted to gift Becky her beloved café, with its living space above.

‘Typical,’ Becky’s mum had muttered. ‘She was always determined to get you back under her thrall. As if you’re going to up sticks and move to France and run her crummy little café.’

‘Mum!’ Becky had been quite shocked. ‘She wasn’t a witch, you know! She was nice, as far as I remember.’

‘She was nice enough,’ Mum had sighed. ‘Just had her funny ways. Began to try to convince you of all sorts of silly things when we last went.’

‘Oh.’ Becky had looked at the letter, perplexed. ‘Well, anyway, I’m far too busy to go to France, don’t worry. I’ll just sell up.’

‘Good idea.’

Once she’d emailed the solicitor to tell of her intentions, she hadn’t paid it much thought; had naively believed she’d get something to sign and that would be it.

But then, instead of news on the sale, a tax bill had arrived – clearly owning a home in France as a non-resident didn’t come cheap.

And despite her emails, it seemed nobody was in any hurry to move things forward.

Finally she’d found the reason for the hold-up. The sitting tenant, Pascal.

‘Can’t I just evict him?’ she’d asked in a furious email.

‘It’s very complicated, madame ,’ she’d been told. ‘He does have the right to stay in the property. Plus your aunt has given him permission to stay as long as he wants…’

She’d sent back what she’d hoped was a strongly worded reply (using a free translator, you could never quite be sure) asking him to start eviction proceedings, but her solicitor had rung her mobile and left a voicemail saying it was impossible.

Hence the sudden frustrated fury and the laptop chucking. And hence her month of enforced leave.

Sure, there were other work stresses. Long hours.

A new member of the team who seemed suddenly to be vying for the same promotion; there were a few problems with her main account and rivals were always sniffing around hoping to poach.

But most of her stress had been about the café.

She was sure once she rid herself of it, things would be better.

‘Perhaps she won’t mind you going now that Maud’s… you know. Not likely to take you under her wing now, is that what she said?’

‘Under her “thrall”, whatever that means.’

‘Your mum has an amazing vocabulary.’

‘I think her dictionary is from the 1800s. She’ll probably tell me it’s all codswallop or something.’ Becky sat up and grinned. ‘Oh God, look at the time. Want me to make you a coffee?’

Amber groaned. ‘Why can’t I get a month off work?’

‘Take a sabbatical?’

‘Can’t afford it.’

‘Then maybe try slinging a company laptop across the room?’ Becky suggested wickedly.

They both laughed.

‘I can’t change your mind? About going?’

Becky shook her head. ‘Afraid not.’

‘Even if I really feel I need you right now?’ Amber looked at her with large, pleading eyes. She was actually a pretty good actor.

‘Even so. Just think of the new, improved Becky you’ll get back in a couple of weeks.’

‘I suppose she’ll just have to do.’

Instinctively, Becky leant across the bed and gave Amber a squeeze. ‘I’ll miss you though,’ she said.

‘Me too.’