Chapter 6
I am standing outside the mouth of a cave with Priya, Katie and Ella, after a stroll along the bay. The sun is almost gone, just a few golden rays creeping across the waves, the moon coming out to replace it. It’s a blissful place, this, and I can see why Ella decided to stay – even without the delights of Jake, it is exquisite. Balm for the soul, and undoubtedly exactly what she needed.
“So,” says Katie, “it’s a cave. What’s inside it? More rocks?”
She kicks at one of the big pebbles at her feet, but loses her balance and almost falls over. She does a comedic spin of her arms to right herself, then looks up at us all and grins.
“It’s okay,” she announces. “I’m jober as a sudge!”
She actually is, as far as I can tell. There may have been a recovery cocktail at breakfast, but she certainly isn’t drunk. Yet. Katie was always the comedian among us, always the one pulling a prank, doing something stupid to make us all laugh.
I suspect we are all finding our way through this new situation, and Katie is in her default setting – if in doubt, clown about.
I know that Priya and Katie have stayed in touch with Ella more than I have over the years, but get the impression it wasn’t exactly deep. More messages on birthdays than meaningful chats about life, the universe and everything. No reason for the drift – no row, no drama – just the gradual erosion of life. Kids, in particular, will eat into your free time, and something always suffers.
Ella drifted further into her busy London world, and me? I drifted so far I fell off the edge of the map. Now we are all feeling our way back towards each other, and so far, so good.
“Come on in,” says Ella, leading the way, “and see for yourself.”
We clamber over boulders and tread over stones, heading into the darkness of the cave. Ella has a large torch, and shines a path for us to follow.
After a few moments, we find ourselves fully submerged in a rocky cavern, big enough for us all to fit in comfortably, and high enough that I don’t bump my head.
“Ready?” asks Ella.
“I was born ready,” says Katie, then flexes her biceps.
Ella laughs, and then points the beam of the torch up at the ceiling of the cave. All three of us gasp out loud, and she looks delighted at our reaction.
We stare up at the rocks above us – but they are no longer just rocks. They are jewels, dazzling and shimmering and glittering in every shade of red and blue and green and purple, so bright they seem to cast their own light.
Ella moves the beam around the cave, and we see the same glorious sight all around us – we are surrounded by a blanket of shining stars. I’ve never seen anything quite like it, and reach out to touch one of the walls. It feels ordinary – solid, rough beneath my fingertips, slightly damp – but it looks like something from a fantasy film.
“Oh my God,” says Katie, her face a picture of amazement. “Please tell me I’m not the only one seeing this!”
“It’s… gosh, it’s so beautiful!” says Priya, spinning around, holding her phone torch up to make the sparkling walls dance like moving starlight. “What is it?”
“Well,” says Ella, obviously thrilled to be showing this to us, “it’s either a weird geological phenomenon, or just magic. And as we have almost twenty years of science-based education between us, I think we can all agree that it’s definitely?—”
“Magic!” we all say at once, dissolving into gales of laughter. It is a familiar sound, and a heartwarming one. A sound that hasn’t changed one bit, no matter how many years it has been since I last heard it.
I look around at my friends – at the new lines on their faces, at the extra weight, at all the small signs of ageing that have crept up on us. I look at that, but I don’t see it – I just see them, as they were. Those three gorgeous girls who I laughed my way around Europe with. I feel tears spring to my eyes, and a rush of such emotion that it almost floors me. I poke and probe and finally am able to put a name to it… it’s happiness. Sheer, silly, uncomplicated happiness – even more glorious than those shining stones all around us. I realise that here, in this almost supernaturally beautiful place, with these women, I feel safe.
I’m on the verge of making some kind of speech about it when Ella hoists her backpack from her shoulders, and pulls out a big patchwork blanket. She lays it down on the floor, and next out of the bag is a bottle of bubbly and some plastic glasses. She always was practical.
“Right,” she announces, as we all settle down, the torch in the middle, casting our faces in an eerie glow, the cave walls glimmering where the light touches. “It’s time for a chat. I know this is a bit weird for all of us – weird but brilliant, obviously. It somehow simultaneously feels like we’ve never been apart, and like we’re completely new people. So, I want to talk – about us, and our lives, and about literally anything that isn’t to do with wedding cake or rules about confetti. Nobody told me getting married would be this stressful!”
“Ha!” says Katie, pouring out some fizz. “That’s not even the tricky part – it’s staying married that’s stressful!”
Ella laughs, and says no to her glass.
“Thank you, but I’m off the sauce for a bit,” she says, pulling a bottle of water from her bag and brandishing it. “Got to fit into that bloody dress.”
Priya stares at her, sipping her wine and staying silent. Priya has huge eyes, and when she focuses on you, it’s like being trapped in some kind of laser beam of insight. Terrifying, even when she is tipsy.
She frowns, puts her glass to one side, and says: “How far along are you?”
There is a stunned silence, and I see Ella’s shock plainly written across her features. She puts her hands in her hair, and looks away from us for a moment. We all stay silent – because this feels like a big question, and it’s one I hadn’t even considered asking. A woman saying no to alcohol doesn’t mean she’s pregnant, does it?
“Umm… nine weeks,” she mutters quietly. Ah. Apparently it does. She bites her lip, and then a huge, shy smile creeps across her face. “We haven’t told anyone yet, obviously. It’s too early. And… well, Priya already knows this, but I lost a baby, a few years ago. During Covid. I was pregnant then, and I lost her, and now I’m so thrilled I’ve got another chance, but I’m also bloody scared, you know? Scared that it’s going to happen again. Plus, I’m old – technically geriatric in maternity terms.”
Katie reaches out and takes her hands in hers. She suddenly seems a bit more serious.
“First of all, congratulations. And second of all, you’re only thirty-nine. That might make you geriatric on your hospital notes, but you’re fit as a fiddle. And when it comes to miscarriage, I’m sure you know the stats on this better than anyone, Ella. Just because it happened once doesn’t mean it’ll happen again. It’s perfectly natural for you to feel like this – we all would – but don’t let that fear spoil this for you. Try and have a bit of faith.”
The word sparks a memory in my mind, and I rummage in my jeans pocket. I pull out the crumpled cards I’d collected from Trevor’s noticeboard earlier, and quickly find the one that says FAITH.
“Here,” I say, passing it to Ella. “You can have mine.”
She takes hold of it, and gazes down at the word. I see tears in her eyes, and lean forward to give her a quick hug.
“Thank you. All of you. I’ve only had Jake to talk to about it until now, and he’s been fantastic, but… well, so is this. You give me faith, you really do – and not just written on a card.”
“I’ve got some HOPE in my pocket too, if you need it?” I add.
Katie laughs, and replies: “Maybe she’ll have twins, and she can call them Faith and Hope!”
“But what if it’s triplets?” Priya adds.
“Then I’ll call the third one Sharon,” Ella answers, grinning through her tears.
“Faith, Hope and Sharon… perfect!” says Priya, holding up her glass in salute. “Here’s to you, Ella, and to Jake, and to the beautiful little life that you’re growing together. Please do as Katie says, and try to enjoy this. It’s an adventure, it really is.”
“And to Larry,” I add, raising my own glass, “who will be a doting doggy dad. And to… all of you. Really. I can’t tell you how good it is to be back together again.”
“Even without French boys to flirt with?” asks Katie, winking at me.
“Especially without French boys to flirt with. I… well, as we’re all sharing, I want to apologise. For cutting you all out of my life for so long. I… it’s complicated, and pretty depressing, but it was because of Robert. He was?—”
“A controlling arsehole with a narcissistic personality disorder?” butts in Priya. I feel a flicker of surprise, but soon realise that I shouldn’t – these women aren’t stupid. They probably saw what was happening before I did, and I know they tried desperately hard to hold out lifelines. At least at the beginning.
“Well, definitely the first part, and maybe the second. I’m better at diagnosing dogs than people. But it was… awful, to be honest. He took me apart. Dismantled me, and put me back together the way he wanted me to be. When he met Lyssa, it was the best thing that ever happened to me… and now I suspect he’s doing the same to her, and I feel so bad about it.”
“That’s not your fault,” Katie says firmly. “You can’t save the whole world.”
“I know, but… maybe if I’d warned her, back when it all started, when she first met him?”
“Do you think she’d have listened?” Ella asks, gently.
I ponder the question, and know that there’s only one answer to it.
“No,” I sigh out. “No, she wouldn’t have listened. She was taken in by all the good parts about him, and she’d have just assumed it was a bitter ex-wife thing. She wouldn’t have listened, no.”
“And how are you now?” asks Priya, reaching out to softly touch my hand. I don’t recoil, but the fact that I might have done speaks worlds about how I am now, even after all these years. I remind myself that just minutes ago I was celebrating the fact that I felt safe, felt happy. He can’t hurt me here, and talking about him will not suddenly conjure up his ghost.
I look up at them all, and take a deep breath.
“Well,” I say, “I’m… better? But still damaged, in all honesty. Maybe I always will be. You know when you’re falling asleep sometimes at night, and drifting in and out of consciousness, then you get that feeling like you’re suddenly falling and wake up with a huge adrenaline rush?”
“It’s called a hypnic jerk,” Ella offers. “It’s when your brain gets confused about your muscles relaxing, and tightens them up to protect you.”
“Right. Well, basically I feel like I’m having a hypnic jerk pretty much every hour of every day. I’m always on guard, even when everything around me is perfectly fine, perfectly normal. Even when I don’t realise I’m doing it, I’m looking for threats.”
“What about now?” Ella asks, pointing around us. “Do you feel like there’s going to be a cave-in and we’ll all be trapped?”
I laugh, and reply: “Well, I didn’t until you mentioned it, Ella! But no – I feel good. I think maybe it’s the passing of time. Maybe it’s just being with you guys – hey, maybe it’s even magic! But right now, I feel fine. So, I’m going to drink this bubbly, and stop talking about it – because I’ve never talked to anyone about this at all, not even my mum, and now I feel weird and exposed. Can we please move on?”
There’s a momentary silence, and I can tell they all still have questions – which is one of the problems with friends who are all super-intelligent mega-beings from another planet. Thankfully, Katie breaks it by tapping the side of her phone against her glass, like people do to get attention before they make a speech. Except the glass isn’t actually a glass, it’s plastic, and all that happens is she squishes the sides and spills booze over her legs.
“Oh shit,” she mutters, swiping it away. “That didn’t go how I expected! Anyway, to continue the sharing, I also have news. Philip won’t be coming down for the wedding. In fact, Philip and I are getting a divorce. It’s all very civilised. We’re keeping the house, but we’re also renting a flat – and half the week I’ll live in the family home with the boys while Philip’s in the flat, and half the week we’ll swap, and he’ll live in the family home with the boys while I get drunk in the flat. We thought it made sense, and it’ll hopefully make it easier for the kids.”
She trails off, and swigs down what alcohol is left in her glass. I suddenly understand why she’s been so gung-ho.
“I’m sorry, Katie,” I say, shuffling close to her. Priya does the same, and Ella, so that we are all sitting close in a huddle. “What happened?”
She wipes her nose with her sleeve, and gives us a sad smile.
“Nothing. Nothing happened, which kind of makes it harder somehow. There was no affair, no drama, no big break. Just a gradual… distance, I suppose. We reached the stage where we were just housemates, where there was no sex, where the only conversations we ever had were about what bins needed putting out or who was going to do parents’ evening or when the car was due for its MOT. Actually, we weren’t even housemates – that implies some kind of friendship. I suppose we just became strangers living under the same roof. It was his idea, the divorce, and the saddest thing is that I’ve realised he’s right… it’s over.”
“Are you sure?” Priya asks quietly. “Lots of marriages go through that stage – like you’re caught in the doldrums. Have you thought about counselling? It really can work you know.”
“You would say that!” Katie replies, letting out a sudden laugh. “And… well, I did suggest it, at first. But every time I made an appointment, he couldn’t make it, or cancelled last minute. The last time I was actually sitting in the therapist’s office waiting for him to turn up when he texted to say he was stuck in a meeting. So. No matter how good the counselling is, it’s not going to work in those circumstances, is it?”
“No,” agrees Priya sadly. “Perhaps not. But don’t abandon all hope, Katie – there may be a way back, if that’s what you really want.”
“I’m not sure it is. I think I was clinging on because that’s what we’re supposed to do, isn’t it? Have successful careers. Successful marriages. Perfect families. Except… I’m not convinced there’s anything left to cling on to. And right now, at this stage, that feels like shit – I feel fat and frumpy and old and useless, and like a total failure. But I suspect – I hope – that eventually, I won’t feel any of those things anymore. I hope maybe, with time, I’ll be happier. Hey, who knows, I might even get a shag one day – it’s been bloody years! Lucy, have you got a card in your pocket that says “fantastic hot sex”, and if so, can I have it please?”
We all laugh, because we can tell she needs it. I get out one of my cards, and pass it to her.
“I don’t have the hot sex card,” I say. “But here’s my HOPE.”
“Don’t you need it yourself?” she asks, as I press it into her hand.
“We can share it,” I say. “We all can. Anyway, I’m not being that generous – I kept the tractor ride all to myself!”
We laugh some more, and then Katie looks thoughtful, and says: “Well, the tractor ride might come with a hot farmer, and who knows where that might lead? Have you… not been with anyone else? Since Robert? Because that is a long time.”
I am uncomfortable with being under the spotlight again, but it would be churlish to lie now, when Katie has bared her soul to us.
I shake my head, and reply: “There’s been nobody. I live in a really remote place, not exactly swimming with man-flesh.”
“I can testify to this,” Ella says. “When I visited last summer, I only saw one man, and he was about a hundred and eight.”
“That was the postie, Donal, and he’s actually the village heartthrob. And beside that… well, I think it’s fair to say I have trust issues. I did meet this guy at the airport on the way here though. God, he was divine… and I did flirt with him, just a bit. Well, Amelia did, anyway.”
“Who’s Amelia when she’s at home?” Katie responds.
“She’s… my new alter-ego. She’s super sassy, and confident, and she works as a top-level security consultant assessing cyber threats for global corporations… and Priya, do NOT analyse that, okay?”
My friend laughs, and makes a “who, me?” face, the very picture of innocence.
“What about you, Priya?” Ella asks. “I’ve revealed a secret pregnancy. Katie’s told us about her divorce. Lucy’s been a complete hypnic jerk. What about you?”
We all look towards Priya, who seems to be giving the question some serious thought.
“Honestly, I feel kind of bad,” she says, sighing. “I want to come up with something big and dramatic to tell you, but if I did, I’d have to make it up.”
“So your life’s perfect?” Katie asks incredulously.
“Of course it isn’t! Nobody’s life is perfect. My work takes a lot out of me. The girls are wonderful, but exhausting. I don’t see enough of Martin, and I can’t remember the last time my night didn’t end with a big glass of red. My parents are getting older, and my dad’s on heart medication and waiting for a triple bypass… there’s a lot going on, and not enough hours in the day, and no, it is by no means perfect. I suppose I just try very hard to take some deep breaths, and remind myself that the imperfections are part of what makes my life… mine. Does that make any sense?”
It does, of course, and it is typical Priya – elegantly wise. I look at the other two, and Ella replies on our behalf: “Nah. No sense at all, you crazy loon! Right. Come on. We need to wipe our tears, and get back to the inn. The other ladies of Starshine will have a head start on us, and there will be cake and dancing and?—”
“Strippers?” Katie suggests hopefully.
“No. Definitely not strippers. Although the night is young, and Trevor can get a bit racy when he’s had a few pints of stout…”
We all clamber back to our feet, and Katie says: “He’s the guy with the wizard beard, right?”
Ella nods, and our friend grins.
“Well, I wouldn’t rule it out then… always fancied getting my hands on Gandalf’s magic staff!”