“That’s what Poppy said last night.” I apply sun cream to my shoulders and arms. “It’s a bit of an odd hen party activity. I’d have thought we’d spend the day on the beach, getting tans.”
“The best thing we can do is enjoy it.” Esther shrugs. “You were the one who convinced us to come, remember.”
My own feelings of guilt stab at my stomach, and I land on the only thing that troubled me. “You don’t think that whole charity thing last night was a bit holier-than-thou?”
“Sure. But I just don’t let it bother me.” She heads to the doorway, then turns back to me. “By the way, whilst I was coming back, Poppy was already up, cooking us all breakfast. I told her I’d let everyone know.”
“Is that why you came to see me?” I say, before she can head off.
“What do you mean?”
“To tell me Poppy was making breakfast.” I realise I sound strange, and try a lighthearted grin. “Or did you want to ask me something?”
“How long have you been up, anyway?”
Did she see me looking through the window when she and Annabel argued?
I shrug my shoulders. “Not long. About an hour, if that.”
“Right.”
Is that relief? I can’t tell. And then I notice something. “Hey, your necklace is gone.”
“What?” She touches her neck, then hurries to the mirror, seeing nothing there. “Shit. It must have dropped on my run. I’ll have to look for it later.”
“You always wear that thing,” I say.
“That thing is worth thousands,” Esther snaps. “God, maybe it fell off when I was asleep. That can happen sometimes. I’ll look in my room too.” And then she heads out without another word.
The smell of the breakfast hits me before I even see it, Poppy on the barbecue cooking bacon and sausages. She’s set up the main table out on the grass in some shade, each place laid out already with cutlery and glasses of orange juice. There’s a bowl in the middle full of croissants, and a plate next to it piled high with toast.
“I didn’t realise an army was coming to visit,” I say, trying my best to start the morning on a positive note with her. It still feels strange, being here with her. All of the unspoken business of the past still brewing beneath it all.
To my relief she smiles at my weak joke, waving me forward with her spatula. “Good morning, Tanya. It seems you and Esther have the others beat when it comes to early rising.”
“You must have beaten us all.”
“Ah, well, I don’t count,” she says. “I struggle to sleep, you see. Insomnia.”
“Right. Well, thanks for putting on this spread.” I gesture around to the table. “Do you need any help?”
The others materialise as if by magic just as Poppy and I have finished. Poppy sits at the head of the table, informing them all of the wonderful night’s sleep she had, a direct contradiction to what she just told me. But despite her claims of insomnia, she does look well-rested, and also quite young. She’s not wearing any makeup and her face has that rounded quality to it, a freshness that my own seems to have lost even though we’re the same age.
“Have any of you seen my necklace?” Esther asks as soon as we’re all seated. “I think it vanished on my run. I couldn’t find it in my room anywhere.”
“The gold one in the shape of your name?” Poppy says. “Can’t say I have. It’s beautiful though.”
Chloe shakes her head. “Me neither.”
“Damn,” Esther mutters under her breath. “Annabel? Have you seen it?”
She looks startled, then shakes her head too. “No, sorry.”
It still feels bizarre. Especially after everything we went through together. Seeing her now with her natural glow, I’m reminded of when we were little kids and we’d make mud pies in her mum and dad’s back garden, telling each other we were witches but good ones, hiding from society to make sure tiny animals like frogs and snails had protectors.
The memory brings a smile to my lips, and Poppy catches my eye and returns it, as if she’s read my mind.
“Can I have some more of the orange juice?” Esther asks, nodding at our side of the table.
“Of course.” Poppy stands with the jug, bringing it over me, and it’s as if I know it’s going to happen before it does.
“Oh my God! I’m sorry, Tanya!”
Poppy has dropped it, spilling the entire contents on my lap, the jug falling to the ground with a thud but not breaking. Chloe and Annabel, near to me, leap up in surprise, while I career backwards in my chair.
“Jesus, are you alright?” Poppy takes my hand and pulls me upright, but the orange juice has made her grip slippery, and she lets go just as I’m about to stand up, sending me back down again. “Oops! Sorry!”
Chloe rushes around and helps me up properly. My top is ruined, huge orange stains across the stomach, and my legs and arms are sticky. Everyone else is untouched, though Annabel keeps peering around for any sign of it on her.
“I’m so clumsy,” Poppy says. “I’ll pay for a new top, I promise. I’m really sorry.”
“Forget it,” I snap.
Maybe it’s because of the anger bubbling inside of me, but Poppy’s words seem false. Since when is she clumsy, this woman who has single-handedly managed everything so far? Who I saw throwing a piece of bacon up in the air and catching it with her spatula half an hour earlier? But there’s no shame in her expression. It almost looks like a challenge. Her gaze is saying: Do something about it, I dare you.
All my certainty, my good feelings from earlier, vanish.
“Your breakfast will get cold.” Chloe looks around hopelessly. “Should we put it in the fridge for you to heat up later?”
“I’ll eat it now. It’s fine.”
“You know, it almost looks like you’ve wet yourself,” Poppy says, grinning.
There’s a gasp from Chloe and it all falls silent.
She didn’t just say that.
After everything, all her talk of letting bygones be bygones, all her positivity and wanting us to be friends, and she says that?
Everyone stares in agony at me. I’ve become hyper-aware of the juice, as though I’ve been drenched head to toe, and I can’t bear it a moment longer.
I take the top off, grateful I put a bikini on underneath my outfit, and swap the chair out for a different one. It is still silent while I do this.
Poppy finally breaks the ice. “I was joking, everyone.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t bring any of that up,” Esther murmurs, flushed.
“Not ones for looking back, are you?” Poppy says.
Everyone returns to their seats, casting glances at me when they think I’m not looking. I don’t know what to say. Did she drop that orange juice on purpose, to make her point? Or was it an accident she took full advantage of? I’m not sure, and from looking around at everyone else, neither are they.
“Well,” Poppy says, with a short laugh. “I was going to say what a lovely morning this was, but now I’m not so sure! Come on, let’s cheer up. We have a hen party to celebrate!”
The others laugh along with her, and I’m aware I’m bringing the mood down, sitting in the middle like the grinch. But I don’t care. Determined to ignore the fact my thighs are now stuck to the chair thanks to the stickiness of the juice, I shovel food in my mouth, barely appreciating the nice taste, and Esther fetches more orange juice from the kitchen. I’m on my second croissant when I feel a foot pressed into my own, and I look up to find Annabel opposite me offering an encouraging smile.
“Come on then, fill me in,” Poppy says. “I want to hear all about what you’ve been up to these past ten years. It’s been too long.”
“There’s not much to really talk about,” Annabel says. “We’ve already told you about our jobs. Well, they have. I’m just a housewife.”
“You were always so brainy.” Poppy leans forward, food dangling on her fork. “What made you decide to do that? I hope it wasn’t just to make your husband happy.”
Annabel blushes. That definitely was the reason. “Oh, I don’t know, I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to do.”
“Seems a shame.” Poppy takes a mouthful of breakfast and chews thoughtfully before swallowing. “You were always my rival in terms of brains.”
Charming. Esther looks just as annoyed as me.
“You never know, I might go back to work,” Annabel says, even though she’s never mentioned it before.
“What would you do?” Poppy asks.
“Psychology. Use my degrees.”
Would she? Her face seems earnest enough, but I’m surprised she hasn’t said it to any of us. I check with the other two but they look just as astonished as me.
“What do you do for hobbies?” Poppy persists.
For some reason this makes Annabel uncomfortable, her head dipping to avoid meeting anyone’s eye. “Not much.”
“I love running,” Esther says, rescuing her. “I run every day.”
“Yes, I saw you this morning.” Poppy finishes her glass of orange juice with a wink at me that makes me want to punch her. “Very admirable. I’m more of a yoga and Pilates girl myself.”
“Me too,” Chloe says. She’s barely touched her breakfast, eating a couple rashers of bacon and a slice of toast and stirring everything else around on her plate like a five-year-old.