Roisin
Sounds cryptic. Last time I called a mysterious group meet it was to tell you I was getting divorced. Tell me it’s not that, Luce?
Lucy
No! Nothing like that. Just need to see you all.
Roisin
I’m in LA until next weekend I’m afraid. Legal conference, blah blah.
Faye
Not blah blah – you’re the keynote speaker! I miss work, I miss travel, I miss wearing non-elasticated trousers.
So many questions, none of which I can ask.
Faye
I can come over whenever – if you don’t mind me bringing the sprog. Alex is away on an abseiling weekend. I know. Who the hell did I marry?
Who the hell did she marry? Alex. I want to know all about Alex. A new ache of loss hits me as I realise it’s not just my own life I’ve missed, it’s all my friends’ lives too. Roisin got married and divorced and is now giving a keynote speech in LA; Faye is married and has a child. Who knows what Zoya is up to? There’s nothing I would be shocked to hear. She could be the CEO of a huge corporation, or a barefoot painter living in the Himalayas.
Lucy
What are the chances of Zoya being able to come?
I don’t know where anyone lives, whether it’s too much to expect them to come to Surrey for the day, or if it would be easier to meet in London. When no one replies, I wonder if they’ve gone to tend to children or in Roisin’s case to the bar, but then my phone flashes: Faye calling. I answer with a whispered, ‘Hello.’
‘That’s not funny,’ Faye snaps down the phone at me. ‘Why would you say that?’
‘Say what?’
‘About Zoya.’ Her voice breaks, and I realise I must have made a major misstep.
‘Faye, I didn’t want to say over text, but’ – I opt for the rational explanation – ‘I’m having some memory issues. I know this will sound dramatic, but I woke up yesterday and I don’t remember anything about the last sixteen years.’ Silence. Faye doesn’t respond. ‘I’m fine, I don’t have a brain tumour or anything, the doctors checked. There’s just this huge chunk of time I know nothing about. I’m told it’s likely to be temporary.’
‘Are you kidding me? What?’ Faye says, her voice now laced with concern. ‘Why didn’t you call me?’
‘I did try. I spent most of yesterday having tests.’ I pause. There’s something not sitting right about this conversation. I want to know why Faye had that reaction to me mentioning Zoya. Pulling the phone from my ear, I go back to the WhatsApp group, and flick to the list of members. There are only three: me, Roisin and Faye. What could Zoya have possibly done to get excommunicated from Fairview Forever?
‘Why isn’t Zoya in our group any more?’ I ask Faye, my voice unsteady.
‘Because Zoya is dead, Lucy.’ Faye takes a long, emotional-sounding breath. ‘And now I’m really worried about you. Are you serious with this?’
‘Zoya is dead?’ I ask, covering my mouth with a hand to stop a loud sob from escaping.
‘You are serious. Okay, I’m coming over right now.’
My hands are shaking as I hang up the call. Zoya is dead. Zoya is dead? It had crossed my mind that I might find out one of my parents had died in the last sixteen years, but not my best friend. It can’t be true, there must be some mistake.
Sam finds me crying in the kitchen.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asks, sitting down beside me.
‘Zoya.’
‘You remember?’ he asks, his voice laden with both sympathy and hope.
‘No. I spoke to Faye. She’s on her way over.’
‘I’m so sorry, Lucy. I was working out how best to tell you these things. There’s already so much for you to get your head around, without—’
‘How did she die?’ I ask.
Sam takes both my hands in his. ‘A brain aneurysm, eight years ago. It came out of nowhere.’ He reaches to rub one hand in a circular motion on my back, as though he’s soothing a child. My body slumps in the kitchen chair, and I pull my hands away to wipe my eyes.
‘Did you know her?’ I ask.
‘Yes, I did. I got to see why you all loved her.’
I think of the last thing I said to her, the last thing I remember saying to her, our stupid argument about being an estate agent. This can’t be how it ends. There’s a tight pain in my chest, as though my heart is folding in on itself. I can’t believe it. I won’t believe it. I bite down hard on my bottom lip.
‘Where . . . how . . .’ I grasp for something to ask. ‘What did she end up doing, with her life?’ I ask Sam.
‘She ran a travel company – taking artists abroad to paint. The landscape above the fireplace is one of hers.’
Pushing my chair back, I hurry through to the living room, as though I might find her in there.
‘It’s Rainbow Mountain in Peru,’ Sam says, following me. Looking at it now, I see a small familiar signature in the corner, ZKhan. ‘Her first group expedition outside Europe. You were always her most devoted customer.’
I hate that he knows all this and I don’t.
There’s a knock on the door and I brace myself to answer it. What if Faye has changed? What if I don’t feel close to her any more? What if everything I loved has gone?
But as soon as I open the door, there is Faye, holding a car seat with a sleeping baby inside. She puts it down, then envelops me in a huge hug. After squeezing her back, I pull away to get a proper look at her. There’s a rush of relief when I see she is just the same. Her face is a little more lived in, there’s a hint of grey at her temple, but she is intrinsically still Faye. The same ballerina posture, the same light in her eyes. If anything, the light seems only brighter.
‘So, what’s this all about?’ she asks, picking up the car seat and walking past me, through to the kitchen. ‘You really can’t remember anything?’
I shake my head.
‘I was trying to call you,’ Sam tells Faye, crossing the room to give her a kiss on the cheek.
‘Sorry, Barney strikes again with my phone,’ says Faye, then turns back to me. I’m staring down at her baby now. I can’t believe Faye has a baby. ‘Don’t worry, he sleeps through anything when he’s in his car seat.’
Looking back up at Faye, I blurt out, ‘Tell me about Zoya, what happened?’
‘I’ll go check on the kids,’ Sam says. Faye pats him on the back then rubs her hand down his shoulder. There’s an easy affection between them, as though they’ve known each other for years.
Once Sam’s gone, Faye asks, ‘What do you want to know?’
‘Was there anything anyone could have done?’
She shakes her head. ‘No. They said it was a massive bleed, even if she’d got to the hospital sooner . . .’ Faye trails off. ‘We were in France. We all went to Cannes to celebrate her engagement. You, me and Roisin flew home after the weekend. She stayed out there with Tarek, her fiancé. Two days later, he called to tell us what had happened. He could hardly get the words out.’