The day after my last exam, as well timed as if it had been planned, I finally heard from Suzanne. It had been seven weeks since I’d last seen her, and I’d started to forget what her voice sounded like. She’d sent me an email, so brief I actually tried scrolling down, expecting more words to appear below her name. Hi Caddy, it read, as if we were mere acquaintances. I know it’s been ages but . . . hello! Hope all’s good with you. Are you free some time soon to come and visit? There’s some stuff I want to talk to you about. Sarah knows the visiting hours so just give her a call to arrange. Love, Suze.
It didn’t seem like much after so long apart, but I understood. After seven weeks, there was too much to say or nothing at all. The most important thing was that – finally – I was going to see her again. I emailed back immediately, using far too many exclamation marks in my enthusiasm, then called Sarah. I arranged to visit Suzanne at Gwillim House that coming Saturday.
I could have been nervous, but I wasn’t. In the weeks Suzanne had been away I’d had plenty of time to worry and overthink every aspect of our friendship and what it would be like when we finally saw each other again. Now it was actually going to happen, I was just excited. More than anything else, I really missed her.
‘You should come too,’ I said to Rosie on the Thursday. She’d finished her exams almost an entire week before me and had spent the interim time applying for summer jobs. The two of us were sprawled across her bed with a bag of tortilla chips between us and Frank Turner on Spotify.
‘Not this time,’ Rosie said easily. ‘I think this kind of thing is better one on one. Don’t want to crowd her, right? Hey, do you think I’d get to eat a lot of doughnuts if I got a job at the pier?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘And you’d probably get sick of them in about a day.’
In Suzanne’s absence, without discussion or articulation, Rosie and I had found our rhythm again. Something had changed between us, there was no doubt about that, but it felt like a change that was positive. It was as if Suzanne had wedged herself in between us, squeezing in to create her own little niche in our twosome, and when she’d gone she’d left that space empty. The space felt like breathing room.
‘I don’t think it’s physically possible to get sick of doughnuts,’ Rosie replied, her fingers flying over her keyboard. ‘I’m going to go for it.’
‘You do that,’ I said. ‘But seriously. Suze. Gwillim House. Is it OK that I’m going without you? Wouldn’t two of us be better?’
‘I think if she thought it was better, she’d have asked us both,’ Rosie said. She wasn’t looking at me, her eyes focused on her laptop screen. ‘And she hasn’t, and that’s fine. It’s great that you’re going though.’
‘I’m going to take presents,’ I said. ‘What should I take?’
Rosie’s fingers stilled on the keyboard, her eyes swivelling towards me. ‘Honestly? I think you should just take you.’
I frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Maybe save the presents this time. Just go and see how things are.’
‘Who wouldn’t want presents?’ I asked, confused. ‘I wasn’t thinking anything big, just something small from me. Us. Something from us.’
‘I think that’s probably the last thing on her mind, to be honest,’ Rosie said. Her fingers started tapping again at her keyboard.
‘You’re not still mad at her, are you?’ I ventured. It seemed like a ridiculous question, after so long, but still . . .
To my relief, Rosie laughed. ‘No, I am not still mad at her. What kind of monster do you think I am? When your friend almost dies, being mad at them seems kind of redundant.’ She shook her head. ‘Bloody Suze. Ruining my righteous anger by being all tragic and traumatized.’ She was grinning. ‘So selfish.’
I had to laugh. ‘You could have just left it at no.’
‘I could,’ Rosie agreed cheerfully. ‘But then I wouldn’t be me, would I?’
Saturday was one of the most beautiful days I could remember for months. The sky was cloudless, the sun hot and bright.
‘Hello, June,’ Tarin said, grinning. She’d offered to drive me to the unit and I’d jumped at the chance, the alternative being my mother. ‘What perfect weather to sit in a car in for an hour and a half.’
‘Could be worse,’ I said, pushing my seat as far back as it would go so I could stretch out my plaster-encased leg. On my lap I was holding on to a purple florist bag, containing a sunflower pot, a charm bracelet and a box of macarons. Despite what Rosie had said, I couldn’t imagine turning up to see Suzanne empty-handed. ‘You could be at work.’
Tarin slid her sunglasses up on to her face. ‘True, true.’ She turned out of our road, the satnav tracing a route for us. ‘So how are you feeling?’
‘Good,’ I said, smiling. There was no other answer to give on a sunny June day, in a car with my sister, being driven to see someone I loved and missed, someone I’d started to worry I’d lost. ‘Maybe a little nervous. But I’m good.’
Tarin glanced at me. ‘What’s making you nervous?’
‘The whole thing, I guess. It’s a weird situation.’
‘Yeah, but it’s still you and her at the end of the day,’ Tarin pointed out. ‘And think of it this way: she wouldn’t have asked to see you after all this time unless she was ready.’