Prologue
She fooled us all, that first time. One look and I knew. Why was I the only one who could see through her? It was all pretence. I could see the darkness underneath that girlish exterior. She made her feelings known and turned us all against one another. She played us like spinning tops, whirling around, unable to stop, and when she wanted to finish the game, it was too late. I’d spun out of control and there was no going back.
Chapter One
Amy’s message arrives during netball practice. I take aim and the ball sails through the net. I punch the air, high-five Mel, my heart pumping. The ball goes back to centre and my watch buzzes with a text. A quick scroll up and I see the word invitation. My heart pumps even harder. Finally. What has she decided? I turn my attention back to the game, dodge behind the goalkeeper and run across the court to catch the ball. Aim, shoot, goal. We win three-nil.
For once I don’t go to the pub afterwards, the team’s usual weekly tradition. No laughing and dissecting the game with my team-mates – my friends – over a pint or two. I want to get home to my flat, to our flat, that one small word sending a thrill down my spine. Never will I take Theo for granted again. Everything feels new with him; we’re tiptoeing our way along the path, baby steps, both determined to make it work this time.
My thoughts turn to Amy’s message. Birthdays are a Big Thing for Amy, always have been. Celebrations are spread over at least a week; her twenty-first set a record by lasting three weeks, and included a trip away, a meal, a club night and an all-night pub crawl. In two weeks’ time it will be her thirty-fifth – not normally a milestone, but after the year she’s had, she deserves to celebrate.
Theo won’t be home for at least half an hour, and I stick a vegetable lasagne I made before I went out to netball in the oven. Once I’m sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of tea in front of me, I locate Amy’s message. Invitation surely means a party – it’s been a while since I had a good dance. These days I prefer to curl up on the sofa with a book, or go out for a glass of wine with a close friend, checking in on our emotions and putting the world to rights.
I’ve finally decided what I’m doing for The Birthday. I’ve set up a WhatsApp group – see you in there!
Oh, Amy – as if I didn’t have enough WhatsApp groups to be part of. I open the link inviting me to the group entitled Amy’s Birthday, wondering how many messages I’m going to be bombarded with. Amy will kill me if I fail to join, so I click on accept. No doubt she’s hired a huge venue and invited her vast menagerie of family and friends.
I sip my tea and frown when I see the other members of the group. That can’t be right. It’s tiny, four in total. Maybe this is a subgroup, her close friends who she wants to help her organise the event. There have to be more people invited somewhere else; perhaps that’s a separate group. Who am I trying to kid? I close my eyes and take a deep breath, realising what Amy has done. It’s a reunion. It’s the reunion.
I go back to the group. Four names, the other three as familiar to me as my own. Close friends throughout three years at university. Some experiences bring you closer. When our world collapsed, we clung to one another for survival – at first. Until it broke us.
I read the list aloud.
‘Amy Barnes, Kat Carr, Louise Redfern, Daisy Tannet.’
Amy tried so hard to keep us together. The four of us met in our first year at Buckinghamshire University, graduating almost fifteen years ago. How time flies. Graduation took place during a difficult time for us, and if it wasn’t for Amy, I’m sure we’d have gone our separate ways. Exactly a year later, she arranged for us all to meet up for a lunch in London, a tiny bistro in Covent Garden, followed by a browse around the craft market.
Over lunch, I looked at these three women, all of whom had confided their darkest fears to me, and was overcome by waves of sadness. Conversation was stilted, fixing on safe topics, nothing of consequence, as we all avoided the subject that was really bothering us. Daisy and Kat made their excuses before we’d even got around to coffee. Undeterred, Amy suggested we make it an annual reunion, but somehow it never happened: one of us was always busy, another away, so many excuses on offer.
Amy is like a spider at the centre of her web, keeping us all linked together, although the threads have loosened and split over the years. She keeps us updated with each other’s news, so we’re kind of in the loop together. Five years ago, Kat moved to London, so the two of us have seen each other quite a lot lately, recent events bringing us closer together.
My voice falters on Daisy’s name, a bubble of complicated feelings rising inside me. We’ve had more contact over the last couple of years, since Amy’s diagnosis, but a blush comes to my cheeks whenever I recall the last time we saw each other, well over a year ago now. Loyalty in friendship is a trait I pride myself on; any knots in my relationships have to be unpicked, no matter how long it takes. Daisy’s knot is proving hard to unravel, but she, out of the four of us, should know how loyal I can be.
It’s obvious what Amy is doing. Her illness has caused her to re-evaluate everything in her life, and one thing she hates more than anything is disharmony. She knows me too well – springing this invitation on me without forewarning means I’ll have to attend. Not to do so would be betraying my best friend. To think I almost lost her this year. I swallow that unpleasant thought away, give myself a shake and turn back to the invitation.
You are invited to a fun weekend to celebrate Amy Barnes’s thirty-fifth birthday and her recent inheritance
Venue: Thistle Cottage, Blackwood Lane, Bucks.
Date: Thursday 18–Sunday 21 April
Partners invited overnight on Saturday for The Birthday evening!
A link to a map indicates the location of the cottage, which strikes me as a bit unnecessary, given that we shared a hall of residence situated further along Blackwood Lane, backing onto the edge of the forest. Blackwood Forest. As if we could ever forget that name. An involuntary shudder catches me unawares, as it does whenever the forest comes to mind, and I’m relieved when I hear Theo’s key in the door and the thud of his bag as he drops it on the hall floor and appears in the doorway.
‘Hi,’ he says as I move to greet him. ‘I won’t get too close; I worked up a bit of a sweat walking home.’
‘I can tell.’ I sit back down, wrinkling my nose in exaggeration to hide my disappointment. It’s only a small thing, but he always used to kiss me when he came in. But that was before. We’ll make this work. His face glows with a healthy sheen, one of the benefits of being able to train outdoors. He’s wearing Nike pants and sweatshirt, his sweaty kit left in his gym bag ready for the wash.
Theo is the most fastidious man I have ever met, and I’d bet he’s the cleanest personal trainer around. Another good reason for us to stay together. I can’t get out of the habit of listing the pros and cons of our relationship since the week we spent apart to decide our future. For me, the pros outnumber the cons. For him, I’m still not convinced, despite his assurances.
‘Good day?’
‘Yeah, it was, actually. Two new clients, both referrals from other clients. One wants twice-weekly meetings, the other has booked a trial session, so happy days. How about you?’