‘Can we save it for tomorrow? I’d rather phone Amy, talk about the birthday.’
‘I’m out with work tomorrow night; it’s Billy’s leaving do. Drinks then a curry. You’re welcome to join us if you like.’
‘Yeah, I might.’ Whenever Theo mentions work, flashing lights go off in my head. But he wouldn’t have asked me before and I appreciate that he’s making an effort. He’s told me the woman he had an affair with has left the company, and I believe him. I have to.
I take my phone into the bedroom.
Amy picks up straight away. ‘I knew you’d call,’ she says. ‘What do you think?’
‘The party on the Saturday, is that just us lot, or are you inviting all your friends? Is it a proper party, that’s what I mean.’
‘No, just us. You haven’t read the invitation correctly. Can you see the word party? It’s more of a gathering, a select few of my old friends.’
‘Are you sure? It’s your thirty-fifth, Amy, and you’ve just been given the all-clear. I thought you’d be having a Kate Moss-style blowout lasting at least a week.’
‘You’ve not been on social media lately, have you? You need to keep up. Kate’s calmed down a lot in recent years, and so have I. Everything feels different now. I still can’t believe the past year isn’t a dream.’
‘I wish it was, Ames, you don’t know how much.’
I was the first person Amy told about the lump she’d found – smaller than a pea, most likely nothing – and I was the one who accompanied her to the hospital when she was asked to come in to discuss the results of her tests, who held her hand and asked all the questions Amy was too shocked to ask. But work meant I couldn’t be there every time she went for a round of chemotherapy, and her vast support network stepped in. Just over twelve months later, she is in remission and her life has changed. She stepped down from her post as head of English at a secondary school and now teaches part-time only, spending her spare time training to be a yoga teacher.
‘I don’t,’ Amy says. ‘My priorities have changed, and I know what’s important.’
Hence the toned-down celebration. ‘Are you sure? Never mind your birthday, you’ve got so much else to celebrate. There’s nothing wrong with having a party.’
‘I am sure,’ she tells me. ‘I want to be with my closest friends.’
‘I know exactly what you’re doing,’ I say, curling into the armchair. ‘It’s not a party, it’s a reunion.’
She doesn’t respond.
‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’
‘Yes. I’ve given it a lot of thought. We need closure, and I’ve thought of a way of getting it.’
‘How—’
‘No questions, Lou, it’s a surprise. You know you can trust me, right?’
‘I guess.’ My mind is whirring with possibilities of what she might be planning.
‘I saw Kat had replied, but not Daisy. Has she rung you?’
‘No, not yet.’
Silence lingers between us. I’m working out the best way to phrase what I want to say when Amy speaks.
‘I know going back there is difficult, but it’s really important to me, Lou. Inheriting this cottage feels like a sign. As if my aunt is trying to tell me something. We were close back then. She moved abroad around the time I finished uni.’
While Kat went travelling after graduation, and Daisy and I went home to our parents, wanting comfort food and parental pampering – we needed nurturing back to life – Amy never had anyone to look out for her, given her mother’s poor health. It took her a while to work out what she wanted to do as a career, and teacher training made perfect sense. She had the gift of relating to people, and a strong desire to help and motivate others, to build communities. Hence the reunion.
‘What about the location, Amy? Do you really want to go down that route? It’s right on the edge of the forest.’
Blackwood Forest is a huge area of ancient woodland close to the university. In our first and final years, we thought we were lucky to be housed in halls of residence that bordered it. Undeniably beautiful, it’s a favourite walking area for students and locals alike. On several occasions in our first year, we’d sit up all night talking, bleary-eyed and fuelled by cigarettes and tea, slipping out at dawn to walk through the hush of the early-morning forest, where woodpeckers tapped into the silence. I can’t imagine ever wanting to do such a thing now. Staying up all night is one thing, but choosing to go into those woods … The thought gives me goosebumps.
It’s sad how one experience can tarnish your view of the world. By the time I’d finished my final exam, the roots of the forest were creeping under my life and causing the earth to crack beneath my feet. I couldn’t wait to leave the area.
‘Of course I’ve thought about it. How could I forget its significance? But this is the perfect opportunity to exorcise our demons. You know how I reacted when I found out about my aunt leaving me the cottage – my first inclination was not to go back at all, not even to check the place over, but to let the solicitor deal with the sale without involving me. I’m so glad I didn’t. Now that I’ve been to see it, I feel differently. It’s such a sweet place, you’ll love it, I know you will.’
I’m not convinced. Amy has a far more optimistic nature than I do. Where she sees sweetness, I’m narrowing my eyes and noticing the cracks in the ceiling.
It’s a big thing for us all to go back.
‘I’m not planning on living there. I just thought I might as well make use of it.’
‘Don’t be surprised if the others aren’t keen either,’ I say. ‘There’s a reason we’ve all stayed away, chosen to live our lives as far away from Blackwood Forest as possible. Maybe you should have a plan B in case this doesn’t work out.’
‘There is no plan B.’ Amy sounds determined. ‘It’s time to go back, I feel it in my gut. I need answers and I think you all do too. Don’t let me down, Louise. We owe it to Hannah.’
Chapter Three
The Thursday of Easter weekend soon arrives. I’m up at seven and showering before dressing in my new jeans, short-sleeved white shirt and heeled boots. My blonde hair is shoulder length and I’m pleased with my new haircut; it’s the first time in years I’ve had a fringe and it makes me look younger. Before I leave, I double-check I’ve packed my folic acid – yes, it’s safely in my handbag – then snap the bag shut with a satisfied click, enjoying the swoop of excitement that follows. It’s finally happening – we’re actually trying for a baby.
My case is in the boot and I settle into the rhythm of the motorway, tapping my foot along to the radio, relieved not to be travelling on Friday with all the other holidaymakers. An early start means I can spend some time with Amy before Kat and Daisy arrive.
I met Amy during my first week at university: a blur of parties and societies and drinks at bars with people I didn’t know, all desperate to make a connection, to fill the hole left by those friends from school or college we’d been forced to leave behind. Each of us taking tentative steps towards adulthood. The week was a flurry of excitement and anxiety, culminating in a reception evening in the arts centre, where we could have a drink and meet other students.