Susan Lewis - One Minute Later

The large black front door with its colourful stained-glass windows and shiny brass letter box was as grand as any Regency house could boast, as was the Doric-columned portico with its ornamental box hedges in tall granite pots. Slender black railings edged the steps down to the pavement, where they turned at right angles to each side to provide a barrier between passers-by and the void above the basement flats.

Max’s was adjacent, with a handful of bistro tables spilling out of the wide-open bifold doors, its palm-strewn interior with plush leather banquettes and slouchy sofas cooled by the gentle spring breeze. In spite of it not yet being nine on a weekend morning, the place was already buzzing.

After collecting her order, free for the birthday girl, Max insisted, and bowing her thanks to the Greek regulars whom Max encouraged to join in a chorus of charoumena genethlia , Vivi ran back up to the flat accompanied by the musical sound of many text messages arriving.

Five so far. As she read them, still catching her breath after the sprint, she sipped her coffee and blinked away a spell of dizziness. Remembering she hadn’t eaten since yesterday lunchtime, she tucked into her Danish and turned on the radio. Though she probably wouldn’t listen to the news, it was second nature to have it on in the background, and when she’d had enough of it she’d do her usual thing of planting her phone in the speakers and scrolling to some favourite tunes.

More texts piled in, mostly from the GaLs: Trudy, Shaz, Saanvi, Sachi and Becky, all saying they couldn’t wait to see her later. In came a surprise message from Michael (CEO of FAberlin) and then up popped one from Greg.

Have a great day. Can you do dinner with Carla and Seamus on Wednesday? Sushi?

She thought there might be a conflict, so making a mental note to check before getting back to him, she finished up her Danish and began a quick sort of the mail that had come through the door while she was in New York.

Work hard, play hard, that was her motto, and lately she’d been doing far too much of the former. Boy, was she ready to party today!

Realizing that her mother hadn’t called yet, she was about to try her when the telepathic airwaves beat her to it. ‘Hey, Mum,’ she chirruped as she clicked on. ‘You remembered!’

‘Remembered what?’ her mother countered.

‘Ha ha. Are you treating us to a few days at a luxury spa for some M and D bonding, or should I expect a back brush for the shower to replace the one that broke?’

‘Did it break? You didn’t tell me. I can return it.’

‘If I didn’t know you were joking I’d think you were weird.’

‘You think that anyway. So what are you doing today?’

‘Meeting the GaLs for lunch at Beaufort House. We’ll probably still be there at teatime.’

‘Well try not to make a fool of yourself. Drink tends to do that to a person.’

Vivienne mimed yadda yadda yadda and smiled as she said, ‘And what are you doing today?’

‘Working, of course. You know Saturdays are my busiest day, and Jan left yesterday so there’s no one to run reception. I’ll be frazzled by the time we close, so lucky I’m not going out tonight.’

That wasn’t unusual for her mother; she hadn’t had much of a social life since her marriage had ended, although Gil still frequently drove the fifty or so miles from his home to take her to dinner. Strange, but Vivienne kept reminding herself that it was her mother’s life, not hers, so if Gina and Gil wanted a long-distance relationship with unspecified benefits it was their business, not hers.

‘Are you seeing Greg today?’ Gina asked.

‘No, but we’re supposed to be meeting some friends for lunch tomorrow. I might have to cancel, though. I’ve got so much on at the office …’ She checked to see who an incoming text was from and said, ‘Mum, sorry, I have to go. I’ll call again later, OK?’

There was a brief silence, and Vivi wasn’t sure whether her mother was hurt or annoyed, probably both. ‘If you have time,’ Gina replied. Her tone betrayed nothing more than a soft sigh that said she was used to being cut short, since it happened all the time. And where did I get that from? Vivi thought defensively as she rang off. Her mother had been cutting her short all her life.

The text was from Michelle, her best friend since they were five; Michelle who’d been like a sister to her until their lives had taken such different paths, Vivi to go off to London and uni, Michelle to stay in Kesterly, marry young and have a family. They’d remained in touch mostly through birthday cards and the occasional text, but in spite of Vivi being godmother to both Michelle’s children they hardly ever saw one another now. There was a time when it would have broken Vivi’s heart to think of them drifting apart, in a way it still did, but life, ambition, motherhood and all sorts of other demands meant they no longer had much in common.

Michelle never forgot Vivi’s birthday, and Vivi desperately wished she could say the same, but more often than not she was late with a text, and later still with cards. She was generous with presents, though, especially for the children, and Michelle always sent photographs to show how delighted they were with the new toy or book or outrageously expensive designer wear.

Happy Birthday to you. Hope you have a fabulous day. We all send love. What are you planning? Are you even in the country?

Remembering she’d been in Dubai the last time she and Michelle were in touch, Vivi couldn’t help wondering how interested her friend really was in her life. Probably not very, for Michelle had never been ambitious, caring little for the crazy kind of jet-set existence that was so totally at odds with the plodding and predictable world of Kesterly. But it was typical of Michelle to show an interest: kind, considerate, full of fun and mischief, she had a way of making a person feel valued and special even if they no longer shared girlhood dreams. What a gift that was. Vivi wished she had it, but every time she tried to focus more on matters outside work something would come up and everything else would be forgotten.

She texted back: Tx for the happy birthday. You’re amazing. In London. Seeing the GaLs at Beaufort House. Should be fun. Had Michelle ever heard of Beaufort House? She’d know who the GaLs were, though she might not remember all their names. She was aware, of course, that they were Vivi’s closest friends now, just as Sam, Michelle’s husband, had become her closest friend.

What mattered was that they’d always been there for one another while growing up. Nothing would ever change that; Vivi just hoped a time would never come when they lost touch completely, though she was aware that it easily could.

Kicking off her flip-flops, she was about to read her other texts when Michelle came through again. Millie wants you to know that her little brother should be called Eeyore because he cries like a donkey.

Vivi broke into a deep, throaty laugh, and for a few minutes they texted back and forth as though almost five-year-old Millie was sending the messages about her new pony and the present she and Mummy had sent to Vivi for her birthday that smelled lovely.

Ten minutes later Vivienne stepped into the shower and closed her eyes as a power-charged flow of warm water cascaded over her. She spun around, lifting her face to the jets, and put a hand to the wall as she swayed. She was thinking about her sweet little godchildren, Millie and Ash, and what a pity it was that her own children (when she finally got round to having them, and that wasn’t going to be any time soon) would be so much younger than them. And maybe, with her living in London and them way across the country in Kesterly-on-Sea, they wouldn’t even really get to know one another. That felt sadder than sad, given how close she and Michelle had always been, but the only solution would be for her to meet and marry someone who wanted to live in Kesterly, which was never going to happen. Nor, considering Sam’s business as a local builder and Michelle’s own ties to Kesterly, were they ever likely to move to London.