‘OK, time to go,’ Michael said. ‘Car’s all packed. Got the coffee?’ She held up a basket with a Thermos, some sandwiches and a few apples. Was she turning into her mother, she wondered, remembering the family’s long drives down to Cornwall, the sodden beaches, her summer-holiday impatience to see Daphne again. She and Michael were heading in the opposite direction: a few days in the Lake District and then on to Edinburgh to see Toby’s troupe perform at the Fringe.
It rained every day in the Lakes and, while Michael insisted on swathing himself in waterproofs and heading for the highest points, Jane mostly stayed indoors. Whenever he returned triumphant and soaked, she pretended she’d been reading. In fact, she’d spent most of the time on the Internet, churning up the bottomless pit of information about children whose lives had been trashed by sexual predators. Uncles with cameras, stepfathers with friends who paid, neighbours watching and waiting, deep-web promises of overwhelming horrors… an apparently endless supply of marauders looting and plundering youth.
Toby’s Edinburgh show was on at an inauspicious 11 a.m. in a tent that smelled of damp and the previous evening’s beer spills, but the space was filled with cheering young people Jane presumed were university friends. The play was a satire about transgender aliens and, by the end of it, she felt old and crabbed from not understanding all the jokes and straining to smile as the audience roared and guffawed around her. Afterwards, she and Michael hugged Toby and congratulated him and his friends but, in truth, the best part of her day was getting an email from Daphne that afternoon. It contained a photograph of a vast, ancient-looking olive tree, golden-leafed in low sunlight, and a brief message:
Leaving poor old Hellas tomorrow. Can’t wait to see you. Can you come over on Saturday? Lots of love, D.
Daphne welcomed her into the flat like a long-lost friend. At first, Jane suspected her of overstating the affection – exaggeration had always been a Greenslay trait – but it became clear she was genuine.
‘Here, I brought you something from Greece.’ Daphne handed over a small box tied with a bow. ‘I’ve been thinking about you. I missed you.’
Jane removed the lid to reveal a pair of earrings made from two small pebbles, their matt-grey surfaces crossed with slivers of gold.
‘They’re beautiful. So unusual.’
‘A friend of mine makes them. Finds little stones on the beach and treats them like jewels. It’s like walking around with a bit of Aegean seaside hanging from your ears.’
Jane walked over to a mirror and tried them on.
‘I love them. Thank you so much. That’s far too generous.’
‘They look perfect.’
They did look perfect, but they reminded Jane of the treasure she had once stolen from Daphne. The smooth oval lozenge of amber had been a present from Ralph, and it contained a leggy caddis fly suspended within its golden interior. As an eleven- or twelve-year-old, Daphne had been fascinated by the translucent fossil, which she kept on her bedside table. She showed Jane how to hold it up to the light to examine the perfectly preserved veins on the fly’s fifty-million-year-old wings. The miracle of the prehistoric insect had made Jane jealous. It symbolised the unusual, enviable bond between her friend and this adoring man. She wanted to be given strange and precious gifts that hinted at unknowable places and infinite love. One day, on a visit to Barnabas Road, Jane had noticed that the walnut-sized piece of amber was missing from its usual place and, when she spotted it underneath Daphne’s bed, she said nothing. On her subsequent visit, it was still there, collecting dust, and Jane pocketed it. Daphne only mentioned its absence once and Jane feigned ignorance. The weighty burden of guilt was balanced by the rapture inspired by the creature trapped for eternity in its petrified resin.
‘So how’ve you been?’ Jane was itching to continue her campaign but knew she must go gently.
‘Oh really well, but there’s such a lot I want to talk to you about. Actually, since before I went. I’ve been waiting almost a month!’
‘Sounds a great gig, though, working in the Greek islands!’
‘Yeah, it’s a nice perk. I was basically just checking on a few clients and villa owners on Zante, Cephalonia and Paxos. So the rest was holidays. And who’d want to be in London in August when it’s like this? It’s like living in a swamp.’
‘And Libby? I was hoping to finally meet her this time.’
‘Yes, you will! She’s here, in her room. I can’t believe it’s taken so long. She went out to stay with Sam before I left, and then we met up just before coming home. I’ve hardly seen her for six weeks!’
Her smile was not quite convincing, thought Jane. It must be especially hard to let go of your baby as a single mother. She didn’t know whether she could have brought up the boys without Michael. And it would have been unbearable when they left. Still, Daphne looked marvellous. Her feet were bare and she’d twisted her hair up on her head with a pencil. It appeared effortless – beauty as natural as a bird’s plumage.
‘Like a cuppa now or shall we go for a walk first?’ Daphne examined the greyness outside. It had been raining all morning and now the afternoon was oppressively humid. ‘The charms of an English summer… Or we could go and see a film. I love a weekend matinee. What do you feel like, Janey?’
Jane was unable to pinpoint what she felt like. She wanted to talk, to persuade and guide Daphne, but she didn’t want to be confronted by the hanging with its brutal ability to go straight to her gut. The living room was still in a horrible state, and littered with piles of rags, ribbons and what looked like actual rubbish. In fact the whole flat was verging on somewhere social services might get called to if the owner wasn’t a middle-class, well-spoken person. And yet she still felt at a disadvantage with her old friend – a direct line to emotions she should have left behind with her teens. Too big, too pale, her feet pig-pink and cold in their practical open sandals. Her short, blonde hair seemed dull and conventional and the rectangular glasses that had felt like a good decision, a relief after all the fuss of contact lenses over the last thirty years, now made her feel like the dowdy, bespectacled girl of thirteen. How odd that you could go through so much in a life and be transported back to youth in a flash.
‘Maybe a walk? Then we could see how we feel after that?’
‘Perfect. We could walk across the bridge. Revisit our old haunts, maybe go to Wandsworth Park. I’ll just go and get Liberty so you can meet her.’
Daphne returned with a willowy, delicate-featured girl who had evidently inherited the Californian gene more than the Greek. Like her mother, though, she was lovely, her skin glowing and golden. Perhaps there was something of both Ellie and Ed in her, Jane thought.
‘Hi, Liberty. I’m Jane. Finally! I’m so pleased to meet you.’ She stood somewhat awkwardly, not knowing if she should shake her hand or kiss her, but Liberty came over and gave a dispassionate, one-armed hug.