The Best of Friends, Alex Day [feel good books to read .txt] 📗

Ruefully, I ponder what my summer will be this year – namely, me working my socks off and the boys lucky to get a day out at Camber Sands. Although Justin has vaguely alluded to taking them camping in the Lake District, so you never know. They, at least, might get a change of scene. I wonder how long Charlotte will be away for and I’m suddenly aware of how I’ve come to rely on her friendship and how lonely I’ll be if she’s gone for two months; there’s no one else I’m remotely as close to. Certainly not Miriam. Or Naomi. Of course there’s always Dan and the tennis, as I understand that his work commitments mean that he never joins his family for the entire duration of their stay abroad, but it’s not the same with a man. I can’t confide in Dan, tell him my secrets, unburden myself to him in the same way I can to a girlfriend such as Charlotte.

‘When are you going?’ I ask, inwardly chastising myself for thoughts that, if spoken, might come across as me resenting Charlotte and her boys their summer break.

‘Oh, I don’t know yet,’ she replies, airily.

I interpret this as the last-minute approach of the well-off – no need to plan half a year ahead to be sure of getting the best price with the low-cost airlines.

‘The thing is,’ she continues, falteringly, ‘that I … well, I don’t think I’ll spend all summer in Corsica this year.’

Spoken in such an uncharacteristically hesitant manner, her words take me totally by surprise.

‘What?’ I ask, involuntarily.

‘Corsica,’ Charlotte repeats, somewhat sadly. ‘I don’t think I’ll go to the house for the whole of July and August.’

‘Whyever not?’

‘I’m not sure I should leave Dan alone for so long. You know what they say: while the cat’s away, the mice will play.’ Charlotte’s face has visibly fallen, her eyes downcast and her lips almost trembling.

I’m taken aback, so much so that I don’t answer immediately, needing to choose my words carefully.

‘Don’t be silly,’ I say eventually, trying to sound as encouraging as I can without coming across as pushy or overbearing. ‘You can’t let the Naomi thing get to you to such an extent that it interferes with your summer – or the boys’ summer, for that matter.’

I brush a speck of dust off the photo and put it back down on the table. ‘And anyway,’ I add, thoughtfully, ‘they say that absence makes the heart grow fonder so you’d probably find that some time away from Dan would put everything into perspective and do your relationship a lot of good.’

Our respective sofas suddenly seem a million miles away so I get up and go and sit next to her. Her hands are tightly clenched together in her lap and I give them a gentle squeeze. They feel hard and bony, resentful somehow, as if they are gripping the weight of her uncertainty, the extent of her troubles, whatever those might be, and finding it hard to let go.

‘You absolutely must go. I insist on it,’ I conclude, and then utter a short laugh of mitigation. It’s not like me to be giving instructions to Charlotte; our relationship tends towards the opposite. ‘Come on,’ I urge, ‘you can’t let a silly girl like Naomi rule your life.’

Charlotte shakes her head at the same time as attempting a wan smile.

‘How about this,’ I continue, hating to see her so sad and forlorn and grasping for anything that might make a difference. ‘I’m going to be here all summer and I promise you that I’ll keep an eye on her, make sure she keeps her claws out of him.’

At this, Charlotte finally seems to relax somewhat, running her fingers through her immaculate brunette hair in her habitual gesture. It feels good to know that this is how much she trusts me, that knowing Naomi will be under my eagle-eyed surveillance is the key to her peace of mind.

‘You’d be crazy not to go to Corsica,’ I add, warming to my theme now. ‘You love it so much and you deserve a break. It might be a good idea to have another word with Dan about Naomi, put your mind at rest about it all. I mean, clearly, there’s …’ I hesitate, not quite knowing how to put what I’m thinking into words, not wanting to make anything worse or increase Charlotte’s worries, ‘I mean, there probably is something there. But it might not be as bad as you think. It’s always best to get things out into the open,’ I conclude.

Whilst she is pondering this, I contemplate the long weeks of July and August that stretch ahead. Even if I don’t have a whole bunch of friends to miss yet, there’s something about the annual emptying out of the country, when everyone who possibly can heads off somewhere that’s not home, whether it be Cornwall, Croatia or Corfu, that I’ve always found difficult. Of course it’s fine if I’m one of the ones who’s on the move, too – but so often in my life I’ve been the one left at home, going nowhere and doing nothing. This year will be exactly the same, and suffice to say I’m not relishing the thought.

I wonder about what the village will be like when everyone is on vacation and then think that the thing that will really affect me, when Justin has the boys, will be my own loneliness. So often I long to be free of the work and responsibilities that children entail, but when they’re not there I miss them like one of my own limbs.

‘But are you really not going anywhere?’ Charlotte asks, interrupting my chain of thought, changing the subject from herself.

I shrug. ‘No holiday for me,’ I say, with fake cheeriness. ‘I mean, I’ve only just moved here so I’ll enjoy the good weather and play some tennis. I can’t take time off from the cafe