Robyn shrugged. ‘No point. She’s not going to change her opinion of me.’
‘We were all such good friends, weren’t we? The three of us. Sometimes I think I imagined it.’ Lexi shook her head. It was easy to forget just how close the three of them had been at school. Their friendship had felt easy and natural, absent of the usual petty jealousies that other friendships suffered. They felt above it – as if their trio were so rich and true that they were untouchable.
‘Do you remember how we used to call each other every night after school? I’d sit at the bottom of our stairs – that was as far as the phone cord would stretch – and we’d talk for an hour, while our parents yelled that we’d see each other in the morning.’
Robyn laughed. ‘Dad started getting our phone bills itemised. He’d go through them with a highlighter, marking your and Bella’s numbers.’
Lexi grinned. ‘Thank God you had a paper round to pay it off.’
‘We slept over at Bella’s every Friday, on that futon she had with the stars and moon throw. And all those posters on her wall: Lenny Kravitz, Tupac, Bob Marley. We used to borrow her eldest brother’s CDs, and he’d keep an inventory of which tracks skipped. We’d always make you hand them back as we knew you had more chance of getting away with it.’
Lexi laughed. She could remember the lipstick smell of Bella’s room, the clutter of nail polishes and body sprays and lip glosses on her dressing table. They’d experiment with make-up and eyebrow-plucking, and testing fake tans. ‘We were close. I didn’t misremember it,’ she said almost wistfully. ‘What happened?’
Robyn glanced down. ‘I guess we went in different directions. Bella was in London for a few years. I stayed home.’
‘Yes, but she’s been back in Bournemouth for ages now. You only live a few miles apart.’
Robyn shrugged. ‘We’re both busy.’
‘Do you ever meet up? Call each other?’
‘Not really. We should. I know we should.’
Lexi knew things had cooled after she and Bella spent the summer in Ibiza and Robyn hadn’t come. Bella would’ve usually cajoled – or bulldozed – Robyn into joining them. Only she hadn’t. She’d just let her go. ‘This hen weekend – it’s the longest stretch of time the three of us have spent together in years. I miss us. The three of us.’
Robyn smiled at her sadly. ‘Me, too.’
20
Ana
Ana followed Eleanor along the shaded alley, Greek music drifting from open shop fronts. Rambling trails of bougainvillea clung to crumbling stone walls and the air smelled faintly of incense.
She was pleased they’d taken a taxi into town. Sunbathing by the villa pool held no appeal for Ana, nor, she suspected, Eleanor. She paused at a pavement stall to admire the local sponges. The material was surprisingly abrasive beneath her fingertips. It would make a nice little gift to thank her sister for having Luca. She checked the price, then took out her purse and paid.
Eleanor had stopped at the stall opposite and was looking at a stand of leather handbags.
‘These are beautiful,’ Ana said, approaching, the warm resin smell of the leather lifting into the afternoon heat.
‘I always wear a backpack. More practical.’
Ana glanced at the grey quilted bag sagging over Eleanor’s pale shoulders.
‘Suppose it doesn’t cut it on a night out.’ She paused. ‘Not that I go on many of those.’
‘Treat yourself,’ Ana gently suggested, guessing that Eleanor, like her, probably spent little money on herself. She unhooked a satchel in a deep mahogany. The leather was soft and well oiled, thick buckles closing over a front pocket. ‘This would look gorgeous on you.’
Eleanor studied the bag carefully before placing it reverently over her shoulder. The corners of her mouth turned up.
A shop owner emerged from between two rails of scarfs, holding a mirror. ‘Here. You see?’
Ana caught the bloom of pleasure on Eleanor’s face as she admired the bag. ‘Yes, I do like it.’
‘Get it!’ Ana encouraged. ‘Go on! We’re on holiday!’
Eleanor studied the bag again. ‘It doesn’t make me look … showy?’
Ana laughed. ‘No! It’s simple and understated and stylish. It’s just right!’
Eleanor nodded. ‘Yes. Well. I think I will buy it.’ She unhooked it from her shoulder and passed it to the shop owner, who carefully wrapped it in brown paper, tying it with string and a sprig of fresh rosemary.