The silence was thick with tension, and when Hannah’s phone beeped, there was a gust of nervy laughter. Getting it out of her pocket was awkward, given her crouched position, but she knew it was probably Emily, hopefully on her way but running late.
It was Emily. But she wasn’t running late.
Sorry. Work.
Hannah stared down at it, half-shocked, half-furious. Sorry. Work. was all Emily could manage? The exams were over. April was supposed to be her friend. But there was no time to compose a response. The door to the bar was swinging open once again, wide this time, letting in a gust of summer night air, and Hannah heard April’s distinctively carrying tones.
“… and I said to him, that’s a bloody joke and a half, and I’m not having it. Hey, what’s happened to the lights?”
“Surprise!” The shouts rang out across the room, and the lights came up. The little group of cast members were standing just inside the door in full costume, looking appropriately stunned. April was squealing and putting her hands to her face in a very good impression of someone who had no idea this was happening, even though, as Hannah knew full well, she had helped direct everything from the guest list down to the exact proportions of the signature Medea cocktail.
“Oh my God!” she was saying, hugging person after person, wiping away what Hannah was pretty sure were nonexistent tears. “You guys! You didn’t! I can’t believe you did all this.”
“Congratulations, April,” Hannah said. “You were amazing, all of you.” She walked across and gave April a hug, feeling the unfamiliar roughness of April’s wig against her cheek, and very much hoping that the terra-cotta makeup wasn’t coming off on her top. “But especially you,” she whispered.
“Bloody well done you, putting all this together,” April whispered back. Then she pulled away and did a twirl, her toga fanning out as she did. “Like the getup?”
“Very much! I wasn’t expecting you to be in full costume, though. What brought this on?”
“Well, it was already half nine when the curtain came down. I thought no point in wasting more time when we could be drinking. Luis and Clem brought a change of clothes in a bag. I don’t know about Rollie or Jo.”
“Do you want to go up and change?” Hannah asked. “We can hold off on the speeches until you get back.”
“There are speeches?” April said in mock horror, and Hannah grinned.
“I’m joking.”
“No, bring it on! I want all the glory. But no, don’t worry, I’ll go up in a sec. I want a drink before I do anything else. Where is my cocktail?”
“Come over here, I’ll treat you and the other players to the first round.”
“No,” April said firmly. “I’m going to treat you. Oy, gang!” she hollered over the rising babble of voices and music, waving an arm at the little gaggle of actors. “Come over to the bar, I want to buy you all a drink!”
* * *
IT WAS ALMOST AN HOUR later when April stood up from her seat at the head of the big table in the center of the bar, swaying slightly. She was holding her phone in one hand and a champagne coupe in the other, and for a moment Hannah thought she was going to get up on the table, but she didn’t, she only raised her voice above the sound of the hubbub.
“Attention, maddafakkas,” she called, pointing round as the table of amused, slightly drunken faces turned towards her. “I would like to propose a toast. This year is almost over, and it’s been a hell of a start to the rest of our lives—am I right?”
“Hear, hear!” called someone, and others raised their glasses.
“That old fart the Master would probably tell you that coming to Pelham is about work or learning or some academic bullshit like that. But I’m here to tell you that’s a lie—it isn’t about work. It’s about… friendship.”
Here she raised her glass to Hannah, and Hannah felt a flush rise up her cheeks.
“Because friends, good friends, are fucking hard to find,” April said. She was clearly very drunk, swaying slightly, even, but she was holding it together. “Friends who’ve got your back, friends who would never betray you. So when you find one, you have to hold on to that person. Am I right?”
“Yes!” someone called from the other side of the table.
“Okay then, so that’s my toast. To friends. To true friends!” April said, and she held up her glass, spilling red juice down her arm.
“To true friends” came back the roar from around the table.