‘It’ll be fine,’ Lily said. ‘I’m not a hundred per cent sure who is coming – Dawn and Clive said they’d put the word out, whatever that means. But I can always keep some back for another time. I have a teenage son, remember.’
‘Good point,’ Sam said as she began to stack packets onto the conveyer belt. ‘Perhaps we should get a few more bags.’
Lily smiled. She was lucky to have found a friend like Sam – who seemed to be on her wavelength and knew how to cheer her up, even if she didn’t know she was doing it. In fact, what with Frédérique and Chloé and all the other people she had made connections with, she was beginning to feel she’d really landed on her feet here.
Last night, Lily had sent text messages around to everyone she’d met so far.
Party, Saturday, 2 p.m. everyone welcome.
She’d had a host of replies, almost straightaway, including one from the translator, Chris, whom she’d forgotten was still in her ‘French contacts’ file. He’d seemed very keen and she’d thought – why not? The more the merrier.
She’d spoken separately to Frédérique, not wanting to send something so impersonal out to him. He’d seemed delighted to hear from her. ‘Lily, yes, of course I am coming to your wonderful party,’ he’d said. ‘I would not miss it for the world.’
‘Oh, thank you,’ she’d said.
‘And you would like me to bring some things?’
‘No, no. It’s all organised.’
‘Some music per’aps?’ he’d said, undeterred. ‘I ’ave la machine à karaoké?’
‘Well, OK, why not,’ she’d said. ‘Might be fun.’
‘And per’aps I bring some of my ’ome-made wine? I make it from ze plants in my jardin?’
‘Sounds delicious.’
When scrolling through her wider contacts to make sure she hadn’t missed one, she’d paused on the word ‘Mum’. Somehow, she’d been unable to delete her mother’s number from the phone. She’d even transferred it when she’d bought a new one. It was something about the finality of it; something about the act of deleting a number that at least promised to link her to the woman she’d loved most in the world.
‘I wish I could talk to you, Mum,’ she’d said.
Mum had always been the one she’d called when the chips were down. She and Ben had been two pillars of strength in her life. Without them, she was wobbling, unsupported. She’d fought the urge to send a text to the obsolete phone. If the number had been reassigned and a stranger answered, it would probably break her.
Instead, she’d poured a glass of wine and read her book on the sofa until her eyes had become so tired she knew she’d drop asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.
Once they’d driven back and Sam had disappeared to pick the kids up from crèche, Lily sat there again, feeling the silence fill the air around her.
She picked up her phone and thumbed through until she found Ben’s number.
It wouldn’t hurt to give him a quick call, would it? After all, she had a few questions about Ty’s student loans she wanted to ask. And they were still friends and co-parents. She wouldn’t tell him how she was feeling or open up to him; but it would be nice to hear his voice anyway.
She clicked on the number and it immediately diverted to his messaging service. She looked at her watch: two o’clock on a Friday afternoon. Perhaps he was driving. She’d try again later.
Emily’s phone went to answerphone too. Running out of options, she looked at David’s name. She’d sent a couple of emails since arriving, but it was ages since they’d spoken on the phone. Two o’clock would be ten in the morning in David’s life. She pressed the button to call him.
‘Hello?’ he answered, almost immediately.
‘Hi, David,’ she said, suddenly wondering why she’d called.
‘Hi, is everything all right?’
‘Yes, everything… well everything’s OK. I just thought I’d call to see how you are?’
‘Oh. Well, yeah. We’re good, thanks,’ he said. She could hear a twang of Australian in his British accent.
‘Great. Good.’
‘And you’re OK?’ he said.
‘Yes. Yes, I’m fine.’
There was a silence. She’d forgotten just how painfully awkward her brother was on the phone. ‘Um, I suppose,’ she said, ‘I suppose I was just missing Mum, and I thought… well, you know.’