‘God, but it was delicious though,’ her friend sighed.
‘Yep. Puts my attempts at chocolate brownies to shame,’ Lily replied.
They both sat in silence for a second.
‘I meant what I said though,’ Emily told her. ‘I’m really pleased you’ve found a friend already.’
‘Yeah, I guess I’m lucky.’ Lily smiled. ‘Although it’s early days, isn’t it. I’m not sure how long you have to know someone before calling them a friend.’
Emily snorted. ‘I think for us it was – what – five minutes?’ she said, referring to the time they’d been paired up on the first day at their new school.
‘Probably,’ said Lily. ‘I think you wrote “BFF” on my hand within about the first thirty seconds.’
‘Marking my territory.’
‘I guess I was lucky you didn’t pee on me or something.’
‘There’s always time…’
They both laughed.
‘If someone had told me in Year Seven,’ Emily said, ‘that one day we’d be in our forties and driving around France, it would have completely blown my mind. That we’d be friends that long. Do all this together.’
‘It blows my mind, now,’ said Lily. ‘I still have to shake myself to believe I’m actually here. That I’ve done it. That I’m not just on holiday but… well, this is permanent.’ Her voice wobbled a little on her last word – as if it had somehow put the last nail in the coffin of her life in England, of her relationship. ‘I mean, you know. It’s not quite as I’d dreamed it.’
‘Ah,’ said Emily. ‘Give it time.’ She reached over and patted Lily’s knee. ‘I have a feeling everything’s going to work out OK.’
‘You think?’ Lily wanted to ask Emily what she meant. What ‘working out OK’ would really look like. But she stopped herself.
‘Yeah. I really do,’ said Emily, looking at her with a surprisingly watery smile. ‘You are going to have a wonderful life here.’
‘Hang on,’ said Lily, veering slightly into the middle of the road as they rounded an unexpected corner. She slowed the car down. ‘Where’s the sarcastic comment?’ She glanced briefly at her friend’s face.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, the Emily I know would say it was going to work out OK, but then – I don’t know – make a quip about my fashion sense, or my chances of landing a handsome Frenchman, or… something,’ she said, with a smile. ‘I’m just waiting for the punchline.’
‘Suppose I’m just feeling sentimental,’ said Emily. ‘Usual service will resume shortly, I promise.’ She rubbed her nose with the back of her hand.
‘Glad to hear it. It’s very disconcerting, all this positivity,’ joked Lily. ‘Although remind me to write down the name of that drink Chloé gave you – perhaps it has some sort of magic powers.’
She waited for Emily’s snort. But her friend remained silent. ‘Em?’ Lily said.
‘I’m sorry,’ Emily said, after a moment.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh, you know. I’m sorry that I’m such an arse. That I always joke about everything. You know it doesn’t mean anything, don’t you?’
‘Of course! I…’
‘Because it doesn’t. Lily, you’re my best friend. And I think you’re, well, bloody brilliant, if I’m honest.’
‘Steady on.’
‘Well, I do,’ said Emily firmly. ‘Whatever stupid stuff I may say, I… well, I love you, Lily Butterworth.’
‘OK. Well, thanks. You too.’
They fell into silence, neither quite knowing what to say next. Then Emily put the radio on and managed to tune it to a station playing some sort of cheesy medley from the eighties and nineties.
By the time they arrived at Lily’s house, their voices were hoarse from singing along to everything from Wham! to Steps, and all the melancholy they’d felt on the journey seemed firmly and safely in the past.
‘What the hell is that?’ a voice in the darkness hissed in Lily’s ear.
‘Wha—?’ she said sleepily.
‘Lily, wake up for god’s sake. The house is haunted and we need to get out now.’
This was enough to make her sit up, her bottom lightly touching the floor beneath her airbed, which had deflated under her during her first hours of sleep.