their common denominator. They both seemed to understand how each other was feeling and it hadn’t felt at all awkward or uncomfortable. It had been light and undemanding. In fact, it was probably the only undemanding conversation Keeley had had since the accident. With her own mother, every conversation had an underlying theme of well-being…
‘No, you haven’t,’ Keeley answered quickly. ‘If anyone’s talked too much it’s—’
‘Me!’ Rach interrupted brightly. ‘And I’ve definitely drunk too much. In the volume sense, not the alcoholic sense. A pint and a jug of water and two coffees. Just popping to the loo.’ She put a hand on Keeley’s arm. ‘That OK?’ she whispered.
It was nice that her friend was checking on her. But she really had no qualms about being left on her own with Silvie. ‘I’m fine,’ she told Rach.
‘I won’t be long,’ Rach said, standing up and moving away from her seat.
‘Another coffee, Keeley?’ Silvie asked her.
Keeley shook her head. ‘No, thank you. I’m completely full too. It was a lovely lunch.’
‘It was, wasn’t it?’ Silvie answered. ‘I like it at this place, very much. Yes, it may be in the middle of the touristic area, but I like the… how do you say… the mood.’
‘I like the mood too,’ Keeley agreed. ‘It feels very grand, but at the same time it’s also cosy.’
‘You have a good feel for places, I can tell,’ Silvie said, taking another drink from her coffee cup.
‘Well, that’s kind of my job,’ Keeley admitted.
‘Really?’ Silvie said, showing surprise. ‘You told me that you work for an estate agency.’
‘Oh, I do. But I work there in a different capacity to Rach. They call me a “house doctor”.’ She smiled at what she considered to be a silly title.
‘A house doctor? What is this?’ Silvie asked. ‘When your home has a little rise in temperature do people ask you to visit and… give it medicine? Or maybe a dose of the vacuum?’
Keeley laughed. ‘No, not like that. I’m a qualified interior designer but, lately, it’s been my job to stage homes before they are put on the market to sell.’
‘How fascinating,’ Silvie said, seeming truly taken with the idea.
‘I do enjoy it,’ Keeley said. She picked up her coffee spoon and absentmindedly stirred it around in the cup. ‘But I don’t think it’s quite enough for me.’
‘What is it you really want?’ Silvie asked her.
Keeley lifted her eyes from the coffee then. ‘To rewind the past year.’ She sighed, preparing to divulge even truer feelings. ‘To have my sister back.’
She swallowed. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said that. Regressing in front of the very person who had enabled her to have a future at all wasn’t really on.
‘Sorry,’ Keeley blurted out.
‘Your sister?’ Silvie queried. ‘She has gone away?’
‘Oh,’ Keeley said, a lump the size of a sugar cube arriving in her throat. ‘You don’t know. I’m sorry. I mean, why would you know?’ She sighed, before starting again. ‘I lost my sister in the accident. The accident I was in.’ She paused. ‘Her name was Bea.’
‘Oh, you poor girl.’ Straightaway, Silvie had reached across the table and enveloped her hand in hers. It was a reassuring, gentle touch but also firm and supportive. ‘I had no idea,’ Silvie breathed.
‘It’s OK.’
‘No,’ Silvie said, sighing, fingers squeezing Keeley’s. ‘It is not OK. Here I am, telling you about my grief for Ferne and you are grieving too. Your sister. Your poor, poor parents.’
Keeley nodded, telling her brain to hurry up and batten down the hatches. She could almost hear Bea telling her to stop being such a cry baby and eat the biscuits that had come with their coffees. Bea, the youngest of the family, but the one who’d had an infinite supply of strength and resilience in pretty much the face of anything. Keeley’s confidante and hair stylist… the one she had whispered secrets to in the night when they’d shared a bedroom.
Keeley took a breath and spoke again. ‘My parents will forever be grateful that they didn’t lose both their children that night,’ Keeley told Silvie. ‘And that is what would have happened if it hadn’t been for Ferne.’
Silvie shook her head, finally letting go of Keeley and picking up a serviette from the table to dab at her eyes again. ‘Look at me,’ she said, her voice rich with emotion. ‘I am leaking again.’
‘I leak too,’ Keeley responded, a small smile forming. ‘But lately it’s mainly from my hair. Cheap products.’ She pulled at a section to demonstrate, then