it. Maybe I’m just projecting some of my own secret unhappiness onto her. ‘Yeah,’ she says. ‘How long’s it been?’
I have to cast my mind back. ‘At least two years,’ I say, doing the sum in my head, ‘because I was pregnant last year.’
‘It’s longer than that,’ Kate says. ‘You were doing all the IVF. I think the last time we got away was maybe four years ago.’
‘It can’t be that long,’ I say, frowning, though I think she might be right. ‘Where did we go?’
‘Valencia,’ she says, not missing a beat.
‘Oh, yes, that was so lovely,’ I say, remembering the boutique hotel we stayed in with the four-poster beds and fireplaces.
‘Remember Paris?’ Kate muses. ‘We stayed in that crummy little hotel in the Marais.’
I laugh. ‘God, I remember the chocolate mousse we ate in that little restaurant by the Place des Vosges – I’ll remember that for the rest of my life. It was the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.’
‘Don’t tell Rob that,’ she giggles.
‘You told that American at the table next to us that you spoke French—’
‘So he went ahead and ordered what you told him was duck and really it was pig face.’
We burst into a fit of laughter at the memory.
‘You know that was a long time ago,’ I say, ‘because it was before smartphones and translation apps.’
We lie there counting off all the places we’ve been together, starting with the Paris trip. We took the Eurostar. It was my first time and I thought myself oh so sophisticated. I even bought a beret from Accessorize so I could fit in with all the Parisian women. Then I saw how French women actually dressed and hid it in my bag. I bought a scarf instead but could never figure out how to tie it as elegantly as French women did.
After that trip to Paris, Kate and I decided we’d go away for a weekend together every year for the rest of our lives, to a different city each time. We laughed that by the time we were in our nineties we’d have travelled the globe and would settle for two deck chairs on the Margate seafront. We made a promise and kept to it for years, each year seeing a slight bump up in the level of hotel we stayed at and the quality of the restaurants we ate at and the booze we bought at duty-free. But ultimately, it’s a promise I’ve failed to keep.
‘I’m sorry we haven’t managed to get away for a while,’ I say to Kate, a wave of guilt washing over me.
‘No matter,’ she says, squeezing my hand. ‘We’re here now. Let’s make the most of it.’ She rolls off the bed, grabbing her empty glass from the bedside table. ‘You take a nap and I’ll wake you up in a couple of hours so we can go out for dinner.’
Chapter Two
‘Wakey, wakey,’ Kate says, shaking me by the arm.
I blink blurrily and struggle to sit up, feeling groggy and disorientated. The room is dark and when Kate switches on the bedside lamp, it takes me a second or two to get my bearings.
‘It’s nine-fifteen,’ Kate says. ‘Time to get up.’
I yawn and swing my legs out of bed, ignoring my desire to roll over, pull the covers over my head and go back to sleep. As my vision clears I see Kate’s ready to hit the town. She looks stunning, in a black mini-dress with ruffle sleeves and gold high heels that show off her tanned, toned legs. My stomach sinks a little as I contemplate the clothes in my own suitcase. I kept it sensible thinking we’d be walking a lot and sightseeing, knowing that Lisbon was a city built on hills. I didn’t bring any heels, only trainers and a pair of flat sandals, and I know I didn’t pack anything as fancy as the dress Kate’s wearing. I don’t own anything that nice for starters. Kate owns tons of gorgeous dresses, partly as she loves clothes and shopping and has the money to afford new things, but also because as a movie publicist she often has to go to premieres and after-parties and, like the Queen, she’d never be seen dead in the same thing twice.
As Kate pours the last of the champagne into my empty glass, I unzip my bag and root through the contents: jeans, a sundress, a pair of shorts, a shirt, a hooded sweatshirt, a couple of T-shirts and last