‘Relax, I just spoke to him. He says he’ll come and meet you at Gare du Nord when you get in.’
‘But the delay – he’ll end up having wasted his entire day waiting for me. I can’t ask him to do that. I’ll just get a cab or walk when I get there.’
Meg’s chuckle is bright and familiar and suddenly I’m homesick. ‘Then you don’t know him yet. He insisted. Luc might be with him, too.’
I first met Tobi when we hung out after one of Gabe’s press screenings for Southside, the hit primetime crime drama he had a supporting role in. Tobi had the loudest laugh I’ve ever heard. He was sweet, though, and Meg adores him, which is the best recommendation you can get. He was the first to suggest I stay with him in Paris when Meg told him of my travel plan, which was the kindest gesture anyone’s made for me. Meg visits him several times a year and was best woman when he and Luc married last spring at an achingly gorgeous turreted chateau in the Pyrenees. I haven’t met Luc yet, but he sounds lovely, too.
‘I’m due into Paris at three-twenty p.m., I think.’
‘He’ll be waiting for you by the barrier. He’s making a sign, bless him, in case you don’t remember what he looks like.’
‘That’s sweet.’
There’s a pause, then: ‘Phoebe, are you okay?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Okay. It’s just, you sound… different.’
Do I?
‘I’m on a train, so…’
‘It isn’t that.’
‘Oh.’ Do I tell her about Sam? Meg is my closest, dearest friend and she would understand. No – it feels too soon. I like him being just mine for now. Maybe I’ll tell her later.
‘Don’t worry. Probably just me being over-protective. We’re all a bit lost without you here. Gabe found your key on the doormat this morning and went off in a total grump. He’ll get over it, though. We all will. Have a safe journey and call me when you’re settled in, okay?’
I sit back and gaze out of the window, waiting for the tunnel that will spirit me away from England for twelve months. Well, good if they’re missing me. They didn’t think I’d go through with this – and despite all the odds, here I am.
Settled onto the Glasgow train after two quick changes at Sheffield and Manchester, I must have dozed off because I jump when my mobile rings, cracking my forehead against the carriage window in the process. The woman in the seat opposite is kind enough to hide her amusement behind her magazine.
Smooth, Sam. Very smooth.
The sight of my two best friends pouting at me from the screen makes me smile regardless of the injury their call has caused.
‘Hey,’ I say, resting back into my seat. Beyond the window a landscape of purple-crowned Cumbrian peaks stretches out beneath lead grey clouds.
‘What happened?’ DeeDee demands. ‘Kim and me saw the news. Was it a bomb?’
‘No idea. Nobody seemed that bothered so I’m guessing not.’
I can hear Kim in the background and picture her, hands on hips, barking questions at DeeDee. ‘I’m asking him… Kim wants to know if you got a train.’
‘On it now. Just heading through the Lakes. Tell Kim it looks like rain here.’
Another off-speaker discussion ensues, followed by an angst-heavy sigh. ‘Okay, look, why don’t you just tell him yourself, hmm? Sam, putting you on speaker so Miss Kim can yell at you instead.’
‘Hi, Kim.’ I can’t hide my smile. They are such a double-act and always appear to be three words away from a row, but it’s all love as far as they’re concerned. They aren’t related but they’ve sung together in bands for so long they might as well be family. It’s spine-tingling stuff when DeeDee and Kim sing, like they’ve developed a magical symbiosis that they just couldn’t recreate with anyone else. But not so much when they’re arguing.
‘Samuel. We heard it was a terror alert.’
‘I don’t think so. They would have evacuated the station if it had been. Anyway, I’m fine. I’m on the train now.’
‘Do your friends know?’
‘Not yet. I’ll text them when I’m nearer Glasgow, just in case there are any other delays ahead. Anyway, they’ll just expect me to rock up when I’m there, so it’ll be no problem.’
There’s a pause and I can hear another barked exchange, this time in urgent whispers because, of course, I’m on speakerphone and can’t hear them.
‘Something I should know?’ I ask.
I hear a loud tut from DeeDee. ‘We weren’t going to tell you…’
‘Laura came,’ Kim finishes.
I stare out at the blur of moorland grass streaking past on the sidings. ‘When?’
‘About an hour after you left. She had a suitcase with her.’
‘Kim!’
‘What?’
‘You didn’t have to tell him that! I thought we discussed this…’
‘Hang on, what?’
I wait for DeeDee and Kim’s debate to stop, leaning my head back and closing my eyes. I don’t feel angry, or hurt – just weary. I felt weary most of the time I was with Laura and during the six months since we broke up.
‘The Russian kicked her scrawny butt out, didn’t he? And who can blame him?’ DeeDee’s tone is heavy with disgust. Part of me would love to have been there to witness her reaction when Laura turned up. But mostly I’m just relieved I wasn’t. ‘She was all poorlittle-rich-girl, with her red eyes and privileged whining. Like we’d just agree you should take her back. Like she was entitled to that.’
‘Why did she come to yours?’
‘She’d been to Syd’s first and assumed you’d be here.’
‘Was she trying to move in?’
‘She wanted to go with you.’ Kim’s laugh is bitter. ‘Can you believe it? Syd refused to tell her where you were going and what time your train was, so she came to us. Like we were ever going to help her!’
Well, today is certainly the day for revelations. It doesn’t surprise me that Laura and Artem didn’t last – especially as I know how many times she’d tried to get back with me (and the three times I’m ashamed to admit that I gave in). And yeah, maybe I’m a little bit glad. It feels like a justification for my mistrust. She wasn’t worth the pain I’ve endured in her name. Not that I’m the kind of person who revels in someone else’s misfortune, but Laura had it coming.
I thought last night’s appearance at the studio launch was a one-off. More fool me, eh?
She’d managed to press so obviously against me as DeeDee took a photo of everyone in the studio. The designer off-the-shoulder