Friends Like Us (2 page)

She was aware of the woman coming towards her and Melissa braced herself. ‘I'm so sorry,' she blurted out, looking up into the sun. ‘It was all my fault. I just wasn't concentrating.'

The other woman was open-mouthed, ‘Melissa!' She was laughing now. ‘Oh sweet Jesus, Melissa!'

‘Steph! Oh my God, Steph!'

It
was
Steph, looking exactly the same since they'd last seen each other. Blonder, perhaps, her straight hair in a long bob, her face the same, just slightly older, perhaps, minimal make-up. Polished, groomed, she was working the glorious trinity of the jeans-Converse-Breton just like any other thirty-something mother, but on her, it was smarter, newer,
and expensive
.

Melissa managed to stand up and the two hugged each other for so long it turned into a kind of dance as they began to rock together. The crowd gave a cheer and there was even a round of applause.

Steph, her old, old, old friend. How sweet the vagaries of life. Who said that? Someone, anyway. Oh. She felt strange and had to sit down again.

Once upon a time, Melissa and Steph were inseparable. School friends and then friends into their twenties when something happened – life? – and they drifted. Like a swan on the old canal, especially the type of swan who predicted bad luck… or in this case, maybe the swan was a signifier of good luck. Drifting back into each other's lives again. Or rather
crashing
back in.

‘I don't believe it!' Melissa said. ‘We haven't seen each other in years and then this happens.'

‘Of all the backsides in all the world, you had to run into mine.' Steph was still smiling and Melissa grinned back, but she felt embarrassed. Here was Steph, all gleamy and glowy, and there was she, dusty and dishevelled. She pushed her hand through her brown hair that refused to either lie straight or curl. She was wearing an outfit (skirt and ankle boots) that had been meant for Paris, but now, in Dublin, seemed over the top and ridiculous. She'd plastered herself in make-up too, full foundation, the works, and she felt like a drag queen that hadn't mastered the act of dressing like a woman.

But Steph was still smiling, seemingly not noticing or caring that her old friend was a mess.

‘So, what do we do now?' Melissa asked. ‘You know about this…' she gestured to their cars. She actually wanted to get herself home and changed and into something more like her. She was feeling a bit ridiculous in her Parisienne non-chic and, she was thinking that maybe they could meet up again later, once she had her jeans and trainers on again. But Steph didn't seem to notice what she was wearing and was too busy thinking about sorting out the car situation which, Melissa had to agree, was the more pertinent of the tasks.

‘Well, I think mine is driveable,' said Steph. ‘But we can always get yours towed. We'll get it sorted.'

And Steph did, even though the accident was technically Melissa's fault, Steph took charge and phoned a garage to arrange for them to pick up the Beetle while the crowd, slightly disappointed that there wasn't any blood or more carnage, dispersed, leaving them alone.

‘You're white as a sheet, Mel,' Steph said. ‘And you're shaking.'

Melissa could feel her teeth chattering as though she was Bugs Bunny eating an invisible carrot. She suddenly felt terrible, as if she was going to be sick.

‘I think Melissa, that we'd better get you to hospital,' said Steph. ‘Get you checked out.'

Melissa began to shake her head, no, which, she soon realized, was exactly the wrong thing to do.

‘Come on, we'll go down to Vincent's… to A&E, just to be on the safe side.'

Melissa could only nod and allowed Steph to lead her to the car. She lay back in the seats and immediately felt better. It had to be admitted, what the Beetle gained in cuteness and character, it lacked in the comfort department that the Mercedes had in spades.

They pulled out into the traffic and made their slow progress along the canal. Melissa looked at Steph as she indicated and smiled at the drivers who let them out. She hadn't changed at all, same old Steph. One of life's good people, the kind of person you wanted on your side.

‘I've just had a thought!' said Steph suddenly. ‘Eilis!'

‘Oh my God, yes!' They both laughed. ‘Imagine!' said Melissa. ‘She could be there, you know?' Eilis was their old school friend, part of their tribe of three. She was a consultant, as far as they knew, at the A&E in Vincent's hospital. ‘Ouch!' Melissa pressed both her hands to her head. ‘Shouldn't have laughed. That hurts. Major headache.'

‘You poor thing,' said Steph, glancing over. ‘You must have given it a huge whack. I hope they test you for whiplash too.'

‘I hope they won't think I'm wasting their time,' said Melissa. ‘You know, when they have really ill people to deal with.'

‘You are meant to go to A&E after a car crash,' said Steph. ‘You could be walking around with a head injury otherwise. No, of course we are not wasting their time.' There was silence between them for a moment.

‘Are you… are you still in contact?' Steph said. ‘You know, friends? With Eilis?' For a moment, Steph looked so vulnerable, so easy to hurt; it was a look that Melissa had never seen before. It's true, she realised slowly, people don't
stay
the same, even if they look the same and behave the same. Life always, always changes us. Something had happened to Steph which had made her insecure, or scared. It was hard to tell but Melissa had never seen that look in her eyes before. She was always so together, so happy. And then she had married Rick and she disappeared into wifedom and motherhood, as so many do. Melissa had been sad about it but she had her own life, other friends. It had seemed a natural parting. Melissa was single – still! – and marrieds socialize with other marrieds, and singles with their own kind and never the twain, et cetera.

‘It's just that I lost contact with Eilis,' Steph was saying, ‘as well as you, but you two probably still hang out…?'

‘Not for a long time,' said Melissa. ‘Not for ages. Years. D'you think she still works there?'

‘I don't know… we can ask.' Steph was looking normal, again, almost relieved. She glanced over at her. ‘It's good to see you, Mel.'

‘It's good to see you too.' It was, it really was. ‘So how is everyone? Rick? Rachel?'

She waited for Steph to say that they were fine, everything was wonderful, Rick grand, work going well, and Rachel was brilliant, or what mothers usually say about their lovely children. But instead there was silence. Melissa looked over and saw tears rolling down Steph's face.

‘Steph?' she asked.

‘Don't mind me. Must be shock. God, accidents always take it out of you.' She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her cashmere cardigan. ‘Stephanie!' said Steph to herself. ‘Stop crying!' She tried to laugh. ‘I think I just need a cup of tea. Six sugars. That kind of thing. They're fine, though, Rick and Rachel, before you worry. Both hale and hearty.'

Melissa was suddenly aware that something was wrong with Steph and after having to deal with her own mother all her life, she was highly sensitised to other people's moods, their inner feelings. It's partly what made her such a good journalist but also it made life difficult because you couldn't shake others off, their emotions were always so tangible to Melissa.

‘By the way, you make it sound like you have lots of accidents,' said Melissa, trying to make her laugh, bring some light into the car again and give her space to recover herself.

They parked in the car park and began to walk to A&E.

‘I feel silly now,' said Melissa. ‘I'm sure I'm all right. No brain damage.' She was looking carefully at Steph, who still hadn't really stopped crying, her eyes still filling up with tears. What was
wrong
with her? ‘Well, apart from the usual.' But Steph didn't seem to be listening, she was miles away.

They went straight to reception and found two seats in the waiting area.

‘Steph,' said Melissa. ‘I'm so sorry to have caused all this trouble. You know, the accident. And now I'm taking up all your time, having to sit here for hours…'

‘But Melissa,' said Steph, still tearful, ‘I've nothing else to be doing… and I've thought about contacting you so many times over the last ten years… or however long it's been… and then it gets too long and then you feel awkward and then you don't think that the person would want to see you and then you literally bump into me. If I was a cosmic person, which as you know I'm not, but if I was, then I would say that you were meant to crash into me.'

‘Or maybe it was just an accident.'

‘Or maybe it was just an accident. A lucky accident.'

They grinned at each other and Steph took a huge breath. ‘Right, I think I'm myself again. Let's see if I can get a cup of tea for us out of the machine. Keep your expectations low.' They sat together, comfortably, chatting away, drinking tea, and it could have been ten years ago, twenty years ago, that old easiness between them had returned. It had just been dormant, ready to spring into life again.

Back home, later that evening, concussion dealt with by machine-tea, Melissa dialled Cormac, her go-to person, her fail-safe, never-let-you-down, best friend.

‘Busy?' she said, trying not to sound plaintive. ‘Fancy some company?'

‘Who are you suggesting?' He sounded suspicious. ‘Myself and Rolo are about to sit down to watch
Supervet
. So, it'd better be good.' Rolo was his spaniel; bouncier than a squash ball and sweeter, believed Melissa, than an actual Rolo.

‘Me?' she said.

‘Really?' Cormac sounded exaggeratedly surprised. ‘I thought you and Basil were currently shagging on the top of the Eiffel Tower.' He paused. ‘You're
not
, are you?'

Basil was his deliberately-wrong name for Alistair. He always did this with all of Melissa's flings, pretended not to know their name.

‘
Alistair
.' They had been through this routine many times since Melissa began seeing the afore-mentioned. ‘And no, we are not
currently
shagging up the Eiffel Tower.' This time it was Melissa who paused. ‘It's too cold.'

‘Amateurs,' said Cormac. ‘Why do I keep forgetting his name? Maybe it's because he is just so
forgettable
.'

‘Anyway, we're not seeing each other anymore,' she said airily.

‘Come round,' he said, suddenly. ‘Kettle is going on now and I am tearing open the Mr Kiplings with my teeth.' There was a rustling sound and the phone went dead.

They had been in the same class since they were twelve… and as the rest of the girls formed twosomes, threesomes, and foursomes, they too found their own group. They complemented each other, they were all easy to be with and there were never the fallings-out, the promiscuity that infected the others in their year. They were all only children, as well, which gave them a different feeling, they needed each other; in a way, they were surrogate sisters.

Steph was always quietly sure of herself. Life, she believed was going to be all right. Her own parents were normal, which is more than she would have said at the time for most of the girls at the Abbey. Nuala and Joe, her parents, never let her down, did anything embarrassing, were just perpetually loving and permanently kind. She knew, even then, how lucky she was.

For Eilis, it had been different, not so easy. Her mother was ill while they were at school, for all of their teenage years, she was dying, Eilis her carer. Eilis was quiet, hard-working and never quite let on how difficult it was for her watching her mother fading away. Steph always believed that she and Melissa gave Eilis her few chances to be a normal teenager.

And Melissa? Who knew what had been going on there, at Beach Court, but it was obvious that Melissa just wanted to get away from it as much as possible, hiding it all with her cleverness and her wit.

Eilis hadn't been on duty that evening they had turned up in A&E, but they scribbled a note, making the woman, Theresa, behind the desk, give it to her.

‘Tell her it's us,' said Melissa, who was acting almost giddy after the accident. ‘I think sense has either been knocked in or out of me.'

It was another doctor who checked Melissa out, performing all the tests: the biro-following trick, the walking in a straight line, touching her nose with her finger. Steph and Melissa were nearly in hysterics by the end and Steph had (almost) been sorry when Melissa was pronounced perfectly well and they would go their separate ways again.

But the Beetle hadn't fared quite so well. Steph called the garage and was told it would have to stay in for a whole week. Steph said her insurance would cover it.

‘Isn't that illegal?' asked Melissa. ‘Lying about whose fault the accident was.'

‘But perhaps it was me,' insisted Steph. ‘I was on my phone, I wasn't concentrating, you know, stopping and starting in the traffic. Let me, please Melissa?' she said. ‘Rick's just had some obscene bonus. Divorce. It's very lucrative.'

‘Lawyers…' Melissa shook her head.

‘I know… I know…' said Steph. ‘It's not like they are saving lives…'

‘Just tidying them up,' said Melissa.

‘Life's great de-clutterers, lawyers.' Steph shrugged. ‘So, as a result, I can pay. And I would like to, please?'

She always felt a bit guilty about Rick's money, his obscene pay-check which she felt she didn't deserve. She wanted to earn her own money, not spend his. They weren't a team, he wasn't earning on behalf of them, and if she felt she could pay for Melissa, it made her feel a bit better about it all, at least the money was helping someone else. It also explained the large cheques Steph wrote to various homeless charities and women's refuges.