• Friends do interesting, challenging and new things together, except maybe bungee jumping or taxidermy.
• You have to nurture friendship, with time and attention for it to grow and blossom in the same way you care for a plant.
• Be open to letting go of past mistakes with friends you care about.
• Many friendships dip in and out over the years, but the true ones stand the test of time and will come through in the end.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
As this book is primarily about girlfriends, first of all I’d like to thank mine for being there through the various chapters of my life. I feel truly blessed to know you – some are old friends, some new but all have enriched my life and continue to do so – Annie, Nicky, Liz, Sarah, Greta, Jude, June, Carole, Caroline, Carol, Rosie T, M and B, Charlie, Beth, Teresa, Helen, Debbie, Laura, Janet, Sonia, Marion, Mary, Jenny B and F, Sue, Jess, Lily, Jane P and R, Mary, Val A and new ones: Suzie, Val L, Joanna, Lyn, Angie, Sharon, Claire, Maria, Fi, Marilou, Sarah C, Marion, Jill, Fran, Celia, Bridget, Sandy, Trish, Mairiona, thank you, thank you.
Thank you to my husband and friend Steve for your endless support and encouragement through this book and all the others. You’ve been a rock.
I’ve also been lucky to have the best of agents, people who have become friends, so thanks to Christopher Little, Emma Schlesinger and Jules Bearman for everything you’ve done for me over the years. Truly appreciated.
And not forgetting the editor Kate Bradley who I’ve had the pleasure of working with at HarperCollins and am very glad to have in my corner. Thank you for your persistence, insightful advice and refusal to give up on working on this book, even when I was ready to jack it all in and go into recluse in the Himalayas. Also, to Penny Isaac for her eagle eye and constructive advice at the copy editor stage and to Claire Ward and Caroline Young for their wonderful covers. Behind the scenes is the wonderful and enthusiastic team at HarperCollins. Thank you all. It’s been a blast.
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1
It all began with a birthday gift from my friend, Marcia. Most people would think of giving a scarf, a pair of earrings, books or some scented bath oil but, oh no, not Marcia, not this time. She’d wanted to be different and present me something out of the ordinary.
‘Today’s our last day and you remember what we promised each other,’ she said as we sat, ready for breakfast, in rattan chairs on the terrace of our brightly coloured heritage hotel on the shore of Lake Pichola in Udaipur, India.
‘I do,’ said Pete, Marcia’s husband. ‘Presents! Time to reveal what we’ve all been planning.’ He reached down and produced three envelopes from his rucksack. He fanned his face with them then handed one to Marcia, one to me, and kept the last for himself. ‘These are from me. Happy fiftieths. May we have many more decades together.’
‘Especially in locations like this,’ I said as I gazed out over the water which was shimmering in the early morning sun. Udaipur was my favourite part of the holiday so far, a fairy tale of a city with a scenic and romantic setting, marble palaces, courtyards, gardens, temples, ancient narrow streets and, of course, stunning views from our hotel of the famous lake. And to top it all, presents. I knew that whatever Pete and Marcia had got me would be thoughtful and generous – from Marcia in particular; she loved to spoil friends and always picked something that was just right.
‘So go on, open them,’ said Pete.
‘I will,’ said Marcia, ‘but first …’ She handed me a tube of lotion and pointed at my nose which was red from the sun.
I laughed. ‘You never change.’ She’d been telling me what to do since I’d met her on my first day at secondary school. Along with all the other wide-eyed new girls, I’d entered the school gates, looking around for someone, anyone, I knew, but there was no one I could see from my junior school. I’d followed the crowd into assembly, got in line, and there in front of me was Marcia, her wild, black hair tamed into a long plait. She’d turned around, looked me up and down, assessing me, then she’d pulled her jumper up and rolled the waistband of her skirt, making it inches shorter than the knee-length uniform rule. She’d indicated that I should do the same which I did without question. ‘Welcome to seven years of hell. I reckon we should stick together.’ I’d laughed, impressed, and stuck close to her, and here she was, almost forty years later, still looking out for me and telling me what to do. I applied the coconut-scented cream, though it was really too late, my face blared Englishwoman abroad. Marcia, being dark skinned, never suffered the same problem, nor did Pete; in fact, his tan had developed evenly into a deep nut brown.
A handsome young waiter in a white starched uniform appeared and placed tall glasses of mango lassi on the table in front of us. Pete whipped out his iPhone and showed it to him. ‘Please would you take a photo? Three of us?’
The waiter nodded so Pete handed it to him then indicated that Marcia and I should pull our chairs close while he went to stand behind us.
‘Everybody smile,’ said the waiter and we grinned into the camera. ‘One more. Good.’
After he’d gone, Pete examined the results then showed them to us.
I grimaced as I stared at the photos. ‘I look like an ageing elf. Your fault, Marcia.’
‘Rubbish,’ said Marcia. ‘You’re the epitome of style, as
