‘I think she means sails,’ I say.
‘Yeah, whatever. But what sort of size do you think it is?’
‘Well, I suppose it’s got to be pretty big if you need to hire someone to sail it.’
‘I’d definitely say it’s a pretty big one,’ winks Carol.
‘I think it’s time for someone’s bed,’ I say.
‘Oh, I do hope he messages you first thing, though. It would be good if we could have a nosy straight after breakfast, wouldn’t it?’ says Soraya.
‘Let’s see what happens. Hey, I’ve just realised it’s midnight. Happy birthday, Soraya,’ I say.
Carol and I hand Soraya her birthday gifts.
Carol gives her a tiara which says ‘Fifty’ and comes in a pack with a pink sash, which Soraya happily puts on.
‘It suits you. I always said you were a bit of a princess,’ I tease her.
I take some photos of her on my phone and then Soraya opens the other gift from Carol. It is a bottle of Anaïs Anaïs perfume, which was Soraya’s favourite in her late teens.
‘Oh my god. I loved this. What a thoughtful gift,’ she says. Then Soraya tears open the packaging and sprays it all over herself as if it were a can of Impulse.
‘Oh, it reminds me of being in Barnums and when I met Andrew in the kebab shop. Oh – and the three of us falling out of that pub down the Mumbles. It also reminds me of my lovely mam too. She used to have a bottle on her dressing table, and I was always nicking it.’ Soraya laughs.
We all remember going to Soraya’s mother’s house. She was glamorous, just like Soraya. She always had her nails painted and her long dark hair neatly pinned up.
‘Wow, so many memories this brings back. This is incredible, Carol. It’s like memories in a bottle. Thank you.’
Amid the cloud of Anaïs Anaïs that still lingers pleasantly in the air, I give her my gift and hope Soraya likes it just as much as Carol’s.
‘Sorry, but what do you get the woman who has everything?’ I apologise in advance in case Soraya is disappointed as I hand over an album full of photos of the three of us, spanning our primary school years until now.
‘Ooh, what is it?’
I feel nervous as I wait for her reaction as she tears at the wrapping paper. Fortunately, her face lights up as she opens the album.
She strokes her hand over the gold embossing on the leather cover.
‘To my best friend, Soraya,’ she reads out loud. Then she flicks inside at the photos.
‘Wow. This is the best present ever. And the perfume, of course.’
‘Oh my god, is that us on the first day of secondary there? Look at my perm. Can’t believe my mam let me have a perm at the age of eleven. No wonder my hair’s like straw now,’ says Carol, looking over Soraya’s shoulder.
We all laugh as we huddle together, looking over the photos that bring back so many memories of all the things we have got up to together over the years. Luckily, I managed to find photos of our first holiday abroad when we went to Ibiza at seventeen; a photo of Soraya standing in front of her first car, which was a very rusty Ford Fiesta that was scrapped on its first MOT, and when Carol and I were bridesmaids at her and Andrew’s wedding. All the stages we have gone through together are in the album.
‘This is the most incredible gift imaginable. It’s making me emotional,’ says Soraya.
‘I’m so glad you like it.’
‘I absolutely adore it. I’ll treasure it forever.’
‘Aww, well, I’ve left a little space at the back so that we can get a photo from this trip too. I managed to get a nice one of us at the casino last night, but maybe we can get one on the yacht, if Elias calls.’
As much as I try to pretend that I couldn’t care less if he calls, I feel a wave of excitement at the thought.
Chapter Eight
