Beth had decided on something a little less folk-rock for their soundtrack, instead choosing an upbeat 2000s playlist she’d found on Spotify. Erin had given up protesting by this point and found herself humming along to Lily Allen. Coffees sufficiently drowned in overly sweet whipped cream, the conversation continued.
‘I honestly can’t believe you’re selling up,’ Beth said. ‘I think you’re mad. This house is everything. I mean, we have a nice home, but to be honest, I’d set it on fire to live here.’
‘Maybe she’s ready to move on,’ Tara said, giving Beth a deliberate glare.
‘Oh. Of course. Sorry.’
‘No, it’s grand,’ Erin replied. ‘And you’re both right actually. I am mad to sell it, but it’s time to go. It should be up on the agent’s website next week.’
‘It should sell quite quickly,’ Paul remarked. ‘Private beach and all.’
‘Totally,’ Beth agreed. ‘And with all the work you’ve put into it. It’s beautiful; your grandfather would be proud.’
Erin felt a lump appear in her throat. She hadn’t even been thinking about her grandfather and now she felt guilty for selling off the home he’d shared with his wife. The only real home she’d ever known as a child.
‘Oh shit, what have I said now?’ Beth exclaimed as Erin’s eyes filled up. ‘I’m sorry! Look, I’ll put Mumford & Sons back on. It’ll be fine!’
Erin smiled, wiping her eyes. ‘Don’t be daft. I’m sorry, it’s just an emotional time.’
Tara stood up and gave her a hug. ‘We’re here for you, you know that.’
Erin thanked her.
‘Maybe sharing some more stories about Idris Elba will make you feel better.’
Erin laughed loudly as Alex’s cushion hit Tara squarely in the face.
