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“Really knowing a person—” Flora blew on her coffee “—that’s a gift, isn’t it? How many of us have a friend we can show our whole selves to and know we’ll still be loved? Usually we feel we have to cover up the bad bits. It’s like wearing makeup. We feel we have to present the very best version of ourselves all the time to be accepted. A real friend doesn’t expect you to be perfect. They forgive your flaws and love you anyway.” Something about her wistful tone made Clare think she’d never had that.
She felt a stab of guilt. She hadn’t forgiven Becca her flaws. Not this time.
A real friend doesn’t expect you to be perfect.
Had she been expecting Becca to be perfect instead of accepting her decisions and choices as part of who she was?
I know you wouldn’t do it, but you’re not me, Becca had said on numerous occasions and Clare had been forced to admit that she was often guilty of making judgments based on her own life experiences. Becca’s experience was vastly different to hers. Clare had been a much loved only child, given whatever she wanted within reason. Becca had never been given anything. She’d worked, and earned, and fought for everything she had.
“You have quite an idealistic view of friendship.” She kept her tone chatty. “What if a friend did something you thought was awful?”
“I suppose it depends on how awful, and how much it conflicts with your values. Hopefully I’d accept it as part of them. And I suppose it depends on the friendship. I’ve never had a friendship like the one you had with Becca. Losing someone who you’d grown up with, and really knew you—that is a terrible loss. Something you can’t replace.”
That was it. That was exactly it.
Flora, who didn’t know her, had instinctively identified the biggest issue for Clare—that she would never find another friend like Becca. Some people went through life picking up friends like dust on a flat surface. Clare wasn’t like that. She had a few friends in the village of course, but nothing like the depth of friendship she’d shared with Becca.
It was true that Becca had really known her. She’d seen, understood and accepted all Clare’s insecurities and been exasperated by many of them. But she’d done the talking in group situations, meaning Clare didn’t have to.
Becca had been a loyal friend from the first day when a group of girls had stolen Clare’s lunch and Becca had launched herself at them and then shared hers.
The memory made her smile. How could she have forgotten that?
It was the first time in a while she’d smiled when she thought of her friend.
The longing to see her again became a physical ache.
Clare tipped mushrooms into the pan and let them sizzle in the oil. “I can’t ever remember a time when Becca wasn’t in my life. Even when she was infuriating, she was still there. I don’t think I’ve quite adjusted. But she wasn’t perfect. Far from it. I don’t want you to think that. She was human, like the rest of us. But she’s gone, and we are learning to live with that. And the important thing is that Jack is happy. How did the two of you meet?”
She listened as Flora told her the story, first out of politeness and then from interest, easily able to imagine Jack looking lost as he tried to choose the perfect gift for his daughter. “Flowers. That’s thoughtful, but Jack always was thoughtful. I’m sure Izzy loved them.” Clare poked at the mushrooms, watching the edges darken and curl. “Do you have family in Manhattan?”
“I was raised by my aunt. My mother died when I was eight. I was just a little older than Molly.”
“I’m sorry.” Clare couldn’t imagine a world without her mother in it, and didn’t want to. Even now, after two decades of marriage and a child of her own, her mother still watched over her and fussed. And even though Clare protested that she was old enough to make her own decisions and her own mistakes, she secretly basked in the knowledge that someone cared so much about her well-being. “You were so young. Were your mother and your aunt close?”
Flora didn’t answer for a moment. “No. They had nothing in common. My aunt was a career woman. She didn’t want marriage or children. Then I came along. She considered it her duty to take me in.”
“Oh Flora—” Clare pictured Aiden or Molly, orphaned, going to live with someone who didn’t want them. It made her feel cold. “That must have been so hard.”
“It was. I knew she didn’t really want me there. I think it made me uncertain about my place in the world generally. I was never very confident. At school, I was never part of the cool crowd. I worked hard at being accepted both at home and at school. I was afraid to be myself.” Flora paused. “Izzy was right about that. Sometimes I do try too hard. And I can’t believe I just told you all that.”
“Well as we’re both being honest here I can tell you that I wasn’t part of the cool crowd either. I was impossibly shy and socially awkward.” She met Flora’s surprised gaze and felt an unexpected connection.
“You?”
“Oh yes.” Clare laughed. “School was pretty much a nightmare for me until the day Becca arrived. My parents weren’t wealthy. I didn’t have the right clothes. I didn’t speak the right way. I didn’t have a pony. But then along came Becca, and after about two days she was the coolest girl in the school.”
“She had wealthy parents and a pony?”
Clare looked at her curiously. Didn’t she know? Had Jack not talked about her at all? “Becca was raised in the foster system. She didn’t know anything about the right clothes or the right way to speak, but she didn’t care. She was so wild, she was cool. The coolest girl in school. She didn’t care about pleasing people.” She scraped the mushrooms into a dish and slid them into the oven to keep warm. “But she had one exceptional talent. She could dance. Other girls did ballet because their parents had signed them up, but Becca did it because she loved to dance. I think she found it to be the purest way of expressing herself. But when she wasn’t dancing, she was disruptive, daring and—”
“—exciting to be around.”
“Yes, I suppose she was sometimes. And sometimes it was stressful being around her.” Clare topped up Flora’s coffee mug, and then did the same with her own. The atmosphere had shifted from stilted to companionable. “She pushed me out of my comfort zone and in turn I think I gave her some of the stability she’d never had. She saw what a family could be.” She’d never talked about Becca like this, not with her mother, not even with Todd. She’d said more to Flora about Becca in the last five minutes than she had to her own family in the past year. To Flora! Who probably couldn’t bear to hear Becca’s name. “I can’t believe I just talked nonstop about the one subject you probably don’t want to talk about.”
“Actually it was helpful. I need to hear about her. It might help me understand the children a little more. They were obviously a perfect family.”
“I’m burning the tomatoes!” Clare sto
