‘Are you going to be OK to drive, Mum?’ she asks, as I massage my temples. ‘You’re, like, really white.’
‘Once the tablets kick in, I’ll be fine,’ I say, leaning over the table to twirl a straying curl over her ear. She bats me away with her hand and I laugh. ‘Are you looking forward to seeing Willow?’ I ask.
‘Yep. You?’
‘Of course.’ It’s true, but I feel jittery about the photos, and her message is playing in a loop in my head.
Becky smiles, and a dimple forms in her cheek, disappearing as quickly as it came. ‘You know I still can’t get my head round Willow sending you those photos,’ she says.
‘Nor me. I’m hoping she’ll explain more when we get there.’
She pushes sugar granules across the table with the tip of her finger, her earphone back in, and hums a tune I don’t recognise. I realise how glad I am that she’s with me, and watch her, trancelike, for several moments, before saying, ‘Are you OK, sweetheart?’
She looks up. ‘Mega worried about Willow, is all. You don’t think she’s in danger, do you?’
‘I’m sure she’s fine,’ I say, trying not to think about her last voicemail. ‘It’s Willow, don’t forget, we know what she’s like. And we’ll see her in a couple of hours, won’t we? She can tell us everything.’
‘Yeah, I guess.’ Her phone buzzes, and she pulls it from her pocket. Her face lights up. ‘It’s Dad,’ she says, answering it. ‘Hey, Dad.’
Her eyes sparkle, and I know already what he’s telling her. He called me a few days ago to let me know he was getting married. That he wanted to tell Becky himself and would ring her soon.
‘Oh my God!’ Becky squeals into the phone. ‘That’s fantastic.’
Her dad has been serious about his latest partner Jack, a lawyer from Florida, for a while now, and I smile. They are good together. I’m happy for them – but my head is spinning.
‘Do you think he’ll let me be their bridesmaid?’ Becky says, once the call has ended, her face lit up by a wide smile.
‘Of course,’ I say.
‘Will he let me wear my DMs, do you think?’
‘Probably.’ Becky could wear a sack and he would let her get away with it.
‘We should get going.’ I glance at my watch, a sense of urgency bringing me to my feet.
She rises too, and links arms with me. As we head across the café I glance back at her uneaten apple.
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