Summer of no Regrets

by Kate Mallinder

  ‘Alright,’ I said, spreading marmalade on a corner and taking a bite. ‘But I woke up early.’

  ‘Something on your mind?’ Mum flicked the kettle on.

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Anything you want to share?’ Mum asked as she fished a clean mug from the dishwasher and spooned coffee into it.

  ‘It’s nothing really. You know that “no regrets” thing I was talking about in yesterday’s session?’

  Mum nodded. ‘I thought that was a really great idea.’

  ‘Well, Hetal, Cam and Sasha are taking Hetal’s nani to Paris today, to see her friend who is dying. And I was thinking about them. That’s all.’

  Mum was quiet as she poured hot water and milk into her cup. She inhaled the steam and took a sip.

  ‘And … didn’t you want to go?’

  I thought a moment. Had I wanted to go? ‘I’m not sure. I mean, yes, I’d love to, but like this? I didn’t think it was…’ I searched for the right word. ‘Sensible.’

  Mum frowned. ‘What time’s their train?’

  ‘It’s not until late this afternoon, but it’s from St Pancras. Why?’

  ‘I’m presuming everyone’s allowed to have a no-regrets summer?’ She was starting to smile.

  I nodded. ‘I guess.’

  ‘OK, so there’s one regret I don’t want. I don’t want to stop you having the opportunity of going to Paris with your friends. And after all the therapist did say to let you do something outside my comfort zone, just to prove to us both that it’s okay. And there’s no time like the present. So … how about it?’

  My brain stuttered. What? ‘But how is there even time?’

  ‘You pack, I’ll get dressed and I’ll drive.’

  ‘What? All the way to London – that’s miles. And it will be so expensive.’ A laugh bubbled up. ‘Are you mad?’

  Mum was suddenly serious. ‘If you feel up for going, I’m up for helping you get there.’

  I looked into her eyes. They were shining.

  ‘I’m up for it.’ I said. ‘I’ll go pack.’ I started to head for the door but stopped and came back and gave Mum a hug. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘No problem,’ she whispered into my hair.

  As I ran up the stairs, I called back. ‘I thought you didn’t like my friends.’

  I heard her laugh. ‘I’m still not sure that pink’s a good colour for hair.’

  I laughed too as I stuffed tops and jeans into a bag. I was going to Paris!

  I rang Hetal from the car as Mum twisted her way along the lanes to get to the main road. I felt sorry for the other people on their coach – the squeals and whoops when Hetal told the others were deafening! Then I set about booking tickets, having got all the details and more from Hetal in a very lengthy text.

  It took hours to get to London, but I couldn’t sleep, I was so excited. I kept checking my passport to make sure I hadn’t lost it.

  We got to the station with only a few minutes to spare. Mum circled, looking for a spot to park. There was nowhere.

  ‘Look, you’re going to have to jump out and go find them,’ said Mum. ‘Give me a ring when you’re on the train.’

  ‘OK,’ I said. I could feel my heart rate going up. I tried to remember what the therapist had said about breathing, and how this feeling was nearly the same for nerves and excitement. I’m excited, I kept telling myself, not nervous.

  ‘And Nell,’ called Mum as I got out. ‘Have an amazing time.’ I could tell she was worried, I’d spent too much time looking for her worry lines not to see it, but she was smiling. I leaned across from the passenger seat and gave her a big hug.

  ‘Thanks, Mum.’

  Once in the terminal, I started looking for the others. There were people everywhere! There must be more people in this train station than in the whole of Devon put together. How on earth was I going to find them?

  ‘Over here!’ Sasha’s voice, like a mighty foghorn, sounded across the concourse. I looked around and spotted them in the distance. I waved and ran towards them, dragging my bag behind me.

  Sasha got to me first. She bear-hugged me and as she did, I felt Cam, then Hetal, join in. It felt good, like this was where I was meant to be.

  ‘I’m so pleased you’re here,’ said Sasha. ‘I couldn’t believe it when you rang.’

  ‘It wouldn’t have been the same without you,’ said Hetal.

  Cam was grinning. ‘Yeah, good call.’

  I smiled. ‘Thanks. And for all your texts. They were, well, lovely.’

  We linked arms and walked back towards their bags and Mrs M.

  ‘Ah, Nell, so very good to see you,’ said Mrs M. ‘Now everyone is here, shall we catch our train?’

  ‘Good plan,’ said Hetal. ‘I’m pretty sure it’s platform 12.’ She checked the departure boards. ‘Yep, platform 12.’

  How did she do that? She has an epic memory.

  We pulled and lifted and pushed our bags across the station to the right platform. The train was already there, waiting to leave. We stowed our bags in the luggage area and walked into the carriage. It was clean, well-lit and gave me a buzz of excitement. I really was on the way to Paris.

  ‘Bagsy the window,’ said Cam, plonking herself down. A businessman in a suit looked up and frowned at us. This wasn’t the quiet carriage, was it?

  ‘Who’s got a train picnic?’ Hetal asked.

  ‘I’ve got some food,’ I said pulling out bag after bag of snacks and drinks. ‘Mum insisted I brought plenty. I think she’s worried I won’t like the food in Paris!’

  ‘How about you come and sit by me,’ said Cam, grinning.

  We all laughed.

  As the train pulled out of the station, I rang Mum.

  ‘What made you change your mind?’ Sasha asked me when we’d all settled down. ‘I mean, you don’t have to answer that, if you don’t want to.’

  I smiled. Cam and Hetal were listening, too, while Mrs M ordered tea from the steward.

  ‘Well, it was Mum really. When I mentioned what was happening today, she said she didn’t want the regret of me missing out, and I realised I didn’t either. And that was that.’

  ‘And how are you feeling?’ Cam asked.

  I thought for a moment. ‘Excited, a bit nervous maybe, but it feels really good to be here.’

  We munched and chatted and laughed as the train sped us towards Paris. The tunnel bit was weird. It was odd thinking that we were under the seabed with all that water above us. In less than three hours we were pulling into Gare du Nord. The air was noticeably warmer, and I decided to take off my long-sleeved top.

  ‘You look lovely without those long sleeves, you know,’ Mrs M said softly.

  ‘Thanks.’ I smiled at her. She smiled back and nodded.

  We weren’t meeting up with Elsie till the following day, so once we’d found our hotel, dumped our bags in our rooms and had a freshen-up, we explored the streets near where we were staying. Every corner seemed to have a café with little tables spilling out, where people sat chatting and drinking. Somewhere someone was playing an accordion. As we rounded a corner, there, right in front of us, was the Eiffel Tower. It was stunning.

  ‘I’ve heard so much about it in French lessons that it feels kind of strange to see it for real,’ said Sasha. ‘Come in closer everyone, selfie time.’

  We walked a bit further before finding a restaurant with checked tablecloths and a menu that suited all of us.

  The waiter came and poured our drinks. He was trying to catch Sasha’s eye but either she hadn’t noticed or she didn’t want to.

  ‘A toast,’ said Nani, lifting her glass.

  ‘To the four of you and to living without regrets!’

  ‘No regrets!’ we said as we all chinked glasses and laughed.

  Epilogue

  Nell

  We’re sat on a bench: Sasha, Hetal, Cam and me. It’s not our bench back home, it’s a new one. One overlooking the square in front of Notre-Dame. It only just fits all of us, but we
don’t care. We’re all watching the same thing. Mrs M and Elsie. And we’re all a bit choked, to be honest. They’re hugging. They’ve been hugging for a while now. But then I guess they’ve got some catching up to do.

  ‘Oh, that’s so great,’ says Sasha, sniffing.

  I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

  Towering above the square is the massive cathedral with its famous gargoyles and ornate architecture. You couldn’t get a more impressive setting. Yet it is the small things in this square that are important today. Friends who haven’t seen each other for over fifty years, who are catching up one last time.

  ‘What do you think we’re going to be like in fifty years?’ Cam wonders.

  ‘I bet you’ll still have pink hair,’ says Hetal.

  Cam laughs. ‘Bet you’ll all have blue rinses.’

  ‘Will we still be friends?’ asks Sasha.

  ‘Of course,’ says Cam.

  ‘But people change, lives move on,’ Hetal worries. ‘How can you be so sure?’

  ‘But that doesn’t stop a friendship,’ I say. ‘Look at those two. One moved to the other side of the world – that was fifty years ago and they’re still best friends.’

  We watch as the two older women laugh together, both talking at once. It’s funny watching them. It’s like they’re young people only in older bodies and, if I squint, I can see a hint of what they were like when they were young, when they were our age.

  ‘We’ll always be friends,’ says Cam. ‘Friends forever and no regrets.’

  Acknowledgements

  They say it takes a village to raise a child and I reckon it’s similar with writing a book.

  Firstly to my agent, Hannah Sheppard, for offering wise insights, killer edits and answering my many ‘I’ve got a question…’ emails. Your unwavering faith in me has been humbling. Thank you.

  Thanks to the amazing Firefly team: my editor Janet Thomas for spotting things I hoped no one would notice, Meg Farr for being totally on it with publicity and Penny Thomas and Rebecca Lloyd for copy edits, fresh eyes and boundless enthusiasm. You are doing great things at Firefly Press and it’s a privilege to be a part of it.

  To all the writing groups I’m a member of – SCBWI, Ashby Writer’s Club and The Vinery Writers – I love sharing our writing journeys.

  To Zoe Cookson and Tizzie Frankish; your understanding and support continue to mean everything to me. I couldn’t have done this without you. To my friend Abby and my sister Chloe for reading early drafts and reassuring me I wasn’t deluded. To the fabulous Mrs C for reading the first thing I ever wrote and then for cheering me on ever since.

  To the Doomies – you guys rock. In every way. Thank you.

  To Perdita Cargill, Sue Wallman, Jules Bryant, Natalie Flynn, Debra Bertulis, Jo Clarke, Julie Pike, Az Dassu and Lesley Parr - your understanding, support and belief have carried me through.

  To the Harbour Bookshop in Kingsbridge for being so wonderfully welcoming to me and my family, way before you knew I was a writer. You are part of the reason I chose to set my story there.

  To my mum and dad and all my wonderful family and friends who take the time to ask how it’s going; those little comments are like shining gems. But more than anyone, thank you to my husband Mark and my children. Your support and understanding made this possible.

  And finally, thanks to you, my reader. You have fulfilled my dream – to have my story read.

  First published in 2019

  by Firefly Press

  25 Gabalfa Road, Llandaff North, Cardiff, CF14 2JJ

  www.fireflypress.co.uk

  © Kate Mallinder

  The author asserts her moral right to be identified as author in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patent Act, 1988.

  All rights reserved.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form, binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  A CIP catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 9781910080955

  This book has been published with the support of the Welsh Books Council.

  Chapter heading images from shutterstock.co.uk