Friends Forever By Libby Page

Four friends promise to meet up every year, and after four decades they realise the true value of it

And that’s how it started. Over the years they have been to Barcelona and Rome, Budapest and Brussels, Florence and the south of France. But also closer to home when budgets or other commitments insisted: a weekend in a Cotswolds cottage, a city break to Edinburgh, a caravan in North Wales.

True to their promise, they have never missed a year.

When Helen moved to Paris, inspired by their weekend together when she fell in love with the city, they took their trips in France for those years. Eventually she moved back, but not alone – her fiancé Victor came with her. Over the years their husbands – because although Helen was the first, they all eventually found partners and settled down, even Kathy who said she’d be single forever until she home on his own with the twins.”

Kathy stretched, pushing up her sunglasses. “I don’t feel guilty at all. I’m Mum every single other day of the year. Today I’m just me. Sometimes I forget what that feels like.”

The other women nodded in understanding.

“And you deserve the break, June,” added Sue gently, “Especially after the year you’ve had.”

June’s eyes misted, her skin growing suddenly cold despite the sunshine. Her mother had passed away unexpectedly earlier that year. Helen, Sue and Kathy had been there at the funeral with flowers, tissues and strong, loving hugs. Since then June had balanced teaching with looking after her boys and visiting her father several times a week. She hated to admit it, but she felt exhausted.

Helen reached out across the sand for June’s hand. “Shall we do a toast to her?” she suggested.

On the Cornwall beach the four women clinked their bottles of beer and lemonade – for Sue who was pregnant again and was planning on telling her friends over dinner that evening.

June cried for her mother but then brushed her eyes, feeling the sun on her face and the warmth of her friends surrounding her.

As time marched on the women found it harder to keep in touch… children grew up, parents aged and the phone calls and visits, which were once a constantly unfurling ribbon, became less frequent. But at least they always had their annual holiday.

When Helen and Victor split up, the women shared frozen margaritas in Madrid that year, and when they got back together they toasted their happiness with prosecco in Venice. New jobs, redundancies, health scares, the trials of raising teenagers… all these and everything else were discussed on these weekends away. Two days where they could focus on one another, where they could reminisce about the years that had passed and think ahead sometimes

nervously, sometimes hopefully, to years to come.

Which is why Kathy was determined to make the holiday work that year, despite the villa they’d booked in Italy cancelling at the last minute due to a family emergency and her friends’ reluctance to organise anything else.

“We’ll not find anything at such short notice,” said Helen in their WhatsApp group.

“I should probably stay and help with Lara and the little one,” wrote June. June’s first grandchild, baby Toby, had been born a few months ago. She was the last of her friends to become a grandmother. It broke her heart every time she had to say goodbye to Toby.

“Maybe we should just save the money,” said Sue who every year insisted they all got travel insurance so that were covered for a situation like this. She was also the one to pack insect spray, plasters and pain killers on every holiday. But Kathy was insistent. “Forty years!” she reminded them, “It’s been forty years and we’ve never missed a weekend. Not once.”

The next day she phoned them all, asking to meet her at her house in Somerset that weekend. Secretly they all felt frustrated. They’d been to Kathy’s house countless times, it didn’t really count as a holiday. Couldn’t they just sit this one out and get on with all the chores that were constantly there waiting for them? But despite their hesitations, they went. After all, it had been forty years.

When they arrived, June collecting the others at the nearby station and driving them the last part of the journey to Kathy’s village, they couldn’t quite believe they were in the right place.

As they pulled up in the driveway they saw that Kathy’s modest garden had been transformed. Bunting and lanterns were hung in the apple tree, colourful blankets carpeted the grass and in the very centre stood a large yurt decorated with multicoloured ribbons. Kathy stood outside the tent, beaming.

“Well?” she said as her friends climbed out of the car, a little slower now than when they were younger, “What do you think?”

The women looked at one another. “It’s beautiful,” said Sue.

“But aren’t we…?” began June.

“Too old for camping?” finished Helen. “Nonsense,” said Kathy, “Besides, this isn’t regular camping.”

She showed them into the yurt where four camp beds were lined up, each made up in sheets patterned with superheroes, unicorns and dinosaurs.

“Sorry about the sheets,” she said, “I had to improvise and make do with what I have for the grandchildren.”

“I shotgun the Superman bed!” shouted June, jumping onto one of the camp beds. The other women burst into laughter.

Throughout the afternoon Malcolm brought the women jugs of cocktails from inside, disappearing quickly again to leave the old friends to catch up.

“I’m afraid I couldn’t quite sort portaloos at the last minute,” Kathy said, “So you’ll have to use the bathroom inside.”

Nobody minded the break in the illusion. Kathy’s bathroom was beautiful.

That night, their voices hoarse from laughing and talking and their cheeks sore from smiling, the women climbed into their camp beds in the yurt.

“What has been your favourite of our holidays?” Sue asked the others.

“Hmm, I did love Florence,” said June, remembering the beautiful buildings and the golden sun.

“And I’ll always have a soft spot for that first trip to Paris. My life would be so different if we’d never gone,” said Helen, “How about you, Sue?”

She thought for a moment. “Remember that time in the caravan in Wales when it rained all weekend?” The women laughed.

“But that can’t really have been your favourite!” exclaimed June.

“But it was,” said Sue,

“We stayed inside talking for two days.”

As the women thought back they suddenly forgot about the rain and remembered those long conversations.

“It’s not really about where we go, is it?” added Kathy, “It’s actually about being together.”

And just like when they were young women lying under the Eiffel Tower, the four friends reached out their hands between the camp beds, holding on to one another.

The 24-Hour Café by Libby Page is published by Orion, available now in hardback, eBook and audio. This uplifting tale of friendship and community will inspire you to reach for the stars and follow your dreams! If you loved Libby’s first novel, The Lido, you’ll find this one just as heartwarming and brilliant.

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