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I fall asleep on you.’

      ‘Ha! You’ll be fine. Once you’re there you’ll get a second wind … just shout up as soon as you want to come back,’ Grace said with a smile. ‘The pub is only five minutes’ walk away, if that.’

      ‘Which one are we going to?’ I asked, grabbing my bag and a cardigan.

      ‘The Malt Shovel, the one on the high street.’

      As Grace and I set off up the lane with our arms linked and the warmth of the evening sun on our faces, a sense of contentment flooded my veins as the pub grew close. This was the pub Grandie and I used to sit outside regularly … happy memories from a time before everything changed.

      The outside benches were already jam-packed with drinkers chatting and laughing while enjoying the weather. Grace led the way through the heavy oak door then pushed through the thirsty customers and waved towards the barman. I was taken aback by the charm of the place; as a child, I’d never really noticed. It was so different from the rooftop bar overlooking Manhattan. The quintessential low ceiling held aloft by wooden beams, the stone floors and the fireplaces gave the whole place a cosy feel. The mahogany shelving in the corner was littered with bric-a-brac and books. From the flashing fruit machine in the corner came a clatter of falling money as a man stood and scooped up his winnings.

      Grace stopped in a space and I lingered behind her. As soon as he finished serving the girl at the side of us, the barman turned towards Grace with a full-on beam.

      ‘Good evening, do you remember Alice?’ Grace gestured towards me.

      I smiled. His face looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite picture him. ‘Hi,’ I said, narrowing my eyes and scrutinising him.

      ‘That’s not a local accent … American?’ He scrunched up his face and bit down on his lip.

      ‘No shit, Sherlock,’ chuckled Grace. ‘Definitely an American accent.’

      He studied my face.

      ‘Lived around these parts until she was ten. My mum works at the farm owned by her grandfather …’

      As the penny dropped his face changed from a look of confusion back to a grin. ‘You’re kidding me … Alice … Alice Parker.’

      ‘The one and only,’ Grace responded whilst glancing back in my direction.

      I smiled at him even though I was none the wiser who he was.

      ‘This is Henry Carter. You must remember Henry, Ben’s younger brother.’

      ‘Alice Parker …’ he took a breath, ‘the one who broke my brother’s heart when you moved to New York.’ He thrust his hand over the bar and I heartily shook it.

      ‘My God, Henry! You’ve grown!’ I said, amazed. His curly blond hair fell across his golden skin and his blue eyes flashed instant warmth.

      ‘That’s what normally happens,’ he goofily grinned.

      ‘I didn’t really break his heart, did I?’ I quickly added.

      ‘He never got over it.’ Grace winked at Henry.

      ‘Stop teasing, the pair of you!’ I smiled. ‘How is he?’

      ‘He’ll be in later, ask him yourself. He’ll be made up to see you, no doubt. Now, what can I get you both to drink?’

      ‘Gin and tonic please,’ I piped up.

      ‘I’ll have the same,’ answered Grace.

      ‘These are on the house, welcome home Alice! Go and grab a table and I’ll bring them over.’

      ‘Thank you,’ we both said in unison.

      ‘What a lovely welcome. If I’d known it was this friendly I would have been back sooner!’ I pulled out a chair and settled down at the table.

      Grace laughed and slipped into the chair opposite me. ‘You’ve always been welcome, you know that. So, thirteen years of catching up, where the heck do we start?’

      ‘School, first dates, college, work, the list is endless.’

      There wasn’t much I didn’t know about Grace’s life. Her constant updates on Instagram and Facebook kept me informed. I knew about her break-up, every job she’d ever worked, every show she’d ever performed in, whereas my Facebook was sparse, past posts were carefully selected and never gave anything away about my real life and how bad it had become.

      I lifted my hair off my neck, twisted it up into a bun and secured it with a bobble from around my wrist.

      ‘Where to start?’ I sat up straight, ‘But what I do know is, being miles apart hasn’t affected our friendship, it still feels like we are the best of friends.’

      Grace agreed, ‘I know … that’s what a true friendship is all about. We might not live in each other’s pockets, but I agree, what’s 3,000 miles between best friends?’

      ‘Here you go, ladies.’

      We both looked up to see that a smiley Henry had appeared at the side of the table. He placed two gin and tonics down on the beer mats in front of us.

      ‘I hope you don’t mind, I texted Ben to let him know you were here.’

      ‘How lovely,’ I didn’t mind at all, ‘it would be nice to see him after all this time.’

      ‘And how’s your grandfather? He’s been absent for a while, usually props up that bar on a Sunday afternoon with his pint of ale.’

      ‘I bet … That’s why I’m back, he’s not too well at the moment,’ I answered, taking a sip of my drink.

      ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ He gave me a sympathetic smile.

      ‘Old age, they call it.’

      ‘Give him my best.’

      ‘Will do.’

      ‘I never want to get old,’ Grace chipped in the second Henry returned to the bar.

      ‘You and me both,’ I said, having sudden visions of reaching the age of eighty, still living in the same damp cold flat, wrapped in numerous blankets, still unable to afford the heating and listening to the dreadful music pounding through the ceiling until the early hours of the morning.

      ‘Boyfriend?’ she asked, narrowing her eyes at me.

      I shook my head, ‘Not at the moment.’

      ‘In between jobs, though.’

      I nodded, which wasn’t strictly a lie but not entirely the truth.

      ‘Anyway, what happened with Finn?’ I’d noticed Grace’s relationship status change to single a while back and we’d chatted briefly over messenger but the situation had been too raw for her to talk about. She’d been in the middle of a production and the only way to cope was to get herself through each day as it came.

      Grace looked like she was on the verge of tears. ‘I should have known after the shoddy proposal it wouldn’t go the distance. He went down on one knee after a skinful of beer and a night of karaoke followed by a greasy kebab … living the dream,’ she said sarcastically.

      ‘I wasn’t expecting you two to split, though … everything always seemed …’

      ‘Okay on Facebook?’ she interjected, rolling her eyes.

      ‘So, what happened?’ I asked tentatively.

      ‘Where do I start?’ Grace’s voice rose an octave. ‘Never live your life through Facebook, because when it’s over you look a right idiot.’ She blew out a breath and stretched out her legs before blinking away the teary mist from her eyes.

      ‘To be honest, it came as a bit of a shock to me too. One minute, he was there, next he was gone from my life forever. It felt like my heart had been ripped out, it

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