Chapter 1
‘When can the three of us meet next? I mean, here, like this?’
The peat fire in the small Scottish cottage roared and sparked, giving off a tremendous heat. Shadows lashed the whitewashed walls.
Three women sat close together on a loveseat, bare feet toasty under a blanket, faces red, from the heat, and the wine.
The tall one in the middle looked from her friend on the right to the one on the left.
‘Soon, huh?’
‘Here?’
‘Of course!’
‘Brilliant!’
They nodded agreement.
‘You know it is not going to be like this, never again, right?’
Again, they nodded.
‘It is going to be better. Always better. From now on.’
They sipped more sweet, amber wine, and snuggled deeper into the blanket.
The plump one on the left suddenly giggled.
‘Man, that was ingenious!’
She smiled. Her eyes focused on her Birkenstock sandals on the floor. The straps had loosened; she would have to repair them soon. They were comfortable. She did not want to discard of them yet.
‘When we first talked about this, I was not so sure, but I have to admit: This was a whole lot easier than I though. Thanks for being there for me! Hey, come here, let me hug you!’
Their arms hooked around their bodies and for a moment, they held on tight.
‘Glad to help you, you know that, don’t you?’
Silence followed, in which all three trailed after their own thoughts.
Then, the taller one pushed away, held her friend at arms’ length. Her scrutiny dug deep into her friend’s eyes.
‘How do you feel?’
She thought a moment.
‘Brilliant.’
She squeezed her friend once more.
‘Just brilliant.’
The tall one pursed her lips.
‘No regrets?’
‘No. No regrets at all.’
The friend on the right piped up.
‘Why should she have any regrets? He deserved it!’
All three laughed. Smiles lingered on their faces.
‘True.’
‘He was such an idiot!’
‘Sam, don’t speak ill of the dead!’
For an instant, Samantha considered the reprimand before realizing it was not meant as such.
‘Natalie!’ She fisted her friend on the arm. ‘But it’s true!’
Gabi leant over her tall friend in the middle, so she could see Samantha on the other end of the sofa.
‘You are right. It’s true. My mother’s son was an idiot.’ With a solemn, quiet voice she added: ‘But now he is in a better place.’
Once more, the three hugged each other.
‘What next?’
After a moment’s silence, Samantha spoke first.
‘Can it be my turn next?’
Natalie grappled for her glass and raised it.
‘Sam’s turn!’
Her friends followed her toast.
‘Sam’s turn!’
They drank, smashed their glasses against the wall over the fireplace. Surprised at their own bravado, they looked at each other in astonishment, before bursting out in laughter.
