Lucy groaned when Amy told her she had booked J Sheekey in Covent Garden for dinner. It occasionally boasted celebrity diners – and if there was one thing Lucy did not want it was to be in the vicinity of waiting paparazzi.
‘Nonsense,’ Amy had told her in the cab. ‘The fish is the best in London and I am not hiding you away. Look at you!’ Amy couldn’t believe the transformation in her friend – she looked beautifully untamed with her back-combed hair and black eyeliner and her metallic dress showing off every inch of her body. ‘You’re looking hot, Luce. Make the most of it. You’ve done nothing wrong, remember that.’
Lucy shrugged her shoulders and smiled back at her best friend – next to Max, of course.
They had met at Oxford and formed a tight bond during the three years they studied English. Both girls had worked hard. Amy had a strong work ethic, which Lucy admired.
Lucy had loved their nights in, drinking wine or watching movies, and the times when Amy had shown her pictures of Kashmir. She had been blown away by its beauty and Amy promised that one day she would take Lucy to the beautiful north-west region on the Indian subcontinent, which she described with its mountains and waterfalls as being like heaven on earth.
Walking into the restaurant, Amy giggled and whispered to Lucy over her shoulder, ‘You do realize every man in here is staring – and not at me.’
Even the men on a romantic night out with other halves couldn’t help but look as the girls were shown to their table.
Lucy laughed. ‘Aims, they probably all fancy you, you fool.’
Amy always looked wonderful with minimal effort. Tonight’s tight-fitting, black-velvet trousers made her legs look fabulous teamed with her impossibly high black-patent Gucci boots. A tight black-cashmere polo neck adorned with a string of chunky pearls accentuated her petite, girly frame.
‘You don’t think I’m too underdressed?’
‘Enough modesty, Amy. You are sex on legs tonight; lap it up, girl. And anyway, we are going clubbing after this. Then we’ll probably both feel overdressed.’
As their drinks arrived, Lucy noticed her friend looked troubled and asked if everything was OK.
Amy smiled, a little sadly.
‘Is it James? Has something happened?’
‘I love him,’ Amy said, ‘I really do, but I’ve too much living to do to be a mum and wear floral dresses all day. I’m worried that’s what is expected.’
It was an odd thing to say, from nowhere it seemed.
Lucy looked at her friend. Amy was naturally stunning – the kind of girl who could wake up, pull on jeans and a T-shirt and still look amazing. She had translucent skin with big brown eyes and almost impossibly glossy black hair. Lucy knew James was proud of Amy and her achievements at work. But she also knew he would dearly love her to give up work and concentrate on breeding a new generation of de Vosses. And Lucy understood why that scared Amy; there was something of the free spirit in her that wasn’t ready to be tamed.
James’s background was poles apart from Amy’s. He came from a long line of famous men; there had been many poets, barristers and politicians in the family through the centuries. James, a politician himself now, had often told Amy she had no need to work but she had insisted on continuing her career as a charity campaigner. Her job was to raise awareness about STDs – how they were spread, how to tell if you had one, how to get help and the like. She was in charge of a small team whose job was to come up with ideas for posters, TV and radio advertisements and increasingly clever viral-marketing campaigns. She also took part in workshops aimed at trying to help people come to terms with the sexually transmitted diseases that a dose of prescription pills would never clear up.
She loved her work, both the challenge of the creative side and feeling she was making a difference, no matter how small.
Amy was tracing the tip of her right index finger around the rim of her glass. When she spoke her voice seemed far away. ‘Sometimes I dream of travelling to Africa and working with people who desperately need help. Sometimes I just dream of travelling the world, going everywhere I can, for a very long time.’
Tonight, Lucy knew how Amy felt. She had a desire to let go, be unleashed and live life without barriers.
As Lucy thought of what she could say to make her friend feel better, Amy looked around the bustling restaurant.
‘Oh my God,’ Amy whispered over her cocktail menu.
‘What?’
‘Bloody Kirk Kelner is over there… and he’s staring right at you.’