Female friendship comes in two flavours the quick coffee catchup and the lifelong bond.
Grace Harper has her own story.
Alright, thats it for today, she says, smiling. Dave will be home from work soon, and I havent even started on dinner. Give your husband a kiss and ring as soon as you pin down your travel dates! She hangs up feeling buoyant: her friend Lilys husband is planning a trip to visit their daughter in Paris, so a real meeting is on the horizon.
Its such a shame Vera lives so far away now, and its getting pricey and tricky to meet, Lily sighs again. At least we can chat at length on the phone.
Even though their meetups are rare and their lives couldnt be more different, conversation between Grace and Lily flows as if it never stopped. Most of their other mates, made later in life after emigrating, never manage that. One would think a shared social circle the same parties, the same holidays abroad would guarantee endless material, but it doesnt. Too often they have to force topics, and Grace despises idle chatter.
Grace and Lily have known each other since first grade, but true friendship only blossomed after Lily left England. In school they each kept to their own worlds, barely intersecting, though Grace always dreamed of a real friend the kind you read about in novels.
Writers arent lying when they say they pull from life, unless theyre writing fantasy.
Theres a popular myth, bolstered by countless jokes, that women dont have deep friendships, only men do. But what does a male friendship look like? Going to a football match together, helping each other move a couch, chatting about politics, maybe lending a few quid They never pour their souls out to each other. At most they gripe about a spouse or a boss.
Grace divides womens friendships into chums and mates.
Shes always had plenty of chums you can chat about fashion, health, books, films, travel, home, parenting, caring for elderly parents but only on the surface. A mate is different. Its someone you love just as you are, who will listen to your most secret thoughts without snickering, someone who will rush to your door at a moments notice, rain or shine, with or without a bottle of wine, and sit with you for hours while you retell the same story in different ways, wiping your tears and blowing your nose.
Grace knows such a mate exists because she would act exactly that way. Nighttime rescues are tricky first her parents balk, then her husband but otherwise shes always ready to lend a hand.
She spent years searching for that, and finally found it in Lily after a long, thorny road. There were mistakes and disappointments, starting with a neighbour shed known almost from birth, whose friendship ended over a broken, handmade doll the neighbours cousin had soaked while playing house. Lily didnt defend Grace, and that friendship died.
Another disappointment came from a friend in the United States who, over some petty grudge, cut off contact despite years of shared hardship in exile and Graces sincere apologies.
The star of the falsefriend troupe, however, was Lucy Bennett. Lucy appeared in their class in year two and slipped straight into the group. She was short, plump, with tightly coiled hair woven into a thick braid. Where she lacked conventional beauty, she more than made up for it with energy, confidence, and a laugh that some called infectious, others described as a snort.
The girls clicked quickly, living on the same block and commuting home together on the tube. They started a ritual: each day on the way to the station they bought a scoop of raspberry icecream in a wafer cup from a stall. Grace usually paid, because Lucys mother gave her just a pound a week with the words, Heres your allowance dont skimp on anything. Grace believed friends shouldnt keep petty tabs.
The daily icecream habit hardened the girls, kept colds at bay, and even got their parents them into a swimming club they all attended after lessons.
Together they went to the cinema, the theatre, exhibitions if Grace disliked an artist, Lucy would declare authoritatively, You just havent grown into it yet. They camped at youth retreats, joined dance and art classes. Grace liked painting but quit after Lucy critiqued a quail shed drawn, calling it more a cow, yet praising the oil medium.
Both fell for the same boy in primary school and broke off at the same time, or so Grace thought, until she discovered Lucy still harboured secret hopes for him.
Their parents were aloof, while Grandma Clarke would shake her head and warn, Stay away from that Lucy, shell be jealous. Grace would retort, You dont understand, were true mates!
Grace was willing to cede leadership, accept unchallenged opinions, tolerate perpetual tardiness all petty compared with the certainty that a mate would be a rock.
Lucy once took it upon herself to tell a classmate vying for Graces affection that he wasnt right for her, which Grace dismissed as overprotectiveness. Later, when Graces psychologist mother scolded her for a budding romance with a fellow student, Lucy soothed her crying friend and stood up boldly.
Their bond survived university choices, temptations, weddings where each served as the others maid of honour, and the birth of first children.
Then they scattered: Grace moved to the United States, Lucy to Israel, and contact all but vanished for years. They finally crossed paths unexpectedly on neutral ground in Amsterdam.
Initial exhilaration turned to puzzlement when Grace learned Lucy had visited America many times in the meantime but never bothered to reach out. Lucy then bragged about having started a fling with Graces most ardent admirer after Grace left. She even tried to drop intimate details that Grace didnt want to hear.
It hurt, but Amsterdam also brought a surprise: Vera, who had flown in from Manchester, joined them, and old grievances, if not forgotten, were tucked away deep.
A few more years slipped by with lazy penpals and occasional meetups. In that time Lucy divorced and kept hunting for a new partner, while Graces marriage faltered, though children grew, and they told themselves they could simply endure.
Eventually it became unbearable. An old acquaintance resurfaced, they exchanged messages, then met when she travelled to his city for a medical conference. They reminisced, flirted, and it ended predictably in bed.
A secret affair sparked. Grace felt ashamed but life suddenly burst with colour; she couldnt and didnt want to stop. Their meetings were rare sometimes she snuck away for a conference, other times he was on a business trip.
One day the lover proposed a brilliant plan: meet in Israel, where both had relatives, and have Lucy cover the backend. The scheme was shaky from the start, but they risked it. Graces mate embraced it enthusiastically, approving the lover (Thats what you need, not that husband you married!), even trying to flirt with him while Grace was out, only to be rebuked.
They toured chic galleries and pricey restaurants (Lucy chose, he paid). Everything went smoothly, so the lovers booked a threeday seaside escape to Eilat. Lucy started packing, thinking shed be invited, but the lover refused to foot her fare.
Why do we need a blacksmith? he asked reasonably, and left Lucy stranded in Jerusalem, inventing excuses if his wife called.
Three days flew by. When the sunkissed pair returned to Jerusalem, Graces phone rang. Your husband called me last night. He caught me off guard, I was flustered, tried to calm him all night, but he seemed to already know everything, Lucy blurted. Better that way, or youd never have decided.
Soon after came a weary homecoming for Grace, a grueling reconciliation with her husband, a marriage patched together for a few more years. And the mate? What happened to the mate? She never admitted any guilt, perhaps thinking shed done Grace a favour.
Grace never brings up that painful episode again. They still exchange occasional messages, but they never invite each other to repeat weddings, and they hardly ever see each other.
Her phone buzzes with a notification: Google Photos has compiled a new album of pictures of Grace, Lily, and Vera from years of trips and reunions.
Theyre already reading our thoughts, Grace mutters, then, with a small smile, she loses herself in the photographs and the memories of all their journeys.
True friendship does exist, she thinks, finally at peace.
