‘Does she, though?’ Amy pressed. ‘Why shouldn’t she believe her own son? He obviously believes I’m a cheap shagabout, doesn’t he?’
‘Stop it!’ Jesminder made a show of covering her ears. ‘Stop using that word! And you’re not! In fact, you deserve a medal for feeling sorry for anyone other than yourself right now. Glass of wine? Beer?’
Amy gazed at the photo of Jes with her beaming parents on graduation day. She was very, very tired. ‘Please may I just have a great big mug of tea?’
‘Of course you can, sweetheart. Then you and I must begin plotting.’ Jesminder ducked back into the kitchen and Amy heard the splishing sound of the kettle being filled. ‘Stick some music on, why don’t you?’
‘Sure.’ Amy crawled on all fours over to Jesminder’s CD collection – with its Punjabi MCs, Rishi Rich and, horror of horrors, Justin Timberlake – which was housed in an unsteady wicker tower beside her stereo and portable TV in the corner of the room. ‘Got any new stuff from the festival? I could do with something cheerful.’
‘’Fraid not. I downloaded all the festival stuff last night. Put on Justin Timberlake, there’s a pal.’
‘Must I?’ Amy whined. ‘I’ve had about all I can take of Justins for today.’
‘Ah – sorry. You choose, then. Want a biscuit?’
‘No, thanks. Actually, Jes, do you mind if we don’t listen to anything?’
‘Sure.’
Amy sat back and closed her eyes. She felt too flat for tears – that would have involved dramatic emotion and she’d had enough of that for one day. But nor did she want to go to bed. She knew with certainty that sleep would be in short supply. Her brain was repeatedly turning over the events of the day.
Where was Justin? He could even be in the apartment right now … reading my letter … reaching for the phone, racked with guilt …
‘… just the way you like it, not too strong, just a touch of milk.’
‘Jes, you are an angel. I’m so grateful.’
Jesminder sat on the sofa and curled her long legs underneath her. She shook her head. ‘It’s fine, Amy, truly. I know you’d do it for me.’
‘Course I would,’ Amy replied.
‘But we need to make a plan, don’t we? You’re going to have to hit the road and get your shoes back. You have to.’
Amy sniggered.
‘What’s so funny?’ Jesminder asked.
‘Sorry, but I notice you’re not kicking off with a plan for getting my man back. Priorities, huh? You been listening to Debs all afternoon?’ She grinned as she spoke.
‘No!’ Jesminder aimed a cushion at her. ‘But you’ve got to see this through, right? Besides, this’ll be good for you. It’ll keep your mind occupied and, most importantly, get you your mum’s dancing slippers back. Now, where’s that list of addresses?’
Amy stretched towards her Karen Millen bag and pulled out the list, checking her phone as she did so for the umpteenth time to see if Justin had sent her a text.
‘OK.’ Jesminder gently prised the list from her hand and scanned the details. ‘Ah. Quite an itinerary for you. Wow, Japan!’ She read further. ‘And the USA! Ireland! Newcastle!’
‘But I can’t go all round the world knocking on doors asking for my shoes back,’ Amy moaned.
‘Why not?’ Jesminder actually looked serious.
‘Oh, come on. I’ve been thinking about it. Hacking into Justin’s computer to find out where they’ve all gone to is one thing, but setting off round the world to ask for them back? People will think I’m a bizarre shoe fetishist if I turn up on their doorsteps and start asking about their shoes.’
‘Your shoes, Amy,’ Jesminder corrected. ‘And you are a bizarre shoe fetishist. Get over it, as Debs would undoubtedly say if she were here. Right, how long can you take off work?’
‘Two weeks max,’ Amy replied instantly before checking herself. ‘I mean, no. I didn’t mean that. No time off work. Drop everything and circle the globe, not knowing if the people will even be there or what I will find? It’s bonkers. Who on earth would do a thing like that?’
‘Someone with nothing to lose?’ Jesminder said quietly.
Amy opened her mouth to reply, but no words came. Instead she turned her head and gazed out the basement window to the shoes of pedestrians passing by on the street outside.
Is Jes right? Do I really have nothing to lose? She shook her head, panicked by the notion, and rounded on her friend.
‘Since when was I defined by my boyfriend and my shoes?’ she said, far more sharply than she meant. ‘I’m me! I’ve got a life! And a job! And friends! And … and …’
Jesminder slid down from the sofa and sat silently by her side. Now both of them gazed outside with glittery, tear-filled eyes. The only sounds were the faint hum of traffic outside and occasional slurps as they gulped their tea.
‘Do you know something?’ Amy said, after a long, long time.
‘Not yet,’ Jesminder replied.
‘I miss them. I miss my shoes. But I don’t miss Justin – not yet. I’m too angry with him to miss him and that’s not going to change until he believes my “side of the story”, as Debs put it – huh, cheek! That makes it sound like there are two sides, doesn’t it? But there aren’t. There never were. I’m not cheating on him – there is no so-called other side. And if he won’t believe me, well – y’know, I’m starting to think that even if he does believe me now, I can’t imagine just jumping back into his bed tomorrow as though all this never happened. I didn’t know he had such a vindictive streak in him, Jes, I really didn’t.’
Jesminder nodded. ‘Sounds like it’s going to take time, sorting that lot out in your head. You know you’re welcome here for as long as it takes.’
Amy reached over and hugged her friend. When she drew back, her eyes were like saucers. She’d made it. Out of the blue, she had made a decision.
‘That’s the key, isn’t it?’ she cried, leaping to her feet. ‘Time!’
‘Erm …’
‘Time. It’s like, time is showing me the way.’
‘Is that a song?’ Plainly Jesminder thought Amy had flipped.
‘No. Well, probably, but anyhow, listen, Jes. Justin needs time to read my letter, calm down and come to his senses, correct?’
‘Definitely.’
‘And I need time to work out how I feel about him not being prepared to face me like a man and
