The Three Women

by Valerie Keogh

  Megan put down her knife and fork and pushed her plate away. ‘Law. Afterwards, I’ve arranged to complete my Legal Practice course, and then I’ll need to do two years of practice-based training.’ Picking up her tea, she looked from one to the other. ‘I eventually want to work for the Crown Prosecution Service, so I have it all carefully planned.’

  ‘And nothing’s going to stand in your way,’ Beth said, surprised at the strength and determination in her voice, and envious of the focus on her career. As yet, she’d no clear idea of what she was going to do when she’d finished, her course having been chosen more out of interest and curiosity than any future career plans. Listening to someone so focused gave her food for thought.

  ‘It’s what I’ve always wanted to do,’ Megan admitted.

  They swapped stories about their various courses and their lecturers for over an hour. Joanne, adding scathing remarks about some of her lecturers, had Beth chuckling and Megan looking at her with wide-eyed admiration. ‘I’d never be brave enough to criticise them,’ she said.

  ‘Stick with me,’ Joanne said with a smile. ‘You’ll learn.’

  3

  Joanne, Beth and Megan chatted a little longer until Megan looked at her watch and frowned. ‘I really should be going. Thank you both for being so kind. Now, I must pay you for the lunch.’ She reached for her bag, but Joanne shook her head.

  ‘Don’t worry about it. It’s our treat to make up for the bad experience you had.’

  Beth blinked. All very well for her to say, it hadn’t been her who’d paid but, short of making an issue out of it and perhaps embarrassing herself in the process, there wasn’t really anything she could say.

  Unaware of Beth’s resentment, Joanne smiled and checked the time on her phone. ‘There’s a shindig in the Debating Society in about ten minutes. Do either of you fancy going?’

  ‘I’m not a member,’ Megan said, shaking her head. ‘I haven’t had a chance yet to join any of the societies but, anyway, I have a lot of work to get through.’

  Beth added, ‘I’m not a member either.’

  ‘Nor me,’ Joanne said with a chuckle. ‘We’ll just say we’re thinking of joining, they won’t care, and it’s bound to be fun.’ She looked at their serious faces. ‘Honestly, what was the point in coming all the way to London from the wilds of…’ She waved a hand at Beth.

  ‘Somerset,’ she answered the unspoken question.

  ‘And…?’ Joanne waved at Megan.

  ‘Cowbridge,’ she said and seeing their blank looks, added, ‘Wales.’

  ‘There you are then,’ Joanne said as if that was the final argument.

  Beth laughed and looked at Megan. ‘I will if you will.’

  ‘I have to study. I’ve essays due, research to do, and I really can’t spare the time.’ Then, suddenly, as if swept along by their enthusiasm, Megan smiled. ‘Yes, why not, thank you.’

  Unfortunately, as it turned out, Joanne was wrong. A rather belligerent beefy man at the door to the Debating Society’s meeting room looked them up and down rudely and demanded their membership cards. He turned his nose up when Joanne trotted out her spiel about thinking of joining.

  ‘Come back when you do,’ he said curtly, ignoring her flirtatious smile.

  Knowing when she was beaten, Joanne gave him a casual wave and turned back to her new friends. ‘Let’s go to the student bar instead.’ But the others shook their heads.

  ‘I really do need to do some work for tomorrow,’ Megan said.

  Beth didn’t feel she needed to give an excuse. She certainly didn’t want to have to admit that having spent so much in the bookshop, and having paid for Megan’s lunch on top of it, she’d gone through enough money that day. Anyway, she’d already been into the student bar to have a look around. It was a low-ceilinged unattractive place with sticky floors, worn seating, and a bad smell. It wasn’t the type of place she’d have thought would appeal to her new friend. But then, she knew nothing about her, did she?

  ‘Fine,’ Joanne said, the word heavy with disappointment. But she didn’t stay despondent for long, linking an arm through Beth’s as if they were old friends. ‘I suppose I may as well head home too then.’

  To their surprise, Megan lived in the same student accommodation in Shoreditch. ‘How is it that I’ve never seen either of you coming or going?’ Beth asked, curious as to why she hadn’t seen the rather distinctive women in the two weeks she’d made the twice-daily journey.

  Megan shrugged. ‘I’m in university before lectures start and usually go to the library straight afterwards and rarely leave till late. Maybe that’s why?’

  ‘I rarely go to any lectures that start before ten,’ Joanne admitted, looking not a whit embarrassed by the admission. ‘And I’ve only been to the library once, out of curiosity, you know, in case anyone ever asks me where it is.’

  That drew a gasp of disbelief from Megan and a chuckle from Beth. ‘I have the walk to the lecture halls timed so I arrive with a minute to spare,’ Joanne told them. ‘Until today, I’ve gone home straight afterwards. So, that explains why we haven’t met.’

  They chatted amiably as they walked but, as they passed King Square Garden, Beth realised Megan was struggling to keep up with their long-legged stride. Joanne’s arm was still linked through hers. With a gentle tug, Beth slowed her down, matching their pace to the smaller woman’s. Joanne smiled but said nothing.

  It was usually a brisk eighteen-minute walk between the university and the student accommodation, but it was nearer twenty-five before they got to the high-rise block of apartments. It was a modern, clean and well-equipped complex with communal rooms on the ground floor including a gym that only Beth had used and a cinema that, as yet, none had visited. Both Joanne and Beth had what was referred to as the standard studio, but when they went into the lift ready to press the button for their respective floors, they discovered Megan’s was on the tenth where the studio apartments were the largest available.

  Beth felt a twinge of envy that she didn’t bother trying to hide. ‘Wow, you’re a lucky beggar.’

  Joanne whistled. ‘The tenth! Can we come and see it?’

  Beth noticed conflicting emotions crossing Megan’s face and wondered if she was going to say no.

  But she didn’t. ‘You’ve been so kind, the least I can do is to give you a tour,’ she said with her quick smile.

  On the tenth floor, she unlocked the door and waved the two inside with a polite, ‘Mi casa es su casa.’

  The apartment, although still a studio, was far roomier than Joanne’s or Beth’s, with each part, the kitchenette, bathroom, bedroom and living area all appreciably bigger. Best of all, and what drew gasps from the two visitors, was the large double window looking out over the London skyline.

  ‘Wow,’ Joanne said, making a beeline for the window and kneeling on a big padded seat to look out.

  Beth, climbing up beside her, pressed her nose to the window. ‘That’s amazing. Wow, you’re so lucky, Megan.’

  There was ample room on the seat for all three to sit. Megan made coffee, and they sat and chatted, all thoughts of studies, essays, and research having been forgotten as they enjoyed getting to know one another.

  They’d been there about an hour when Joanne asked Megan, ‘What height are you? Five feet?’

  Beth laughed, but if Megan was taken aback by the question, she didn’t say. ‘Four eleven. Short and dumpy.’

  ‘It’s harder to lose weight when you’re smaller, without a doubt,’ Joanne said, and without a word, reached over and whipped off Megan’s glasses.

  ‘Hey,’ Megan yelped. ‘I can’t see a thing without them.’

  ‘You’re quite pretty, you know.’ Joanne held the glasses out of reach. ‘I’d kill for your olive skin. You should get laser treatment to your eyes, then you wouldn’t need these.’ She handed them back. ‘And maybe you should get your teeth fixed.’

  Megan scowled and put her glasses on. ‘Anything else?’

  Feeling
suddenly sorry for her, Beth diverted Joanne’s attention to her. ‘What about me? What should I change?’ Since she’d frequently been told she was very attractive, she wasn’t expecting to hear anything too controversial so was stunned when Joanne looked at her, and said bluntly, ‘I’d get rid of the accent.’

  Beth could have taken offence since Joanne was virtually a stranger; could have stormed out and said she never wanted to see her again, but instead, she giggled. Soon, Megan joined in, and within minutes, the three of them were holding on to one another and belly laughing.

  ‘Are you always so blunt and honest?’ Beth said when the laughter had died down to the occasional snort.

  Joanne smiled. ‘I find it’s the best policy. People don’t get confused then.’

  Beth looked at her a moment but could see no guile in her eyes. Maybe she was as honest as she said, but landing her with paying for Megan’s lunch still rankled a little. She decided to hold fire on her judgement but, as it happened, she didn’t have to wait long.

  Just as they were leaving, Joanne turned to her. ‘How much do I owe you for the lunch?’

  Taken aback, Beth muttered what it had cost and, with a nod, Joanne reached into her pocket, took out a handful of coins, slipped a couple back into her pocket and handed Beth the rest. ‘There you go.’

  Three women: one honest and blunt, one uncertain and suspicious, and the third focused and determined. They’d probably never have been friends but for that chance meeting in a bookshop and the clumsy accident in a restaurant.

  Whatever the reason, their friendship grew and endured for the next twenty-three years.

  4

  2000

  They all graduated. Beth and Joanne with a respectable 2.2 and Megan with the first she’d worked so hard for. Relieved, they celebrated for a week in London before facing up to the commitments that would take them in different directions, Beth heading home to Somerset to work for the remainder of the summer on the family farm, Megan to Cowbridge to help in the family art gallery, and Joanne to join her parents in Portugal.

  It had been Joanne’s idea to go away for a night, a final flourish before they split up. ‘Somewhere away from London,’ she’d said. Beth had agreed enthusiastically and even Megan, who’d never been away with them before, decided it was a great idea. They’d all had enough of late-night party celebrations, of the noise and clamour of London. Beth and Joanne had had enough too of certain ex-boyfriends who didn’t seem to get the message that whatever they’d had was over.

  ‘Toby’s being an absolute pain,’ Beth complained. ‘Everywhere I go, he shows up with his puppy-dog eyes, begging me to take him back.’

  ‘I never knew what you saw in him anyway,’ Megan said, rolling her eyes. ‘He isn’t the brightest.’

  ‘I don’t think it was his brains she was after. He is pretty fit!’ Joanne said with a laugh. ‘But never mind him, or Simon,’ she added with an exaggerated grimace as she referred to the latest in a long string of short-lived relationships, ‘we’ll get away for a night, just us three. Leave it to me. I’ll organise something.’

  Happy to do so, Beth and Megan were taken aback a couple of days later when Joanne told them they were going to stay in a bungalow, in a village they’d never heard of, almost two hours’ drive from London. They were sitting in Megan’s studio. Over the years, it had become a habit to meet up there and only when exams and deadlines loomed did Megan ever beg for a bit of privacy and push them out the door.

  Beth, who had been on her knees on the window seat admiring the view she never tired of, turned and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. ‘A bungalow!’ she said as if she couldn’t believe her ears. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Capel-le-Ferne, where’s that? It sounds French,’ Megan said, surprise making her distinctive Welsh lilt more noticeable. ‘We’re not going to France, are we?’

  ‘Yes, it’s a bungalow but no, we’re not going to France, it’s in Kent and you haven’t heard the best yet… it’s free! It’s on the coast, not far from Dover. And,’ she’d hurried to reassure them, ‘it’s only a ten-minute walk to an old country pub.’

  ‘I think I’d prefer to pay and stay in a hotel,’ Megan said unconvinced.

  Beth shook her head. ‘I’ve spent a fortune recently. Free sounds good to me.’ She saw Megan’s shrug with a dart of irritation. Of course, she’d prefer to go to a hotel. It had come as something of a shock to discover, early in their friendship, that Megan could afford to do whatever she wanted because her parents gave her what she considered a suitable allowance and Beth, when she heard how much, thought was an astronomical amount of money. That she was incredibly generous with her money and frequently paid for the three of them to go to various concerts and dinners, didn’t make it any easier for her friends to accept. Sometimes, but only to Joanne, Beth would mutter about it being charity but never, in all the years, had she refused to accept it.

  ‘How are we getting it for nothing?’ Megan asked, ignoring Beth’s comment.

  ‘It belongs to friends of my parents. It was for sale but they’ve taken it off the market for the moment. As long as we promise to leave it as we got it, they say we can borrow it. We could stay longer, if you like.’ When there was no answer, she said, ‘Will I say yes then? It’ll be fun. We can go for a walk along the white cliffs and have a drink or two. Relax.’

  It was impossible to resist Joanne’s enthusiasm. ‘Fine, why not, it’ll be a break from London,’ Megan said.

  ‘A bungalow,’ Beth said, raising her eyes to the ceiling. ‘Okay, I’m in but don’t tell anyone; we have a reputation to maintain!’

  The day they were leaving was their final day in the student accommodation in Shoreditch, and both Megan and Beth had brought cars from home to transport their belongings. It didn’t take long; the size of their accommodation didn’t lend itself to hoarding. A couple of hours later, their cars packed with their clothes and clutter, they took a last look at the building that had housed them for three years.

  Beth smiled as Joanne leaned on the roof of the car she had borrowed from a friend. ‘End of an era,’ she said, and then tossed her hair. ‘Thank God for that!’ She did a twirl and tapped a drumbeat on the roof of the car with the flat of her hand. ‘The world’s our oyster, ladies. But first, onward to Capel-le-Ferne.’

  They started their cars and drove down in a convoy with Joanne in the lead, waiting for each other when they got separated. When they were a little more than halfway there, Beth saw Joanne indicate to leave the motorway for a service station. Beth followed, with Megan close behind. Joanne was standing beside her car when Beth pulled up beside her and lowered her window. ‘We stopping for a break?’

  ‘There’s no food in the bungalow,’ Joanne said. ‘And I’m not sure if the pub does food, so we’d better stock up now.’

  The café was busy with the cross-section of people always found at such places: lorry drivers, tired shift-workers, busy sales-reps, and families with noisy children. Recognising that most people were in a hurry, the service was quick and efficient and, minutes after entering, the three friends were sitting with plates of surprisingly good fish and chips in front of them. Megan, as she always did, covered hers with tomato ketchup before starting.

  When they finished, their clear plates testifying to how good the food was, Megan was the only one who insisted on having dessert. The one she chose, two meringues each almost as big as her fist joined together with a huge amount of cream, made her more health-conscious friends shiver. She looked at them with amusement through her overlarge and heavy glasses before jamming her fork into it, bits of chalky meringue flying every which way.

  It was another hour’s drive to their destination. Joanne indicated to turn right and pulled into the driveway of a nondescript bungalow that was third in a row of identical unexciting homes. There was plenty of parking for all three cars to fit easily and, one by one, they pulled in and switched off their engines. In the following silence, they climbed out to look around.
>
  ‘What a lovely place,’ Beth said with heavy sarcasm, grabbing her overnight bag from the boot and slamming it shut. Already, she was missing her studio in Shoreditch.

  Megan and Joanne headed for the front door where a large ornate flowerpot overflowing with a mix of colourful flowers sat to one side. Joanne tilted it, felt underneath and pulled out a key. ‘Ta-dah!’ she said before slipping the key into the lock and pushing open the door.

  It opened immediately into a big room that stretched to the back of the house, windows on both sides letting in plenty of light even on this grey summer’s day. The owners had taken inspiration from their proximity to the sea; decorated in shades of cream and blue, there was an overabundance of sea-related ornaments, lighthouses, seagulls and sailing boats, on almost every surface. But there were also large squashy sofas. And, as they discovered when exploring the three bedrooms, big comfortable beds.

  ‘It’s perfect,’ Megan said, plopping down on the sofa and kicking off her shoes.

  Beth took the seat beside her. ‘It’s not bad inside,’ she conceded.

  ‘Just a tad over the top,’ Joanne said, nodding towards the row of ceramic ducks on the windowsill. ‘Okay, I’m popping back to my car, I didn’t bring food, but I did bring wine.’

  Perfect.

  Beth watched her return, weighed down with a large canvas bag full of clinking bottles. Dumping it unceremoniously beside the sofa, Joanne pulled out a bottle and handed it to Beth. ‘Open it, I’ll go find some glasses.’

  Beth twisted open the cap and put the bottle on the long low coffee table that sat between the two sofas.