And then I went upstairs and told my husband it had been a work thing.
The four minutes between the phone call and the jumper, which I have gone over because of what I chose in them.
She said zip it up and she said please and she said I'll come and get it.
And I said something about not understanding and she said it again, and then the call ended — she ended it, which she has never done to me in fifteen years.
And I stood in my own bedroom with a phone in my hand and a suitcase open on the bed.
And I did not think: Freya's in trouble.
That is what I would like to be able to write. Fifteen years, and my best friend has just used a voice I have never heard, and the honest thing I felt was not fear for her.
It was the other thing. It was: what have you got in there.
