‘I’ve not taken longer than a week’s holiday in five years. If I don’t have a decent break this summer, I think I might go mad.’
‘Has she told you we’ve got a pact?’ said David, eavesdropping. ‘We’re going to switch off our phones and not even take our iPads.’
‘Maybe you could persuade Max to do the same,’ said Claire, rolling her eyes.
‘Bollocks to that,’ Max declared. ‘Empires are not built without hard work.’ He downed his wine in one.
‘Max, when did you become such a workaholic?’ asked Amy.
‘When I bought my first helicopter.’
‘I’ll book us some spa treatments,’ Claire said. ‘There’s an amazing woman in Lourmarin who does reflexology.’
‘I need more than a foot rub,’ said Amy with a sigh.
Max raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s what Monty Young said when he twisted his ankle skiing. His missus found him the best physiotherapist in London. The next thing you know, he’s left his wife and three kids for her.’
‘Monty’s left Suzie?’
Monty was one of their old friends from Oxford. They didn’t see him much, but Amy sporadically bumped into his wife at charity fund-raisers. The last event had been a January lunch, when Suzie had talked excitedly about the chalet they had just bought in Meribel. Things obviously hadn’t panned out as she’d hoped.
‘Darling, it’s the season for it,’ said Max. ‘Four mates from school – all divorced in the last six months.’ He made a slicing motion across his neck. ‘A lot of lawyers making a lot of money right there.’
For a long time, Amy had been unable to understand the statistic that over 40 per cent of marriages ended in divorce. Although the days when every other summer weekend seemed to be spent going to a wedding were past, she hadn’t heard of many separations – until recently. Just one or two at first: the couple who’d been clearly unsuited from the start, another who had eloped to Vegas a week after meeting in New York. But lately there were more unexpected ones: a lovely mum and dad she knew from the school gate; the marketing manager at work who had found out her husband was having an affair.
‘Is everything all right?’ Claire put her hand on Amy’s shoulder.
Amy blinked hard and put down her glass. ‘What do you mean?’ she said, realising that she did feel a bit spaced out. She loved seeing her friends, but it always meant being switched on, especially when Max was in such high spirits. Truth was, after such a stressful week at work, the only thing she wanted to switch on was her TV in the company of a bottle of wine and a box
of salted caramel truffles.
‘You just seem a bit run-down.’
Amy tried to laugh it off. ‘The pressure’s on at work.’
‘Did you get the chat about digital innovation?’ asked Juliet, rolling her eyes. ‘Denton seriously asked me if Living Style had potential as an estate agent.’
‘If it’s any consolation, he wants to turn Verve into the new Tinder.’
The three women laughed.
‘You know who you should also see,’ said Juliet, leaning forward. ‘Dr Al Saraf.’
‘Who’s he?’ asked Amy.
‘You’ve not heard of him? Dermatologist. Genius behind BlissVit.’
‘BlissVit?’ said Amy, feeling a little stupid. She did, after all, edit one of the top women’s glossies: if there was a hot new beauty treatment out there, she should have heard of it.
‘His own patented vitamin complex. It’s supposed to be amazing. It takes ten years off. You glow.’
Amy knew she was looking tired. She felt tired. If a doctor could really make her look younger – or even a little more perky – how could that be a bad thing?
‘I’ll give you his mobile number,’ Juliet said.
‘You really need to write your own little black book.’
‘Then the special secret numbers wouldn’t be secret any more.’