The text I send is short and freighted with emojis: “I’m doing wet January,” I tell Fiona. “You free on Wednesday for G&Ts and catch-up?” Within moments “You bet” lands on my screen.
Ah, the beauty of great friendship. You get affection, humour, a shared disgust at the very idea of giving up booze for a month. And there’s no need for a long megillah when it comes to making arrangements. When I make work trips to London from my home in Manchester, Fiona is someone I always want to see.
She’s not an old school friend, a mate from university or someone I got pally with by a pool in Herzliya. No, she’s my sister-in-law. The wife of my husband’s older brother. As such, our places in the family we married into exactly mirror the status of Kate and Meghan in “The Firm”. The only (well, main) difference is that unlike the royal mechutanistas, we really like each other.
Our relationship is why I believe the Princess of Wales and the Duchess of Netflix have missed a trick in allowing the potential for a warm friendship to splinter. There are many advantages when your sister-in-law is also your good friend. You get all the benefits of a loyal back-marking pal. But, unlike all other pals, she gets the nuanced bits about your shared family.
