by Helen Warner
‘So when’s the big day then?’ Emily’s voice cut through Melissa’s maudlin thoughts as they all pulled a chair around the table and sat down. Distractedly, Melissa picked up a corner of the checked blue-and-white tablecloth and began to twist it around her thumb, remembering as she did so how, as a child, she used to twist her special blanket in the same way, before sucking her thumb. She had a sudden flashback to her four-year-old self, sitting on the stairs watching her mum and dad scream at each other with pure hatred in their eyes. That must have been the last row before they split up for good. She couldn’t remember being in that house after that night.
Amy took a sip of her champagne, the bubbles dancing in the liquid like a perfect reflection of the glints of light in her green eyes. Happiness, Melissa decided, unable to pull her own eyes away from Amy’s, was the best beauty product there was. She had never seen anyone look more beautiful.
‘I’m not entirely sure but I think it’ll be about this time next year. Nick’s in charge – he has very firm ideas about what he wants. I’ll just do what I’m told.’
‘We could make our weekend away next year your hen weekend!’ Melissa’s thoughts snapped back to the present and she glugged her glass of champagne greedily, eager to shut out the flashbacks to the past. She placed it carefully on the table, before lifting the bottle and refilling, noticing that Sophie made to cover hers with her hand just in case Melissa tried to refill it. But as no one else had drained their glass the way Melissa had, she just returned the half-empty bottle to the table.
‘That’s a great idea!’ Amy paused and looked at each of them in turn, as if she was contemplating whether to say something. ‘Actually,’ she began, clearly having decided to say whatever it was. ‘There’s something I’d like to ask you all…’
A whisper of anticipation swept around the table. Melissa’s eyes instinctively turned towards Sophie, who raised her eyebrows.
‘I wondered if you might consider being my bridesmaids?’ Amy suddenly looked shy.
‘What? All of us?’ Sophie had a slight look of panic on her face.
‘Yes! All of you!’ A tiny furrow appeared in the skin between Amy’s eyebrows, as if she was suddenly unsure whether she had said the right thing. ‘Although… only if you want to.’
‘Of course we all want to!’ Melissa threw Sophie a what the hell? look. What was going on with her?
‘Y… yes!’ Sophie stuttered out the words. ‘We’d l… love to!’
Amy’s face relaxed into a wide smile. ‘Oh, that’s amazing! Thank you.’ She clapped her hands with glee. ‘And Em, I was thinking that maybe Jack could be my pageboy?’
Emily nodded immediately. ‘He’d love to! As long as you don’t dress him up in velvet pantaloons.’
‘No pantaloons, I promise.’ Amy sighed happily and took a sip of her champagne, oblivious to the tumultuous emotions swirling around the heads of all three of her friends.
CHAPTER FIVE
Emily emptied her small suitcase onto the pretty quilted throw on the bed and looked out of the latticed window towards the beach. The sun was beginning to lose some of its heat and turn from yellow to peach, though it hadn’t yet dipped in the sky. She watched two figures making their way out along the strip of shingle that had risen up from beneath the waves as the tide slowly retreated.
Watching them now, it was almost comical. Sophie, so tall with her long, thick chestnut hair and Melissa, so tiny with her shoulder-length braids, both of them with their heads bowed against the strong breeze, their hair whipping around their faces.
It wasn’t hard to guess what they were talking about with such intensity. She had immediately clocked Sophie not drinking and she looked terrible, with her skin almost grey under the harsh rays of the afternoon sun. Emily recognized the symptoms, though she wished she didn’t. She loved her Jack so very much. So much that sometimes it physically hurt. But she wished… no, she couldn’t even allow herself to think it. Her life had taken a turn that fateful night and she couldn’t turn it back.
‘You’re drunk!’ she laughed, staggering as he boomeranged between her and the brick wall they were passing.
He ran his hand through his blond hair as he stumbled on. ‘So are you.’
She couldn’t deny it. It was rare for her to let herself go but it had been such a fun night. And such a lovely surprise to see him. They had run into each other by chance at a gig being held at the university. The members of the band had all left at the end of their first year to pursue a music career. Their contemporaries and their lecturers had shaken their heads and mumbled darkly about the ‘biggest mistake of their lives’. But to everyone’s surprise, including the band themselves, they had gone on to be very successful and were already selling out huge venues around the world. This gig was a thank-you to their old uni mates and favourite tutors for their early support, so it was a very small and intimate affair.
Emily had gone alone because none of the other girls in her halls of residence were third years and therefore weren’t invited. Melissa had been at the gig too but Emily had lost sight of her early on and assumed she had left.
He seemed as delighted and surprised to see her as she was to see him. They spent the evening getting more and more drunk and sweaty, as they thrashed amid the adoring crowd. By the end they were barely able to stand up, although he was worse than her.
‘Can I crash on your floor?’ His voice was staccato, as he tried in vain to sound sober by concentrating on each word. ‘I’m not sure I’ll make it back in one piece.’
Despite her drunken state, she hesitated. ‘Better not,’ she slurred.
‘No one will know.’
That was true. If he left first thing in the morning, it was unlikely anyone would see him. ‘OK. But you’re sleeping on the floor.’
‘’S’all I need.’
She was woken by the sound of him stumbling around, crashing first into her desk, then her bed. Still in an alcohol haze, she momentarily forgot why he was there. ‘What the hell are you doing?’
‘Sorry,’ he mumbled, before lifting the duvet and sliding in beside her.
‘What the…?’ she started to say, but he silenced her with a kiss and all argument was lost as she melted into him, her body unable to resist as his hands and mouth moved lower.
Afterwards, he fell asleep straight away, with her awkwardly entangled in his arms. She lay there staring up at the ceiling in shock at what had just happened.
As the smudgy light of dawn began to seep over the top of the curtains, she nudged him gently awake and moved as far away from him as she could. His eyes flickered open and she watched as he tried to compute where he was. Slowly he turned his head towards her, a look of horror in his eyes. ‘Shit,’ he whispered.
‘It’s OK.’ She sounded more in control than she felt. ‘Get dressed. Leave. Go home. We can forget this ever happened. Don’t worry, I’m not going to stalk you…’
Relief made his features relax and he nodded. He lifted the duvet, then hesitated, as if only just becoming aware of his nakedness.
Emily closed her eyes and turned her head to the wall. ‘I won’t look.’
After another second’s hesitation, he climbed out of bed and Emily listened as he gathered up his clothes from the floor, then dressed quickly. She turned her head towards him and opened her eyes. He looked far more handsome than he had any right to.
He put his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and bit his lip, awkwardness and embarrassment enveloping him like a blanket. ‘Sorry,’ he murmured, glancing longingly towards the door, desperate for escape.
‘Go,’ she said again.
After he’d gone, she tried to get back to sleep but couldn’t. The smell of him lingered on her sheets and on her body, bringing with it flashbacks of him thrusting into her, setting her alight in a way that she’d never known before. With an almighty effort, she pushed the thoughts away, got out of bed and began to strip the duvet cover and pillowcases. She threw them into a pile in the
middle of the floor and stared at the bare mattress, trying to make sense of what had happened. Already she somehow knew that this night would affect the rest of her life.
Watching Sophie and Melissa out on the beach in the evening sunlight, Emily felt a violent stab of jealousy. Sophie’s situation was so different from the one she had found herself in. Sophie was in a happy, settled relationship with the love of her life, while Emily had been lost, scared and alone, sworn to secrecy and not even able to share the excitement and happiness of all the milestones along the way – the scans, the birth, the first tooth, the first step. Sophie would be able to share all of that with her Steve and although she knew it was irrational, Emily hated her for it.
CHAPTER SIX
‘So are you going to tell me or do I have to guess?’ Melissa had borrowed a pair of too-big wellies and an oversized Barbour coat from the house, giving her the comical appearance of a child wearing its parents’ clothes as she and Sophie crunched together over the shingle.
Sophie pulled her own leather jacket around her. Although it was August, the temperature still dropped sharply in the evenings, producing a strong breeze that carried with it more than a hint of ice. She looked ahead at the rapidly setting sun, a fierce ball of orange melting into a slate-grey sea. Walking along this narrow strip of shingle, which rose mystically from the water with each low tide, Sophie had a sudden feeling that she was walking on water. That she was invincible. ‘I’m pregnant.’
She couldn’t be sure if it was the sound of the wind or a sharp intake of breath from Melissa that whipped past her ears. They crunched along without speaking until they reached the end and couldn’t walk any further without wading into the murky depths – the prospect of which Sophie found momentarily, desperately appealing. She hesitated, waiting for the temptation to pass, before turning. Ahead of them the clapperboard house rose up in its pale-blue painted splendour. The last of the sun’s tired rays glinted lazily off the latticed windows, giving the impression that the house was slowly but surely dropping off to sleep.
Melissa reached out and took Sophie’s hand in hers as they stood, still as statues while the wind continued to buffet them, causing their hair to blow around their faces. Her tiny hand felt strong and safe. ‘It’ll be OK, you know.’
Finally, Sophie turned to meet Melissa’s eye and wondered if the gleam of tears she saw there was a reflection of her own. ‘I don’t know what to do.’
‘Why don’t you tell me what happened?’
Sophie looked up at the clock on the newsroom wall. It was 11.15 p.m. Her eyes felt gritty and sore through lack of sleep but her heart was still hammering with adrenaline. She had just produced her first ever news bulletin and the buzz it had given her was indescribable. She had felt as if she was literally flying as she heard her words being read out to the nation by one of the most familiar newscasters in Britain.
Gradually, the newsroom had thinned out as everyone else drifted home but Sophie didn’t want to go home just yet. To Steve. Who would probably be fast asleep and snoring by now. She wanted to celebrate.
‘So how was that for you, Sophie?’ It wasn’t just the face that was familiar, the voice was unmistakable too.
‘Oh, it was amazing! Thank you. I mean, I know you do this every night but my God, what a buzz!’
Matt Whitelaw laughed, revealing straight white teeth that looked even whiter next to his tanned skin. ‘Yeah, I do it every night but you know what? Every time is different and I never, ever take it for granted. It’s great to see someone so fired up, though. Some of the producers have been around for so long they seem as if they’re just going through the motions.’
Sophie nodded, knowing that he was talking about the two senior producers, Simon Tebbutt and Neil Marsh. Between them they had about thirty years under their belts at this company and while their experience was undoubtedly valuable, they were both a bit too comfortable in their roles and had been secretly described by some of the other producers as ‘bed-blockers’.
‘Still, I guess as long as we stay at the top, they won’t be going anywhere…’ Matt shrugged on his black leather biker jacket and picked up his crash helmet. ‘Listen, I don’t suppose you fancy a swift vino, do you?’
Sophie could feel herself reddening. She glanced around the newsroom to see if anyone had heard but by now it was deserted. ‘Won’t everywhere be closed?’
Matt tapped his nose. ‘I know a place… come on, I’ve got a spare helmet on the bike.’ He strode confidently towards the door of the newsroom, clearly expecting no objection from her.
Sophie hesitated, looking down at her Lycra mini-skirt and knee-length boots. Oh, what the hell? she thought, scooping up her bag and jacket and following him out of the door.
‘You looked great on the bike in that skirt and those boots.’ Matt eyed her legs appreciatively, as they sat opposite each other on soft red velvet chairs in the private members’ lounge he had taken her to. ‘Did you see that cab driver’s face when he pulled up alongside us? I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head.’ Matt took a long, slow drag on his cigarette and exhaled, his eyes narrowing behind the tiny wall of smoke, giving him the aura of a fifties matinee idol.
Sophie laughed, a little nervously. The evening had taken on a surreal quality. It was gone midnight and she knew that she shouldn’t be here, alone with another man. A man she had fantasized about ever since she’d started working for this company just over a year ago.
Matt Whitelaw was the main anchor of the late news show. He was arrogant and vain and had been known to have more than the odd petulant outburst behind the scenes, but he was also undeniably sexy. His pale blue shirt strained against the honey-coloured skin on his taut, flat stomach. His blue-grey eyes were framed by long, dark lashes that gave him a look of innocence, even when he was saying the most outrageous things, which meant that he could get away with just about anything. He had that rare quality that drew both men and women to him in droves and probably stemmed from his sharp intellect and fierce wit. They had been discussing the story about Bill Clinton and the White House intern that was just beginning to surface and Sophie was in thrall as he assessed the mounting evidence. ‘Watch this space. It’s going to cause him trouble, this one…’ he finished, with a knowing smile.
Sophie smiled back, alcohol dulling her ability to give a meaningful response. Matt then moved on to talking about the team at work, taking apart each character like a surgeon with a scalpel. ‘I dread to think what you say about me behind my back.’ Sophie’s comment was meant to be light-hearted but as she finished speaking, their eyes connected and Matt’s face took on an intense expression.
‘Oh, I do definitely talk about you behind your back.’ He spoke slowly and deliberately, rolling his words with his tongue. ‘But nothing for you to dread, I assure you.’
Sophie wished he would be the one to look away first, but he had dropped his head slightly and was looking up at her through those lashes in a way that told her he was going nowhere. With an effort, she pulled her gaze away from his and took a sip of her champagne. She felt woozy and slightly sick. She was out of her depth and they both knew it. ‘I think I’d better go home.’
Matt blinked sleepily, not betraying the faintest hint of disquiet. Still he watched her. ‘No, you don’t. The night’s only just begun…’
Suddenly Sophie’s senses, which seemed to have been floating in the ether above her all evening, snapped sharply back into focus. ‘Yes. I really do.’ She grabbed her bag and jacket and stood up. ‘You stay. I’ll get a cab. Thanks for the drink. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ Her words came out like the rattle of a machine gun, nerves making her gabble. She glanced back over her shoulder as she headed for the door. Matt was watching her with a tiny smirk of surprise. And was it her imagination or did he look ever so slightly impressed?
‘So how come you were so late last night, gorgeous?’ Steve rolled over in bed and wrapped his arms around Sophie, who tensed instinctively, guilt swirling in her s
tomach. She had arrived back at the flat to find a card from Steve on the kitchen table saying, ‘Congratulations on a brilliant first show.’
‘I, er, went for a drink with some of the others after the programme.’
Steve planted a kiss on her bare shoulder, his bristles scratching her skin in a way that wasn’t unpleasant. ‘That’s nice. So how did the programme go?’
Sophie turned over to face him. She loved Steve’s ‘morning face’ before he’d had a shave, with his dark blue eyes still crinkly with sleep and his silky blond hair mussed up so that it flopped messily around his high cheekbones. ‘It went really well. Did you like it?’
‘I did.’ Steve kissed her gently on the mouth. ‘It looked great but I meant how did it go behind the scenes? Was Mr Handsome a pain in the arse?’
Sophie smiled at Steve’s description of Matt. They had often watched him deliver the news while commenting that he looked incredibly full of himself. ‘Nah, he was fine. Nice, actually. He came for a drink too.’ As soon as she said the words, Sophie could feel herself beginning to relax. She might not have told the whole truth but she hadn’t lied to Steve either. Already, she was beginning to wonder if she had imagined the sexual tension she had felt last night. Matt probably just wanted to unwind after the show and she was the only one available to go for a drink with him. It didn’t mean he had singled her out at all.
She lifted her hand and stroked Steve’s hair away from his face, enjoying the prickly sensation from his stubble on her palm. He took his cue and rolled on top of her, his mouth finding hers so effortlessly, his tongue exploring hers as if it was the first time they had ever kissed. Every nerve ending began to sing as Sophie guided him inside her, the feel of him so familiar yet each sensation so new. She threw her head back and groaned as he began to thrust faster, his mouth on her breasts, her neck, her stomach. Sophie could feel herself teetering on the edge of an orgasm when Matt’s face flashed in front of her closed lids. Suddenly it was Matt’s body above her, thrusting himself into her, pushing her closer and closer to the edge and she came with an almighty shudder.