by Helen Warner
There was a communal gasp of horror from the others, as the palm of Melissa’s hand began to bleed. ‘It’s nothing…’ Melissa lifted up her hand and looked at it dispassionately, seemingly not noticing the blood dripping onto her white jeans in artistic splatters and apparently feeling no pain.
‘Liss! It’s not nothing…’ Sophie’s head, which had been swimming just moments earlier, cleared instantly. She fished in her bag for some tissues and found a travel pack of baby wipes. ‘Right… let’s wrap your hand in this.’ She removed a baby wipe from the packet and, after checking that there was no glass left in the wound, tied it around the cut.
Melissa snatched her hand away impatiently. ‘It’s fine! Stop fussing. Come on, everyone, let’s keep this party going…!’ She stood and staggered drunkenly up the remaining few steps, before turning around and looking down at them expectantly.
Sophie and the others stood for a moment in shocked silence. Finally, Amy spoke. ‘Well, I don’t know about you guys but I’m actually really tired. It’s been such a brilliant night – maybe we should quit while we’re ahead?’
A murmur of agreement rumbled through the trio, as they began to climb the steps. ‘I think we’re all too tired to carry on, Liss,’ Sophie told her as they reached the top.
Melissa sneered in disbelief. ‘Jesus, tell me you’re joking! We’re not a bunch of pensioners on a coach trip. We’re here to party. To celebrate Amy’s hen weekend…’ She paused momentarily and frowned to herself, as if she had lost her train of thought. ‘Come on! Let’s get another drink!’ She hooked her arm through Sophie’s and tried to pull her towards the hotel bar, which was still open, although there were just a couple of men propping it up.
‘No, Melissa!’ Sophie snapped, as a worrying thought occurred to her. ‘I’m tired. And I need my bed.’
‘Well, I’m not!’ Melissa retorted, her eyes glinting, and Sophie noticed for the first time how dilated her pupils were. It wasn’t just alcohol that Melissa had been partaking of that night. ‘You lot go to bed. I’m carrying on.’ She strutted towards the men at the bar, wiggling her tiny hips suggestively. ‘Right, which one of you lucky boys is going to buy me a drink?’
Sophie watched her helplessly, unsure what to do. She didn’t feel that she could leave her alone, but she was utterly exhausted. She glanced at the other two, who were yawning and looking at their watches.
‘She’ll be fine,’ Amy shrugged. ‘You know what Melissa’s like – she can look after herself. Go to bed, Soph.’
Sophie glanced back at Melissa, who by now was perched on a bar stool between two men, laughing loudly and demanding champagne ‘for medicinal purposes’ as she held up her roughly bandaged hand.
‘She’ll be fine,’ came Emily’s voice, with more than a hint of irritation. ‘I’m certainly not going to sit up all night drinking with a couple of sad, middle-aged businessmen.’
Sophie hesitated, before slowly turning to follow the others towards the lifts, trying to ignore the niggling feeling of doubt in her mind. Amy was right. Melissa was a big girl now and she could take care of herself. She made her way back to her room, suddenly feeling old again after the most fun night out she’d had in years. They had eaten at a small seafront restaurant, before heading out clubbing, something Sophie hadn’t done for years. She had felt young and vibrant for a short while. Now she felt even more tired and old than before.
She let herself into the hotel room. The debris of their earlier partying was everywhere to be seen: empty champagne flutes and several empty bottles littered the coffee table and bedside tables. Wearily, Sophie gathered them all up and put them on a silver tray that she placed outside the door. Then she brushed her teeth, climbed into bed and fell into a deep, fitful sleep.
‘So what do you do, exactly, working for a record company?’
Melissa frowned as she tried to focus on what he was saying. Her head felt thick and her senses were starting to blur. She had drunk far, far too much champagne. And she had managed to do a couple of lines of coke when the others were preoccupied earlier. She wondered vaguely if she should maybe do another one now to help clear her head a bit. The bottle they had ordered when she first joined the men at the bar was now empty and they had moved on to whisky. ‘Very glamorous. Very, very glamorous,’ she managed.
‘A bit like you,’ the one called John – or was it Joe? – replied.
Melissa smiled prettily. He wasn’t bad-looking. Mid-forties, with icy blue eyes and a strong jawline. He was wearing a wedding ring but if it didn’t bother him, Melissa certainly wasn’t going to let it bother her. He looked like he had a good body under his suit. He wasn’t paunchy like his friend Mark, who seemed to have realized when he was beaten and was now yawning into his whisky.
‘I think I’ll call it a night,’ he said, draining his glass and getting to his feet, a little unsteadily. ‘Have fun,’ he added, giving a lascivious wink as he staggered out of the bar.
‘So…’ Joe – or was it John? – raised one eyebrow at her meaningfully.
‘So…’ Melissa had been here before. Men picked her up all the time. She sometimes wondered if she should play harder to get but she simply didn’t know how. Occasionally, she would stop to think about why she was the way she was and she knew that it wouldn’t take a genius to work out that she was desperate for approval. And love. In the absence of any decent men asking her out, meaningless sex with married strangers gave her a tiny, fleeting taste of both.
‘My room or yours?’ he grinned. He had a nice smile. He also had no hint of doubt that she would sleep with him.
‘Have to be yours. My room-mate won’t appreciate us barging into mine…’
He smiled again. She wished she could remember his name. ‘Mine it is then. Shall we?’ He slid off his stool and crooked his arm for her to take. She slipped her arm through his, taking care not to hurt her roughly bandaged hand, and together they made their way out of the bar.
‘Goodnight!’ the barman called after them.
Melissa turned to wave and recoiled slightly at the look he gave her. Did he think she was a hooker?
‘Ignore him, he’s just jealous,’ Joe or John said, guiding her towards the lifts with a sudden urgency.
‘Worried you’ll be spotted by a friend of your wife’s?’ Melissa said as the lift doors closed behind them.
Immediately the doors closed, he pushed her up against the mirrored lift wall and kissed her hard, his tongue finding hers and his hands moving under her top to find her breasts, which he squeezed roughly. ‘My wife doesn’t understand me,’ he murmured, unzipping her white jeans and sliding his hands down to cup her buttocks. He lifted her up as if she was weightless and Melissa wrapped her legs around his waist, fumbling for the zip of his trousers. They dropped to the floor and she caught sight of his bare behind in the mirror as he slid inside her.
‘No!’ she gasped as he began to thrust.
He stopped abruptly and looked at her in shock. ‘No? Bit late for that, isn’t it?’
‘I meant, we need to use something.’
His face softened and he pulled out of her, letting her drop gently to her feet. ‘Shit. Of course. Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.’
A loud ping made them both jump and simultaneously they pulled up and zipped their trousers just in time for the lift doors to open. He grabbed her hand and led her out of the lift, Melissa scurrying to keep up with his long strides. Within seconds he had opened the door to his room and pulled her in. He raced to the bedside table where he retrieved a condom and held it up triumphantly. ‘There!’ he said, his eyes narrowing with undisguised lust. ‘Now, where were we?’
The next morning Sophie awoke with a start. She immediately glanced over to Melissa’s bed. It was empty. The niggle of discomfort she had felt last night instantly became a huge, pressing weight as her stomach dropped with fear. She should never have left her. What sort of friend was she to have abandoned her, knowing she was drunk and high on coke? She picked up her mob
ile phone and looked at it, praying for a message. There was none. She found Melissa’s number and dialled, tensing as she did so. It rang out, before clicking through to an answering service. Sophie hung up without leaving a message.
She climbed out of bed and walked to the window, aware that a cold sweat of panic had broken out on her forehead. Where the hell was Melissa? Just as she was wondering whether she should call the police, there was a familiar click and whirr as the door opened and Melissa crept in, looking almost comical as she tried to tiptoe across the carpet, seemingly not noticing Sophie standing by the window.
‘Where the bloody hell have you been?’ Sophie yelled, fear and panic and relief coursing through her veins all at once. She knew she sounded like a mother scolding her naughty child but she didn’t care. She was suddenly filled with a simmering rage.
Melissa’s already huge eyes widened as she looked at Sophie in surprise. ‘Oh, hey, Soph. I was trying not to wake you.’ She swallowed a giggle as she spoke, infuriating Sophie even more.
‘Well, as you can see, I’m already awake. Mainly because I was bloody well worrying about where you were!’
Melissa sighed deeply. ‘I’m fine! You didn’t need to worry about me. I can look after myself.’ She pulled off her blood-spattered white jeans to reveal a tiny black thong that showed off her perfectly formed bottom. She then took off her top and slid into bed. ‘God, I’m seriously knackered though.’ She snuggled down and closed her eyes.
Before she knew what she was doing, Sophie had crossed the room and pulled back the duvet, causing Melissa to yelp in shock as she tried in vain to grab it back.
‘Where have you been?’ Sophie demanded, clutching the duvet to her chest.
Melissa rolled her eyes. ‘I spent the night with that guy…’
‘What guy?’
Melissa frowned and sat up, pulling her knees to her chest to protect her modesty. ‘The one in the bar. Jesus, Soph, I don’t know what the big deal is.’
Sophie sat down on her own bed. She didn’t really know what the big deal was either but she was so angry. Was she jealous? ‘But you don’t know anything about him. He could be an axe murderer – he could be married…’
‘He is,’ Melissa said in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘Well, he’s not an axe murderer, obviously. But he is married.’
‘And doesn’t that bother you at all? Sleeping with someone else’s husband?’
Melissa raised her eyes for a second, as if pondering the question. ‘Nope.’
‘Well, maybe it should,’ Sophie said, feeling about a hundred years old.
‘I don’t think you’re in any position to preach to me about morality, Sophie.’ Melissa’s voice was gentle but her face had hardened slightly.
Sophie quailed. Melissa was right. She was in no position to lecture anyone. She stood up and threw the duvet at Melissa, before turning and heading for the bathroom.
‘Soph!’ Melissa called after her. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—’
The rest of her words were lost as Sophie switched on the bath taps and ran herself a deep, hot bath. She wanted to cry but, like yesterday, she couldn’t. She hadn’t cried for a very long time and it was only now that she realized just how odd that was. She turned off the taps and walked back out into the bedroom.
Melissa looked up at her with wide, wet eyes. ‘Are you OK, Soph? I’m really worried about you.’
Sophie frowned. ‘No, I don’t think I am. I think I might need help.’
JULY 2000
‘In entertainment news, a new reality game show, Big Brother, airs for the first time in Britain tonight. The show sees twelve contestants kept in a custom-built house, with their every move monitored on camera. Each week one housemate will be evicted by public vote.’
BATH
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sophie pressed hard on the brakes as she drove down the steep, winding road towards the centre of Bath. To her right she could see the city laid out beneath her, rows and rows of honeycombcoloured houses in their Regency splendour. It was a damp, misty day, when the sun hadn’t quite been able to burn through, but nothing could dampen Sophie’s excitement at seeing everyone again. It had been a year since their last get-together at Amy’s wedding and she wished now that she had been in a better frame of mind to enjoy what was probably the most glamorous wedding she had ever been to.
‘Well, this looks pretty special.’ Steve got out of the car in the shingle-covered car park in front of the ancient grey-stone church. It stood in the middle of the Wiltshire countryside, secluded from the rest of the world by woods and fields that had remained unchanged for centuries. He looked around him in wonder for a few seconds, before his eyes alighted on Sophie. ‘And so do you, sweetheart. You look absolutely stunning.’
Sophie flushed under his gaze and self-consciously smoothed down her cappuccino strapless dress. ‘Thanks but I feel like a fairy elephant beside the others. You look great though.’
It was true. Steve looked almost film-star handsome in his dark, slim-cut suit, which contrasted with his blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. His face was tanned and Sophie felt a sudden swell of pride that he was with her. She took his hand and led him towards the church where the others were waiting. They had all stayed overnight together with Amy at the luxurious hotel just a hundred metres away where the reception was being held and Sophie had found the whole night a struggle.
She had started taking antidepressants straight after the hen weekend in Brighton and she was still suffering with some of the side effects. Her head felt as though it was permanently stuffed with cotton wool, which perfectly matched her horribly dry mouth. She couldn’t have any of the free-flowing champagne that the others had vigorously enjoyed last night, especially Melissa, and she felt generally leaden and out of sorts. Her feelings of worthlessness were only exacerbated by the breathtaking beauty of everyone else around her. She felt embarrassed for Amy that she would be spoiling her otherwise perfect wedding photos.
As they reached the church, Melissa bounded over to them. ‘Hey, gorgeous!’ She reached up to wrap her arms around Steve’s neck and pulled him towards her in a warm embrace. Steve glanced nervously at Sophie as Melissa finally let him go, but she couldn’t give him the reassuring smile she knew he wanted. She wouldn’t blame him for fancying Melissa when he was stuck with someone as fat and unattractive as her. Melissa’s strapless dress clung to her perfect curves as if she had been poured into a liquid milk chocolate mould, and her black afro hair had been swept up into a chignon that showed off her toned, brown shoulders and elegant neck.
Emily and her six-year-old son Jack, who was the pageboy, stood off to one side and Sophie steered Steve over towards them, safely away from Melissa. ‘Hi, Em. Hi, Jack.’ Steve crouched down so that his face was at the same level as Jack’s. ‘Love the suit, buddy!’ He tugged at Jack’s miniature dark grey suit. Amy had delivered on her promise not to put him in pantaloons, much to everyone’s relief.
Jack gave Steve a wonky, gap-toothed grin. ‘Mum said I only have to wear it for an hour and then I can get changed into my comfy clothes.’
Steve shook his head vehemently. ‘Oh no, no, no, that won’t do! You need to wear it all day so that everyone thinks you’re the same age as the rest of us.’
Jack’s eyes widened. ‘Do you think they will?’
‘Course they will. But only if you wear your suit. In your comfy clothes they might mistake you for a six-year-old or something.’
Over the top of their heads, Sophie caught Emily’s eye and smiled. Steve stood up. ‘Thank you,’ Emily mouthed to him silently.
‘That was a sweet thing to do,’ Sophie murmured, giving Steve’s hand a squeeze as they walked off. ‘She’s such a great mum, isn’t she?’
Steve glanced back at Emily and shrugged. ‘Who knows? I mean, I don’t know her like you do but she’s always seemed a bit cold to me. I bet she’s not as good a mum as you are.’
Sophie smiled, despite herself. It wasn’t true b
ut she loved Steve for saying it.
Steve reached for Sophie’s hand again. ‘Listen, I’d better get inside and leave you to do your duties.’ He kissed her on the lips, then whispered in her ear, ‘You look beautiful. Don’t forget that.’
Sophie watched him stride into the church with a mixture of feelings. She wanted to believe that she was enough for him. But she couldn’t allow herself. How could she? Beside the others, she felt dull, lumpy and colourless. Amy, standing ahead of her, preparing to walk down the aisle, looked like she had stepped straight out of a Pre-Raphaelite painting. Her smooth, creamy skin was perfectly offset by her flowing, diaphanous ivory gown and tumbling mane of gleaming auburn curls.
‘Steve looks gorgeous in his suit.’
Sophie looked down at Melissa, who had come to stand beside her and linked her arm through hers.
‘He does.’
‘And you look gorgeous in that dress. You make the perfect, gorgeous couple.’ Sophie knew that Melissa was just trying to make her feel better but even so, she was grateful. That was what Melissa always did. She would say or do something spectacularly annoying or upsetting one minute and the next, she would give the most insightful, wise advice and show incredible kindness.
Sophie watched Emily as she smoothed Jack’s hair and dabbed at an imaginary smudge on his cheek, making her think about Emma. They had decided not to bring her to the wedding, even though Amy had made it clear that she was welcome. They had left her at home with Steve’s mum, who was all too delighted to have her. But watching Emily and Jack now, Sophie felt a small ache of yearning. It was an unfamiliar sensation but it was unmistakable. She liked it.
From inside the church, the sound of a string quartet playing drifted out over the still, summer afternoon and Amy turned to look back at them. Her eyes shone with happiness and excitement. Sophie wondered if Amy had ever suffered a crisis of confidence. She doubted it. ‘No turning back now,’ Amy grinned. ‘Let’s go.’