The Story of Our Lives

by Helen Warner

  ‘Let’s go.’

  Sophie looked up at Steve in surprise.

  ‘Really?’ She couldn’t hide her relief. It was almost ten o’clock and the evening was in full swing but she was desperate for it to be over. ‘Won’t it look bad if we leave now?’

  ‘I’m not sure anyone will notice if we just slip away.’

  They stood for a moment longer, watching the shenanigans on the dance floor, which mainly centred around Melissa. She had been like an Exocet missile for available men all day and now that they had run out, she was busy infuriating numerous wives by making a play for their husbands. Sophie watched her with a combination of envy and unease. Envy because Melissa seemed to find it so easy to let herself go and have fun. Unease because, just like in Brighton, she seemed out of control.

  Sophie strongly suspected that it wasn’t just the effects of alcohol she was witnessing and that Melissa was also getting an extra kick from somewhere. Working for a record company, Melissa had often talked about how many people used cocaine. Sophie didn’t particularly disapprove – there were plenty of people in TV who used it too – but she worried about the situations Melissa was getting herself into, especially when it came to men.

  As for Amy, she had glided through her big day as if she was walking on air, and she was still positively glowing as she danced with Nick now. It was as though they were caught in their own private, beautiful bubble. She and Nick both looked as though they had stepped straight out of the pages of Vogue and they seemed so happy together. Sophie hadn’t always been sure about Nick. He was almost too good to be true. And it worried her that he had persuaded Amy to give up her job. But then again, she reasoned, Amy had never made any secret of the fact that she was desperate to start a family and she had never been particularly passionate about her career either.

  Watching them today, there was no doubting the love they felt for each other, so Sophie had buried any misgivings.

  She had done her bridesmaid’s duties and smiled obligingly throughout the day, all the while feeling as if she was standing apart, watching someone else. The strain was huge and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand it.

  ‘Come on – I can see how hard this is for you.’

  Sophie’s stomach dropped. ‘Is it that obvious? I thought I was doing a really good job of pretending.’

  Steve put his arm around her tense shoulders and pulled her to him, kissing the top of her head as he did so. ‘You are. I’m really proud of you. But I can tell that you’ve had enough. If we go now we can be home by midnight.’

  Sophie wrapped her arms around him, breathing in his smell and enjoying the warmth from his body. ‘I love you.’ It was the first time she had said it for months. Probably because it was the first time she had felt it for months.

  ‘I love you too,’ Steve murmured, with a slight crack in his voice.

  From the distance of a year, it was hard to remember how bad she had felt back then. Sophie’s insides curdled with shame if she thought about it for too long, especially how she had felt about her darling Emma, now eighteen months old and only just starting to toddle. Sophie smiled as she pictured her little girl, with her cloud of silky blonde hair and her huge navy blue eyes that always made Sophie melt. It had taken so long to bond with her but when she finally did, it was like a dam bursting and now she couldn’t get enough of her. She’d made sure she’d packed plenty of photos to show the others this time.

  It seemed like a lot longer than a year since they had all been together. A new millennium had dawned and Sophie certainly felt as though she had lived a whole life in between. Becoming a mother had changed her. It had shaken her to her core but she had survived and emerged stronger than before.

  The fact that Amy – or rather Nick – had organized the Brighton weekend instead of her, had added to her general feeling of being out of kilter. But now, having returned to work as a producer on a big new reality show called Big Brother, and literally being back in the driving seat, she could feel herself regaining some of the vitality she had lost.

  She pulled into a side road that took her to the parking spaces behind the tall Regency town house she had rented. It was so much easier now that she could go onto the Internet and book online, seeing the house properly before actually booking it. She climbed out and stretched, looking up at the gleaming sash windows with the sun glinting against the inky blackness and smiled to herself. It was exactly as it had looked online. She took her bag out of the boot and made her way to the back door.

  She was casting around for the pot under which the owner had hidden the key when the door flew open. ‘Sophie!’ yelled Amy, tumbling over the step in her hurry to embrace her.

  Sophie hugged her tightly, burying her face in Amy’s silky auburn hair, which smelt of summer and combined with her Hermès scent to make Sophie feel light-headed with happiness. They broke apart and held each other at arm’s length. ‘You look incredible.’ Sophie shook her head slightly as she spoke, unable to believe that Amy could look any more beautiful. But she did. There was something new. Something unmistakable. ‘You’re not pregnant, by any chance?’

  Amy gave a tiny squeal and clamped her hand over her mouth quickly. ‘Don’t say anything to the others yet. I’m only eight weeks. I don’t want to jinx it.’

  Sophie grinned. ‘I’m not sure you’ll be able to keep it a secret. They’ll know the second they clap eyes on you.’

  ‘Is it really that obvious?’ Amy’s green eyes danced as she spoke, radiating happiness.

  Sophie’s gaze moved down to Amy’s belly that, typically, was still as flat as ever. ‘Maybe it’s only obvious to me because I recognize the signs. Emily will probably clock it too.’

  ‘That’s why I got here early, so that I could see you alone. I’ve been so desperate to speak to someone who’d understand how it feels.’

  Sophie nodded, remembering with a sudden, horrible clarity the terror she’d felt at this point in her own pregnancy. She couldn’t possibly identify with Amy’s emotions because she had no experience of the joy that anyone actually intending to become pregnant might feel. ‘Well, let’s go inside and crack open the water to celebrate! To be honest, Amy, they’ll all know the second you refuse a glass of champagne anyway.’

  They made their way through the flagstoned lobby into a vast kitchen equipped with all the latest mod cons. Sophie ran her hand longingly over the granite worktop, thinking of her own tiny Ikea galley kitchen back at home.

  ‘Amazing, isn’t it?’ Amy filled the kettle and put it on to boil while Sophie pulled out a wooden chair and sat down at the huge, stripped oak table.

  ‘I’m sure it’s not that dissimilar to yours.’ Sophie looked around her in awe as she spoke. She hadn’t been to Amy and Nick’s house in Notting Hill yet but she knew it was spectacular from Melissa, who had crashed there many times after a boozy night out. Apparently, there was a separate flat in the basement that she could use whenever she liked. Melissa had tactlessly told Sophie that the flat alone was bigger than Sophie and Steve’s whole house.

  Amy made a cup of tea for Sophie and a cup of hot water for herself. ‘I’ve gone right off tea,’ she mused, as she placed the steaming mug in front of Sophie.

  ‘I did too but it’ll come back, don’t you worry. So, how’s Nick taken the news?’

  Amy sat down opposite Sophie and sighed prettily. ‘He’s thrilled. We’d been trying for a while and we were both starting to get a bit worried. It’s weird though – I just knew when I was pregnant.’

  Sophie nodded, enjoying Amy’s delight but envying her too. Her own emotions had been such a mess when she discovered she was pregnant. She couldn’t say she had felt happy at any point in her pregnancy. There was just a cloud of guilt and doubt hovering over her all the way through that tarnished it. Made it less special.

  ‘Were you the same?’ Amy prompted.

  Sophie’s attention snapped back to the present. She had to let all the negativity go. She couldn’t change w
hat had happened so she had to accept it and move on. ‘Um, not really. Emma was a surprise in every way. A happy accident.’

  Amy beamed, clearly not guessing for one second that Sophie had been anything other than delighted by her pregnancy. At least she could comfort herself that she had managed to put on a convincing act. Only Melissa knew the truth, which was that at one particularly low point, she had rung a helpline to investigate a termination. But by then it was too late. The thought made her skin prickle with horror now. The idea that her little darling might not have existed was one that she couldn’t contemplate.

  ‘Have you got any photos? I’m dying to see what she looks like now.’

  Sophie reached for her bag and pulled out the envelope she had stuffed with pictures of Emma.

  Amy took them and began to leaf through them. ‘Oh, Soph, she’s perfect!’

  Sophie could feel the tears burning at the backs of her eyes. ‘Yes. She is.’

  ‘God, she looks so much like Steve!’

  People said that all the time. But Sophie couldn’t allow herself to hope. To believe it.

  She stood up and walked to Amy’s chair, looking over her shoulder at the photo she had in her hand. In it, Steve was sitting with Emma on his lap on the sofa in their tiny sitting room. He was tickling her and she was arching her little body away from him but her face was split with a wide, milky smile that perfectly matched Steve’s. She did look like him. But then, Sophie sometimes thought that at certain angles she also looked a bit like Matt. The mind played tricks like that all the time.

  She would have liked to forget what Matt looked like and could easily have blotted his face from her mind if it wasn’t for the fact that his star had continued to rise and he was now presenting several of the major news bulletins. She always switched channels but it was impossible to avoid him altogether. He always seemed to be on somewhere, reading the news. She and Steve had never discussed Matt after they were reconciled. It was as if they had an unspoken rule that he should never be mentioned. Maybe it was the only way both of them could cope with it and it certainly suited Sophie. She just wanted to forget.

  At that moment, the doorbell rang. ‘I’ll get it,’ she offered eagerly. The ground floor was up a flight of stairs that led to a grand, tiled hallway and Sophie gazed around her as she made her way to the door. The house was vast and stunning. It made her tiny terrace look like a shoebox. The seeds of dissatisfaction with her own humble surroundings that were beginning to take root were quickly forgotten as she threw open the wide, heavy door to reveal Melissa and Emily, who had travelled down together by train.

  They gave a united squeal of delight before enveloping Sophie in a barrage of hugs, amid cries that she had ‘lost so much weight!’ and her hair looked ‘fantastic’. Sophie returned the hugs, smiling ruefully to herself at the unspoken suggestion of how truly awful she must have looked the last time they saw her.

  Clattering down to the kitchen, dropping bags and jackets as they went, they gabbled various compliments about the house and moans about the train journey before they swamped Amy with yet another blanket of squeals and cries of delight.

  Sophie put the kettle on and sighed happily. Things were definitely looking up for them all.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Melissa linked her arm through Sophie’s as they strolled beside the river on their way into the centre of Bath. It was a warm day without being stifling and already the streets were packed with tourists and shoppers making the most of the summer weekend. ‘You seem really good, Soph. And you’re doing so well at work! Big Brother’s a huge hit. You must be pleased.’

  Sophie looked down at Melissa and smiled. ‘I am. I’m much more suited to producing this type of show than news. I wish I’d switched years ago…’ She left the words hanging in the air for a second, imagining how different things would be if she had. ‘I’m really sorry about… well, how I was last year. It all got a bit too much, you know?’

  Melissa nodded and bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry too. I was a bit of a mess myself, with nothing like your excuse.’

  Sophie didn’t reply, unsure what to say. Melissa seemed together enough but she didn’t look great. Her black hair was dull and lank and her skin, which normally glowed with good health, now looked spotty and blotchy. ‘I know, I know. I look like shit.’ As always, Melissa voiced what Sophie was thinking.

  ‘You don’t look like shit. But you don’t look yourself either. What’s going on? Is everything OK?’

  Melissa unlinked her arm from Sophie’s and thrust her hands into the pockets of her jeans. It was a defensive gesture and made her look both young and vulnerable.

  ‘You don’t have to tell me. But you’ve always been there for me when I really needed you and I’d like to do the same for you, Liss. I want to help.’

  Melissa gazed up, her large brown eyes swimming suddenly. ‘I’m fine.’

  Sophie reached out and put an arm around Melissa’s tiny shoulders. Instinctively she recoiled, shocked by how thin she felt to touch, the bones jutting out to fill the palm of her hand. ‘You’re not fine. But you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I just wanted you to know that I’m here.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Melissa shrugged a wan smile and sniffed hard. She did a lot of sniffing, Sophie noticed.

  ‘Look, it’s probably none of my business but it might help if you didn’t do coke any more.’

  Melissa shook Sophie’s hand from her shoulder roughly. ‘You’re right.’ She marched quickly ahead of Sophie with a purposeful stride, before turning her head and locking eyes with Sophie, her chin tilting upwards defiantly. ‘It’s none of your business.’

  After the Brighton weekend, Melissa had gone back to work on Monday morning, wondering why she couldn’t shake off the sense of unease that had been bugging her ever since her row with Sophie. She had made Sophie promise to see her doctor, as it seemed obvious that she was suffering from postnatal depression. In return, Sophie had asked her to promise that she would stop doing coke.

  Melissa had rolled her eyes indignantly. ‘I hardly ever use it! Just when I’m on a big night out. Loads of people do it. It just gives me a bit of an extra kick.’

  Sophie had narrowed her eyes slightly, as if trying to make up her mind whether or not to believe her. ‘You honestly only do it occasionally? It’s not a regular thing?’

  Melissa had tutted. ‘No, of course it’s not! I’m not stupid.’

  ‘I know you’re not stupid,’ Sophie had countered quickly. ‘I just worry about you, that’s all. I don’t want you getting yourself into situations you can’t handle.’

  Melissa had grinned knowingly. ‘You don’t need to worry about me, Soph, I’m a big girl now and there are no situations I can’t handle.’

  But as she snorted a quick line off the toilet cistern at work that Monday lunchtime, she was reminded of Sophie’s words and a little niggling voice inside her head whispered that maybe she was getting a bit out of control. That the sordid night she had spent with a married man whose name she couldn’t remember and who, in the cold light of day, she didn’t remotely fancy, was exactly the sort of situation Sophie was referring to.

  As the cocaine hit her bloodstream, she could feel the uneasiness seeping away, to be replaced with confidence. Sophie was wrong. She didn’t need coke. She just liked it. And where was the harm if she wanted a little pick-me-up from time to time? Everyone in the music industry did it.

  The aftermath of Amy’s wedding was even worse. This time she couldn’t even remember why she might have upset some people – she just knew from the churning feeling in her stomach that she had. Over the weeks that followed, she had several sharp flashbacks to angry faces turned in her direction, with one particularly awful memory of a woman slapping her face in the toilet. She had convinced herself it couldn’t be real. Surely things hadn’t got that out of hand?

  The thing that no one seemed to understand was that she could stop at any time. She just chose not to.

 
They had arranged to meet for lunch at 2 p.m. at a small restaurant up near the Royal Crescent. They were shown to a table for four in the pretty courtyard garden. By the time Melissa and Sophie arrived, Amy and Emily were already waiting for them, their numerous shopping bags laid out around their feet.

  ‘Someone’s been busy!’ Sophie climbed onto the bench beside Amy, who appeared to have the most bags.

  ‘Well, you can’t come to Bath and not spend money,’ Amy protested, giggling as she sipped on a glass of sparkling water.

  ‘Hear bloody hear!’ Melissa slid in beside Emily and immediately waved to the waiter. ‘Bottle of champagne, please!’

  Emily shot Melissa an irritated glare. ‘It’s all right for those who’ve got the money!’

  Melissa tutted. ‘Look, you chose to be a single parent. Doesn’t mean the rest of us have to be penny-pinchers too.’

  A sudden anxious silence descended around the table. ‘I’m sure Melissa didn’t mean—’ Amy began, but Emily cut across her.

  ‘And you choose to spend all your money on coke but that doesn’t mean the rest of us have to behave like free prostitutes too.’

  There was a loud, collective gasp. Melissa sucked in her cheeks and dropped her eyes to the table.

  ‘Em, I think that’s out of order.’ Sophie broke the silence. She gave Emily a what the hell? look.

  Emily blinked twice before her face softened. ‘I’m sorry, Melissa. Just… a bit under pressure right now.’ At that moment, the waiter appeared. He took one look at the scene and put the bottle and four champagne flutes on the table. ‘I’ll leave you ladies to pour, shall I?’ He didn’t wait for an answer before scuttling away.

  Amy, who was sitting closest to where the waiter had left the champagne, picked up the bottle. ‘Come on, let’s have a glass of bubbly and enjoy ourselves. These weekends together are so precious. Let’s not spoil them by arguing.’