The Story of Our Lives: A heartwarming story of friendship for summer 2018

‘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.’

There was a murmur of agreement as each of them reached out to pick up a champagne flute. Amy poured out three glasses, then put the bottle down.

‘I’m not feeling great, to be honest,’ she said in answer to the questioning looks. ‘I think I’ll stick with water for now.’ Amy looked away as she took a sip of her water and two strawberry-sized patches appeared on her faintly freckled cheeks.

As they slowly began to chat amongst themselves again, Amy looked up and caught Sophie’s eye, with an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Sophie returned the gesture, as she took a long sip of her own champagne.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Sophie was the first one to wake up on Sunday morning. She padded downstairs into the wide, airy kitchen, enjoying the coolness of the flagstoned floor beneath her feet, and automatically reached for the kettle. It wasn’t surprising that she was the first one up. None of the others had a toddler at home who thought 7 a.m. was a lie-in.

She walked to the French doors and looked out over the small, pretty back garden. She could already feel the warmth from the sun and smiled to herself. She loved the summer, with all the happiness it seemed to bring. She pictured the scene at home, as Steve fed Emma her breakfast, before taking her into their postage-stamp-sized garden to feed the birds. As she did so, she could feel an unmistakable ache inside to hold her baby girl and bury her head in her cloud of silky, messy golden hair, inhaling the scent of soap and sleep from her warm head. It was a newish sensation and one that she welcomed.

‘Typical that it’s the mums who are up first!’ Emily came into the kitchen and joined Sophie at the French doors.

Sophie smiled. ‘I know! Who’s got Jack this weekend?’

‘Mum and Dad. He loves going there.’

Sophie nodded, suddenly feeling immensely grateful that she had Steve and thinking for the millionth time how hard it must be for Emily to be a single mum.

‘So Amy’s pregnant then?’

Sophie started in surprise. ‘Oh! You clocked it then? I wasn’t sure if you had.’

‘Impossible not to.’

The kettle flicked off. Sophie walked over to it and threw teabags into two mugs. ‘Are you OK, Em? It’s just… well, yesterday. It got a bit heated there with Melissa for a minute. You were pretty tough on her.’

Emily shrugged. ‘I know, but she makes me so cross. There I am, struggling to bring up Jack on my own with hardly any money and she’s just so… irresponsible. It pisses me off. And she is

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