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