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