by Helen Warner
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 using way too much coke – maybe you should speak to her, Soph? She listens to you.’
Sophie bristled, her instinctive protectiveness towards Melissa rearing up. ‘I have. She insists she only does it occasionally. She works in the record industry, Em, they all do it.’
Emily shrugged irritably. ‘Supposedly everyone in TV does it too, Soph, but I don’t see you nipping off to the loo during lunch to do a line.’
Sophie bit her lip. She had wondered if anyone else noticed Melissa excusing herself yesterday and returning to the table with a telltale persistent sniff.
‘She might be able to kid herself that she hasn’t got a problem but she can’t kid me,’ Emily muttered, almost to herself.
Sophie couldn’t think how to reply, so she said nothing. She finished making the tea and rejoined Emily at the French doors. As always, she felt huge and ungainly beside her. Even without a scrap of make-up and wearing her pyjamas, Emily still managed to look effortlessly beautiful. Her huge dark eyes were framed with even darker lashes and combined with her olive skin and high cheekbones to give her an exotic, other-worldly appearance. Her bare arms were smooth and toned in a way that Sophie knew no amount of press-ups on her part would ever achieve for herself.
Yet again she wondered why Emily had remained single. Yes, she had a child, which might put off some men, but with her beauty, there was bound to be a queue of others who didn’t mind.
Maybe she gave off the wrong signals, Sophie mused, as they sipped their tea in a companionable silence. Steve had often commented that he thought she was a bit stand-offish and cold and it was true that there was always a sense with Emily that she was holding back. She had known her for over ten years now and yet she had never seen her really let herself go. When the others got blind drunk, Emily always knew when to stop drinking and switch to water. She never blabbed anything in a moment of indiscretion or got involved in bitching sessions. There was an apartness about her which meant that, although Sophie loved her dearly, she had never felt as though she actually really knew her.
‘Only we know what Amy’s got ahead of her…’ Sophie looked at Emily and grinned conspiratorially.
‘Hmm. Except that I imagine Amy will have an easier time than both of us did. You know what she’s like – she glides through life without a hitch. Her pregnancy will probably be much the same and no doubt her baby will sleep all night, every night from the start. And even if it doesn’t, she won’t have to worry – I’m sure they’ll have maternity nurses to do those horrendous night feeds!’
Sophie nodded. ‘Would you change it, though, Em? I mean, if you could go back and do it all again? Would you do it differently?’
‘I wouldn’t change having Jack, obviously.’ As ever, Emily’s words were chosen carefully. ‘But would I change the circumstances of his birth? Yes.’
It was the most blunt Sophie had ever heard Emily be and she raised an eyebrow in surprise.
‘How about you?’ Emily prompted, deftly turning the conversation away from herself.
‘Yes, same.’ Sophie almost wanted to laugh at how much neither of them was saying.
‘But why? Weren’t you both over the moon when you found out you were pregnant?’ Emily looked steadfastly ahead as she spoke. Sophie wasn’t sure but she wondered if she could detect a note of bitterness in her voice.
‘Steve was thrilled. I… well, I guess I was in shock. And then after Emma was born, I found it really hard to bond with her. Were you like that with Jack?’
Emily considered for a minute before speaking. ‘No. I wasn’t. But I can see how it can happen.’
The corrosive swirl of guilt that had slowly but surely been eating away at Sophie since she’d first realized she was pregnant intensified and took another bite at her insides. Even Emily, who had no partner on the scene to help her out, no one to share all those incredible ‘firsts’ with, even Emily hadn’t struggled to bond with her baby. Just Sophie, who had only herself to blame for what had happened. She felt like the worst mother in the world.
They lapsed into another silence and sipped their tea, both deep in thought.
Finally, Emily cleared her throat. ‘So… what shall we do today then?’
Before Sophie could answer, Melissa appeared in the kitchen doorway. ‘I need coffee!’ she intoned, as she slumped dramatically into a chair. They had eaten at home last night, with Amy doing the cooking as usual. She had thrown together a chicken-and-chorizo dish, followed by home-made tarte au citron without breaking a sweat. Sophie had watched in quiet admiration as she deftly kept everyone’s glasses topped up, while drinking only water herself.
Melissa had polished off two bottles of Prosecco single-handedly and was very drunk by the time she staggered off to bed. ‘God, I feel like death,’ she wailed now. She did indeed look grey and sickly.
‘I’m not surprised, the amount of booze you put away last night!’ Emily drawled, without turning away from the French doors.
‘I didn’t realize you were counting…’ Melissa shot back. Then, a little more gently, ‘Make me a coffee, will you, Em? Pretty please?’
Emily’s face softened. Such was the effect Melissa had on people. She could be exasperating one minute and utterly irresistible the next. It was impossible to stay angry with her. As Emily filled the kettle, the unmistakable sound of retching came floating down from above.
They all instinctively looked up, as if they would be able to see the source of the noise through the ceiling. Sophie caught Emily’s eye and held it
for a split second.
‘It sounds like Amy caught my hangover from hell.’ Melissa leaned her elbows on the table and put her head in her trembling hands, her dark braids falling forward and masking her face completely. ‘Ugh, I think I might be following her into that bathroom.’
‘I don’t think she’s got a hangover.’ Emily’s voice definitely contained more than a hint of bitterness.
‘What? What’s wrong with her then?’ Melissa looked up quizzically.
‘She’s pregnant,’ Emily said, her voice flat.
‘Oh God, not another one!’
‘Melissa!’ Sophie spun towards her, ready with an admonishment, but Melissa continued unawares.
‘Well, you’re all at it. It’s so boring!’
‘What’s boring?’ Amy breezed into the kitchen. Her face had a slight sheen but other than that, there was no hint that she had just been violently ill.
There was an awkward beat of silence before Melissa spoke, still from underneath her curtain of braids. ‘Everyone getting pregnant.’
‘She’s joking, of course. Aren’t you, Liss?’ Sophie glared in Melissa’s direction and even though she wasn’t looking at her, Melissa must have sensed it.
‘Hmm. Course I am.’
Amy nodded uncertainly and joined the others at the table. Sophie looked from face to face, wondering how they had all become so dislocated as a group. Each of them had a secret, internal life that none of the others knew about. She wondered distractedly if they would ever recover that special bond they had once had. ‘Right,’ she said, determined to salvage what was left of their weekend together. ‘Who wants bacon and eggs? I’ll give Amy the morning off and take over as chef.’
There was a collective groan, coupled with a burst of laughter, and the bubble of tension burst. For the time being.
SEPTEMBER 2001
‘Almost three thousand people have been killed and another six thousand have been injured in a series of coordinated attacks by Al-Qaeda in the United States.’
CAMBER SANDS
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
They were having an Indian summer this year and although it was September, the temperature was nudging 80 degrees. Melissa turned up the air conditioning, but still she could feel the beads of sweat trickling down her forehead. Her hands shook even though she was gripping the steering wheel. She wondered if there might be anywhere to stop for a ‘pick-me-up’ but there was no sign of a service station – just the endless motorway stretching ahead of her in the shimmering heat.
She was dreading this weekend. No, that wasn’t quite right. She loved seeing the others. They were the closest thing she had to a family. Especially Sophie. But the last couple of times they had been together, she could just sense a wave of disapproval coming from them. She didn’t really know why. So she did the odd line of coke now and then. So what? A lot of people in the music industry did it. And the TV industry for that matter. She was almost certain Sophie must have done it. And Amy probably had too – well, her husband Nick anyway. She knew for a fact that he did it because she’d done it with him… although thinking about it now, she decided that perhaps it might be best not to mention that to anyone. They would probably get the hump, which was ridiculous. It wasn’t as if she’d forced him.
Her hands were sliding on the steering wheel now. She wiped them on her jeans but they refused to dry. Why wasn’t her air conditioning working? She wrenched at it furiously and as she did so, the car swerved across two lanes into the fast lane, narrowly avoiding the crash barrier. The radio still carried wall-to-wall coverage of the terrorist atrocities in America. Melissa tried to retune to a music station – it was all too depressing and she didn’t like to think how close she had come to being caught up in it, having only left New York the day before the planes flew into the World Trade Center. Again, the car swerved as her attention wandered. Behind her, a horn blasted angrily and Melissa instinctively flicked a middle finger up in the rear-view mirror.
She manoeuvred the car back into the slow lane, her whole body now shaking as well as sweating. She needed a coffee and a cigarette. She rummaged in her bag, which was open on the passenger seat, and retrieved her packet of cigarettes but couldn’t locate her lighter. She shook the pack, so that all the cigarettes tipped out onto the seat, and grabbed one. She pressed the cigarette lighter and drummed her fingers impatiently on the wheel as she waited for it to heat.
She had a vague, uneasy sense that Amy might be a bit pissed off with her but she couldn’t quite remember why. She often crashed at Amy and Nick’s if she was in west London. They had a self-contained flat in the basement of their lovely house in Notting Hill which Amy had generously said she could stay in for a while when she was flat-hunting. She hadn’t seen that much of Amy, probably because she was so busy with her new baby, but she seemed to see quite a lot of Nick. He would pop down for a sneaky fag or ‘to get away from the chaos’ upstairs but usually only stayed for half an hour or so.
Melissa liked Nick’s company. He was good fun and although he was rich and successful, he was still down to earth and liked a laugh. He was also as big a flirt as she was, which she enjoyed. Amy seemed very wrapped up in the baby, so he probably just wanted a bit of attention.
Nick moaned that Amy had changed since having the baby and Melissa could see his point. She was always so sunny and ditsy before but now she just seemed worn down, as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. Sophie had been the same. It almost put Melissa off having kids. Almost. She would never admit it, even to herself, but every time one of the others got pregnant, she felt a stab of jealousy that was so powerful it physically hurt.
It wasn’t that she desperately wanted a baby. She didn’t. Especially not now, when she was doing so well at work and having so much fun. But the thought of having someone to whom you were the whole world… well, there was no doubt it was a powerful tug.
She thought about her own mother. After her parents split up, it was just the two of them for three blissful years. Until she met Graham. Graham was fat, funny and successful. Her mum was captivated by him and so was Melissa. He seemed to idolize them both and spoiled Melissa rotten, much to the annoyance of her own dad, who had also moved on to a new relationship with Sara.
Then, almost overnight, everything changed. Her mum had two girls in quick succession, Molly and Ruby, just fifteen months apart, and Sara had a boy, Sam. Having been the centre of the world for all these adults, suddenly Melissa felt invisible and forgotten. She loved all of her half-siblings, but they were a lot younger than her and no one seemed very interested in what she thought or felt. Things didn’t improve as they got older either. Molly and Ruby were so close that there was no room in their relationship for their older half-sister and she rarely saw her dad, Sara or Sam.
By the time she left for university, Melissa could sense the relief on her mum’s part at finally getting her off her hands. She hadn’t been an easy adolescent and she knew there would be no chance of her boomeranging back home afterwards. She was on her own. Meeting Sophie and sharing a room with her had been like finding her family for the first time since she was seven.
Melissa lit her cigarette and took a long, hard drag, the nicotine hit instantly soothing her rattled nerves. Sophie also seemed a bit pissed off with her lately, which hurt more than she liked to admit. Sophie was her rock. More of a sister than her own sisters had ever been. She decided that she would use this weekend to build a few bridges and get back to the easy, happy relationship they had had before. Right now, though, she really needed to find somewhere to stop and give herself a little boost.
The temperature was nudging an unseasonal 80 degrees as Sophie headed down the A21, watching the tail lights of the cars that snaked out in front of her, stubbornly refusing to move on the steaming asphalt. She mentally said a prayer of thanks for the invention of air conditioning.
Emma had been poorly with a raging temperature the previous month and the doctor had told Sophie and Steve to keep he
r cool, which proved to be impossible. In the end, Sophie had resorted to driving her around in the car all day with the air conditioning on full blast. It probably wasn’t good for Emma’s breathing but it certainly succeeded in keeping her cool.
It must have worked because Emma recovered remarkably quickly and was back to her beautiful, bouncy self within days, much to Sophie’s huge relief. She had missed Emma’s non-stop chatter in her strangely gravelly voice and the way she would convulse with laughter, throwing her head back with the complete abandon that only small children can enjoy. Instead, she had just wanted to curl up on Sophie’s lap, her tiny thumb in her mouth and all her energy and curiosity seemingly gone. The only good thing to come out of it was that it helped to further strengthen her bond with Emma, after their difficult first year.
Sophie couldn’t wait to see Amy, who had given birth to a little girl, Megan, almost six months previously. She had been to visit her in the very exclusive Portland Hospital and had been unsurprised to see her propped up on her snow-white pillows, looking like a beautiful Pre-Raphaelite painting, nursing a perfect little bundle in a white blanket. Nick had hovered beside her proudly, almost unable to tear his eyes away from his wife and new daughter.
All Sophie’s early reservations about Nick had long gone. He really did seem to be the perfect husband and now father. It wasn’t his fault that he was impossibly good-looking, rich and charming with it. She sometimes felt a cramping ache of jealousy whenever she compared Amy’s situation to her own but surely that was natural, wasn’t it? There wasn’t a person alive who wouldn’t envy Amy’s lifestyle, her beauty and the way everything always worked out perfectly for her.
‘I don’t envy her,’ Melissa replied when Sophie mentioned it the last time they spoke. Melissa had called her from New York, where she was accompanying a band on the US leg of their world tour.
