HELEN WARNER is a former Head of Daytime at both ITV & Channel 4, where she was responsible for a variety of TV shows including Come Dine With Me, Loose Women, Good Morning Britain and Judge Rinder. Helen writes her novels on the train to work in London from her home in Essex, which she shares with her husband and their two children.

Copyright

An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2018

Copyright © Helen Warner 2018

Helen Warner asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © February 2018 ISBN: 9780008202668

Version: 2018-06-26

For ‘The Girls’

Contents

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

CHAPTER FORTY

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Acknowledgements

About the Publishers

AUGUST 1997

‘One story dominates the news tonight – Diana, Princess of Wales, has died in a car crash in Paris.’

SOUTHWOLD

CHAPTER ONE

Sophie could feel herself starting to sweat as she tried to heave the stone pot to one side. Could it really be this one that the key was under? Surely they’d have put it under one that wasn’t so bloody heavy. Instead of lifting it, she decided to try rolling it instead. Sure enough, the pot began to move but the momentum gathered pace more quickly than she had expected and it rolled unstoppably towards her foot and straight over her toe. Breathless with pain and almost not daring to look for fear of the damage she might find, she examined her foot.

The toe of her Converse offered very little protection and sagged ominously where her big toe should have been. Gingerly, she pressed with her thumb and winced in pain. She slumped down onto the path, which was still wet from an earlier rain shower, and groaned as her jeans immediately absorbed the moisture. She knew without looking that the damp patch would have spread in a fascinatingly symmetrical fashion across her rear.

Maybe this weekend away wasn’t such a good idea after all. The omens weren’t great, with the shockwaves over Princess Diana’s sudden death still reverberating throughout the country, and although the others had left it to her to organize everything, she knew they would moan about who was sharing with whom and grumble about the house she had chosen from the listings in the Evening Standard.

Sophie looked up at the pretty whitewashed and thatched cottage, feeling a sudden stab of annoyance at its old-fashioned beauty. It was the sort of place retired couples would come for a weekend of birdwatching, rather than a group of twenty-something girls looking for a good time.

‘What the hell are you doing down there?’ The slightly gravelly Midlands accent reached her before its owner appeared at the gate and began to make her way up the path. Wearing tight bootleg jeans and a skinny white sleeveless top that contrasted with her smooth, dark brown skin, Melissa appeared not to have aged a day since they had first met. Her afro hair had been woven into cornrows that fell to her shoulders and apart from a slash of bright red lipstick, her pretty face was make-up free.

Sophie struggled to her feet and embraced her friend.

‘Hi, sweetie. Bit of a mishap while hunting for the key.’ She attempted to discreetly run her hand over her bum. Sure enough, it was soaking.

‘Did you find it?’

Typical of Melissa to be more concerned with getting into the house than whether Sophie was OK. ‘No. My suffering was in vain, sadly.’ As she spoke, Sophie’s eyes scanned the area around the door for other pots.

‘It’ll be under this one!’ Melissa cried, dumping her rucksack onto the path and darting towards a pretty Mediterranean-style pot that wasn’t much bigger than a mug. Sure enough, as Melissa effortlessly lifted it, the key glistened in the sunlight. She bent down with a balletic lunge and scooped it up. ‘See?’ she said, holding the key aloft triumphantly.

Sophie nodded. This tiny incident summed up their relationship perfectly. Sophie was the hard worker; the one who put in all the effort, only for Melissa to sail in at the end and collect the trophy. Not that she resented Melissa for it. She loved her like a sister. In fact, she loved her more than her own sister, Georgina, with whom she had very little in common, as there was almost a whole decade between them.

‘Come on, what are you waiting for?’ Melissa threw the comment over her shoulder as she used the key to open the front door, which needed a good shove to dislodge it, and disappeared into the cool, dark hallway. ‘Christ, it’s a bit drab, isn’t it?’ she added.

And so it begins, thought Sophie, following her friend into the house, noting that she had to duck slightly as she stepped over the threshold, unlike tiny, perfect Melissa.

‘So how are things going with Steve then?’ Melissa’s huge brown eyes danced mischievously as she spoke. They were lying on separate squashy chintz sofas, facing each other, divided by a pine coffee table in the middle.

‘Fine.’ Sophie lifted up her foot and pretended to examine her sore toe. She didn’t want to have this conversation. She knew Melissa thought she and Steve were too young to have been in a ‘boring’ relationship for so long.

Melissa rolled onto her side and Sophie could feel herself starting to redden under Melissa’s suspicious gaze. ‘Fine? Talk about damning with faint praise… .’

Sophie sighed and turned to face Melissa. ‘Well, I’m not sure what else to say. It’s fine. No, it’s more than fine… it’s good. End of story.’

‘Bollocks!’

Sophie smiled, despite herself, at Melissa’s directness. ‘OK. Well, it’s just… oh, I don’t know.’ She tailed off and sat up, lifting her mug of tea from the coffee table and taking a long, soothing sip.

Melissa mirrored her actions and looked over at her in concern. ‘Soph? This isn’t like you. What’s the matter? I thought you and Steve were love’s young dream?’

Sophie shrugged. ‘We were. We are,’ she corrected herself quickly.

‘There’s a “but” coming…’

Sophie gazed at Melissa appraisingly. How to explain what she was feeling when she couldn’t really explain it to herself? ‘But I’m wondering if this is it,’ she said eventually. Hearing the words aloud caused her stomach to lurch. It scared her.

Melissa’s dark eyes narrowed slightly. ‘How’s work going?’

God, she was infuriating! How did Melissa know so much about what she was thinking and feeling? ‘It’s great,’ she replied, her tone of voice at odds with her words.

‘And therein lies the problem!’ Melissa finished her tea with a satisfied slurp and put the mug back on the table, before crossing her legs underneath her and steepling her fingers in the manner of a miniature tribal chief. ‘I’m right, aren’t I?’

Sophie started to nod miserably, then stopped herself. Was she right? Had Sophie really become so shallow that her exciting new job as TV news producer was causing her to look at Steve in a different light? Did the other guys she worked with at the TV company make Steve’s role in HR management look a little, well, dull by comparison? As the thoughts skittered through her head, she almost cringed with shame.

She thought back to when she and Steve had met, during their first week at university. They were in the same small tutor group and would often study together in the university library or in Sophie’s room whenever Melissa, who was her room-mate, was out. He was funny and clever, and out of all them, seemed the most likely to succeed. Although Steve was tall, blond and good-looking, it never really occurred to Sophie that he could be anything other than a friend.

But gradually, they also started socializing together and before long, they were seeing each other most days. It was during a drunken end-of-term house party, when she saw him kissing Natalie Evans – the most beautiful girl in their year, who funded her way through university by modelling for John Galliano and often wore a T-shirt emblazoned with ‘Galliano’s Girls’ just in case anyone needed reminding of just how beautiful she was – that Sophie realized with a start that her feelings for him had deepened.

That summer, she invited him to come and stay at her parents’ house on the north coast of Northern Ireland. They spent their days going for long walks along the wide white sandy beaches at Portrush and Portstewart, surfing the huge Atlantic waves at White Rocks, then going out drinking and dancing in the evenings. By the time Steve returned home, they were smitten with each other. They had moved in together the following term, despite everyone’s dire warnings that it was too soon. They had been together ever since.

‘There’s someone else, isn’t there?’ Melissa frowned as she spoke, her expression suddenly serious.

Sophie shook her head but couldn’t actually bring herself to deny the accusation aloud. She never lied to Melissa, partly because she didn’t want to and partly because she knew Melissa would be able to tell if she did.

Melissa pursed her lips, as if weighing up whether to believe her or not. ‘It’s probably just the seven-year itch. It’ll pass.’ Melissa half nodded as she spoke, as if trying to convince herself of the truth of what she was saying.

‘You’re probably right.’ Sophie stood up and walked over to the window, pretending to look out. But all she could see was someone else’s face reflected back at her in the glass. And it wasn’t Steve’s. Her head swirled uncomfortably, as guilt mingled with excitement. She didn’t get that same frisson when she looked at Steve these days.

‘If things ever get a bit difficult, you can always come and stay with me, Soph. Give yourself a break, you know?’

Sophie looked towards Melissa but couldn’t quite meet her eye.

‘Thanks, but things aren’t that bad. In fact, they’re great.’

‘Are you trying to convince me or you?’

A prickle of irritation quivered in Sophie’s chest.

‘Thing is,’ Melissa continued, standing up and stretching, showing off her toned stomach as her T-shirt rode up. ‘You can leave Steve any time you want. But what then? Think about it, Soph.’

‘I’m not thinking of leaving him!’ Sophie protested, Melissa’s words reverberating around her brain, making it feel crowded with noise. ‘I love him. Anyway, I know you think he’s boring.’

Melissa hesitated.’ No, that’s not true. Maybe I think it’s a bit boring to have been with one person all this time, but I don’t think he’s boring. I love him.’ Melissa gave Sophie a hug. ‘And I love you,’ she added, turning abruptly away as if suddenly embarrassed. ‘Which is why I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.’

Sophie bit her lip and followed Melissa out into the hallway towards the kitchen. She opened her mouth to protest. To tell her she was wrong. But again, the lie dried in her throat. She tried to think what else to say, but before she could get the words out, the doorbell rang.

‘That’ll be the others!’ Relief flooded through Sophie as she ran towards the front door. Through the stained glass in the front door she could see two shadows and felt a sudden shiver of excitement. Emily and Amy had caught the train together and shared a taxi from the nearest station. It had been a while since they had last seen each other and she couldn’t wait for them to be together again as a group.

There was a shriek of delight as she unlatched the heavy door and swung it open, before both girls enveloped her. As she disentangled herself, Sophie stood back to look at them. ‘Oh, isn’t this just so brilliant!’ She could feel tears pricking her eyes as she took in the two beaming faces in front of her.

‘Don’t you start blubbing or you’ll set me off!’ Amy reached down to grab her bag, her glossy mane of auburn hair tumbling over her shoulders as she did so. ‘Right, who’s sleeping where?’

‘I’m having the biggest room!’ Melissa poked her head around the door of the kitchen. ‘Hey, you guys!’

‘Liss!’ they squealed, tottering towards Melissa and smothering her in hugs, causing her tiny frame to disappear altogether for a few moments.

Sophie looked at each of her friends with a feeling of deep contentment. They might not have spent much time together as a group for years but already she could feel the special bond between them reconnecting. This was going to be the best weekend ever.

CHAPTER TWO

‘I can’t believe you were organized enough to bring all the food and booze!’ Amy lifted her champagne flute for Sophie to refill and smiled. ‘You put the rest of us to shame. If you opened my fridge you’d be lucky to find a pint of milk at the moment.’ It wasn’t true. Her fridge would never be empty but she wanted to show Sophie how grateful she was.

Sophie smiled back at her. ‘Well, you know me and my stomach. I couldn’t risk having nothing to eat. Or worse, nothing to drink.’ She made a joke of it but actually Sophie was very organized and unless she’d brought the food and drink this weekend, they would have been left with tap water and cornflakes.

‘You’ll have to let us know how much we owe you. It’s not fair for you to pay for it all.’

Sophie threw Amy a grateful look. ‘Thanks, Amy, I will.’

Amy had lived in the single room the other side of Sophie and Melissa’s double room in their first year at university and the others had quickly cottoned on to the fact that she was the only one with any cooking ability and had exploited it fully. When they all went their separate ways after the first year, Sophie used to say that it was Amy and her prowess in the kitchen that she missed the most.

‘Have a look at what I’ve brought and let me know if there’s anything you need that I’ve forgotten,’ Sophie said. ‘I think there’s a small shop in the village.’

Amy nodded. It was automatically assumed that she would do the cooking. She didn’t mind. She loved cooking. It was her passion.

Amy could feel Sophie’s eyes on her, scrutinizing her face with a faint scowl of suspicion. ‘What?’ She tried to laugh but it came out as more of a snort.

‘You’re looking particularly… well,’ Sophie began, taking a sip of her Cava and narrowing her eyes meaningfully.

Amy raised her eyebrows. Sophie was a TV news journalist and a nosy one at that. There was no hiding anything from her.

‘There’s a reason for that, isn’t there, Amy?’ Emily blurted, nudging Amy hard, causing her Cava to swirl dangerously close to the rim of her flute.

‘Hey, careful!’ Amy tried to look annoyed but she couldn’t extinguish the smile that had spread across her face, or dampen the sudden heat in her cheeks.

‘Oooh, I like the sound of this!’ Melissa said, as they all leaned slightly towards Amy, waiting to hear what she had to say.

Amy knew that resistance was futile with her oldest friends. They could read her so well. And she didn’t want to keep it a secret anyway – she was much too excited. ‘Well…’ she began, picturing the pinkness that she knew would be spreading from her neck to her cheekbones. ‘I’ve met someone.’

‘I knew it! Tell us everything!’ Sophie demanded.

Amy beamed, before crossing her long legs underneath her and taking a leisurely sip of her drink, teasing out the moment, as the others held their breath in front of her, their eyes wide.

‘His name is Nick—’

‘Good name,’ Melissa cut in, before being silenced by glares of frustration from the others. ‘Sorry. Go on.’

‘His name is Nick and I met him through work.’

‘Colleague or client?’

Amy raised her eyebrows. ‘Good to see your journalistic training wasn’t wasted…’

Sophie shrugged. ‘It’s the obvious question.’

Amy smiled. She worked as an events organizer, organizing events for wealthy international clients.

‘To be fair, that’s what I was going to ask!’ Melissa grabbed a handful of crisps and began shovelling them into her mouth one after the other.

Amy paused, looking at each of them in turn, enjoying being the centre of attention for once. ‘Client!’

Another chorus of squeals followed.

‘Is he very rich?’ All eyes turned towards Melissa in mock disgust but quickly flicked back to Amy expectantly.

‘Well, it depends what you mean by very rich…’ Amy wondered how honest she should be before deciding that they would only find out anyway. ‘Yes! He’s loaded!’

‘But is he a good person?’

‘Oh, Emily! Who cares if he’s a good person?’ Melissa shot Emily an incredulous look.

‘No, Emily’s right.’ Amy raised her hands, as if she was refereeing a boxing match. ‘It is important that he’s a nice guy…’ She paused for a second, enjoying the moment. ‘But that’s the best thing of all – he’s awesome!’

An indecipherable sigh swept through the room as each of them digested her news. Amy’s eyes were drawn to Emily, wondering what she might be feeling. Even though she was just twenty-five, she was already a single mum to four-year-old Jack. She had fallen pregnant with him in their last term at university and as far as any of them knew, she had never had anything further to do with Jack’s father.

She couldn’t be sure of this because none of them actually knew for certain the identity of Jack’s father. Emily had always refused to say who it was and despite years of prodding and cajoling from each of them, either collectively or individually, it had become clear that she was never going to reveal the truth. They all strongly suspected that the father was one of their lecturers but Emily wasn’t confirming or denying anything. She just flatly refused to discuss it.

Emily noticed Amy watching her and smiled, her eyebrows raised questioningly. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

Amy shrugged. ‘I was just wondering if you’d met anyone new? It seems such a waste someone as gorgeous as you being single.’ They had all thought it over the years but rarely voiced it, as Emily could be prickly. But it was true. She was a beautiful girl and must have had dozens of offers.

Emily shook her head quickly, her dark eyes clouding as her shoulder-length, raven-coloured hair swished from side to side and she lowered her gaze. ‘No. I don’t have time. There’s only one man in my life and that’s Jack.’

‘Aw, how is the little love? Have you got any recent pictures?’ Amy was happy to change the subject.

Immediately, Emily’s face transformed. She grabbed her large bag from the hall and rummaged in it for a minute, before pulling out a creased photo. They all cooed as they handed it around. Amy’s heart jolted as she looked at it. Jack was absolutely gorgeous. His hair was almost white-blond and long enough to look cool but short enough to stop it looking ridiculous. His full mouth, which could have given him a sulky appearance, was counteracted by the wideness of his smile, revealing perfectly white milk teeth. His eyes were a bright, piercing blue and even at four years old, it was already clear he was going to be tall.

‘Oh, Em, he’s really beautiful.’ Unlike the others, Amy had always yearned for children of her own, something she had told Nick on their second date and when he hadn’t run a mile, that’s when she had decided he could be the one for her.

Emily flushed with pride and reached out to take the photo from Amy’s grasp but she hung on to it. ‘He doesn’t look like you at all…’

‘Well, I’m definitely his mother, if that’s what you’re suggesting – I’ve got the stretch marks to prove it!’ Emily tried to grab the photo but Amy swiped it out of her reach.

‘I’m just trying to think who he reminds me of…’ Amy stared hard at the photo. It was one of their old lecturers, she was sure of it. A vague memory of Emily becoming fixated on one of them – Anton, she thought it was – bubbled to the surface, but although she ran through a mental Rolodex of their faces, after four years the images were already too blurred and hazy.

Reluctantly, she handed the photo back to Emily, who looked slightly panicked. For the millionth time, Amy wondered why she didn’t trust anyone enough to tell them the truth. Even Emily’s parents didn’t know the identity of Jack’s father and Emily had actually lived with them for the first couple of years after she left university. She had finally moved into a flat of her own but it was still close to her parents’ home in south-east London and her mum looked after Jack all the time when Emily was at work.

‘Anyway, Sophie,’ she said, turning her attention away from Emily. ‘Isn’t it about time you and Steve had a baby?’

Sophie’s eyes bulged in Amy’s direction. ‘What? Where the hell did that come from? I’m only twenty-five!’

Amy shrugged. ‘So am I but if I was in a settled relationship like you, I’d do it while I was still young. Get it out of the way like Emily did.’

Emily spluttered on her Cava. ‘Christ! I don’t think anyone should follow my example… I love Jack to distraction but it’s been bloody hard from day one. Given the choice I would definitely wait until I had established my career and was a lot more secure financially.’

‘But you haven’t got a partner like Sophie ha—’ Amy tailed off in embarrassment as she realized too late how tactless her words sounded.

‘No. I don’t have a partner. Thank you for pointing that out, Amy.’ Emily looked suddenly furious.

‘I’m sure Amy didn’t mean it like that.’ Sophie shot Amy a warning look as she spoke. ‘No, I’m not planning babies any time soon, thanks, Amy. Anyway, we’re not even married,’ she added.

‘What’s your name? Jane Austen?’ Amy teased and a low snigger of amusement emitted from Melissa.

‘No, it’s just…’ Sophie stood up and scrunched her long chestnut hair distractedly into a ponytail. She looked flustered. ‘Well, I can’t imagine what it must be like to throw away the condoms and actually plan to make a baby. We’ve all spent so many years trying desperately not to get pregnant after what happened to Em… Sorry, Em, but you know what I mean, don’t you?’

Emily nodded, slightly wearily.

Amy’s head whirled with thoughts of Nick. She tried not to get too carried away – after all, they had only been dating for four months. But already she could picture them as parents. Nick was so protective of her and caring. He made her feel special in a way that no one ever had before. She knew she didn’t have the wit or the brains or the personality that the others had. She was the quiet one who hated any kind of confrontation and would go along with what everyone else wanted to do in order to keep the peace. But Nick seemed to find her captivating and hung on her every word. He wanted to spend every waking minute with her and told her he couldn’t get enough of her. She loved it.

She wondered idly whether their children would inherit her auburn hair and green eyes or Nick’s swarthy dark good looks, hoping it would be the latter. He was such a beautiful man – even thinking about him now made her feel weak with longing. She had had many boyfriends in the past but Nick was different. Special. She already felt that he was ‘the one’.

‘Do you think you and Steve will get married then?’ Emily interrupted the silence, cutting through Amy’s daydream.

All eyes locked on to Sophie, who seemed to quail slightly as she spoke: ‘Uh… maybe. I’ve never really thought about it.’

‘Oh, you should!’ Amy clapped her hands together several times, excitement bubbling up inside her. ‘It would be so fantastic to have a wedding to go to. I could bring Nick…’ She left the thought hanging tantalizingly in the air, imagining already what she might wear, how perfect Nick would look in a morning suit.

‘Well, I’m not planning to get married just so that you lot can have a day out.’ Sophie frowned at Amy. ‘And you need to stop daydreaming, Amy. You’ll frighten him off if you’re too keen.’

Amy grinned. ‘I can’t help it. You know what I’m like. And it hasn’t frightened him off so far.’

‘True. But then, he hasn’t met me yet!’ Melissa stood up and stretched languorously, showing off her toned, brown-skinned belly as she did so. Amy laughed, though a tiny prickle of nervousness passed through her. Melissa was a legendary flirt. But despite her sexiness and beauty, she had never enjoyed anything more than flings and one-night stands. Men never seemed to stick around. And she didn’t think Melissa was Nick’s type anyway. He was always telling Amy how much he loved her because she was so unusual, with her long, slim legs, mane of red hair and dazzling green eyes. She could easily have been a successful model but standing and posing in front of a lens had never interested her. She was too dreamy. Too creative. If anything, she wanted to be the one holding the camera.

‘Anyway, girls, enough of this nonsense. I’m starving.’ Melissa threw Amy a pleading look. ‘Amy, get a move on and cook our dinner.’

CHAPTER THREE

The next morning an early haze burned quickly away to reveal a cloudless blue sky. Emily’s leg muscles throbbed as she pounded along the beach. Running on sand was so much harder than jogging through the park near her London flat. But the salty sea air, the warmth of the sun on her skin and the gentle lapping of the waves on the shoreline were like a balm to her soul and spurred her on to keep running. Every step helped to clear her head a little more after drinking far too much last night. She hadn’t drunk that much in years. Since before Jack was born.

Seeing the others was always a bittersweet experience – it churned up so many mixed feelings. Most of all, it made her long to turn back time to their first year of university when they were all living together in the same halls of residence, young and clueless before life got in the way.

Sophie and Melissa had shared a room, while Emily and Amy had occupied the single rooms either side of them. Naturally, Melissa and Sophie were particularly close, meaning Amy and Emily also paired off. But from the start, the four of them were a tight unit. Emily had loved those days. Looking back through the prism of time, they seemed so carefree and untroubled – when problems weren’t really problems at all. They were just excuses for tearful dramas, followed by whole nights sitting up drinking and talking until dawn, dissecting and condemning whoever might have slighted one of them.

Those were Emily’s last memories of being truly happy. After that first year, when they all went their separate ways, everything changed. Sophie moved in with Steve, while Amy and Melissa shared a flat. They asked Emily to move in with them but she chose to stay in halls.

She never told the others the real reason she wanted to be close to the university but she sometimes wondered if they guessed. Anton was her tutor and over the course of her first year, Emily had grown increasingly attracted to him. In his late thirties, he was tall, tanned, blond and devastatingly charming. He was also devastatingly married with two young children.

Emily told herself that it was just a crush and that nothing could ever happen between them but however hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to contain her feelings for him. In fact, with each passing month, they grew stronger until he had become something of an obsession. She would find excuses to spend extra time with him, citing the need to go over her last essay in greater detail or to discuss a new theory she had about a particular author. Just being alone with him was enough.

Anton seemed impressed by her dedication to her studies and certainly didn’t discourage her from asking for more help. Over time she convinced herself that the attraction was mutual.

The others would sometimes tease her and call her a swot or a teacher’s pet but they never actually asked if there was anything going on between them. The closest they came was when Melissa had wondered aloud whether it was Anton that was the attraction, rather than the Breton Lays in Middle English. Emily had laughed it off, pointing out that even if she did think Anton was very attractive, she would never make a move on a) a married man or b) her tutor. ‘I would get the blame and I’d be thrown off the course.’

Melissa had pondered this for a moment. ‘He’d be blamed too. He could lose his post.’

‘Well, it’s a good job there’s nothing going on then, isn’t it?’ Emily had countered, relieved to have been able to deny it so categorically.

After that, it was never mentioned again, and Emily was able to indulge her obsession without being questioned. Her results improved and she was seen as the top student in her year, destined for a first-class degree, followed by a big career.

‘It’s down to you,’ she told Anton, when she gained the highest marks in her exams at the end of the second year.

Anton had smiled the slightly crooked smile that she had spent so many nights dreaming about and reached out to take her hand. Emily’s heart banged in her chest, wondering if this was the moment he would finally admit his feelings for her.

‘There’s something I need to tell you.’

She nodded, her mouth too dry to speak.

‘I’m leaving.’

Emily blinked. She must have misheard. It wasn’t possible.

‘Leaving?’

Anton nodded. ‘I’ve got a new job. In Durham. I won’t be back next term.’ He was looking at her earnestly. Apologetically.

Emily’s thoughts lurched ahead to her third year, stretching out before her like a barren wasteland. He had to reconsider. ‘What about me?’ she said, realizing as the words left her lips how childish they sounded.

‘You’ll be fine!’ He squeezed her hand, his eyes holding hers. ‘You’re doing so well. Just keep it up and you’ll get the first you deserve.’

‘I don’t care about a bloody first!’ Emily spat, her thoughts tumbling furiously over one another.

Anton dropped her hand and cleared his throat. ‘Look, Emily, you’ve worked so hard. Don’t blow it now.’

Emily gazed at him in disbelief. As she did so, it dawned on her that this was a common scenario for Anton. Students fell for him all the time. Of course they did. He was gorgeous. She wasn’t the first and she wouldn’t be the last. The realization hit her like a sledgehammer blow.

‘All this time, you must have been laughing at me—’

‘No!’ The vehemence of Anton’s denial made her catch her breath. ‘No,’ he repeated. ‘I have never laughed at you. I, well, if things had been different…’ He left the words hanging in the air between them.

‘Don’t.’ Emily stood up and smoothed down her jeans, swallowing back the tears that were thick in her throat. ‘Just… don’t.’

Anton watched her as she gathered her bags together. His pale blue eyes glittered slightly but he didn’t speak.

‘Well. Thank you. Good luck in your new job.’ Her words sounded forced. Which is what they were.

‘Thank you, Emily. Good luck with the rest of your course. I look forward to reading your first novel one day.’

‘Yeah. Right.’ Emily threw him a final glance over her shoulder before closing the door behind her.

It would be almost a year before she saw him again.

AUGUST 1998

‘President Bill Clinton has given a nationally televised statement, in which he admits that he had an “improper physical relationship” with White House intern Monica Lewinsky, and that it was “not appropriate”.’

WHITSTABLE

CHAPTER FOUR

Melissa opened the bottle of champagne with a practised pop and expertly poured some into each of the four glasses she had lined up on the granite worktop.

‘Not for me, thanks.’ Sophie wouldn’t look at Melissa as she spoke, turning away from her and perching on one of the stools lined up against the breakfast bar.

‘What? You’re joking, aren’t you? I’ve known you for eight years now and you’ve never once turned down champagne.’

‘I’m not feeling great, to be honest.’

Melissa’s antennae prickled. Sometimes she thought she knew Sophie better than she knew herself. Something was very wrong and she did indeed look like death.

After a moment spent staring at Sophie’s back, Melissa quickly drained Sophie’s glass and put it in the sink. Then she picked up two glasses and handed them out to Amy and Emily who were sitting at the pretty cloth-covered wooden table by the window. They were chatting animatedly and hadn’t noticed the exchange between Sophie and Melissa.

‘Here’s to Amy and Nick!’ Melissa interrupted, striding into the middle of the room with her own full champagne flute aloft.

Sophie scuttled to the cupboard and retrieved a wine glass, which she quickly filled with tap water. Melissa pretended not to see.

Amy, wearing a short, floaty green dress that showed off her long, toned legs and matched her vivid eyes perfectly, stood up and twirled in delight, sending her long auburn hair swinging behind her.

Melissa watched her, envy scorching through her like heartburn as she raised her glass to toast Amy’s engagement. Nick had proposed to her during a romantic weekend in Capri. According to Amy, he had waited until they had arrived by chairlift at the top of a mountain before bending down on one knee and producing a stunning antique diamond ring. He was rich, he was so handsome it was almost comical and he was madly in love with Amy.

Melissa couldn’t understand why she felt so envious. She had no desire to settle down and anyway, she hadn’t met anyone she would want to settle down with. Yet Amy’s happiness and radiance made her feel as though she had somehow failed.

How different Amy’s life suddenly seemed to the others’, having all travelled down such wildly contrasting paths since their weekend away last year. Emily was still scrimping and struggling to support herself and Jack alone; Sophie seemed to have lost her natural sparkle and disappeared into her own melancholy world and Melissa’s love life was non-existent. Well, that wasn’t strictly true. Melissa’s sex life was excellent. It was just that there wasn’t much love involved in any of her liaisons, mainly because the men she slept with were usually married, or in long-term relationships. She told herself that she didn’t care: she was young and she was having fun. She dismissed the niggling voice whispering in her ear in the middle of the night that sex, however good, was no replacement for love. Nor was it actually very much fun.

‘So when’s the big day then?’ Emily’s voice cut through Melissa’s maudlin thoughts as they all pulled a chair around the table and sat down. Distractedly, Melissa picked up a corner of the checked blue-and-white tablecloth and began to twist it around her thumb, remembering as she did so how, as a child, she used to twist her special blanket in the same way, before sucking her thumb. She had a sudden flashback to her four-year-old self, sitting on the stairs watching her mum and dad scream at each other with pure hatred in their eyes. That must have been the last row before they split up for good. She couldn’t remember being in that house after that night.

Amy took a sip of her champagne, the bubbles dancing in the liquid like a perfect reflection of the glints of light in her green eyes. Happiness, Melissa decided, unable to pull her own eyes away from Amy’s, was the best beauty product there was. She had never seen anyone look more beautiful.

‘I’m not entirely sure but I think it’ll be about this time next year. Nick’s in charge – he has very firm ideas about what he wants. I’ll just do what I’m told.’

‘We could make our weekend away next year your hen weekend!’ Melissa’s thoughts snapped back to the present and she glugged her glass of champagne greedily, eager to shut out the flashbacks to the past. She placed it carefully on the table, before lifting the bottle and refilling, noticing that Sophie made to cover hers with her hand just in case Melissa tried to refill it. But as no one else had drained their glass the way Melissa had, she just returned the half-empty bottle to the table.

‘That’s a great idea!’ Amy paused and looked at each of them in turn, as if she was contemplating whether to say something. ‘Actually,’ she began, clearly having decided to say whatever it was. ‘There’s something I’d like to ask you all…’

A whisper of anticipation swept around the table. Melissa’s eyes instinctively turned towards Sophie, who raised her eyebrows.

‘I wondered if you might consider being my bridesmaids?’ Amy suddenly looked shy.

‘What? All of us?’ Sophie had a slight look of panic on her face.

‘Yes! All of you!’ A tiny furrow appeared in the skin between Amy’s eyebrows, as if she was suddenly unsure whether she had said the right thing. ‘Although… only if you want to.’

‘Of course we all want to!’ Melissa threw Sophie a what the hell? look. What was going on with her?

‘Y… yes!’ Sophie stuttered out the words. ‘We’d l… love to!’

Amy’s face relaxed into a wide smile. ‘Oh, that’s amazing! Thank you.’ She clapped her hands with glee. ‘And Em, I was thinking that maybe Jack could be my pageboy?’

Emily nodded immediately. ‘He’d love to! As long as you don’t dress him up in velvet pantaloons.’

‘No pantaloons, I promise.’ Amy sighed happily and took a sip of her champagne, oblivious to the tumultuous emotions swirling around the heads of all three of her friends.

CHAPTER FIVE

Emily emptied her small suitcase onto the pretty quilted throw on the bed and looked out of the latticed window towards the beach. The sun was beginning to lose some of its heat and turn from yellow to peach, though it hadn’t yet dipped in the sky. She watched two figures making their way out along the strip of shingle that had risen up from beneath the waves as the tide slowly retreated.

Watching them now, it was almost comical. Sophie, so tall with her long, thick chestnut hair and Melissa, so tiny with her shoulder-length braids, both of them with their heads bowed against the strong breeze, their hair whipping around their faces.

It wasn’t hard to guess what they were talking about with such intensity. She had immediately clocked Sophie not drinking and she looked terrible, with her skin almost grey under the harsh rays of the afternoon sun. Emily recognized the symptoms, though she wished she didn’t. She loved her Jack so very much. So much that sometimes it physically hurt. But she wished… no, she couldn’t even allow herself to think it. Her life had taken a turn that fateful night and she couldn’t turn it back.

‘You’re drunk!’ she laughed, staggering as he boomeranged between her and the brick wall they were passing.

He ran his hand through his blond hair as he stumbled on. ‘So are you.’

She couldn’t deny it. It was rare for her to let herself go but it had been such a fun night. And such a lovely surprise to see him. They had run into each other by chance at a gig being held at the university. The members of the band had all left at the end of their first year to pursue a music career. Their contemporaries and their lecturers had shaken their heads and mumbled darkly about the ‘biggest mistake of their lives’. But to everyone’s surprise, including the band themselves, they had gone on to be very successful and were already selling out huge venues around the world. This gig was a thank-you to their old uni mates and favourite tutors for their early support, so it was a very small and intimate affair.

Emily had gone alone because none of the other girls in her halls of residence were third years and therefore weren’t invited. Melissa had been at the gig too but Emily had lost sight of her early on and assumed she had left.

He seemed as delighted and surprised to see her as she was to see him. They spent the evening getting more and more drunk and sweaty, as they thrashed amid the adoring crowd. By the end they were barely able to stand up, although he was worse than her.

‘Can I crash on your floor?’ His voice was staccato, as he tried in vain to sound sober by concentrating on each word. ‘I’m not sure I’ll make it back in one piece.’

Despite her drunken state, she hesitated. ‘Better not,’ she slurred.

‘No one will know.’

That was true. If he left first thing in the morning, it was unlikely anyone would see him. ‘OK. But you’re sleeping on the floor.’

‘’S’all I need.’

She was woken by the sound of him stumbling around, crashing first into her desk, then her bed. Still in an alcohol haze, she momentarily forgot why he was there. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

‘Sorry,’ he mumbled, before lifting the duvet and sliding in beside her.

‘What the…?’ she started to say, but he silenced her with a kiss and all argument was lost as she melted into him, her body unable to resist as his hands and mouth moved lower.

Afterwards, he fell asleep straight away, with her awkwardly entangled in his arms. She lay there staring up at the ceiling in shock at what had just happened.

As the smudgy light of dawn began to seep over the top of the curtains, she nudged him gently awake and moved as far away from him as she could. His eyes flickered open and she watched as he tried to compute where he was. Slowly he turned his head towards her, a look of horror in his eyes. ‘Shit,’ he whispered.

‘It’s OK.’ She sounded more in control than she felt. ‘Get dressed. Leave. Go home. We can forget this ever happened. Don’t worry, I’m not going to stalk you…’

Relief made his features relax and he nodded. He lifted the duvet, then hesitated, as if only just becoming aware of his nakedness.

Emily closed her eyes and turned her head to the wall. ‘I won’t look.’

After another second’s hesitation, he climbed out of bed and Emily listened as he gathered up his clothes from the floor, then dressed quickly. She turned her head towards him and opened her eyes. He looked far more handsome than he had any right to.

He put his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and bit his lip, awkwardness and embarrassment enveloping him like a blanket. ‘Sorry,’ he murmured, glancing longingly towards the door, desperate for escape.

‘Go,’ she said again.

After he’d gone, she tried to get back to sleep but couldn’t. The smell of him lingered on her sheets and on her body, bringing with it flashbacks of him thrusting into her, setting her alight in a way that she’d never known before. With an almighty effort, she pushed the thoughts away, got out of bed and began to strip the duvet cover and pillowcases. She threw them into a pile in the middle of the floor and stared at the bare mattress, trying to make sense of what had happened. Already she somehow knew that this night would affect the rest of her life.

Watching Sophie and Melissa out on the beach in the evening sunlight, Emily felt a violent stab of jealousy. Sophie’s situation was so different from the one she had found herself in. Sophie was in a happy, settled relationship with the love of her life, while Emily had been lost, scared and alone, sworn to secrecy and not even able to share the excitement and happiness of all the milestones along the way – the scans, the birth, the first tooth, the first step. Sophie would be able to share all of that with her Steve and although she knew it was irrational, Emily hated her for it.

CHAPTER SIX

‘So are you going to tell me or do I have to guess?’ Melissa had borrowed a pair of too-big wellies and an oversized Barbour coat from the house, giving her the comical appearance of a child wearing its parents’ clothes as she and Sophie crunched together over the shingle.

Sophie pulled her own leather jacket around her. Although it was August, the temperature still dropped sharply in the evenings, producing a strong breeze that carried with it more than a hint of ice. She looked ahead at the rapidly setting sun, a fierce ball of orange melting into a slate-grey sea. Walking along this narrow strip of shingle, which rose mystically from the water with each low tide, Sophie had a sudden feeling that she was walking on water. That she was invincible. ‘I’m pregnant.’

She couldn’t be sure if it was the sound of the wind or a sharp intake of breath from Melissa that whipped past her ears. They crunched along without speaking until they reached the end and couldn’t walk any further without wading into the murky depths – the prospect of which Sophie found momentarily, desperately appealing. She hesitated, waiting for the temptation to pass, before turning. Ahead of them the clapperboard house rose up in its pale-blue painted splendour. The last of the sun’s tired rays glinted lazily off the latticed windows, giving the impression that the house was slowly but surely dropping off to sleep.

Melissa reached out and took Sophie’s hand in hers as they stood, still as statues while the wind continued to buffet them, causing their hair to blow around their faces. Her tiny hand felt strong and safe. ‘It’ll be OK, you know.’

Finally, Sophie turned to meet Melissa’s eye and wondered if the gleam of tears she saw there was a reflection of her own. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

‘Why don’t you tell me what happened?’

Sophie looked up at the clock on the newsroom wall. It was 11.15 p.m. Her eyes felt gritty and sore through lack of sleep but her heart was still hammering with adrenaline. She had just produced her first ever news bulletin and the buzz it had given her was indescribable. She had felt as if she was literally flying as she heard her words being read out to the nation by one of the most familiar newscasters in Britain.

Gradually, the newsroom had thinned out as everyone else drifted home but Sophie didn’t want to go home just yet. To Steve. Who would probably be fast asleep and snoring by now. She wanted to celebrate.

‘So how was that for you, Sophie?’ It wasn’t just the face that was familiar, the voice was unmistakable too.

‘Oh, it was amazing! Thank you. I mean, I know you do this every night but my God, what a buzz!’

Matt Whitelaw laughed, revealing straight white teeth that looked even whiter next to his tanned skin. ‘Yeah, I do it every night but you know what? Every time is different and I never, ever take it for granted. It’s great to see someone so fired up, though. Some of the producers have been around for so long they seem as if they’re just going through the motions.’

Sophie nodded, knowing that he was talking about the two senior producers, Simon Tebbutt and Neil Marsh. Between them they had about thirty years under their belts at this company and while their experience was undoubtedly valuable, they were both a bit too comfortable in their roles and had been secretly described by some of the other producers as ‘bed-blockers’.

‘Still, I guess as long as we stay at the top, they won’t be going anywhere…’ Matt shrugged on his black leather biker jacket and picked up his crash helmet. ‘Listen, I don’t suppose you fancy a swift vino, do you?’

Sophie could feel herself reddening. She glanced around the newsroom to see if anyone had heard but by now it was deserted. ‘Won’t everywhere be closed?’

Matt tapped his nose. ‘I know a place… come on, I’ve got a spare helmet on the bike.’ He strode confidently towards the door of the newsroom, clearly expecting no objection from her.

Sophie hesitated, looking down at her Lycra mini-skirt and knee-length boots. Oh, what the hell? she thought, scooping up her bag and jacket and following him out of the door.

‘You looked great on the bike in that skirt and those boots.’ Matt eyed her legs appreciatively, as they sat opposite each other on soft red velvet chairs in the private members’ lounge he had taken her to. ‘Did you see that cab driver’s face when he pulled up alongside us? I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head.’ Matt took a long, slow drag on his cigarette and exhaled, his eyes narrowing behind the tiny wall of smoke, giving him the aura of a fifties matinee idol.

Sophie laughed, a little nervously. The evening had taken on a surreal quality. It was gone midnight and she knew that she shouldn’t be here, alone with another man. A man she had fantasized about ever since she’d started working for this company just over a year ago.

Matt Whitelaw was the main anchor of the late news show. He was arrogant and vain and had been known to have more than the odd petulant outburst behind the scenes, but he was also undeniably sexy. His pale blue shirt strained against the honey-coloured skin on his taut, flat stomach. His blue-grey eyes were framed by long, dark lashes that gave him a look of innocence, even when he was saying the most outrageous things, which meant that he could get away with just about anything. He had that rare quality that drew both men and women to him in droves and probably stemmed from his sharp intellect and fierce wit. They had been discussing the story about Bill Clinton and the White House intern that was just beginning to surface and Sophie was in thrall as he assessed the mounting evidence. ‘Watch this space. It’s going to cause him trouble, this one…’ he finished, with a knowing smile.

Sophie smiled back, alcohol dulling her ability to give a meaningful response. Matt then moved on to talking about the team at work, taking apart each character like a surgeon with a scalpel. ‘I dread to think what you say about me behind my back.’ Sophie’s comment was meant to be light-hearted but as she finished speaking, their eyes connected and Matt’s face took on an intense expression.

‘Oh, I do definitely talk about you behind your back.’ He spoke slowly and deliberately, rolling his words with his tongue. ‘But nothing for you to dread, I assure you.’

Sophie wished he would be the one to look away first, but he had dropped his head slightly and was looking up at her through those lashes in a way that told her he was going nowhere. With an effort, she pulled her gaze away from his and took a sip of her champagne. She felt woozy and slightly sick. She was out of her depth and they both knew it. ‘I think I’d better go home.’

Matt blinked sleepily, not betraying the faintest hint of disquiet. Still he watched her. ‘No, you don’t. The night’s only just begun…’

Suddenly Sophie’s senses, which seemed to have been floating in the ether above her all evening, snapped sharply back into focus. ‘Yes. I really do.’ She grabbed her bag and jacket and stood up. ‘You stay. I’ll get a cab. Thanks for the drink. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ Her words came out like the rattle of a machine gun, nerves making her gabble. She glanced back over her shoulder as she headed for the door. Matt was watching her with a tiny smirk of surprise. And was it her imagination or did he look ever so slightly impressed?

‘So how come you were so late last night, gorgeous?’ Steve rolled over in bed and wrapped his arms around Sophie, who tensed instinctively, guilt swirling in her stomach. She had arrived back at the flat to find a card from Steve on the kitchen table saying, ‘Congratulations on a brilliant first show.’

‘I, er, went for a drink with some of the others after the programme.’

Steve planted a kiss on her bare shoulder, his bristles scratching her skin in a way that wasn’t unpleasant. ‘That’s nice. So how did the programme go?’

Sophie turned over to face him. She loved Steve’s ‘morning face’ before he’d had a shave, with his dark blue eyes still crinkly with sleep and his silky blond hair mussed up so that it flopped messily around his high cheekbones. ‘It went really well. Did you like it?’

‘I did.’ Steve kissed her gently on the mouth. ‘It looked great but I meant how did it go behind the scenes? Was Mr Handsome a pain in the arse?’

Sophie smiled at Steve’s description of Matt. They had often watched him deliver the news while commenting that he looked incredibly full of himself. ‘Nah, he was fine. Nice, actually. He came for a drink too.’ As soon as she said the words, Sophie could feel herself beginning to relax. She might not have told the whole truth but she hadn’t lied to Steve either. Already, she was beginning to wonder if she had imagined the sexual tension she had felt last night. Matt probably just wanted to unwind after the show and she was the only one available to go for a drink with him. It didn’t mean he had singled her out at all.

She lifted her hand and stroked Steve’s hair away from his face, enjoying the prickly sensation from his stubble on her palm. He took his cue and rolled on top of her, his mouth finding hers so effortlessly, his tongue exploring hers as if it was the first time they had ever kissed. Every nerve ending began to sing as Sophie guided him inside her, the feel of him so familiar yet each sensation so new. She threw her head back and groaned as he began to thrust faster, his mouth on her breasts, her neck, her stomach. Sophie could feel herself teetering on the edge of an orgasm when Matt’s face flashed in front of her closed lids. Suddenly it was Matt’s body above her, thrusting himself into her, pushing her closer and closer to the edge and she came with an almighty shudder.

‘Wow.’ Steve rolled off her and lay back on the bed, breathing heavily. ‘That was great.’

‘It was.’ Sophie was glad he wasn’t looking at her face because she felt sure he would know what she had been thinking in those final, climactic moments. A feeling of guilt began to gnaw at her. Already she had deceived Steve and worse, she had fantasized about someone else while he was making love to her.

‘I’d better get ready for work.’ She slipped her legs over the side of the bed and sat up.

‘Yeah, me too. Wish I didn’t have to, though. Wish I could stay in bed with you all day.’

Sophie looked at him over her shoulder and smiled. ‘Me too.’ She felt obliged to say it even though she didn’t really mean it. She loved her work with a passion and couldn’t wait to get there most days. She had thought it was just because she had fulfilled a long-held ambition when she became a TV producer but it was more than that. She loved the buzz, the excitement. The people. One person in particular.

Steve quite enjoyed his job as an HR officer for a City bank but it was a million miles from where his ambitions lay. He was a comedy writer and he dreamed of making it a career one day. For now, though, they had a mortgage to pay on their two-bedroom flat in Balham in south London and they couldn’t afford for one of them to give up work just yet. Sophie sometimes felt guilty about it but more and more recently, she had begun to question why he had settled for such a dull career when he could have gone for something more exciting. Like she had.

She still loved him so deeply and couldn’t imagine her life without him in it. It was as if her adulthood had only really begun once she met him. But in the newsroom each day, she was surrounded by ambitious, thrusting, handsome, funny men who sometimes made Steve seem a little, well, boring. Every time the insistent little thought niggled at a corner of her brain, she would try to push it away but it always returned.

Walking into the newsroom later that morning, she was lost in thought and mulling over what news stories might feature in her bulletin, when Keira, another of the junior producers she worked with, sidled up and fell into step beside her. ‘So, it looks like someone’s got an admirer.’

Sophie frowned. ‘Sorry?’

Keira nudged her. ‘You. And Matt. Jez saw you leaving the newsroom together last night.’

Sophie’s insides dropped instantly with fear. ‘What? No. I mean, there was nothing in it. We just went for a drink.’ She started to stutter and could feel her cheeks burning, making her look guilty as hell.

‘Hey, you don’t need to defend yourself to me,’ Keira nudged her gently. ‘Who wouldn’t, given half a chance?’

‘No! You don’t understand. I wouldn’t. I have a boyfriend I’m very happy with. Matt’s a player. He could have anyone. He doesn’t want or need to bother with me.’

Keira looked at her closely, as if weighing up whether to believe her. ‘Seriously? You turned down Matt Whitelaw?’

‘No!’ Sophie could feel the frustration bubbling up inside her as she reached her desk and dumped her bag on the floor, before slumping into her chair. ‘I didn’t turn him down because he didn’t try anything on! We had a drink and I got a cab home. End of story. I don’t remotely fancy him and I doubt very much whether he remotely fancies me.’ Her voice rose as she spoke and by the time she had finished, she was aware that she had an audience. She looked around to see that Matt had arrived in the newsroom just in time to hear the last sentence.

He smiled at her easily and headed for his own desk, where he sat down and began typing at his keyboard. Keira mouthed the word ‘Oops’ and edged away towards her own seat.

Sophie took a second to compose herself before she turned to her computer and logged in. They had just had new computers installed with an operating system called Outlook Express which meant they could send emails to one another. Immediately, an email flashed up.

MATT WHITELAW: ACTUALLY I DO REMOTELY FANCY YOU.

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘So what? You didn’t do anything wrong.’ Melissa tucked her hands deep into the pockets of her oversized Barbour, as she and Sophie sat together on the sea wall, looking out over the choppy water while a flock of seagulls squealed through the deepening sky.

‘I wouldn’t have done anything wrong if I’d left it there.’ If only. If only I had left things there.

Sophie let herself into the flat and crept towards the bedroom door, which was ajar. She peeped her head around it and strained her eyes to see if she could make out the figure of Steve asleep in the darkness.

‘If you’re looking for me, I’m in here.’

Sophie jumped. Her heart beginning to pound, she walked to the living room, where she found Steve sitting on the sofa in the dark, his back ramrod straight, staring at the wall.

‘What are you doing in here?’ She tried to keep her voice light-hearted, but she had a sudden feeling of foreboding. ‘Has something happened?’

Steve didn’t answer. Finally, he leaned over and clicked on the lamp beside him, bathing the small room in a golden glow. ‘Come and sit down, Sophie. I think we need to talk.’

The bile rose in Sophie’s throat. She had never seen Steve look so serious, his lovely dancing eyes now clouded with… something. She couldn’t work out if it was sadness, anger, jealousy or disgust. She sat down beside him, yet as far from him as possible, as if she was lowering herself onto a cushion of broken glass. How could she possibly be so nervous in the company of the man she had loved for the past eight years? ‘Steve? You’re scaring me. What’s the matter?’

Steve’s face softened as he gazed at her and she knew that whatever he was about to say, he still loved her. She could see it, sense it, smell it. He reached out and took her hand, stroking it gently. ‘I think we should split up.’

‘No! Oh my God, no!’ Her cheeks began to blaze with fear. ‘But… why?’

Steve reached out and stroked her face, catching her tears in his hand, his expression a mixture of sorrow and love. ‘I think we both know why.’

‘I don’t!’

‘But you do, sweetheart. We’ve started leading separate lives. Ever since you joined that programme you’ve been drifting away from me. I know you so well, Sophie. I can tell. I know that you think I’m boring compared to all those testosterone-fuelled blokes you work with.’

‘No! You’ve got it all wrong. I don’t think you’re boring. I love you!’ It occurred to Sophie that it was only now, as she spoke the words, that she realized how true they were.

Steve shook his head sadly, and cupped her face in his hand. His strong, smooth, beautiful hand. ‘You’ve had no idea where I’ve been every evening and I’ve had no idea where you’ve been. Why you’re always so late home these days when the programme finishes at ten thirty…’ He let the words hang in the air for a second and Sophie realized what he was telling her. He knew.

‘I…’ she began but she couldn’t continue. He was right. She had been so busy covering her tracks that she hadn’t ever stopped to find out what he’d been up to all these evenings when she was working. Now she knew. He’d been following her. He would have seen her leaving the building each night with Matt, getting on his motorbike and heading back to his flat near Tower Bridge. Was he sitting outside when she left again an hour or so later and climbed into a cab, wondering if she smelt of him? Hoping that Steve would be asleep so that he wouldn’t want to make love.

‘But I love you.’ The words sounded so empty coming from her mouth now. So deceitful. Yet they were true.

‘I know. I love you too. But we’re done, babe.’ Steve got up and looked down at her. ‘I’ve packed a bag and I’ll take it tonight. I’ll come back for my other stuff later.’

‘How can you be so calm about this?’ Sophie felt an inexplicable surge of anger.

Steve sighed deeply and shook his head. ‘Because I’ve had time to get used to it. When I first realized… I was the complete opposite of calm, I can assure you. I was a mess. But you obviously didn’t notice.’

Shame and guilt settled around Sophie like a blanket. No, she hadn’t noticed. She had stopped taking any notice of her beautiful, loyal, decent partner because she was too busy playing around with her shallow, selfish, arrogant lover.

Sophie stumbled through the next few days like a drunk oblivious to everything else except getting the next drink. The only thought in her head was Steve. After he’d gone, she lay in bed listening to the clank and rattle of the pipes that sounded as if they were groaning in protest at the loss of their owner.

She pulled his pillow into her face and let it absorb the tears, which wouldn’t stop flowing. The scent of him clung to the bedsheets, causing her insides to cramp with pain and fear. Only now did she really understand how much she loved him. How much she needed him. And that she just couldn’t function without him. Without him, it felt as if her life was over.

She rang his mobile over and over again. Each time it would click through to his voicemail and she would leave long, rambling messages, begging his forgiveness, telling him how much she loved him and pleading with him to come home. She didn’t know if he listened to them but she had to try. She had to do everything she could to convince him to give her another chance. Panic engulfed her every time she hung up, wondering how the hell she would ever cope if he didn’t.

She called in sick at work and when Matt texted her, she deleted the texts and deleted his number. Anything she felt for him had evaporated in an instant. She spent the whole time clutching her phone in the desperate hope that Steve would call her back. She wondered where he’d gone and realized with a pang of shame that she had stopped taking any interest in his life around the same time that she had started her job at the TV station. She didn’t actually know who his good friends were any more or who he might have gone to in his hour of need.

She lost count of the days but sometime during the following week, the door opened and he walked in. Sophie leapt off the bed and ran into the hallway, staring at him with her mouth open, hanging onto his gaze, terrified that she might be seeing things and he might disappear again just as quickly as he had appeared. He looked tired and dishevelled but so, so beautiful. His eyes glittered with tears and his mouth moved towards a smile, which quickly became a sob. She crossed the distance between them and threw herself onto him, kissing his face, his mouth, his body. ‘I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. I love you so much.’

He gripped her just as tightly, responding hungrily to her kisses and then somehow they were in the bedroom, tearing at each other’s clothes, exploring each other’s bodies. Later, they lay naked and entwined, Sophie too afraid to move away from him in case he left again. ‘I love you.’ She looked into his eyes to try to convey how much she meant it. ‘I love you so much.’

He looked down at her, his expression gentle, the hurt already leaving his features. ‘I love you too.’

‘I’m sorry, Steve. I am so, so sorry. I will do anything… anything, to prove to you that I will never, ever hurt you again.’

‘I’m sorry too.’

‘Don’t. You have nothing to be sorry for.’ Sophie sat up and looked at him fiercely.

Much later, as they drank wine, sitting side by side, still in bed, something occurred to her. ‘Where did you go? Where have you been?’

Steve blinked slowly and shook his head slightly. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘OK.’ It was understandable. It had been such a painful time for both of them. ‘But I want you to know that I am there for you, Steve. I am going to put you first from now on. No more leading separate lives.’

Steve smiled slightly and leaned forward to kiss her. ‘And no more looking back either. I just want to forget the past and move on.’

Sophie’s eyes filled. She felt like the luckiest woman alive. He was going to give her another chance. And there was no way she was going to blow it this time.

The darkness had begun to encroach and the sky was losing the last pink traces of the day. The waves continued to crash around them and the strip of shingle that had risen out of the sea’s murky depths had now submitted to it once more.

Melissa looked at Sophie, frowning in confusion. ‘But that’s all good, isn’t it? I know you might not necessarily have planned to get pregnant just yet but you’re back with Steve, you’re madly in love again… What’s the problem?’

Sophie wrapped her arms around herself. She didn’t know if she could voice what the problem was, or admit it, even to herself. In the end she didn’t need to.

‘Oh.’ Melissa didn’t have to say any more. She understood.

‘So, as I said, I don’t know what to do.’

Melissa nodded and Sophie could see the fear in her eyes on her behalf. Her stomach churned like the sea stretching far out in front of them.

‘Well,’ Melissa began, hesitant at first, then more confident. ‘It’s almost certainly Steve’s, isn’t it?’

‘Yes. Almost.’ God, how she hated that word right now.

‘But… surely you used something with… the other one.’ Melissa stuttered over the words.

Sophie nodded. No need to tell Melissa about that last time when the condom came off. She hadn’t thought anything of it at the time. Why didn’t she think anything of it? How could she have been so stupid?

‘And with Steve?’

‘Not that first day, when he came home.’

‘So Steve will definitely think it’s his?’

Sophie nodded again, still hugging herself, not so much for warmth but for some kind of comfort. Yes, Steve would believe that the baby was his. But what if it wasn’t? Could she live with such a lie for her whole life?

‘Have you told Steve?’ Melissa stood up from where they were sitting on the sea wall and faced Sophie.

‘No. Not yet. I’m still trying to deal with it myself.’

‘Well, if you want my advice…’

‘I do.’

Melissa’s face softened and she reached out to hug Sophie. ‘Tell him. And tell yourself the same thing. And live your life looking forward, not back.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

Amy threw another slice of bacon into the scorching frying pan and watched with satisfaction as it immediately started to sizzle and crisp. There was no sign of any of the others yet, meaning she had the kitchen to herself, which was how she liked it. She wasn’t alone very often these days, ever since she moved in with Nick, so it was a rare treat.

It was lovely to see the girls but there was a strange atmosphere this year. Something that Amy couldn’t put her finger on. Sophie in particular seemed out of sorts and down. She didn’t look great either. And Melissa was drinking them all under the table, more so than usual. Even Emily seemed a bit low.

Amy sighed. She was so very happy right now and she felt bad that she couldn’t share some of it with her closest friends. It seemed inappropriate to gush about how well things were going for her when clearly the others were having issues of their own that meant they were slightly distant and distracted.

She thought about Nick and what he’d be doing this Sunday morning while she was away. He had opined that he wouldn’t know what to do without her and would spend every moment she was away waiting for her to return. Amy grinned to herself. She could never in her wildest dreams have imagined finding a man like Nick, who was so unashamedly obsessed with her and was happy to tell everyone how much he loved and adored her.

He had wanted to get married quickly, suggesting they jet off to a paradise island and do it as soon as possible. But Amy had gently resisted. She was an only child and she knew how much it would hurt her parents not to see her married. She wasn’t good at standing her ground. Usually, she would go along with things to keep everyone happy, even if it meant that she sometimes went against her own instinct. But on this she was absolutely adamant. ‘I want my parents there and I want the girls there. They’re like the sisters I never had and I have to have them at my wedding.’

A flash of irritation had crossed Nick’s face. This was probably the first and only time she had insisted on anything. But, after a moment’s thought, he had nodded and smiled. ‘Fine. I just love you so much, Amy, I want you to be mine as soon as possible.’

Amy had beamed back at him, buoyed by her tiny victory, and wrapped her arms around him. ‘I am yours, darling. I have been since that day we first met. I always will be. Being married will be wonderful but it won’t change anything.’

Nick kissed the top of her head. ‘But that’s where you’re wrong. Being married will change everything because we will both know that we are together for ever and nothing will ever come between us.’

Remembering his words now made Amy feel as though she was glowing from the inside out. She was so certain of his love and devotion that she had never experienced even the slightest scintilla of doubt about their relationship. He wanted her to give up work after the wedding so that they could try for a baby and Amy couldn’t wait. She loved her job but Nick was her priority now. Nick and the family she knew they would have together. She couldn’t wait.

As she placed the crispy bacon slices on a warmed plate and began to whisk eggs together, Emily wandered into the kitchen and sat at the island in the middle of the room. ‘Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes… that looks and smells like heaven, Amy.’

Amy grinned. ‘That’s what Nick says to me every morning when I cook his breakfast.’

‘I bet he does.’ Emily reached over to sneak a piece of bacon but Amy slapped her hand away, causing Emily to giggle. ‘He’s a very lucky man, Amy. I wish I had you to cook my breakfast every day.’

Amy smiled and poured the eggs into the sizzling pan, deftly flipping them around the pan as they began to bubble and solidify into an omelette. ‘I would happily cook you breakfast every morning, Em. Just get yourself over to my place by seven thirty and it’ll be waiting for you.’

Emily laughed. ‘Don’t tempt me!’

Amy crumbled the crisped bacon into the omelette and folded it over, before cutting it in half and serving it onto the two plates she had warmed. She took them to the table, where she had prepared a jug of freshly squeezed orange juice and a plate of thick-cut toast. Emily groaned, before launching herself towards the table and beginning to devour her food. ‘Will you rethink marrying Nick?’ she managed between mouthfuls. ‘And marry me instead?’

Amy watched her with satisfaction. She felt a deep swell of love and admiration for Emily, who had had such a tough time bringing up Jack on her own, yet never whinged or moaned about being tired or broke, both of which she most definitely was. ‘So how are you, Em? And how’s my darling Jack?’

Emily nodded slowly, as she poured herself some orange juice. ‘We’re both well. Jack’s a dream. Life is good.’

Amy raised her eyebrows. ‘I just thought you seemed a bit, I don’t know, distracted or something last night. Are you sure everything is OK?’

Emily smiled fondly. ‘You’re always worrying about other people, aren’t you? There’s no need on my behalf, honestly. I’m fine.’

Amy shrugged. Emily was always such a closed book, she knew there was no point in digging any further. ‘OK. And what about Sophie? She doesn’t seem herself at all.’

Emily opened her mouth to answer but before she could speak, Sophie herself arrived in the kitchen, looking pale and tired. ‘What about me?’ There was a weary defensiveness to her voice.

Amy could feel herself reddening instantly. She jumped up and ushered Sophie into her seat. ‘Nothing. I was just making breakfast,’ she gabbled. ‘What can I get you?’

Sophie shook her head. ‘I’m not feeling great, Amy, thanks all the same. I’ll just have some dry toast.’

‘What’s wrong, do you think?’ Emily fixed Sophie with an incisive gaze, as Amy watched nervously. There was a sudden tension in the air that she didn’t quite understand.

Sophie sighed. ‘Well, I might as well tell you both. You’ll find out anyway—’

‘You’re pregnant,’ Emily cut in, her voice flat and toneless.

Sophie swallowed and nodded. ‘I’m pregnant.’

‘Oh my God!’ Amy threw herself towards Sophie and wrapped her arms around her. ‘That is fantastic news! Congratulations!’ Sophie’s body felt stiff and unyielding, so Amy stood back and waited for a response.

Eventually she replied, ‘Thanks. Although I’m still trying to come to terms with it myself.’

‘What did Steve say?’ Again, Emily’s tone was flat.

Sophie took a deep breath. ‘I haven’t told him yet.’

Amy gasped. The idea of telling her friends something so huge before telling Nick was unthinkable. ‘Why not?’

Sophie shrugged wearily. ‘Because I’ve only just found out. Because I haven’t come to terms with it myself yet. Because, as per usual, Melissa knew before I did.’

Amy pulled up a chair and sat down beside her. ‘But you’re happy about it, aren’t you?’

Sophie bit her lip. ‘Of course. Just… adjusting. It’s a shock, that’s all.’ She looked at Emily. ‘You must have felt the same, Em?’

Emily’s face, which had been set hard, softened slightly. ‘You can say that again. But once you’re over the shock, it’s the best thing you’ll ever do. And at least you’ve got Steve…’ Her words hung in the air for a few seconds, the admonishment unspoken.

Sophie nodded. ‘Yes. I know. I’m very lucky.’ Her words sounded robotic and forced.

Amy watched the exchange. It was as if there was a whole other scene being played out that she wasn’t part of. There was a definite undercurrent and she couldn’t for the life of her work out why.

‘Where’s my breakfast?’ Melissa staggered into the kitchen, wearing a tiny pair of denim shorts and a white sleeveless top, the faint sheen of sweat on her forehead the only sign that she was hungover. She pulled up a chair and slumped down, before looking up at the others curiously. ‘Oh. I take it you’ve told them, then?’

Sophie nodded.

‘Isn’t it the most fantastic news?’ Amy couldn’t understand why no one else seemed to be pleased or excited. If it was her, she would be jumping up and down with glee.

Sophie and Melissa exchanged a glance. ‘Yes, of course it is,’ Melissa said. ‘It’s brilliant news and you’re thrilled, aren’t you, Sophie?’

Sophie gave a small, tired smile. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m thrilled.’

JULY 1999

‘American cyclist Lance Armstrong has won his first Tour de France title.’

BRIGHTON

CHAPTER NINE

‘Right, madam, you have some catching up to do after all those months not drinking. Cheers!’ Melissa clinked her glass against Sophie’s and they both drank greedily. The effect was almost instant, as Sophie’s spirits soared with each sip and her head began to swim in a pleasurable way. They sank down into the two armchairs and beamed at each other.

‘That’s more like it!’ Melissa sighed. ‘Wonder where the others are?’

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Sophie made to get up but found that her legs were surprisingly wobbly. ‘Jesus, I’m such a lightweight… I feel pissed already!’

‘Good!’ Melissa leapt out of her chair and ran towards the door, which she swung open with a flourish.

‘Hellooooo!’ came a cry, as Amy and Emily tumbled into the room, both of them looking distinctly dishevelled.

‘I see you’ve located the champagne Nick sent and demolished it already.’

Melissa put her hands on her tiny hips as if in a gesture of disapproval but she couldn’t hide her delight. ‘Oh, it’s so great to see you – come on, group hug!’

With an almighty effort, Sophie hauled herself out of her chair and joined the others in a mini rugby scrum of a hug. Four different scents combined with the alcohol fumes to make her senses swim. She had felt so dislocated and strange for so long now that it was overwhelming to be surrounded by so much love and such a feeling of belonging.

‘Sophie! Are you OK? What’s wrong?’ Amy pulled back as she spoke and broke the circle. All eyes turned towards Sophie with expressions of concern and bafflement.

Sophie shook her head roughly, trying to shake out the wooziness, embarrassed. ‘Sorry, I’m fine. I’m just… happy to see you.’

‘You’re such an old softie!’ Melissa reached up and put her arm around Sophie’s back, giving her a squeeze. ‘I think it’s more likely that it’s the first alcohol you’ve had in ages and it’s gone straight to your head.’

‘You’re probably right.’ The tension began to seep out of Sophie’s body. She knew that it was more than just the effect of the alcohol but she didn’t care. She desperately needed to let out some of the emotion she had been bottling up for so long.

The look of joy on Steve’s face was like a dagger to her heart. ‘Oh, wow, that’s amazing. Really, really amazing.’ He gazed at her in wonder, as if he was seeing her for the first time. ‘Are you sure?’

Sophie tried to smile, her lip wobbling. ‘I’m sure. I’ve done four tests so far. All of them with the same result.’

A sudden shadow flickered across Steve’s face. She knew what he was thinking.

‘It’s definitely yours, Steve.’

He nodded and looked down. ‘But presumably you can’t know that for certain.’

Sophie swallowed hard and took a deep breath. She had to make this convincing. ‘I can and I do. We always used something. Whereas when you first came home…’

‘. . . we didn’t,’ he finished for her. Still he was looking down, unable to meet her eye.

‘When the baby’s born, if you want, I’ll have a DNA test done…’ Part of her hoped he’d agree. It would give her the answer she needed. Even if it wasn’t the answer she wanted.

‘No.’ Steve’s voice was firm and he looked up at her, as if decided. ‘No. No need.’

Sophie could feel her face beginning to burn but this was how it had to be. Even if she wasn’t certain, she had to make them both believe it.

‘Wow,’ Steve said, his face softening again. They were in a pizza restaurant, a large, noisy one where the clatter of plates fought with the hubbub of chatter and laughter. She had chosen it deliberately, unsure if she could cope with the well of emotion swirling around inside her if they were alone. She was scared that tears and words would come tumbling out in a waterfall of confession and regret.

Steve reached across the small marble-topped table and took her hand. ‘I am so, so pleased. How are you feeling?’

Sophie bit her lip. ‘Scared.’

A flicker of confusion passed over his face, his bright blue eyes clouding momentarily. ‘Just scared? Nothing else?’

Sophie smiled. ‘I’m excited too. Just… can’t imagine it, you know?’

Steve nodded. ‘I know.’

But of course, he didn’t.

She asked for a transfer at work so that she wasn’t producing the late news, claiming that the hours were too difficult for her to cope with while pregnant. Matt had texted her a few times, so eventually she invited him to go for a coffee and told him that she was pregnant.

The look of horror and fear in his eyes was in such stark contrast to Steve’s delighted reaction that she wondered for the millionth time why she had ever been stupid enough to get involved with him. ‘It’s not yours,’ she had told him bluntly, almost wanting to laugh as his face relaxed with relief. They had finished their coffees and parted company for what she knew would be the last time. Matt had only ever been interested in her for sex, so there was absolutely no point in continuing to see each other if that wasn’t on offer.

She and Steve sold their flat and moved into a small house not far from where Steve’s parents lived in Richmond in time for the baby’s arrival. On the surface, everything seemed perfect. Steve’s mum was going to act as the childminder once they both went back to work and Steve had had a promotion at work, which meant that they weren’t even going to be worse off financially.

But. She could help feeling like a fraud. And worse, much worse, she was starting to resent the baby. Things got slightly better after the twenty-week scan, when the sonographer revealed that she was expecting a girl. At least it wouldn’t look like him. She found herself clinging on to the hope that as soon as the baby was born, she would hold her in her arms and fall in love with her, all doubts forgotten.

The pregnancy was difficult. Not physically but emotionally. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was cheating Steve by pretending that she was certain about the baby’s paternity and without intending to, she started to mentally distance herself from him. He was so thrilled and excited about the baby that she wasn’t sure if he had even noticed, but she could feel an invisible wall building up between them.

After a long and painful labour, when the midwife placed the slippery, snuffling little bundle into her arms, she felt nothing. She cooed over her, as she knew everyone would expect her to do, but in stark contrast with Steve’s tearful, heartfelt welcome for his firstborn, all she felt was a cold detachment.

During the days and weeks that followed, she went through the motions of motherhood, all the while wondering when the surge of love she knew she was supposed to feel for her beautiful baby would kick in. But it didn’t. She watched Steve’s face melt every time he looked at Emma and felt a little spike of something that felt uncomfortably like jealousy shoot through her.

Emma was an easy baby. She smiled a lot and slept well but Sophie still found her exhausting and, although she would never admit it to anyone, even herself, she found motherhood a drudge. Whole days went by in a mundane blur of washing, ironing, changing nappies and feeding. When Steve went back to work after taking two weeks off, Sophie felt as if she had slumped into a pit of loneliness and despair that even the sweetest baby in the world couldn’t pull her out of.

All the girls came to visit. Melissa surprised her by scooping Emma up and cuddling her as if she had done it a million times before. She didn’t even seem to mind when Emma spewed up over her pale blue cashmere jumper. Amy and Emily came together and, once they had done the obligatory oohing and aahing, they both seemed keen to get away. She understood why. The house felt claustrophobic and stuffy, as if her mood had settled like a blanket of dust over everything in it.

Lots of other friends and family came to visit in the early days too but they had their own busy lives to lead and gradually the visits dwindled away to nothing, leaving her to find ways to fill the achingly long days. The first six weeks of Emma’s life were the longest of Sophie’s. The minutes, hours and days stretched out before her like a marathon course she felt she had no hope of ever completing.

When Steve came home from work, he was so thrilled to see Emma, he seemed not to notice that Sophie was gradually retreating into herself. He was as affectionate and loving towards her as ever but she could tell that his main focus had moved away from her and she didn’t like it one bit.

Amy’s hen weekend had been in the diary since before Emma was born and from the moment of her birth, it had taken on a huge significance. Every day she looked at it on the calendar like an oasis in the desert of her life and lurched towards it, willing it to come quicker. It was her escape. Her salvation. She imagined that just a couple of days away would turn her into the mother she knew she ought to be.

And now that day was here and she still didn’t feel the all-consuming love that she had heard other mothers talking about. Instead, she was already dreading the weekend being over and having to return to the drudgery of her everyday life.

‘So, Soph, how are you finding motherhood?’

Sophie spun around to find Emily looking up at her with an expression that she couldn’t quite read. ‘Um, good. Really good.’ It was the same answer she always gave. It had become a habit.

‘Is she a good baby?’

Sophie smiled. ‘She is. She sleeps really well and she’s turning into quite a porker!’

‘Have you got any new photos? I’d love to see them.’

Sophie hesitated. Had she brought any photos with her? It hadn’t occurred to her, she had been so excited about packing her own things. ‘I’m not sure where they are.…’ She reached for her bag and rummaged through it, feeling as she did so her cheeks starting to flame. ‘Oh no!’ she said, feigning regret. ‘I must have left them on my bed at home.’

Just then, Amy came to her rescue. ‘Hey, you two!’ she beamed, wrapping her arms around both their shoulders and pulling them into her embrace. ‘I hope you’re both ready to paaaarrrtaaay!’

‘She looks so happy, doesn’t she?’ Emily motioned towards Amy as she danced off to refill her glass.

‘She does.’ Sophie looked enviously at Amy, her long auburn hair shining, her porcelain skin glowing and her beautiful face set in a permanent smile of even, white teeth. She had so much to look forward to. It seemed unlikely that she would ever find herself struggling with life the way Sophie was right now.

‘So… Bit of a shock to the system, isn’t it?’ Emily’s dark eyes were boring into her, as if she could read Sophie’s thoughts.

‘Well, in a word, yes. But you’d know all about that. Honestly, Em, I can’t imagine how you did it on your own. It’s so…’

‘Relentless?’ Emily found the word for her. ‘I know, but I wasn’t on my own. Not really. I had more help than you’d think.’

Sophie felt a swell of admiration that Emily could play down what must have been such a difficult time for her. ‘I know your mum and dad were great but not having a partner must have been really tough. I don’t know what I’d have done without Steve these past few months.’ She paused before continuing. ‘He’s really taken to fatherhood. He’s better at it than me if I’m honest. It seems to come more naturally to him.’

‘I’m sure that’s not true.’ Emily reached out and touched Sophie’s arm. ‘It’s just that you’re having to deal with all those hormones as well as the day-to-day drudge. It’s hard. Nothing can really prepare you for it.’

Sophie smiled her gratitude, unable to speak for a few seconds. The relief of hearing someone else voice what she was feeling was immense. Maybe she wasn’t so hopeless after all.

‘It’s not unusual to find it a struggle, Sophie. I think it would be weird if you sailed through it with no problems or feelings of doubt. God, the number of times I cried because I was such a useless mother!’

‘You?’ Sophie was dumbfounded. Emily had always seemed so strong. So sure. So capable.

‘Yes, me! And every other new mother too. The only words of comfort I can give you are that this feeling will pass. It’s a bit like the birth itself. You forget very quickly how painful it was.’

‘I feel…’ Sophie paused, trying to formulate her words. ‘I feel guilty. There are so many other people who are desperate for a baby. And then there’s me, who wishes…’ She couldn’t finish the sentence. Couldn’t say out loud what she really felt.

Emily blinked and nodded slowly. ‘You can’t worry about other people, Soph. You have to concentrate on yourself. Don’t you think I’ve often thought how much easier my life would be if I’d met some rich, handsome man like Amy has? But that’s not her problem, it’s mine.’

Sophie nodded gratefully. Emily was always so wise. So calm. ‘And I’m sure you’ll meet your Mr Right one day, Ems.’

Emily’s dark eyes clouded momentarily. ‘Maybe. Then again, maybe I already did.’

CHAPTER TEN

‘Come back to our room and let’s carry on the party there!’ Melissa tripped drunkenly up the steps of the hotel and reached out to stop herself falling, forgetting that she was clutching an almost empty bottle of champagne. The bottle smashed and Melissa screamed in surprise as her hand landed heavily on one of the exposed shards of glass.

There was a communal gasp of horror from the others, as the palm of Melissa’s hand began to bleed. ‘It’s nothing…’ Melissa lifted up her hand and looked at it dispassionately, seemingly not noticing the blood dripping onto her white jeans in artistic splatters and apparently feeling no pain.

‘Liss! 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 have left her. What sort of friend was she to have abandoned her, knowing she was drunk and high on coke? She picked up her mobile phone and looked at it, praying for a message. There was none. She found Melissa’s number and dialled, tensing as she did so. It rang out, before clicking through to an answering service. Sophie hung up without leaving a message.

She climbed out of bed and walked to the window, aware that a cold sweat of panic had broken out on her forehead. Where the hell was Melissa? Just as she was wondering whether she should call the police, there was a familiar click and whirr as the door opened and Melissa crept in, looking almost comical as she tried to tiptoe across the carpet, seemingly not noticing Sophie standing by the window.

‘Where the bloody hell have you been?’ Sophie yelled, fear and panic and relief coursing through her veins all at once. She knew she sounded like a mother scolding her naughty child but she didn’t care. She was suddenly filled with a simmering rage.

Melissa’s already huge eyes widened as she looked at Sophie in surprise. ‘Oh, hey, Soph. I was trying not to wake you.’ She swallowed a giggle as she spoke, infuriating Sophie even more.

‘Well, as you can see, I’m already awake. Mainly because I was bloody well worrying about where you were!’

Melissa sighed deeply. ‘I’m fine! You didn’t need to worry about me. I can look after myself.’ She pulled off her blood-spattered white jeans to reveal a tiny black thong that showed off her perfectly formed bottom. She then took off her top and slid into bed. ‘God, I’m seriously knackered though.’ She snuggled down and closed her eyes.

Before she knew what she was doing, Sophie had crossed the room and pulled back the duvet, causing Melissa to yelp in shock as she tried in vain to grab it back.

‘Where have you been?’ Sophie demanded, clutching the duvet to her chest.

Melissa rolled her eyes. ‘I spent the night with that guy…’

‘What guy?’

Melissa frowned and sat up, pulling her knees to her chest to protect her modesty. ‘The one in the bar. Jesus, Soph, I don’t know what the big deal is.’

Sophie sat down on her own bed. She didn’t really know what the big deal was either but she was so angry. Was she jealous? ‘But you don’t know anything about him. He could be an axe murderer – he could be married…’

‘He is,’ Melissa said in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘Well, he’s not an axe murderer, obviously. But he is married.’

‘And doesn’t that bother you at all? Sleeping with someone else’s husband?’

Melissa raised her eyes for a second, as if pondering the question. ‘Nope.’

‘Well, maybe it should,’ Sophie said, feeling about a hundred years old.

‘I don’t think you’re in any position to preach to me about morality, Sophie.’ Melissa’s voice was gentle but her face had hardened slightly.

Sophie quailed. Melissa was right. She was in no position to lecture anyone. She stood up and threw the duvet at Melissa, before turning and heading for the bathroom.

‘Soph!’ Melissa called after her. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—’

The rest of her words were lost as Sophie switched on the bath taps and ran herself a deep, hot bath. She wanted to cry but, like yesterday, she couldn’t. She hadn’t cried for a very long time and it was only now that she realized just how odd that was. She turned off the taps and walked back out into the bedroom.

Melissa looked up at her with wide, wet eyes. ‘Are you OK, Soph? I’m really worried about you.’

Sophie frowned. ‘No, I don’t think I am. I think I might need help.’

JULY 2000

‘In entertainment news, a new reality game show, Big Brother, airs for the first time in Britain tonight. The show sees twelve contestants kept in a custom-built house, with their every move monitored on camera. Each week one housemate will be evicted by public vote.’

BATH

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Sophie pressed hard on the brakes as she drove down the steep, winding road towards the centre of Bath. To her right she could see the city laid out beneath her, rows and rows of honeycombcoloured houses in their Regency splendour. It was a damp, misty day, when the sun hadn’t quite been able to burn through, but nothing could dampen Sophie’s excitement at seeing everyone again. It had been a year since their last get-together at Amy’s wedding and she wished now that she had been in a better frame of mind to enjoy what was probably the most glamorous wedding she had ever been to.

‘Well, this looks pretty special.’ Steve got out of the car in the shingle-covered car park in front of the ancient grey-stone church. It stood in the middle of the Wiltshire countryside, secluded from the rest of the world by woods and fields that had remained unchanged for centuries. He looked around him in wonder for a few seconds, before his eyes alighted on Sophie. ‘And so do you, sweetheart. You look absolutely stunning.’

Sophie flushed under his gaze and self-consciously smoothed down her cappuccino strapless dress. ‘Thanks but I feel like a fairy elephant beside the others. You look great though.’

It was true. Steve looked almost film-star handsome in his dark, slim-cut suit, which contrasted with his blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. His face was tanned and Sophie felt a sudden swell of pride that he was with her. She took his hand and led him towards the church where the others were waiting. They had all stayed overnight together with Amy at the luxurious hotel just a hundred metres away where the reception was being held and Sophie had found the whole night a struggle.

She had started taking antidepressants straight after the hen weekend in Brighton and she was still suffering with some of the side effects. Her head felt as though it was permanently stuffed with cotton wool, which perfectly matched her horribly dry mouth. She couldn’t have any of the free-flowing champagne that the others had vigorously enjoyed last night, especially Melissa, and she felt generally leaden and out of sorts. Her feelings of worthlessness were only exacerbated by the breathtaking beauty of everyone else around her. She felt embarrassed for Amy that she would be spoiling her otherwise perfect wedding photos.

As they reached the church, Melissa bounded over to them. ‘Hey, gorgeous!’ She reached up to wrap her arms around Steve’s neck and pulled him towards her in a warm embrace. Steve glanced nervously at Sophie as Melissa finally let him go, but she couldn’t give him the reassuring smile she knew he wanted. She wouldn’t blame him for fancying Melissa when he was stuck with someone as fat and unattractive as her. Melissa’s strapless dress clung to her perfect curves as if she had been poured into a liquid milk chocolate mould, and her black afro hair had been swept up into a chignon that showed off her toned, brown shoulders and elegant neck.

Emily and her six-year-old son Jack, who was the pageboy, stood off to one side and Sophie steered Steve over towards them, safely away from Melissa. ‘Hi, Em. Hi, Jack.’ Steve crouched down so that his face was at the same level as Jack’s. ‘Love the suit, buddy!’ He tugged at Jack’s miniature dark grey suit. Amy had delivered on her promise not to put him in pantaloons, much to everyone’s relief.

Jack gave Steve a wonky, gap-toothed grin. ‘Mum said I only have to wear it for an hour and then I can get changed into my comfy clothes.’

Steve shook his head vehemently. ‘Oh no, no, no, that won’t do! You need to wear it all day so that everyone thinks you’re the same age as the rest of us.’

Jack’s eyes widened. ‘Do you think they will?’

‘Course they will. But only if you wear your suit. In your comfy clothes they might mistake you for a six-year-old or something.’

Over the top of their heads, Sophie caught Emily’s eye and smiled. Steve stood up. ‘Thank you,’ Emily mouthed to him silently.

‘That was a sweet thing to do,’ Sophie murmured, giving Steve’s hand a squeeze as they walked off. ‘She’s such a great mum, isn’t she?’

Steve glanced back at Emily and shrugged. ‘Who knows? I mean, I don’t know her like you do but she’s always seemed a bit cold to me. I bet she’s not as good a mum as you are.’

Sophie smiled, despite herself. It wasn’t true but she loved Steve for saying it.

Steve reached for Sophie’s hand again. ‘Listen, I’d better get inside and leave you to do your duties.’ He kissed her on the lips, then whispered in her ear, ‘You look beautiful. Don’t forget that.’

Sophie watched him stride into the church with a mixture of feelings. She wanted to believe that she was enough for him. But she couldn’t allow herself. How could she? Beside the others, she felt dull, lumpy and colourless. Amy, standing ahead of her, preparing to walk down the aisle, looked like she had stepped straight out of a Pre-Raphaelite painting. Her smooth, creamy skin was perfectly offset by her flowing, diaphanous ivory gown and tumbling mane of gleaming auburn curls.

‘Steve looks gorgeous in his suit.’

Sophie looked down at Melissa, who had come to stand beside her and linked her arm through hers.

‘He does.’

‘And you look gorgeous in that dress. You make the perfect, gorgeous couple.’ Sophie knew that Melissa was just trying to make her feel better but even so, she was grateful. That was what Melissa always did. She would say or do something spectacularly annoying or upsetting one minute and the next, she would give the most insightful, wise advice and show incredible kindness.

Sophie watched Emily as she smoothed Jack’s hair and dabbed at an imaginary smudge on his cheek, making her think about Emma. They had decided not to bring her to the wedding, even though Amy had made it clear that she was welcome. They had left her at home with Steve’s mum, who was all too delighted to have her. But watching Emily and Jack now, Sophie felt a small ache of yearning. It was an unfamiliar sensation but it was unmistakable. She liked it.

From inside the church, the sound of a string quartet playing drifted out over the still, summer afternoon and Amy turned to look back at them. Her eyes shone with happiness and excitement. Sophie wondered if Amy had ever suffered a crisis of confidence. She doubted it. ‘No turning back now,’ Amy grinned. ‘Let’s go.’

‘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 what 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.’

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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