There was a loud, collective gasp. Melissa sucked in her cheeks and dropped her eyes to the table.
‘Em, I think that’s out of order.’ Sophie broke the silence. She gave Emily a what the hell? look.
Emily blinked twice before her face softened. ‘I’m sorry, Melissa. Just… a bit under pressure right now.’ At that moment, the waiter appeared. He took one look at the scene and put the bottle and four champagne flutes on the table. ‘I’ll leave you ladies to pour, shall I?’ He didn’t wait for an answer before scuttling away.
Amy, who was sitting closest to where the waiter had left the champagne, picked up the bottle. ‘Come on, let’s have a glass of bubbly and enjoy ourselves. These weekends together are so precious. Let’s not spoil them by arguing.’
There was a murmur of agreement as each of them reached out to pick up a champagne flute. Amy poured out three glasses, then put the bottle down.
‘I’m not feeling great, to be honest,’ she said in answer to the questioning looks. ‘I think I’ll stick with water for now.’ Amy looked away as she took a sip of her water and two strawberry-sized patches appeared on her faintly freckled cheeks.
As they slowly began to chat amongst themselves again, Amy looked up and caught Sophie’s eye, with an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Sophie returned the gesture, as she took a long sip of her own champagne.
Sophie was the first one to wake up on Sunday morning. She padded downstairs into the wide, airy kitchen, enjoying the coolness of the flagstoned floor beneath her feet, and automatically reached for the kettle. It wasn’t surprising that she was the first one up. None of the others had a toddler at home who thought 7 a.m. was a lie-in.
She walked to the French doors and looked out over the small, pretty back garden. She could already feel the warmth from the sun and smiled to herself. She loved the summer, with all the happiness it seemed to bring. She pictured the scene at home, as Steve fed Emma her breakfast, before taking her into their postage-stamp-sized garden to feed the birds. As she did so, she could feel an unmistakable ache inside to hold her baby girl and bury her head in her cloud of silky, messy golden hair, inhaling the scent of soap and sleep from her warm head. It was a newish sensation and one that she welcomed.
‘Typical that it’s the mums who are up first!’ Emily came into the kitchen and joined Sophie at the French doors.
Sophie smiled. ‘I know! Who’s got Jack this weekend?’
‘Mum and Dad. He loves going there.’
Sophie nodded, suddenly feeling immensely grateful that she had Steve and thinking for the millionth time how hard it must be for Emily to be a single mum.
‘So Amy’s pregnant then?’
Sophie started in surprise. ‘Oh! You clocked it then? I wasn’t sure if you had.’
‘Impossible not to.’
The kettle flicked off. Sophie walked over to it and threw teabags into two mugs. ‘Are you OK, Em? It’s just… well, yesterday. It got a bit heated there with Melissa for a minute. You were pretty tough on her.’
Emily shrugged. ‘I know, but she makes me so cross. There I am, struggling to bring up Jack on my own with hardly any money and she’s just so… irresponsible. It pisses me off. And she is
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