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
