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NOW

Sophie owed so many people a debt of gratitude for having got her through those first couple of years. Will, of course. Libby. And Sam – the baby sister who’d seemed suddenly so much older, more capable than Sophie herself.

When she’d met her in the pub that time, shortly after the kiss with Will, she’d looked entirely unlike herself. She’d changed her look; gone was the mousy shoulder-length do and instead, Sophie’s sister had opted for a red bob which both suited her and made her seem young and vibrant. Which of course, at her age, she was, thought Sophie.

She smiled across the bar and gave a little wave before buying a glass of wine and walking over to join Sam at the sticky mahogany table in the little pub they met at whenever Sam was in town. Sam’s career had taken off in recent years – she was a buyer for one of the major department stores – and she was always jetting off here and there. Or at least, it seemed that way.

Sophie put down her wine and then pulled out one of the chairs, sinking into it with a sigh.

‘Rough week?’ her sister said, taking a sip from a tall glass of orange juice.

‘You could say that,’ Sophie replied. The new term was now well underway but she was still adjusting to her new timetable and the children she’d been assigned this year. It was always difficult establishing yourself with new classes – they tested you constantly in the early weeks and you ended up completely drained by the weekend. ‘Ah, it’s OK,’ she said, seeing a look of concern flit over her sister’s face. ‘Just the usual.’

‘Brats?’

‘Brats,’ she said decisively, knowing that neither of them really meant it. She loved the children she taught – almost all of them. And she’d found over the years she’d been in the profession that even the most difficult child would have something loveable about them if you looked hard enough. Usually.

‘So how’s your work?’ Sophie asked, taking a large gulp of wine and resisting the urge to emit a dramatic sigh of relief as it warmed her throat.

She was treated to a long story about a flight, a missing suitcase, a meeting in which Sam had taken the lead and got a great deal. It sounded so far removed from her own life that it was hard to imagine. Dressing in sharp, corporate wear, strutting into meetings with head held high. Not staggering into a classroom in the same creased skirt you had worn the day before, trying to balance your coffee on a pile of textbooks.

‘Are you actually listening?’ Sam asked her after a pause.

‘Yes. Sorry. Yes, I am.’

Sam cocked an eyebrow. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I know I go on a bit.’

‘Oh, God, it’s not that. I was just thinking how… well, different our lives are,’ Sophie admitted. ‘I’m jealous really.’

‘You could always make a career change.’

‘Ah, not that. Although, yeah, sometimes I’d love to. More that you seem at the beginning of things – it’s exciting. I’m happy for you. But it makes me feel kind of… washed up in comparison.’

‘You?’ Sam seemed incredulous.

‘Yeah, you know. In my thirties. Widowed. It’s hardly living the dream, is it.’ She gave a wan smile and sipped her wine again, trying to deflect any sympathy.

‘Sophie, is that how you see yourself?’ Sam shook her head. ‘You know how much in awe I am of you? You have this great career, and it’s not one that everyone can do, is it? And yeah, you’ve had some hard times, but you’ve picked yourself up. You’re doing OK. I mean, you are… aren’t you?’

Sophie nodded. It didn’t sound quite so desperate, described like that.

‘Are you still rowing with Will?’ her sister added, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. ‘How’s all that going?’

A flash of annoyance rose in her. ‘It’s not going at all,’ she said. ‘To be honest, I’m kind of distancing myself from him.’

‘Oh. Sorry. Why? He seemed like a really nice guy.’

‘He is.’ She stopped, looking down at her almost empty glass and swirling the last of the wine around its base. ‘I just… I’m not ready for anything, you know?’

‘And he wants that?’

She shrugged. ‘You know what, I think I wanted that too. Just for a moment. And it’s been nice spending time with him, doing the rowing, that kind of thing. But it just feels…’

‘How does it feel?’ Sam asked softly.

‘As if I’m cheating on Tom.’

Sam looked at her. ‘Oh, Soph!’

‘Well, yeah. I mean, moving on to anyone new would be… hard enough. But Will? They were friends for years!’

Sam nodded. ‘Yeah, I see that. But I’m not sure… I don’t know if I agree, if I’m honest.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, firstly, Tom’s been gone almost two years.’

‘Nineteen months.’

‘OK, well, nineteen months. It’s a long time, Soph. In some ways at least. And if there’s a chance to be happy, to have someone to love again, I don’t think Tom would want you to pass that up.’

She shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

‘I mean, didn’t you talk about this? Before he… died?’

‘Yeah, a bit. He told me to go out and live my life.’

‘Well then!’

‘He didn’t tell me to go and live it with his best friend!’

‘Soph, you’re being ridiculous. You know how hard it is to find someone you can really relate to?’ Sam shook her head. ‘It’s impossible. But you’ve found that with Tom. And now maybe Will. Does it really matter that they were friends? Maybe Tom would have liked the idea of Will kind of being there for you. Rather than some stranger.’

She nodded. ‘Maybe,’ she said again.

‘So, why not just see where it leads?’

Sophie thought about the kiss. How gentle it had been, how much feeling it had seemed to contain. The spark when their lips touched – a little bit of electricity. They’d pulled apart just seconds later, but something had shifted between them.

‘Sorry,’ Will had said.

‘No,’ she’d said. ‘Don’t be.’

‘Thanks, Sam,’ she said now.

‘What for?’

‘Making sense of it all. You’re wise for a young’un.’

Sam grinned. ‘Old head on young shoulders, that’s me. But seriously, sis, if you think this thing with Will is the real deal, try not to question it too much. You deserve a bit of luck after everything that’s happened.’

Sophie thought about Tom’s conviction that he’d been ‘too lucky’ in the past. If there was a balance to be found, surely the scales tipped in favour of her having a good experience after what she’d been through.

‘Maybe,’ she said, then sat up. ‘Anyway, tell me about you. Been seeing anyone?’

As Sam launched into a colourful anecdote about a restaurant booking and an undercooked steak, Sophie had sat, half listening, smiling at the sister who always seemed to know what to say.

She hoped that, moving forward, she could be the sort of sister to Sam that Sam had been to her. Someone less bogged down in her own struggles and open to the needs of others. Sitting there, Sophie found herself nodding ‘yes’, determined at least to try.