Was It Good For You? by Kathryn Freeman

Author:Kathryn Freeman [Freeman, Kathryn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780008560348
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers

Chapter Eighteen

Sophie couldn’t help it. She kept touching her new pendant. And every time she did, it grounded her, made her smile a little inside. As did the memory of what Michael had said when he’d given it to her.

His thigh brushed hers, a warm and reassuring presence. ‘How are you doing?’ he asked under his breath.

She smiled, a lump jumping into her throat. ‘Okay.’

The presence of a stranger had so far been enough to stop her parents from doing their usual Let’s see who can cause the deepest wound routine. And the manager had given them the table they always sat at – the one they’d sat at for her and Rosie’s twenty-first birthday, a few months before she’d died. So that had kept her father happy.

Plus she was pretty certain Patricia, sat on the other side of Michael, was flirting with him. At the very least, his presence had given her stepmother something else to focus on beside making catty remarks to her mum. So yes, all good. So far.

‘Thirty.’ Her mother swallowed. ‘Rosie would have been thirty today.’

It was the first mention of her twin out loud, though Sophie knew her sister would have been on her parents’ minds all day. And especially when they saw her. The very visible reminder of their loss.

Michael cleared his throat. ‘Sophie is thirty today.’ He glanced sideways at her and smiled.

Unconsciously her fingers touched the sheep. The first present she’d had since Rosie had died. ‘It sounds old.’

‘Well at least you got to grow old.’ Her mother gave her a sad smile. ‘Our poor Rosie.’

Because she could see tears fill her eyes, Sophie reached to squeeze her mum’s hand. ‘I know, Mum.’ The familiar guilt slithered into her stomach. Why had she been the twin not to get cancer? The one still sitting here?

Again, Michael cleared his throat. But when she looked at him, he blinked slowly, then gave his head a little shake. Like he wanted to say something but had decided against it.

‘We should raise the traditional toast.’ Her dad lifted up his glass. ‘To our dear Rosie. I hope she’s having a huge party up there.’

‘To Rosie.’ They all lifted their glasses.

Silence descended over the table and as she wondered how to break it, Sophie felt a warm hand on her knee. It wasn’t sexual, just a gentle squeeze of reassurance before he lifted it off.

‘Was Rosie a fan of parties?’ he asked into the now awkward quiet.

Sophie was so relieved at the question, she could have kissed him. ‘She most definitely was.’ She glanced over to her parents. ‘Do you remember that party you did for us when we turned eighteen?’

‘You mean the marquee in the garden with that awful band.’ Her mum mock shuddered. ‘There wasn’t an inch of their skin that wasn’t pierced or inked.’

Sophie laughed. ‘We thought it was the coolest band, ever. Rosie had a real thing for the lead singer but he was about ten years older than her and totally uninterested.

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