you need, but ultimately it’s your face that fronts the company, it’s your talent that delivers results and it’s you who people want to work with.’
I smile and hold his hands. ‘But it’s you who runs things behind the scenes and I couldn’t do what I do if it weren’t for you. We’re in this together.’
He lifts my hands to his lips. ‘And Sophia, how’s she getting on with her exams?’
‘She’s got her final one on Friday,’ I grimace. ‘Maths, of all things. I mean, you wouldn’t wish it on your worst enemy, would you?’
‘That’s because you haven’t got a head for figures,’ he says, laughing. ‘Remind me what you got in your maths final exams.’
‘Er, a U,’ I mumble.
‘What was that?’ he says, leaning in with a hand cupped to his ear. ‘Can you repeat that? Louder.’
I swipe him on the arm with a tea towel. ‘A U,’ I almost shout.
‘And what does U stand for?’ he says, holding himself up against the kitchen worktop for fear of falling to the ground laughing.
‘Unclassified,’ I say.
‘So, you did so badly that they couldn’t possibly grade it?’ he manages.
‘That’s why I had to marry you,’ I say triumphantly, as I kiss him. ‘So you could do my numbers for me.’
‘So, is she going to be okay?’ he asks.
I look at him perplexed, momentarily forgetting what we were talking about.
‘Sophia,’ he says, reading my confused expression. ‘Does she think she’s done enough revision?’
‘Well, she’s a walking mass of hormones at the moment, so your guess is as good as mine.’
‘We were all teenagers once,’ he says, as he appreciatively takes a sip of his drink.
‘I can’t remember that far back,’ I say, kissing him. ‘Thank God.’ I can taste the gin on his lips, the tang of the juniper berries reminding me of Christmases gone by.
‘Urgh, can the pair of you get a room?’ says Sophia in mock horror, appearing in the doorway. Or perhaps her revulsion is real – it’s hard to tell these days.
‘Hey sweetheart,’ says Nathan. ‘How’s it going?’ He opens out his arm for her to walk into and pulls her towards him, kissing the top of her head as it falls heavily on his shoulder. ‘What’s going on with you?’
‘I hate my life,’ she says, her arms dangling loosely by her sides. ‘I can’t wait for these exams to be over.’
‘School is the easy part,’ I say. ‘Just wait until you’re a grown-up.’
‘Oh, here we go. Your school days are the best days of your life . . .’ she mimics in a sing-song voice. ‘Blah, blah, blah . . .’
I have to stop myself from laughing. Do I really say that? I wasn’t aware I’d turned into my mother. I pull a face behind her back and Nathan gives me the stern eye.
‘They are,’ I insist. ‘Believe you me, if I could have my time over again—’
‘Except you wouldn’t,’ she says. ‘You couldn’t wait to get out of school. Grandma said you barely stayed long enough to sit your exams.’
She does have a point, but I’d prefer to give her my version of events than have my mother tell her how it really was. I cringe inwardly as I recall my high school days, remembering the misery I felt on a daily basis. I’d spent the first two years being bullied, and wishing, more than anything, that I was part of the ‘in crowd’. I’d then spent the next three years in it, and desperate to get out.
Being hunted, for me, was somehow easier than being the hunter. I was never comfortable being part of the whispering huddle that the new girl at school had to walk past, desperate to be included, yet so quickly and thoughtlessly rejected by us without a second’s thought. She didn’t need to say or do anything to incur our wrath; Tracy, our ringleader, would already have decided she didn’t like her, and seeing as we seemingly didn’t have minds of our own, we’d just gormlessly follow her lead.
I’d ashamedly surfed Facebook over the years, trying to put right the wrongs I felt I’d been a part of. Unsurprisingly, Maxine Elliott, who I’d been forced to empty a glass of milk over, and Natalie Morgan, who I’d been coerced into telling was ugly, didn’t respond to my friend requests. Funny; after all this time I still use words like ‘forced’. I hadn’t been ‘forced’ to do anything. I wasn’t held under water or nailed to a cross; I’d had a choice,