When I first met Sophie, I didn’t take to her at all. I’ve never told her this, even though she wouldn’t be offended. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if she hadn’t been particularly keen on me either.
I’d already been at the school for a year before she started – a fresh and confident newly qualified teacher – and was happy to show her around the department and help her settle in. I quickly realised that she was aloof, unfriendly, and didn’t seem interested in forming any kind of friendship with any of her colleagues. I’d just met Aiden and our relationship was developing, so I didn’t give anything other than work, and him, much time or thought. I kept my distance from Sophie, until she needed my help one day with a difficult student we both taught.
Sophie was already known as one of the strictest teachers in the school, but it didn’t make any difference because for some reason Ryan Hart had taken a dislike to her and was constantly antagonistic in class. I, too, had initially had difficulty with him, yet, in time, we’d somehow managed to develop a mutual respect. I could never manage to explain to Sophie quite how that had happened.
‘He’s driving me crazy with his disruption,’ she told me. ‘I’ve tried everything other than killing him so what am I supposed to do?’
We’d both laughed, as inappropriate as her comment was, and that was the beginning of a friendship I can’t imagine being without.
And now, seven years later, I sit on Sophie’s sofa, marvelling at how clean and tidy her house is when she is a new mum of twins. Next to me, she effortlessly breastfeeds one of the babies, the other one sitting in his bouncer, kicking his legs out as if he’s doing a fitness workout.
‘Please don’t look at me like that,’ I say, forcing a smile.
‘Like what?’
‘With pity. Or guilt. I don’t know… something.’
Sophie shakes her head. ‘Oh, Eve, I’m so sorry. I was really rooting for you to be okay this time. I can’t believe it’s happened again.’ Her eyes flick to Jasper in the bouncer – or is it Jensen? They’re nearly five months old and I still can’t tell them apart.
‘It’s not your fault,’ I assure her. ‘Please don’t feel bad.’ Phrases like this have become programmed into my brain, an automatic response to stop people feeling uncomfortable around me. Do I mean them? I want to but most days I’m not convinced I do.
‘I know,’ she says, wiping some milk from Jasper or Jensen’s chin. ‘But it makes me feel awful that I wasn’t excited when I found out I was pregnant.’
That’s an understatement. The memory of that lunchtime is still ingrained in my head: me walking into the English office and finding Sophie in tears, something I’d never witnessed before, even when she was struggling with Ryan Hart. She hadn’t planned it, she’d admitted through her fountain of tears. Damien and she had so many plans, so many things they wanted to do before they were plunged into parenthood. They were that kind of people: a couple who couldn’t sit still and spent every school holiday abroad. The Inca Trail in Peru was next on their list.
‘I’m too young,’ she’d insisted, but then quickly admitted that, of course, thirty-two was not too young at all. ‘You know what I mean, though. I’m not ready.’ Then she hugged me, repeatedly telling me how sorry she was, that it was so unfair after everything I was going through in my desperate attempt to be a mum.
Despite the rocky start to her pregnancy, Sophie has embraced motherhood and makes it seem effortless, even with twins. ‘Look at you now, though,’ I say. ‘You’re an amazing mum and you love them to pieces.’
There it is: that guilt mixed with pity on her face that I don’t want her to feel.
‘It was the worst timing, though, wasn’t it?’ She bites her lip, chews it.
I’d just had my second miscarriage, so it was difficult to digest her news, yet still I clung to hope. I seemed to be able to fall pregnant fairly easily; it was keeping a baby inside me that was the problem. Back then I had no idea that I’d still be struggling now.
‘What’s happening to me is not your fault,’ I tell her. I glance at Jensen or Jasper playing in his bouncer. I need to change the subject because this isn’t good for me, or for Sophie. ‘Will it be strange coming back to school?’
She immediately understands my need to change the conversation. ‘I really thought I’d be dying to get back to work, but actually I’m not. Does that surprise you? Who’d have imagined I’d be happy to be at home watching Baby TV? But I’ve kind of got into a groove here. It’s actually quite nice not having to bother doing my make-up every morning. Or scrambling around making resources for my lessons. I never thought I’d say this but having twins is actually easier than dealing with thirty teenagers all at once.’
The room falls silent as we both realise that when we’re together now, there is no getting away from baby talk, no matter how hard we try. This is Sophie’s entire world now.
‘So how are things at school?’ Sophie finally asks.
‘Nothing’s changed,’ I say, although perhaps everything has. She’s been away from work now for so long that I can’t even remember what I’ve filled her in on. ‘Apart from that new maths teacher, Owen. Did I tell you about him?’
‘Yes, you did,’ she says, smiling. ‘And are all the single teachers still after him?’
We both laugh, and for a fraction of a second it feels like it did before. Before my first miscarriage. When I was able to laugh without that underlying heaviness that cuts short any joy I feel.
‘Come on, let’s have some lunch,’ Sophie says, jumping up with one twin then scooping down to lift the other out of his bouncer. ‘These two could do with a nap and then I’ll be right down to make us something. Omelette and salad okay? I don’t think I’ve got much else in.’
Before she leaves the room I call her back. ‘I feel awful for not knowing this but how do you tell the twins apart?’
Sophie chuckles. ‘That’s easy, Jensen has a bit more hair.’ She gestures to the twin she’s just been feeding. ‘Don’t feel bad, though – Damien still gets them mixed up.’ She’s about to walk off again but then she stops. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I should have asked you if you want to have a cuddle? I don’t want you to think I won’t let you hold them. Just, you know, trying to be respectful of your feelings.’
‘I’d love to,’ I say automatically, and before I can think further, Sophie is placing one of the twins into my arms. The weight of him feels strange for a second, but then as I grow accustomed to him and he snuggles into me, it begins to feel right. And if I close my eyes, just for a second I can pretend he is mine.