As she watched Alex, Sophie admired the ease and self-confidence he exuded, and coupled with his blond hair and lively blue eyes, she realised, with a little embarrassment, he was also very attractive to her. He finished giving his order, and when Alex looked across at her, Sophie blushed, feeling a little self-conscious about the direction her thoughts had been heading. She hadn’t been out with a man for the first time since Matt, three years before, and though this wasn’t anything like a first date, she still felt a little awkward.
She needn’t have worried about what she should talk about though, because Alex didn’t seem to be burdened in the same way. He was happy to tell her all about his life in Paris and she listened to him as she watched him alternate between removing mussels from their shells from a moules marinière, with dipping crusty chunks of warm French bread into his bowl. As he chatted Sophie enjoyed the intoxicating aroma of garlic and parsley, captured in a white wine broth, that swirled between them. Sophie loved her dinner as well. The crispy pan-fried chicken breast served over polenta and braised endive with a rosemary-gorgonzola sauce was warming and delicious.
All at once he stopped talking and looked over at her with deep intent. His eyes flickered ice blue in the reflection of the candlelight.
‘What about you, Sophie, tell me about yourself.’
As she looked across at him, wearing such a sincere expression on his face, she felt she could have told him anything and he would have understood, even about Emily. She didn’t know if it was the wine she had drunk three glasses of, the atmosphere, or the look in his eyes, but all at once she wanted to tell him. Not because she needed his sympathy, God knew she’d known enough of that over the last year, but because she wanted to be honest with him and share with him why putting all the pieces of her life back together was so important. Taking a deep sip of her wine, she started the story that was so familiar but never easy for her.
‘I lost my mother and my daughter last year. My daughter… she was sixteen months old.’
Sophie looked across the table at Alex to gauge his reaction and sensed the kindness that he had to offer her. An assurance of safety, a genuine concern for her pain. It had been a long time since someone had looked at her like that, as if what she had to say really mattered. He didn’t change the subject as so many did, he just poured her another glass of wine saying gently, ‘Tell me about your daughter.’
Sophie took a deep breath and took another large swig of her drink before she cleared her throat and started the story.
‘I was a lawyer. I worked in London, and I loved what I did. It’s what pushed me to get out of bed in the morning and to stay up late into the night. I loved getting justice for people who deserved it and who wouldn’t have had a chance without my help. I felt as if I really changed lives.
‘When I found out I was pregnant with Emily, I was shocked – she wasn’t planned, and my boyfriend at the time, her father, was concerned about how it would change our lives. He too was very career-driven. But I assured him I was a modern woman, that I could do it all. I would still be a lawyer and would hire a childminder. My mum had offered to take care of her a couple of days a week too.
‘But from the minute Emily was born, I was captivated, I had no idea that my heart was capable of so much love. I couldn’t even watch the news without the mama bear in me rearing up and wanting to protect her from all the evil in the world. She was all wide-eyed innocence and unconditional love. So, leaving her to go back to work was so much harder than I had ever imagined. It nearly killed me that first week. I think I cried on the train every day after I handed over my precious bundle to the person who might hear her first word or witness her first step. At the time I knew many women who had children and careers, and I wondered how they made that emotional adjustment so easily. But as time went on I got more used to it, it was never easy, and the guilt was always there just under the surface, but I assured myself it was best for both of us. I needed something more than just ‘Mummy and me’ classes, and she needed to learn to be with other people.’
Sophie took another sip of her wine; this was always the easy part of telling her story, the before. The next part would be much more challenging. She swallowed her wine and took the temperature of their conversation. Was there judgement in his eyes? Would he be able to handle what she had to tell him about herself? But Alex’s eyes continued to reflect his compassion.
Sophie felt the hoarseness creep into her tone, the quiver in her voice, the now-familiar tremble of her hand as she held her glass close to her chest to help collect her strength somehow. It all conveyed the rawness of emotion that still hovered so close beneath the surface.
‘On the morning of her death, I had a first meeting with a very important client, so I was very distracted. My mother arrived to take care of her, as she had since she was small. Emily adored her grandma, but that morning she was clingy and fussy and didn’t want to go to her. I assured my mum she was teething and asked if she would be willing to take her later in the afternoon to her swimming class. Selfishly, I’d wanted my daughter worn out so that when I got home, I could put her straight to bed, so I could stay up late to finish the work that I knew I would have after the meeting. As I got ready to leave, Emily clung even tighter to me, her little chubby arms locked around my neck so tightly as she screamed, tears running down her reddened cheeks as she begged me to stay.’
Sophie started to weep openly as she continued, the memory still so hard to recount.
‘Eventually, still screaming, I managed to unpeel her from me and kissed her gently on her little downy head, saying, “Mummy’ll be home soon. You’ll see Mummy soon.” I handed her to my mother as she continued to wail. Mum just shooed me out the door. And grabbing my bag I didn’t even look back, I walked out to my car, and all I could hear as I walked down the path was her little tiny voice screaming, “Mummy! Mummy! Please, Mummy!”’
Alex reached forward and grabbed her hand, but still didn’t turn away from her pain, he just offered his strength, and she was grateful for that.
Pulling out a tissue and blowing her nose, Sophie continued, ‘Why didn’t I turn around? Why didn’t I go back? Why didn’t I!? It was as if she knew, and I didn’t listen. It was as if she knew she would never see me again.’
Sophie’s trembling hand lifted the wine to her lips. She could finish it now; the worst was over. The terrible guilt was always the worst part of her story.
‘My mother drove to the swimming baths, but she never reached them. On the way there, a truck driver looking at his phone because he was lost and trying to read a map, looked down too long and missed the light and ploughed right into my mum’s car. They said it was instantaneous, that both of them were taken quickly, but I think that’s something they just say so you won’t worry about it.’ Her voice cracked again as the emotion got the better of her. ‘For months afterwards, all I would hear was Emily’s little voice screaming, “Mummy! Mummy! Please, Mummy!’ in my head, and I will never get over that. I will never ever be the same person I was before because of that one moment, that terrible memory.
‘And the weird thing is, when people talk about grief, they talk about it like it’s an illness, as if you have the flu, as if one day you’ll just feel better if you wait long enough. What I’ve realised is I’m never going to feel better. This is just an emptiness I’ll live with for the rest of my life. And I’ve come to accept that. It’s a shadow that’s always with me and always will be.