***
At the Highbury flat Sophie was alone: Carol was at her audition. There was a clattering on the front steps as Mickey arrived. Mickey was short for Michelle. Michelle Vermont. Mickey grew up idolising her brother Jack, who’d saddled her with the nickname ‘Mickey’. If someone dared call her Michelle, she’d clobber him or her with a mighty fist. She was feisty and not afraid to go after something she wanted. Once she’d made up her mind about something, it was very difficult to change her point of view. She knew exactly who she was and decided to open her very own coffee shop. Rather than taking the traditional route of work after university, she'd taken her business degree in one hand and started pulling cappuccinos with the other.
“Are you okay?” Mickey asked as she hugged Sophie.
Sophie struggled to disentangle herself from Mickey’s embrace. “Of course,” she snapped. “Come and look around.” Sophie knew that would be exactly what Mickey, always curious, would want.
“You’ve been crying.” Mickey was direct as only she could be, her rich voice resonating around the house like she should have worked in theatre instead of making coffee.
“I probably look awful.”
“Ah, but you advertising gals all look like crap – it’s common knowledge,” Mickey teased. Her friend ran up the stairs, taking them two at the time, and yanked open Sophie’s bedroom door as Sophie chased her up. “Oh my God, how long have you been here again? You haven’t even unpacked.” Mickey shot Sophie a sharp stare, cutting through all her defences.
“Only a few days really. Derek and I split.” It was time to face some truths.
“I’ve brought wine.”
“Wine would be good.”
“Soph, why didn’t you call me? I could have helped you move. I could be more supportive if you felt you could tell me things like this. This is big, breaking up and moving out from your boyfriend’s place. You don’t have to do it alone. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“This isn’t about you. It’s about me, and I can tell people whenever I’m ready.”
“Okay,” Mickey said carefully. “You must have been stressed out of your mind. You do know Soph, that I’m here to help. I’ve known you forever.”
“I’m fine, I’m always fine. We weren’t meant to last anyway.” Sophie couldn’t bear to tell Mickey the humiliating truth that not only had they broken up, but that Derek had cheated and she hadn’t even known until afterwards.
At that exact moment Carol returned from her audition, entering the flat and bounding up the stairs with her endless energy. “Sophie?” she called, stopping at the doorway to Sophie's bedroom, lowering her sunglasses as she saw Mickey.
“Hello.” Carol extended her hand, becoming quite formal. “I’m Carol. Sophie’s flat mate. Pleased to meet you.”
“Mickey.” They shook hands. “Nice to meet you too.”
Sophie’s head darted between the two. Would they get along? They were distinct opposites. Carol was dressed in her flamboyant colours and Mickey in the designer clothes she always wore. Mickey had a passion for quality, evident from her store and the lengths she went to. She’d even gone to South America and distinguished herself from the average barista. She’d got right into coffee buying and even sourced coffee beans directly from the farm. She didn’t settle for second best and her position on quality didn’t falter when it came to clothing.
Mickey wore black: velvet skinny jeans and a trendy frayed t-shirt. Everything was expensive and well made. Mickey’s red hair was tucked under a branded black baseball cap, and her pretty green eyes shone with amusement as she sized up Carol.
Sophie ended the silence. “How’d the audition go, Carol?”
“My car broke down and I missed it. I’m still unemployed, but there’s another audition next week,” Carol said.
“That sucks.”
Carol nodded. “Bloody cars.”
“You’ll get something,” Sophie said. “Fingers crossed for next week.”
“I suppose you’re here to help Sophie finally move in, and get over Derek the douche bag.”
“Douche bag,” Mickey laughed. “Love it. He is a douche bag. I like you, Carol. Let’s both help Sophie settle in and get over him.”
“Did she tell you about seeing Derek at the shops with his new super skinny blonde?”
Mickey’s eyes settled on Sophie. “No.” Her voice changed, stern like steel.
Sophie felt her face freeze, suddenly unable to meet her friend’s gaze. “It’s nothing. We don’t really know anything yet. He was buying Chanel perfume.”
“Your favourite,” Mickey pointed out.
“They were holding hands,” Carol insisted.
The reality gripped her heart. “Yes.” Sophie admitted, refusing to cry. “They were holding hands. But we don’t really know if she… Georgina… was…. ” She couldn’t complete the sentence.
“He was practically canoodling with the girl as soon as we turned our backs, the bastard,” Carol hissed.
“There’s a lot Sophie doesn’t say.” Mickey said, and she and Carol both folded their arms, suddenly united. “Sophie, we’re here to help.”
“But how can you help? You can’t undo it,” Sophie said. “Let’s not unpack.”
“Let’s just get drunk,” Mickey suggested.