Part 2
Fifteen years old, with a girl hanging off his arm on a lazy Monday morning. He wore a long, skinny tie and a buttoned up blazer, subverting the class clown. His friends debated the weekend score outside the classroom.
"Alright miss?" he said with barely detectable cheek, testing the water.
"Alright Dave?" his teacher mimicked with a laugh as she walked past them, opening the classroom door, "Come on in then."
Miss Mason stood behind her desk, smiling at the class as they skulked to their desks. She had a quiet confidence, and a cheerful enthusiasm that her pupils found almost as endearing as her youthful figure.
"Looking good, miss!" came David's voice from the back row, as Miss Mason turned to the board.
"Okay, that's enough now." Her tone was serious, but, with her back to the class, she leaked a smile.
***
Rachel put down her mug and turned away from the window, back to reality. She flicked through the letters on the kitchen table, until she came across one addressed to her, handwritten in familiar lettering. Edging to the bottom of the stairs, she listened carefully for the shower. Satisfied, she went back to her coffee, and settled down to read.
***
"Sophia!"
The two friends sped up to meet sooner, but it was the ten year old who first bridged the gap.
"Hi Rachel!" he ran forwards as his Godmother bent down, throwing his arms around her neck and kissing her cheek. It was an enthusiastic show of affection that most boys his age would be embarrassed by, but Rene felt that he was simply more charming than they were. His mother's greeting was almost identical. Rachel grinned.
"Are you well?"
Sophia nodded. "Oh yes, we're fine. Rene's wearing your birthday present, see."
The smirking boy with long dark curls (like a handsome prince, he often imagined) unzipped his coat to reveal his t-shirt. Rachel smiled yet again, nodding her approval.
"And how are you, Sophie?"
The eight year old nodded without saying a word. She wasn't a shy child, but she often appeared to be next to her older brother.
"Pascal's with Pierre," Sophia explained, "He's got a bit of a cold, so they're waiting in the pub for us to meet them."
Rachel continued to nod, and sigh, and frown in reaction to her older friend's tales as they walked through the town. She had admired the woman's strength and resilience since they had very first met, looked up to the girl who had taken her under her wing. For where Amanda Fenshaw was naïve, Sophia Dubec was desperate, widowed with a small, cheeky boy and a baby on the way. The Italian pointed at the window of a pub across the road, at the grinning blonde boy with sticky orange Calpol dripping from his bottom lip. Rene laughed with the adults, while Sophie rolled her eyes at him.
The Godmother watched Pascal wave, then noticed a bigger hand waving beside it. Her laughter stopped a little too suddenly, as she saw the figure of a handsome Frenchman holding his son close. The moment of family bliss somehow sent a sickness to her gut, but she shook herself, smiled politely, and continued into the pub.
