I slept with my best friend again for the first time in almost 50 years. | by Sue Bergin | Sep, 2025

Denise is my best friend and has been for over fifty four years. Much of that time was spent hundreds of kilometres apart, but we are now both living in the same town. Even then we don’t see each other more than a few times a year, with our families and general life claiming our time, but no matter how long it’s been between catch-ups, it always feels like no time has passed, and our conversation continues as seamlessly as ever.

Our story began when our respective families moved from the UK, hers from Scotland and mine from England, to a tiny town on the Darling Downs in Queensland, Australia, where our father’s would work on a piggery. We became firm friends immediately, as did our parents, and even though my family moved on after just a year, we stayed in the same area and met up most weekends, alternating houses each week.

There were lots of sleepovers, and I have fond memories of we two girls sneaking into my parents’ kitchen in the middle of the night to help ourselves to the giant, full lolly jar that sat on top of the fridge. Poor Denise was so worried about getting caught, and I, the eldest by two years, should have known better.

We quietly got the jar down and gently unscrewed the lid, grabbing a handful each of the individually wrapped treats, when all of a sudden our Pomeranian dog, Scamp, barked crazily from behind the closed door to the laundry, right beside us in the kitchen.

We froze like rabbits caught in headlights, expecting my parents’ bedroom door to be thrown open at any second. Scamp quietened down as I whispered softly to him. I hastily put the lid back on the jar and shoved it unceremoniously back on top of the fridge, hoping I had at least got it close to where it normally sat, whilst stashing our stolen loot in my pyjama pockets.

We opened the laundry door to an ecstatic Scamp ready for a midnight play session, but we shushed him, aiming to use the toilet before going back to bed, it being the excuse we’d planned to use in case of our discovery.

Our middle of the night exploits were never detected. I think my poor brother took the blame for the shrinking level on the lolly jar, me hiding the papers inside the cute soft toy pyjama holder that sat on my bed until I could safely dispose of them.

Over the years we kept in touch with letters as we married and had children, me moving far away while Denise stayed in town. We went to each others weddings, she being my maid of honour. We still visited each other when we could.

She came to my husband’s funeral in 2014 then later stayed with me for a couple of weeks the following year. It was just like the old days all over again, though instead of stealing lollies we drank alcohol and stayed up all night reminiscing.

Last weekend my partner was to play a gig at a local recently opened Cocktail bar so I invited Denise along in order to not only catch up, but for me to buy her a drink to celebrate her birthday of several months prior.

Again we drank in nostalgic reverie, and ended up back at my place for another long night of talk. We crashed just after 1am, she sharing my bed as my partner had long before retired to the spare room. Just before sleep claimed us I whispered “I wonder how long it’s been since we last slept together?”.