by Katey Lovell
“Smashing, isn’t it?” She flashed her false teeth. “And isn’t this place posh these days? We used to come here when we were dating in the sixties and it was nothing like this back then. It was a hovel, actually.”
I took in the detail of the room for the first time. It was similar to a lot of the other upmarket bars in town, with black drapes covering the walls and a multitude of twinkling white lights set against them. Supposed to look swanky, I think, but it reminded me of the fairy light displays at the out-of-town garden centres in the run up to Christmas, the type of place couples go on a Sunday afternoon.
That’s when it hit me. Almost everyone at the party was one half of a couple. Finley and Joel, Norma and Fred, Mum and Dad, my siblings and their significant others. Tawna had buggered off back to her fiancé Johnny’s side too, leaving Eve – one of the few genuinely happy single people I knew – picking at the buffet table of “nibbles”. Even the women from work had their husbands with them, with the exception of Kath who was making eyes at the muscle-clad youth serving behind the bar. He only looked about twenty. Kath would eat him alive.
I smiled at Norma as she continued reminiscing about days gone by but, after noticing all the twosomes, I couldn’t rid myself of the niggling feeling that I was missing out. For the first time in four years I was single on my birthday.
My choker was choking me and I briefly wondered if Darius might be hiding in the shadows. Tawna appeared to have invited every other person I’d met in my three decades on the planet, so it wouldn’t be beyond the realms of possibility that she’d extended the invitation to my ex, especially as he was in business with Johnny. My eyes passed restlessly over people from all areas of my life, but even in the darkest corner there was no sign of Darius Welch.
Norma reached into her large tan leather handbag and pulled out a small rectangular envelope.
“It’s not much, pet, but we couldn’t let the day go by without giving you a little something. Fred saw a pile of cards on the table as we came in, but the silly sod didn’t tell me until we were already sat down. Are you all right adding it to the pile yourself?” she asked, handing me the envelope.
“Of course.” Norma’s spidery script, written with an old-fashioned black-inked fountain pen rather than a biro, was a blemish against the delicate lilac of the envelope. “And there was no need, honestly.”
“We wanted to,” Norma insisted, “but don’t open it until your actual birthday.”
She took a slug of her port and lemon, which seemed a funny choice of drink for February. Surely it was more suited to Christmas than the weekend before Valentine’s Day? (Yes, my birthday fell on the patron saint day of couples. Oh, the irony…)
“Thank you. I’ll make sure it gets put with the others.” I planted a kiss on the crepe-paper-thin skin of her cheek. All four of my grandparents had died long ago, so Norma had become my substitute granny.
I headed to the table Norma had referred to, next to the cake. A heap of birthday cards were strewn messily alongside a small pile of presents and an inordinate number of bottle bags. My friends knew me well.
Looking for writing I recognised as I rifled through the cards, I noticed something unusual. Most of the envelopes were inscribed simply, either with “Soph”, “Sophie” or “Sophie Drew” (with the exception of one pale pink envelope addressed in Nick’s spiky handwriting, inscribed with the delightful nickname “Bumface”). But nestled amongst the cards from well-wishers was something that grabbed my attention, and not in a good way. My parents’ address screamed out at me from behind the drab manila envelope’s cellophane window. Letters packaged like that were never good news. They were always appointments or mailshots or bills, and in this case it was the worst of the lot. The only post that still got delivered to my parents’ house was my credit card bill. I’d never got around to giving the company my updated address and deliberately avoided their ploy to get me to go paperless. That would have meant facing up to my expenditure, whereas ignorance was bliss.
Why Mum and Dad brought an official-looking letter to my party, I don’t know. They probably thought they were doing me a favour, because they had no idea how much I’d grown to rely on my flexible friend. If they’d had any clue I was struggling they surely wouldn’t have brought it with them when we were supposed to be celebrating my promotion to the next stage of adulthood.
I considered opening the envelope, but only briefly. It wouldn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know – I was spending too much and earning a pittance. So instead, I tore the whole thing in half, then into quarters before placing the shredded remains in the bin with the flurry of frosting-smothered napkins.
And then I headed to the toilets, shut myself in a cubicle and cried, wondering how I could be knocking on the door of my thirtieth birthday and still be completely clueless with both love and money.
Chapter 2
“So, thirty tomorrow, eh? How does it feel to be ancient?” Nick teased, as Noah chomped on a teething ring. I swear my nephew is made up as much of saliva as anything else. It’s a good job he’s mighty cute.
I pulled a face. “Ha bloody ha.”
“Wait until you’re my age, then you’ll know about ancient,” Dad quipped, sucking in his breath through his teeth as he rubbed his knees. “My joints are killing me. It’s all that getting up and down at the match, leaves me in agony.”
“Nothing to do with the limboing you were doing at Sophie’s party, Mr Drew?” Jakob winked. “I was surprised by how supple you were.”
“There’s lots you’ve yet to learn about me.” Dad’s voice was solemn, but his eyes twinkled. “But it’s too late to back out now, you’re part of the family.”
“That’s why we moved to Austria,” Anna joked, “so no one knows we’re related.”
Dad clucked his tongue. “And there was I believing you when you told me it was because of work. To think how proud I was telling everyone about my daughter who’d been headhunted.”
“You know I’m only messing,” Anna said, wrapping her arms around Dad and snuggling into his chest. “I can’t believe we fly back tonight. I wish we could stay longer, but we’re on the brink of closing a major deal and I don’t trust anyone else in the office enough to leave it in their hands. We’ll be back again soon though, promise.”
“I hope so,” Mum said, entering the room carrying a plate of sandwiches. “I do wish you didn’t live so far away.”
Lunch consisted of leftovers from the buffet at the party, so besides the curled-edged sarnies we had mini sausage rolls, onion bhajis and two tubes of Pringles that Mum had sent me to the corner shop to fetch. There was half a layer of the ginormous cake for afters, because although everyone had said it was delicious, it was so sweet a small slice was enough.
“We’ll be back in the summer,” Anna promised, disentangling herself from Dad’s protective embrace. “And then we’ll be over in October too, naturally.” She smiled at Nick, who proudly, and somewhat possessively, wrapped his arm around Chantel.
“What’s happening in October?” I asked with a frown. The inane grins on the faces of my family members gave me the distinct impression I was out of the loop.
“Nick and I have got some news,” Chantel said. “We told the others at your party last night, but didn’t want to steal your moment so decided to wait until today to fill you in.”
“We’re having another baby!” Nick announced, placing his hand on Chantel’s stomach to fully drum the point home. “Due at the start of October. It’s still early days – we only just found out – but we wanted to tell Anna and Jakob in person. It’s not the same sharing big news over Skype, is it?”
“Congratulations,” I said, forcing a smile, forcing so hard it hurt my cheeks. “That’s lovely news!”
A dull ache of rejection pulled in the pit of my stomach. I couldn’t believe Nick and Chantel had shared their news with the rest of the family before they shared it with me. Although actually, I could. Nick and Anna had always been t
he closest of the three of us. There was only eighteen months between them.
As though reading my mind, Anna said, “Isn’t it fabulous? There will be the same age gap between Noah and the new baby as there is between me and Nick.”
I gave a half-hearted nod, before turning my attention to the buffet spread. The first prickle of tears stung my eyes, and I didn’t want anyone to see me cry. I shoved a ham sandwich in my mouth. Although the bread was claggy, I swallowed it whole.
“Who’d have thought we’d be getting our second grandchild so soon after the first?” Mum gushed, affectionately patting Chantel on the shoulder. “I can’t wait to meet him or her. I bet they’ll be the image of our Noah.”
“Babies all look the same at first though, don’t they?” The frosty look Mum gave me made me realise I sounded bitter, so I added, “Although Noah is the cutest.”
Anna scooped our nephew into her hands and lifted him high over her head, so high I feared his head might scrape the ceiling. Noah giggled with delight, drool escaping the corners of his lips. A globule landed on Anna’s cheek but she didn’t look fazed, instead laughing along as she returned him back onto solid ground and graciously accepted Jakob’s offer of a tissue.
“You two will be next.” Dad nodded knowingly in the direction of my sister and her husband.
“Not just yet,” Jakob replied. “But one day, hopefully, when Anna’s more established in the firm.”
My sister beamed joyfully in her husband’s direction. I averted my eyes because I felt like an imposter in the family home. They were all so settled, so together, and then there was me, Sophie Eliza Drew, single and hapless and on the outside looking in.
“I’ll have to head off soon,” I lied. “I brought some work home from the office to do over the weekend.”
“But it’s your birthday weekend!” Mum exclaimed. “Surely they don’t expect you to do extra work, especially when you’re working on your actual birthday.” My mum, an Avon lady for over twenty-five years, had no concept of a standard working week. Her job entailed a cuppa with Beryl across the road as she waxed lyrical about the latest skin buffs and moisturisers.
“You know what Marcie’s like. She’s a workaholic.”
“Can’t you at least stay until Anna and Jakob leave for the airport? It’s rare I have all my children together these days. Don’t spoil it for me.” Mum’s expression was so full of hope that I couldn’t bring myself to be the daughter of disappointment striking again. “I suppose another half hour won’t hurt,” I managed, reaching for a sausage roll. “It is my birthday, after all.”
For the thirty minutes that followed, my parents raised toasts for Nick and Chantel’s news, fussed over Anna and how thin she was looking (forcing her to eat the largest wedge of pink birthday cake) and mopped up Noah’s drool from the sitting room rug. I may as well have been invisible for all the attention they showed me.
When the clock struck two and Anna made a point of saying they really had to leave for the airport if her and Jakob were going to make their flight, I also made my excuses. Mum blubbed as she said her goodbyes to Anna, instructing her to call as soon as she touched down in Austria. Even Dad looked a bit emotional, his bottom lip visibly wibbling, as my sister clambered into Nick and Chantel’s seven-seater car to be chauffeur driven to the airport.
As I was leaving, Mum thrust two A5 envelopes into my hand. My stomach lurched at their familiar ditchwater brown shade.
“I thought I’d brought all your post to the party, but we were in such a rush that I must have left these on the dining room table. Never mind though, eh? They can’t be that important if they’re still coming here after all this time.”
“Thanks, Mum,” I mumbled, shoving the envelopes deep into my bag. “And try not to be too upset about Anna returning to Austria. She’ll be back in a few months’ time.”
“I know, love. But it still pains me to have to say goodbye. You’ll understand if you ever have children yourself. Children are always babies to their parents.”
“I’m almost thirty,” I reminded her glumly.
“This time thirty years ago I was in labour and it was agony. Two weeks overdue and I was the size of a house! I was so fed up by that point. It was such a relief when Anna arrived a week early. I couldn’t have gone through that waiting a second time. It was awful.”
So even my arrival had been a disappointment…
“I’d better get going. That work won’t do itself,” I said, as chirpily as I could.
“Don’t work too hard. And don’t forget the finale of the drama we’ve been watching is on tomorrow. I’ll call you when it finishes.”
“Okay, Mum. Chat then.”
My shoulders were quaking with nerves at the thought of the letters in my bag, no doubt more of the same from the credit card company. I was being hounded. The question was, now they were on my tail, how much longer could I hide from my debts?
Chapter 3
A day, that’s how much longer.
I should never have answered the phone, because like Finley, I rarely answer calls from numbers I don’t know. But for some reason I’d allowed myself to accept both the call and the onslaught from the woman from the credit card company which followed. Who knew a phone conversation with someone you’d never met could make you feel so utterly deflated?
She’d caught me off guard, because what kind of reputable company rings at eight o’clock on a Sunday night? I’d assumed it was Mum ringing to remind me the drama we’d been glued to for the past month was about to start on BBC One. Didn’t these people know that weekends were sacred?
I’d opened the envelopes they’d sent to Mum and Dad’s house when I’d got back the previous night; two statements with payment demands in an angry red typeface, as though by typing in colour rather than monochrome I’d be able to magic up the money I owed.
It was enough to make me wish I’d switched to online statements when the credit card company had prompted me to. Maybe my debts wouldn’t have spiralled out of control if I had. Perhaps I’d have been one of those people who regularly checked their balance online and curbed their spending appropriately. I knew the reality of that was unlikely; “Spend first, worry later” had been my motto for so long that I rarely even looked at the price of anything before heading to the checkout. If I wanted it, I bought it, simple as that.
Even so, the letters hadn’t prepared me for the phone call. The woman who’d rung had been snarky, her southern accent clipped as she informed me my cards were being cancelled until I brought my debts back into my agreed credit limit. I doubt she’d ever lived beyond her means, because if she had she wouldn’t have been so rude and devoid of basic sympathy. She’d made me cry, tears streaming down my cheeks and snot bubbles hanging from my nostrils, as I’d tried to explain that it wouldn’t be possible for me to make the payment she was demanding immediately – there simply weren’t the funds in my current account.
In the end, after more remarks that made me feel like something unpleasant that she’d trodden in, she’d put me through to a softly spoken man – Guy, he’d said his name was – who’d gently questioned me on my spending habits, my income and asked would I like some guidance to help learn to manage my outgoings? I’d liked Guy. Guy actually listened, and although my out-of-control blubbering probably made him uncomfortable, he’d seemed to realise I was a human being who was in financial bother, unlike Snarkster Woman who’d made out I belonged on a Most Wanted poster.
I’d told him everything, all the things I’d been too embarrassed to admit to anyone else, even those closest to me. How I’d never budgeted in my life, but that it had been okay until Tawna, Eve and I had met Johnny and Darius on a night out and two of our trio fell madly in love with these slightly older, sophisticated businessmen. Johnny and Darius spent money without a thought, flashing the cash at fancy restaurants and exclusive bars in the Savile Row suits they’d buy on business trips to the capital. And of course, the women in these high-end venues were groo
med to within an inch of their lives.
I’d taken to dressing in designer clothes rather than my old favourite H&M to head to the latest hotspots in the city, and being regularly primped and preened, and by regularly, I mean multiple times a week. My savings had soon run out, keeping up with the Joneses being an expensive business, so I’d applied for a credit card and upped the limit whenever I’d needed to. The company had let me do it, time and time again. Only when my debt nudged into five figures did they stamp down on my spending habit.
By the time I put the phone down it felt as though I’d been stamped on too. When Guy asked how much I could afford to pay back each month I’d been embarrassed, the amount I’d agreed to pitiful in comparison with what I owed, but he’d made a note on the system that the initial payment would be made on the first of March.
He’d put a bar on my account so I couldn’t use the card, and encouraged me to cut it up once and for all so I wouldn’t have to go through this again in the future. Through my tears I’d done it, furiously snipping the plastic into tiny pieces and throwing what remained into the depths of the kitchen bin, so it could fester with the scooped-out avocado skins and half a punnet of organic strawberries that had gone mouldy because I’d forgotten they needed eating.
I knew lifestyle changes would have to be made. Nights on the town followed by a taxi home had to stop, as did the habit of buying something new to wear every time we went out. It had become almost competitive between Tawna and me over the years, but the time had come for me to bow out. I couldn’t compete anymore. Tawna and Johnny shared a bank account, and Johnny’s business had really taken off, even winning him the prestigious title of “North East Businessperson of the Year” two years on the bounce. He bought her anything she wanted knowing that having nice things made her happy. Money wasn’t a problem for them, but it was for me. It was a bloody massive problem for me.