by Katey Lovell
I stumbled clumsily down the steps as I left the restaurant, tripping on the bottom one. I grabbed hold of the closest thing I could, one of the topiary trees lining the entrance, to stop myself crashing to the ground.
Relief coursed through me. I’d not thanked Johnny for the invite, not said any goodbyes, but none of that mattered. I could finally breathe again.
Chapter 14
“Did you have a good time at Johnny’s party, pet?” Dad asked, eager for the gossip. With the football season over for another year he had no social life of his own so he was keen to live vicariously. “Fancy do, from what I’ve heard?”
“It was nice.” I tried to add a cheery lilt to my voice, hoping it’d fool him. “You know what Johnny’s like, he doesn’t do anything by halves.”
“Bri was there too, did you see him? Told me all about it when I ran into him at the newsagents. He didn’t get home until four in the morning! I hope you weren’t that late.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I was home well before that,” I mumbled. Truth was, I’d been tucked up before eleven o’clock, Darius’s proposition ensuring I’d fled the ball and made it back to my bed earlier than Cinder-bloody-ella.
“Are you all right?” Chantel asked through a mouthful of Mum’s legendary strawberry trifle. It was as much a part of her traditional Sunday dinner as roast potatoes and Yorkshire puddings, and a particular favourite of my sister-in-law’s. “You don’t seem your usual self.”
“Just a bit hungover and headachy,” I lied. I’d had plenty to drink, but I’d not been drunk. Coming face to face with Darius had been a sobering experience. “At least that’s not something you’ll be needing to worry about for a while.”
“Oh, it’s fine to have the odd glass of wine when you’re pregnant, I just don’t fancy it. It was the same when I was expecting Noah. My taste buds have changed and it’s just not as nice, somehow.”
“I’m not drinking today either,” I pointed out, digging into my second portion of trifle. I’d made sure to get plenty of custard, my favourite layer. It was Nick’s favourite too, so it was always a battle between us to see who could eat their first portion the fastest and call shotgun on second helpings.
“You probably had more than your weekend quota last night,” Mum chipped in, and I detected a sliver of judgement. Nick jumped unexpectedly to my defence, but Mum didn’t apologise, instead pressing on by asking, “So, who was there? Anyone we’d know? Any celebrities?” as though she’d done nothing wrong.
The previous year half the Newcastle United team had turned up. Dad had been green with envy when I’d shown him the pictures I’d had taken with them.
“I wasn’t really looking. I spent most of the night talking to a guy.”
All eyes were on me, expectant. Even Noah, slightly less dribbly since his two front teeth had pierced their way through his bright red gums, was staring at me.
“You didn’t tell me you had a new boyfriend,” Mum chastised, but I knew she was excited from the way her attention was fixed on me. “So come on then, tell us all about him. Who is he, where did you meet?”
“I wouldn’t call him my boyfriend, I’ve only met him a few times. His name’s Max and he’s the manager of the Hospice charity shop in town. I met him when I was shopping a couple of months ago.”
“Why were you slumming it in a charity shop?” Nick asked with a laugh. “Not exactly your usual scene.”
“All sorts of people use charity shops, actually,” I said haughtily, remembering Max telling me about the diverse cross-section of customers that came through the shop. “I saw something in the window that caught my attention and ended up going in. Anyway, Max was serving and he invited me to his local for a drink. We didn’t exchange numbers though so last night was the first time I’d seen him since then.”
“This is very exciting,” Mum said, her cheeks flushed. “You know we’ve all been worried about you since you and Darius split up.”
“I’m capable of looking after myself,” I said defensively, despite all evidence to the contrary.
“We know that, but it’s nice to know you’re opening up to new opportunities. You’ve had long enough to grieve that relationship, and now it’s time to put all that behind you and move forward.”
“I never liked Darius.” Nick’s comment shocked me. In all the time we were together he’d never once given the impression of disliking my ex. Nick must have read my look and known what I was thinking, because he said, “He didn’t appreciate you. You’re bright, you’re pretty, you’re funny. I know you’re my sister, but you’re a catch. He should have realised what he had and not taken you for granted.”
It was probably the nicest thing Nick had ever said to me.
“Do you remember the way he was at our wedding?” Chantel shook her head. “He was flirting with my sister, right in front of you. I was appalled he could behave that way with you right there.”
Of course I remembered it, I’d felt about two inches tall as he reeled off line after cheesy line of compliments to Chantel’s younger sister, Clare. I’d laughed it off, pretending it didn’t matter, but he’d hurt me.
“That was when I saw his true colours.” Mum started noisily stacking the empty crockery. “I knew he was a jack the lad, but he took it too far that day.”
“You never mentioned anything,” I said, feeling defensive. It was as though they were belittling all me and Darius had shared.
“We tried, Soph, lots of times.” Nick smiled sadly.
“Try not to rush into anything with this Max, eh?” Dad said. “Find out if he’s good enough for you before you go falling head over heels.”
“Yes, Dad,” I replied obediently.
“Enjoy yourself, but be cautious. There’s no rush.” Mum smiled, her eyes resting on what was left of the trifle. “Now, who’s having the last of this? There’s not much left, so we may as well finish it off.”
“Sophie can have it,” Nick said. It was a kind gesture, especially given that mainly custard, cream and sprinkles (in other words, all the best bits) remained.
“No, honestly, I’m fit to bursting. Let Chantel have it, she’s eating for three, after all.”
Chantel beamed, eagerly telling me about her impending twenty-week scan appointment the following week, and Mum scooped the remains of dessert into my sister-in-law’s bowl. I was excited – for her, for Nick, for all of us as she shared her joy. For once I didn’t feel like the outsider. I felt part of something. Part of the family.
Chapter 15
Ever had a bad idea? Sitting on the floor in my bedroom, every item of clothing I owned surrounding me, I realised I’d had an exceptionally bad idea. In theory the Marie Kondo method had sounded great, and I was in the “if I have a clean house, I’ll have a clean mind” mindset, but faced with the reality of the task at hand I was full of regret. I’d started the sorting process after returning home from Mum and Dad’s. It had been another beautiful evening, but darkness had taken over, the sunlight replaced by the glare of the bulb in my standard lamp.
Surrounding me were ten pairs of near-identical jeans, an assortment of floral dresses and a ridiculous amount of bikinis. It was obscene. A holiday to somewhere hot where I could laze on the beach was the extent of my bikini-wearing, but from looking at my wardrobe you’d never have guessed. There were enough to keep James Bond’s fancy-pieces in swimwear for the next ten films in the franchise.
Methodically, I started sorting through each of the piles. The process was satisfying, even if I did feel stupid saying “thank you” to my clothes and it took three times as long as I’d anticipated. It was pleasing to know the items making their way back into my wardrobe were the ones that made me feel like my best self. Favourite staples that have served me well.
The clothes I no longer wanted were sorted into a “sell” pile and a “charity shop” pile. Shamefully, numerous items, some of them designer, still had the tags attached. Seeing the prices printed in stark black and white on the labels m
ade me baulk, their combined total reaching well into four figures. Although it was unlikely they’d fetch full retail price on the online auction sites, I was confident they’d attract plenty of interest. Some were from limited runs, others one-offs. I vowed to take photos and upload them to the sites, promising myself everything I made would go towards paying off my credit card.
The items in the charity pile were still in good condition but not such high quality. I crammed the clothes into a large blue Ikea bag – the floaty green dress I’d bought especially for the dirty weekend Darius and I had had in Barcelona, a pair of ill-advised white jeggings that I’d bought on a whim and worn once, a striped off-the-shoulder Bardot top I’d worn to death last summer. Leather trousers that were too tight around the thighs, and a winter coat that had plenty of wear left in it but that wasn’t really “me” anymore. And jeans. So many pairs of jeans.
Cleaning out my wardrobe was a long, but pleasantly liberating, experience. It was good to regain control, to feel proactive. I didn’t have a fairy godmother waving a magic wand to rid me of my debts, but I didn’t need one. I’m Sophie Drew, a fully grown woman who’s made her fair share of mistakes, but who’s slowly but surely getting her act together.
A glance at my alarm clock showed it had taken five hours to organise my wardrobe. FIVE HOURS. No wonder I was shaking with caffeine withdrawal symptoms and craving carbs. The double helpings of trifle felt like a long time ago.
I chopped a cucumber to within an inch of its life (nothing worse than really thickly sliced cucumber – it makes me gag) and threw that and the last of the block of cheddar in my fridge between two doorstop slices of bread. Tiredness engulfed me. Family lunch followed by a session of Marie Kondo-ing had really taken it out of me. I gladly sank into my usual spot on the sofa, managing two bites of my sandwich before my head slumped back against the cushions. Patterns from the clothes in my wardrobe danced hypnotically before my eyes and I fell into a well-earned deep and restful sleep.
The sun, shining with an unapologetic ferocity, stirred me from my slumber. Confused by waking, fully clothed, on the sofa, I reached for my phone, stabbing at the screen to see the time. Shit. I’d been asleep for twelve hours straight. It was just gone nine o’clock on Monday morning, and I was late for work. Shit.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
I hurriedly changed out of my wrinkled clothes, cringing as I used half a can of body spray in lieu of having a shower, then grabbed an apple, a hair bobble and my bag before slipping my feet into a pair of shimmering gold sandals and speed-walking to the Metro stop.
When I was safely on the Metro I pulled my phone from my pocket and called the office, relieved when it was Kath who answered the phone.
“I’m going to be late.”
“You’re already late,” she pointed out. “And Marcie’s on the warpath. She’s rabbiting on about a missing file. You’ve not picked a good day to oversleep.”
“I didn’t plan it, did I?” I huffed. “One minute I was eating my sandwich, the next I was dead to the world. I must have slept through my alarm.”
I’d dreamt about Max again, which was another reason waking had been a struggle. Nothing saucy, but that didn’t matter. We’d been climbing Mount Everest, dressed head to toe in burnt-orange snowsuits with a couple of huskies for company. Max had still looked attractive, even buried beneath an enormous fur-trimmed hood.
“If I were you I’d stop at the supermarket and bring cakes. She’s already on one. Grovelling is your best chance.”
The thought of spending unnecessary money on Marcie’s favourite treat – cream horns from the bakery counter – wasn’t appealing. And of course, if I rolled up with something for Marcie, I’d have to buy cakes for Jane and Kath too. Marcie’s wrath was even more fearsome. As my line manager she’d be within her rights to discipline me if she saw fit. My back was well and truly up against the wall.
“Thanks for the tip. If she asks where I am, tell her I’m on my way and should be in by ten.” I crossed my fingers, knowing it’d be tight.
“Just get here quickly. For our sakes, as well as your own.”
I exhaled as I ended the call, puffing my cheeks out like a puffer fish. Trust me to be late when Marcie was already in one of her moods. Since she’d started going through the change she was prone to mood swings. I only hoped that bribery with pastries would be enough to keep her sweet.
I survived the week, barely. My unplanned and unwanted Monday morning lie-in had thrown me, and I’d been playing catch-up for the rest of the week. I was convinced Marcie upped my workload to teach me a lesson. Even the cream horns hadn’t placated her.
“Friday night.” Jane bent down to retrieve her bag from beneath her desk. “And boy, am I ready for the weekend.”
“Me too.” Kath raised her arms above her head and gave a super-suggestive shimmy. “I’m out on the pull tonight. Hot, single and ready to mingle.”
“Modest too.” I smiled to show there was no malice in my words, whilst wishing I could have a pinch of Kath’s new-found confidence. Twenty-three years she’d been married but since her divorce Kath seemed to have found a new lease of life.
“Are you out in town tonight?” Her question was directed at me. Neither Jane nor Marcie was the type to be out on the tiles to celebrate the start of the bank holiday weekend, much more likely to be settling in for the night with their significant others and a Chinese takeaway.
“I’m going to Tawna and Johnny’s.” I groaned, wishing I’d turned down Tawna’s invite. “I’d rather have a night in, if I’m honest.”
Eve couldn’t make it and I wasn’t in the mood for playing gooseberry. Johnny always fussed over Tawna. In one sense it was nice – showing he cared and literally couldn’t keep his hands off his future wife – but it did rather drum home my singleton status. Max had been friendly at the party, but he’d still not asked for my number. Admittedly, I’d made a quick exit to avoid the awkward situation with Darius, but we’d been sat next to each other for the duration of a three-course meal. He’d had plenty of time to make a move if he’d been so inclined. I liked Max a lot, but without his number I was helpless. I wasn’t brave enough to go to the shop to see him.
“Oh, I’m sure it’ll be fun when you get there and the wine is flowing,” Jane said. “And their house is gorgeous, isn’t it? With the weather like this you might even be eating outside. What is it they call that?”
“A barbeque?” Kath suggested, a glint in her eyes.
“No! Al something or other.”
“Pacino?” Kath teased, before applying a slick coat of pearlescent baby-pink lipstick. The way it caught the light reminded me of my mum’s wedding pearls. When I was small I’d loved looking at the treasures in her jewellery box, smoothing my fingers over the surface of the beads, examining the colourful stones set against backdrops of silver and gold, but the pearls had been my favourite. “Capone?”
“Al Fresco,” I said, helping her out. Jane, bless her, isn’t the brightest. “And I don’t think it will be. They’re having work done. Tawna mentioned new decking being put down ready for the lighter evenings.”
“Either way, you have a good night, pet. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Kath quipped, which pretty much left me with my options wide open.
She breezed out of the building, waving over her shoulder as she left, and I scooped up my phone and water bottle (another money-saving effort – the amount I used to spend on takeout coffees and bottles of organic orange juice!) before following her lead and escaping the claustrophobic office.
The sounds of the city engulfed me; the aggrieved beeping of horns from irate drivers, the wailing of toddlers strapped into prams against their will, the after-work pub-goers sharing stories of their workdays as they spilt out onto the pavements.
I kept my eyes firmly on the floor as I passed the shops, not wanting anything in the windows to entice me. Three months into my new lifestyle, I was proud of myself. Twenty-nine-year-old Sophie wou
ld never have stayed within budget, but thanks to some manic online selling and savvy food shopping, the more mature me was rapidly decreasing the amount I owed.
Looking at the ground was my undoing, and the reason I found myself bumping, quite literally, into Max.
“Oh! I’m sorry!”
“Sophie.” He sounded surprised. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“It’s fine, I wasn’t concentrating either.”
“I’m meeting some friends at the pub and I was texting to see if they were already there.” He waved his handset as though to prove his point, pulling an apologetic face. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
“No, no, I’m fine. I feel like a divvy, that’s all. You must think I’m a total klutz.”
His eyes connected with mine. His pupils looked enormous, magnified by the lenses of his glasses. “I didn’t think anything of the sort.”
My lips were dry, and embarrassment, like a weight pressing down on my tongue, stopped me from speaking.
“You’re welcome to join us at the pub. It’s nothing fancy, just a good old-fashioned boozer that serves decent real ales, and a group of us talking about music and films.”
“Umm…” The weight was still there, stopping me from saying anything coherent.
“It’d be nice to spend some time with you. I was looking for you at Johnny’s party, but after the meal you vanished. You’re probably busy though. It’s Friday night, of course you’ve already got plans. I just wanted to buy a drink to apologise for barging into you.”
I remembered grumbling to my workmates about the prospect of spending the night playing third wheel to Johnny and Tawna and their couple friends. A night in the pub with Max and his mates was tempting.