The Unfinished Tale Of Sophie Anderson

by Martyn J. Pass

  "Yeah," said Tom. "Might as well make an effort."

  "As long as you get me something decent," said John, smirking. "GAME have just released the special edition of..." Tom waved him away and laughed.

  "You'll have to see what Father Christmas brings."

  "Oh yeah, Mum rang before. You've to go round and help shift the table."

  "What the hell for?" asked Tom. "I thought it was on wheels?"

  "Not that one. The other one. Apparently Sarah is bringing her new fella round."

  "Have you met him yet?"

  "No," laughed John, turning to a mother who'd just appeared with her two toddlers. "What can I get you love?"

  I found myself smiling. How did some people have a way of making you feel part of the family without even trying? I realised that John's face was familiar because they were brothers. But who was Sarah?

  As he served the Mother, Tom turned away from him and said, "Sarah's been keeping this new flame from us for six months now. I don't think my Mum and Dad are impressed and so we're expecting something to happen at Christmas."

  "Who's Sarah?" I asked.

  "Our sister." John finished and turned back to us, putting the money in one of those belts market stall holders always have. Another law I suppose. "John, this is Sophie - we work together."

  John reached over the counter and extended a hand to me. "A pleasure," he said. "You must have some patience to put up with this prat."

  "Oy!" said Tom playfully.

  "He's not all bad as far as bosses go," I said.

  "Give it time. Try being his younger brother, then you'll see how much of a 'boss' he thinks he is. Can I get you anything?"

  "I'm okay, thanks," I said, still thinking about the Turkish delight. Tom shook his head and we said our goodbyes.

  "Nice to have met you, Sophie," called John after us.

  We walked out of the markets and onto the high street, finishing the last of our mulled wine whilst staring at the Christmas lights that were still pretty even in the morning sun.

  "I fancy a refill," he said, taking my cup from me. "You?"

  "Yeah, why not?" I replied, feeling the warm fuzzy effects in my head. So far, so good, I told myself. I hadn't cocked up yet and I'd got through meeting a new face without making too much of a mess.

  "You know, we're not doing too bad. We haven't talked about work in the last ten minutes. Do you think we could manage the whole morning?" he said.

  "I wouldn't count on it."

  "When me and the lads go to the gym that's all we talk about. I hate work but for some reason I find myself talking about it all the time."

  "I know what you mean. Mel doesn't really get it. She calls Riley's a holiday camp."

  "A holiday camp?"

  "Yeah - because she thinks we just sit around all day making cups of tea and nattering."

  "There's some truth in that," he said.

  "Maybe in the offices..." He grinned and passed the cups to the man at the stall.

  "I don't think I can argue with that one. I realised the other day that you're the only person who doesn't go up there. Everybody else takes a walk to the offices to talk to the boss for some reason or another but I've never seen you do it. Why is that?"

  "Because-" I quickly stopped myself from saying 'because they're all doing it to waste time' and instead continued with "Because I see Dave if I'm stuck on a job. I just don't need to go up there."

  "Not even for the vending machine?"

  "Nope. Temptation doesn't get the better of me. Besides, why did you notice that of all things?"

  He passed me my cup whilst he paid the man. "I'm your stalker - I need to notice these things if I'm to do my job properly."

  "What else have you noticed?" I asked with a nervous, tingling kind of confidence. No doubt the wine was doing the trick.

  "Well, you always clock in before everyone else."

  "True," I said.

  "And you sit there in your cosy corner with your boots off and your feet up reading a book until you feel sleepy enough to doze off."

  I was about to point out that he actually was stalking me and not just pretending to until I realised he'd seen me do all this when he brought the sandwich in for me the other day. I was unable to feel embarrassed though - I was filled with the Christmas spirit in a more literal sense.

  "True again," was all I could say. He led the way down the high-street at an ambling pace and we stopped outside a few of the clothes shops, looking at the gaudy Christmas displays and the faceless mannequins with their lifeless poses.

  "Do you enjoy Christmas?" he asked.

  "If I'm honest then no, I don't,” I replied. “It costs a fortune and brings out the worst in people. I'd sooner just have the time off."

  "A humbug, I see."

  "Not really," I said. "I think one day long ago when people didn't have every gadget and gizmo, and a piece of fruit was considered the best gift, then it was probably quite fun and exciting. Now people are just spoilt and there's no point to it other than to line the pockets of places like this-" I pointed to the expensive looking jewellers on the corner where an alley ran towards a loading bay. "What's the point?"

  "Didn't you enjoy your family Christmases?" he asked.

  "Yeah, they were fun, don't get me wrong. But when I grew up it just became a chore and I realised how hard it must have been for Mum and Dad to keep us happy each year. I'm sort of glad I don't have kids of my own so right now I'm not fretting about how to pay for it all."

  He nodded but said nothing for a moment or two and we stood gazing at the glittering necklaces and rings along with two others - a younger couple no doubt dreaming they could afford one of their engagement rings. I felt a little jealous. He was holding her hand as much as she was holding his and they were grinning like idiots, all drunk on love and giddy with excitement.

  "Nice, isn't it?" asked Tom. I looked and saw he wasn't referring to the display but to the couple as they walked away.

  "Hmm," I said, sipping the wine. I was back on that roller-coaster again. I was happy a minute ago but now I felt the dip down into sadness. How could a young couple do that to me?

  "Young love," he said. "They don't know about..."

  "About what?" I asked. Tom stared after them and for a moment he looked pained by something. It was gone almost as fast as it came and he smiled.

  "Come on, let's get moving before the cold kills us."

  He picked up the pace and together we headed for the mall where the indoor heaters blasted us the moment we walked in. Where other shops opted for the gaudy style, the huge shopping centre in the heart of Preston went for class. As you strolled along the wide paths you were met with beautiful tinsel bows and enormous silver baubles daubed with lashings of fake snow. In the rotunda there was a great big Christmas tree that reached up to the top floors ending with a golden, sparkly star the size of a small child.

  We stood there looking up at it for a few moments whilst the hurrying shoppers zipped around us like irritated ants in a glittery colony.

  "Aren't you moved at all?" he asked. I had to admit, it moved me, but it wasn't the season. It was a memory trigger, like a smell sometimes does, and the sight of the tree sent me back to years ago when we'd spend our Saturdays in Preston, walking round whilst Mum and Dad shopped.

  "Town always moves me," I said. "Every Saturday me and my brother would come here and wander round. Mum and Dad always did some of the weekly shop here and me and Stevie would get a bag of potatoes off the potato man and eat them in the cold, looking at all the displays and stuff. We'd spend our pocket money on CDs or movies or toys, then meet our parents back at the car."

  "Good times?" he asked.

  "Yeah. Good times."

  "Is Stevie your brother?"

  "He was," I said and without realising it I was telling him something I'd only told Mel since the funeral. "He died in a car crash on my 21st birthday."

  I didn't want to look. I didn't want to see that face people give y
ou when they hear bad news. The 'I know' face when in fact they didn't know. That's why I never told anyone. That's why only Mel knew because she did understand. That and the fact that she was the only person I was still in contact with who could remember him from school.

  I realised that even with the wine inside me I was still messing up. Why had I told him that? I felt like I'd just ruined the entire day. I wanted to go home. I wanted to run for the bus.

  "Thank you," he said. I turned and blinked away a tear.

  "I'm sorry?" I asked.

  "No one at work knows about that. No one ever said you had a brother which means you've made a point of not telling anyone unless you wanted to, unless you felt you could. I appreciate you telling me, that's all."

  I turned back to the tree and wiped my eyes with my sleeve. Tom drained his cup. The shoppers went on shopping and the hectic, heartless season continued rolling along like it did every year.

  "Look at us," he said, laughing. "We'd be hopeless in ASDA, wouldn't we? We'd never manage the first aisle."

  I felt his hand find mine and he squeezed it before dragging me along behind him. "Come on - let's get on with it or there'll be no presents under the tree at my Mum's house and John will kill me."

  8.

  The rest of our shopping day turned into a manic sprint around every shop we could find. Tom had a list made out on a crumpled piece of paper and I could see he'd taken it from work. It suddenly dawned on me where I'd seen it before.

  "You wrote your shopping list out during a meeting!" I cried as he pulled me into Debenhams. "How could you?"

  "That's rich coming from you! Do you know that a whisper is meant to be quiet?"

  "I was whispering!" I said.

  "Okay then, I was taking notes on our boss's speech then."

  "I wondered what you were writing and now I know. So much for being a good boss!"

  "What are you going to do, report me?"

  "I might just do that," I said.

  "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now shut up and tell me what that says." He passed me the list and he'd written something halfway down. It looked like a Russian word.

  "What's it meant to be?" I asked.

  "A perfume my Mum wants. I heard her say it but she ran out of it last week and threw the bottle before I got a chance to read the label. Dad didn't know what it was either so that's my 'interpretation'."

  I scanned the perfume counter, trying to make the connection. If Mel had been there she'd have known straight away what it was.

  "Would you recognise the scent?" I asked.

  "We're not sniffing every one - there's hundreds of them!" he cried. The woman in the white frock with the ID badge was grinning without acknowledging she'd heard him.

  "No, but it narrows down the guesses, doesn't it?" I said. It dawned on me that we were both a little bit tipsy. At some point we'd drunk another cup full of wine from a second vendor we'd spotted off one of the side streets near Winkley Square. Now we both had two different empty mugs each and they clanged together in our hands as we gestured at each of the bottles.

  "What about this one?" he asked. "That word sounds like something Mum might say."

  "Did you actually hear her say it?"

  "I'm not sure," he said. "Can I sniff it? It's wrapped up in-" The woman in white was on us like a shot and she had a tester bottle in her hands. She sprayed her own wrist and offered it to Tom. I fought the urge to gouge her eyeballs out.

  "Nope," he said. "Not that one."

  "Are you sure?" I asked.

  "I think I know what my mother smells like, don't you? Hang on, that didn't sound right." I broke out in a fit of laughter and the perfume lady began distancing herself from us. "What I mean is... Heck, just find it, would you?"

  "Is that all you brought me here for?" I asked. "To find perfume that smells like your Mum?"

  "It's a good thing I didn't because you're crap at it."

  "She's your Mum! You know what she smells like!" We were both laughing now and earning bad looks from the rest of the shoppers. "What about this one?"

  "That's it! Sophie, you're a genius!"

  "Just buy the bloody thing so we can get out of here - before we're thrown out."

  Back in the mall we were still laughing but at least the list was down by one item. I just hoped there weren't any more wine vendors or we'd be legless before the afternoon was done.

  "Next we need GAME for John, then I promised Sarah some earrings from that place next to the card shop," he said.

  "Okay, then what?"

  "Dinner. I'm starving. What do you fancy?" he asked.

  "It's up to you, I'm happy with most food. MacDonald’s?" He laughed.

  "I think we can do better than that, Sophie. I was thinking of that little Italian near the old Blockbusters."

  "Franko's?"

  "Yeah. Have you been before?"

  "I think so. It was nice." Mel had celebrated one of her birthdays there. I could just afford the menu. Just.

  "That's done then. Let's get these two banged out so we can eat."

  We rattled off two more items on the list and got a bonus one for Sarah from GAME - a model of Ezio from Assassin's Creed which earned a questioning look from me.

  "She's fancied him since the first one came out. It's a jokey kind of present," he said and for the first time I actually saw him blush.

  "It's for you, isn't it?" I said.

  "No, she really did like him. Who wouldn't? Strapping young Italian man in a hood."

  "Whatever. Believe your lie if it helps," I said, heading out of the mall towards Franko's. "Have you brought your wallet? This place isn't cheap you know?"

  "Hey, I'm management don't forget. Big wage, big bonuses and all that."

  "So you're paying?" I joked. Inwardly I felt a little piece of me cursing the confidence boosting effects of the wine. I didn't feel in control and somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I'd be regretting this later.

  "Of course," he said. "My treat."

  "That's two meals you've bought for me now. If I didn't know better I'd say you..." I pulled myself together just in time. I did the drunk person's cough that somehow made me feel more sober and marched on ahead. Tom caught me up.

  "You'd say what?" he asked. It was my turn to change colour - again.

  "Nothing. I said nothing."

  "It didn't sound like nothing."

  "It was. That's exactly what it was. Nothing. No-thing."

  We reached the door and I opened it for him. "Very new-age," he said. It was a narrow opening and in order to get past me he had to brush against me. I breathed in his cologne as his hand touched mine. My heart leapt as his face came within millimetres of me. In a moment he was inside and I was breathing again.

  "Hold it together, Soph," I whispered and it had zero effect on my irregular heartbeat. "You've drunk too much."

  I went up the short flight of steps and saw that Tom was getting us a table. I followed him round into the beautiful rustic Italian dining room which was almost empty save for an older couple sat in the corner near a window.

  "Will this be okay?" asked the waiter, offering us a small table for two near the kitchen. There was a candle in a jar and a single rose in a crystal vase. Tom nodded. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

  "I'll have a glass of red - unless you want to order a bottle?" he asked me.

  "No, I'll just have a pint of diet coke. My head's spinning."

  The waiter jotted it on his pad and disappeared. We took off our coats and sat down and Tom snatched a menu from the little metal stand.

  "What are you having?" he asked. I scanned through the overpriced but tasty food and decided on the safer option - the pepperoni thin crust pizza. They were amazing and the fact that they were hand crafted made all the difference.

  "My usual pepperoni."

  "Starters?"

  "I'm a desert kind of girl. You?"

  "Does it have to be one or the other? Can't it be both?" he said.

  "Yeah,
if you're a fat bastard," I laughed. "What starters are you having then?"

  "I would've had the mushrooms but it'd be rude to eat whilst you wait for your main."

  "Don't mind me, fill your face. Go burn it off at the gym if you want."

  "I might just do that," he said.

  The waiter came with our drinks and I took a long gulp from the glass hoping that it might clear my mind. Did I enjoy being tipsy with Tom? Yeah, I did, but I didn't like where it was going. I didn't feel in control and I knew what would happen - and where it would ultimately end. Despite Mel's wicked grin appearing in my mind I knew she was wrong. This would only end in tears and I was determined not to let myself get hurt again. I couldn't let him in despite every fibre of my being saying otherwise.

  We ordered our food and sat there in silence for a moment, looking down at the table without making eye contact. Something had passed between us, some silent message that both of us understood. We'd had fun but this was as far as it went. I felt ridiculous for thinking anything else.

  "Are you okay?" he asked. I nodded. "I really enjoyed today. Did you?"

  "Yeah, I did. But..." He held his hand in the air.

  "I get it."

  "Do you?" I said.

  "Yeah. Thirty-something guy, divorce, son, boss - so to speak. It's a lot to have to deal with."

  "It's not that," I said.

  "Then what?"

  I looked up from the table decorations and the candle and caught his eyes. I could have lost myself in them. I saw myself waking up next to him, making love to him, growing old with him and still seeing the light in those beautiful eyes that I felt like I was seeing for the first time. Maybe seeing Tom was always going to feel like it was the first time.

  "I don't want to take the risk,” I said.

  "What risk?" he asked, his words as soft as silk, whispered in the quiet of the restaurant with only the ageing couple to hear us.

  "That it's all true. That when we get so familiar with each other and we've let the passion and the infatuation die we'll just be two people living together, hating each other until old age claims us both."

  He looked at me across the small table in the tiny restaurant and there was the ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Without me realising it his hand had come across the small void of white table cloth and found mine.