Nothing New for Sophie Drew: a heart-warming romantic comedy

by Katey Lovell

  “Do we have to do this? Can’t we turn around and go back to my place instead?”

  “No. Tawna’s expecting us. We should have been here quarter of an hour ago.”

  “I wish she’d stop pushing me towards Darius,” I moaned. “My head’s in a right mess.”

  He’d been on my mind even more often than usual lately, and I’d even caved and pored over photos of the two of us with Summer, looking every inch the happy little family. Sadness knotted within me at what I’d lost. You know he’d take you back in a heartbeat…

  “We’ll have to see her sooner or later, so let’s get on with it. At least by the end of the day we’ll have the bridesmaids dresses sorted and it’ll be one less thing for her to be fussing over.”

  Tawna’s continual eulogising over Darius was annoying, but combined with her bridezilla behaviour over the last few months she’d driven me completely around the bend. But despite everything, she was still one of my best friends. Misguided? Yes. But she’d be devastated if she knew her comments had given me a run of sleepless nights as I mused over the pros and cons of Darius and Max. My current frugal lifestyle meant the newness of Max appealed, but I couldn’t rid myself of the sense that Darius and I had unfinished business.

  “Go on then,” I said. “You knock.”

  Eve played out a tune on the solid brass knocker, a rat-tat-a-tat-tat that sounded unnaturally loud. It probably had to be loud so Johnny and Tawna could hear visitors arriving from the far end of the house. It was a bit different to my place, where any knock on my neighbour’s door caused my walls to shake.

  Tawna swung the door open with a flourish and a squeal, before throwing her arms first around me and then around Eve. She clearly didn’t share our qualms, excitement bubbling out of her every pore.

  “You’re here! It’s great to see you. I’ve been so looking forward to today, we’ll have so much fun.”

  I cringed with guilt as I disentangled myself from her lithe limbs. She was right, the dress shopping would be fun, and the three of us hadn’t spent nearly enough time together since my birthday.

  “Me too,” I said. “And I’m glad we’re all choosing dresses together.”

  “It wouldn’t be fair to choose bridesmaids dresses without your input, would it? Although you know I wouldn’t choose anything hideous. I’m not into lavender puffball dresses anymore.” She laughed, referring to the time she won the May Queen competition (of course she won – teenage Tawna had been equally as beautiful as present-day Tawna, and had aspired to be Miss World one day). She’d worn a satin dress that made her look like a china doll and had slept in plaits for a week to give her poker-straight hair zigzagged waves.

  “Yeah, lavender’s never been my colour,” Eve joked, as we entered the house.

  Although Tawna and Johnny had lived in it since their engagement, I still couldn’t get used to this being her house. It was in Gosforth for one thing (which meant it was bloody massive – almost a mansion) and was immaculate for another. That was down to the cleaner who came twice a week rather than my friend, who wouldn’t dream of doing anything that might damage her nail extensions, but nevertheless everything about the house screamed upmarket. Not only was it posh, but everything was sparkly-new; like a show home, right down to the vase of fresh red roses on the hallway table and the overflowing fruit bowl at the centre of the kitchen island. The vivid colours of nature contrasted starkly with the starched white of the cabinets and work surfaces, illuminated by strategically placed spotlights that showed the room to its best advantage.

  “Come on through. Johnny’s at the gym so we can spread out in the conservatory. I’ve got a stack of magazines for us to look through before we hit the wedding dress shops, to give us an idea of what we’re after.”

  My ballet pumps padded along the tiled hallway, through the kitchen diner (which was probably twice as large as the whole downstairs of my house) and into the conservatory, although that made it sound like a small sunroom rather than the full-on extension it was. It had one of those roofs with a central point, so the room looked like a big top from a travelling circus, minus the bright coloured canvas. All the colour was outside, in the landscaped gardens. Rhododendrons and rose bushes, fuchsias and ferns, and a whole host of other botanical beauties I couldn’t hazard a guess at naming were kept perfectly pruned by one of Johnny’s gardener friends. I pushed down my envy as I compared Tawna’s garden to the collection of half-dead potted plants that littered my kitchen windowsill. But there was no competition, it was the Chelsea flower show versus the reduced section at B&Q.

  “Make yourselves comfy, and I’ll fetch us some drinks.” She waved her hand in the direction of an expensive-looking teal three-piece suite I’m sure wasn’t there last time I’d visited. “I got some fizz in especially, and none of that cheap rubbish. Only the best for my girls.” She beamed.

  Eve and I did as we were instructed, our bottoms bouncing as they connected with the firm cushions of the settee, confirming its newness.

  The coffee table was piled high with bridal magazines, all boasting the absolute must-haves for the picture-perfect big day. Headlines screamed “Silk or lace?” and “Twenty unique table favours” from the covers, but the publications had one thing in common – the dresses the beaming “brides” on the covers were wearing all cost more than my monthly pay cheque. When we’d gone shopping for Tawna’s dress at the tail-end of the previous year the prices hadn’t shocked me. Since I’d started counting every last penny the thought of paying hundreds, or even thousands, of pounds for a dress that’d be worn once now horrified me.

  “I’ve folded down the pages of the bridesmaids dresses I like best,” Tawna called from the kitchen. “To give you an idea of what I’ve been thinking.”

  Eve and I exchanged another loaded look. Tawna wasn’t sticking to a strict colour scheme, instead going for a rural theme to match the village church her and Johnny had chosen for the wedding itself and the luxury country house reception, which meant we had no expectations. Other than the absence of lavender puffballs we’d not been given so much as an inkling of style or colour palette.

  I picked a magazine from the top of the pile, immediately taking a dislike to the couple on the cover. A dark-haired “groom” modelling a well-cut navy suit looked lovingly at his “bride”, a slender woman with caramel curls wearing an ivory dress with a voluminous layered tulle skirt. Even though I knew it wasn’t real – it was two attractive people who’d been paid to pretend to be wildly in love with each other – my stomach spasmed. It wasn’t the dress that my body was anguishing over, it wasn’t a longing for a day in the spotlight. No, the pit of my stomach was writhing over what it represented – what every stupidly expensive, ostentatious wedding day represented. That one person loved another enough to want all that fuss, all that show.

  Eve craned her neck to see as I flicked to the first marked page. I knew it must be a favourite of Tawna’s, because as well as the corner of the page being folded down, it was labelled with a luminous green Post-it note.

  The dress wasn’t what I’d choose for myself – a slash-necked lace peach tea-length dress with a thick silky ribbon a few shades darker tied around the waist. It was pretty, but not suited to my colouring. On a pure English rose like Eve it’d probably be perfect, accentuating flushed cheeks and bud-red lips.

  I flipped to the next marked page, hoping it would be more suitable. I was faced with a full-length strappy dress in a sickly lemon shade.

  “We’d look like walking bananas in those,” Eve whispered. I was glad she didn’t like them either.

  “Seen anything you like yet?” Tawna asked, entering the room with a champagne bottle in one hand and three glasses clutched at the stems in the other.

  “I’m not sure about the yellow,” Eve said diplomatically, “but we’re just getting started.”

  “How about the sage green? They’re beautiful and would fit perfectly with our country theme.”

  Tawna placed the bubbly
and the glasses on the coffee table, taking care to move the magazines safely out of the way in case of spillages. She peeled back the gold foil that covered the neck of the bottle and, twisting the bottle one way and the bulbous cork the other, opened it with a satisfying pop.

  “You’ll have a glass won’t you, Eve? I know you’re driving, but a small one won’t hurt. It is a celebration.”

  “As long as it really is a small one,” Eve warned. “You know it doesn’t take much of that stuff to get me drunk.”

  Tawna poured a trickle into one of the glasses, probably no more than two mouthfuls’ worth of champagne altogether, and handed it to Eve.

  “You’ll have a proper glass though, won’t you, Soph?” She’d already decanted the fizz into the glass, a frothy cloud of bubbles spilling over the rim and dribbling down the outside. “I can always rely on you to be my drinking partner.” She smiled.

  “I’m probably turning into a lightweight,” I admitted. “I’ve not been drinking as much lately.”

  I sipped at the drink, the sharp tang of the champagne coating my throat as I swallowed.

  “You’re not pregnant, are you?” Tawna peered judgementally down her long slender nose.

  “What? No! Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I wasn’t being ridiculous. Besides last week I’ve not seen you in ages. I don’t know what’s been going on in your love life.” Tawna harrumphed, as though she was the one being insulted, and her eyes skimmed over my stomach looking for any sign of a bump. There was a bump, but that was down to the bag of reduced Sainsbury’s doughnuts I’d eaten the previous night rather than a new life growing within me. It would have had to have been an immaculate conception anyway, because the innocent hand-hold with Max at the pub was as intimate as I’d got lately. It would be hard to take things further anyway, without a phone number. A particularly raunchy dream about the two of us had left me hot and bothered and in need of a cold shower, and wishing I’d been brazen enough to ask for his number. “I think I’ve got every right to know if one of my best friends, not to mention one of my bridesmaids, is going to be pregnant on my big day.”

  It was so like Tawna to expect everyone else to put their life on hold because of her wedding day. “I assure you my womb will remain uninhabited for your special day. The only new babies in my family this year will be Nick and Chantel’s.”

  “I can’t believe they’re having twins, especially so soon after Noah,” Eve exclaimed, lowering the magazine she’d been browsing onto the table.

  It had shocked me too. Mum had called to share the news; typically as I was on my way home from the supermarket, two weighty Tesco bags for life hanging from the hook of each arm. Lifting my phone close enough to my ear to hear what she’d had to say had been a struggle, with the thick plastic of the handles sliding down the fleshy part of my forearm. The friction stung.

  “I didn’t realise you were going out. I thought you’d be in bed with a sore head on a Saturday morning.” She’d laughed as she said it, but yet again I’d felt like a failure of a daughter. She’d never say something like that to Anna or Nick, instead she’d be praising them on their work ethic and perfect home lives.

  “I’m reining in my partying,” I’d said defensively, jiggling my arm so the bags hung at my elbow.

  “Are you heading into town for some retail therapy?” she’d asked, and once again I bristled. She was obviously convinced I was a raging shopaholic.

  If only.

  “I’m on my way back from the supermarket.” I’d reached my front door by this point, relieved to be able to drop the weighty bags to the floor.

  “Good, good,” Mum had replied, in a way that made me think she’d not been listening. “I didn’t ring for small talk, actually.”

  There’d been a pregnant pause as she waited for me to beg for details. “Oh?” I’d managed, rummaging distractedly in my pocket for my key.

  “Chantel had her twelve-week scan yesterday.”

  Again Mum had stopped, dragging it out for dramatic effect. “Come on, Mum. What’s going on?”

  “It’s twins!” Her squeal was so high-pitched that it wouldn’t surprise me if every dog within a ten-mile radius pricked back its ears. “Isn’t that wonderful news?”

  Nick and his perfect life yet again. As if one beautiful son wasn’t enough, he had to go and get Chantel pregnant again, this time with double the reward.

  “Wonderful,” I’d replied duly and dully. I knew I’d be happy about it once it sunk in, I’d felt the same when they announced they were expecting Noah. But all I wanted to do in that moment was wallow in self-pity.

  “I can’t believe it,” Mum had answered, her words coming thick and fast, “and they’re identical!”

  “I can’t believe it,” I’d echoed, breathing a sigh of relief as I’d retrieved my key. “It’s lovely news, pass on my congratulations.”

  “You should call Nick yourself, he’d be glad to hear from you,” Mum said, and I’d humoured her with a non-committal “hmmm” before ending the call, going into my house and sobbing. I felt like the most selfish sister in the world for being jealous of my brother and his perfect family, and even more than that, being jealous of how happy he’d made my mum. I’d never done anything that had filled her with such obvious pride.

  Tawna prodded the magazine in her hand, annoyed the attention had shifted away from her and the wedding. “Can we get back to looking at dresses please?” She pushed a handful of the glossy brochures towards me and directed me to the pages showing her favourite dresses. Most were much of a muchness – floaty fabrics in one ice-cream shade or another. The selection ranged from knee-length to floor-skimming, and I was quietly hoping Tawna would pick the shorter style. My body wasn’t as svelte as the women’s in these glorified catalogues, but walking everywhere to save money ensured my legs had become one of my best features.

  “I like that one.” Eve pointed to a simple dusky lilac dress with a classic cut. Rounded neck, capped sleeves and falling just below the knee, the only detail was in the ruched folds of fabric around the bust. “The colour is subtle. It looks classier than the bright dresses.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Tawna beamed at Eve for the vote of confidence, before looking warily my way. “Do you like them, Soph? It’s you two who need to be happy; it won’t be me wearing it.”

  “Sure.”

  I took the magazine from Eve, scrutinising the detail of the dress. It was pretty, and I tried to imagine me and Eve wearing them as we followed Tawna and her mum down the aisle. That in itself was enough to make my emotions brim over. Tawna had been incredibly close to her dad and it had hit her hard when he’d died a few years earlier. A lump rose in my throat and I clamped my lips together to stop the tears welling in my eyes from falling. We’d been through so much together, all three of us.

  “Oh, Soph, you old softie.” As Tawna folded me into a hug, the tears started flowing good and proper. “I thought it was the bride who was supposed to get emotional. If you’re like this now, what will you be like on the day?”

  “I’m sorry,” I snivelled. “It’s just strange to think of you getting married. It doesn’t seem long since we were sat at the back of history class, making fun of Mr Maloney’s comb-over.”

  I sniffed and laughed at the same time. What would those cocksure young girls make of the three of us now? Eve would be proud of her academic achievements, I’m sure. Tawna would be happy too, marrying a good-looking self-made businessman and living the dream in her glamorous pad. But me? My dream as a fifteen-year-old had been simple – marry Milo V and live happily ever after. Somewhere along the line I’d realised that wasn’t going to happen and that had been the end of my dreaming. Why hadn’t I replaced my ambitions to marry the delectable star with something else, something more achievable that I had control over? I couldn’t say. Instead I’d chosen to float through life, watching, as everyone else moved towards their goals.

  “A lot’s happened since school,” Eve said
, joining the hug.

  “It has,” Tawna agreed, “and I know how fortunate I am to have friends like you two. Having one best friend is lucky, but having two – I’m blessed by the friendship fairies. So what do you think? Shall I call the bridal shop and ask if they have this dress in stock?”

  Tawna clapped her hands together excitably as Eve and I nodded. “You’re both going to look gorgeous!” Tawna stated gleefully. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d started jumping up and down. “Totally stunning.”

  “I’m sure we’ll look lovely, but you’re going to be the star of the show,” I said. “The most beautiful bride in the whole wide world.”

  Then Tawna welled up too, frantically flapping her hands in front of her tear-filled eyes so it was hard to believe it was the same opinionated person we knew and loved (and, in all honesty, often got frustrated by). She was suddenly softer, in need of reassurance that she could fit the criteria for “perfect bride”.

  “Sometimes I can’t believe it’s really going to happen. Me and Johnny getting married.” Her eyes sparkled with tears. “He could have anyone he wanted.”

  “But he loves you,” Eve pointed out rationally. “Anyone can see you’re his absolute world. When the two of you are together he goes from one of the lads to a gooey-eyed mess. He’s crazy for you.”

  “Good,” Tawna replied, taking a deep breath to regain her composure. She blinked, then shook the tension out of her shoulders. “Because I’m crazy for him too.”

  As she retreated to the kitchen to call the bridal shop, my chest heaved. Had anyone ever loved me like that? Darius might have, once. Maybe, if what Tawna said was right, he still did. Could Max, maybe, with time?

  Chapter 10

  A bell tinkled melodically as we entered the shop – correction, “bridal boutique” – to search for the perfect bridesmaids dresses. Tawna had tried the shop she’d ordered her wedding dress from first, but they didn’t stock the design we’d all admired. Another two bridal stores had said the same. That’s how we’d ended up in Sunderland, in a tiny shop as white as Tawna’s kitchen but for one rainbow-coloured rack of bridesmaids dresses. The glare of the lights reflecting off the shimmering fabric of hundreds of bridal gowns caused me to squint. It was like stepping into a scene in a film where a dying person gravitates towards a bright light. Death by wedding dresses.