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

by Katey Lovell

  I blushed. There were times I’d done exactly that.

  “Very funny.”

  I adjusted my new ring on my finger. “Thanks again for this.”

  “I know it’s not worth much, but I saw the way you were looking at them. When the lady selling them asked what you liked and you said the ring there was no way I was going to let you walk away without it on your finger.”

  “I’m grateful.”

  I thought of the diamond choker Darius had given me, which the pawn shop gave me decent money for. They wouldn’t see the value in the handcrafted Scrabble ring, but it already meant more to me than the precious jewels, because it had been given with genuine affection.

  “You can think of me every time you wear it,” he said.

  I looked up at him through my lashes. “I’ll wear it all the time.”

  The look we shared was as heavy as the summer evening air around us, loaded, and when his lips connected with mine it was as though the rest of the world fell away.

  July

  Chapter 28

  Four weeks had passed.

  Four weeks since the fete.

  Four weeks since I gave Darius the money.

  Four weeks of near-constant worry about Chantel and the babies.

  In some ways it felt like no time at all. It could be measured in one box of tampons, one measly pay cheque, one cycle of the moon. In other ways it felt like forever.

  Max and I had been spending more time together, and were officially a couple. There was no more game-playing, no more coyness from either side. We’d had a night out at the pictures and a day trip to Edinburgh where we’d climbed Arthur’s Seat, rewarding ourselves with a picnic when we reached the summit. We’d borrowed his brother Grant’s golden retriever and gone for a six-mile walk (she was far more obedient than Spot).

  Max had even come to the house a couple of times (after I tidied up. I didn’t want to sabotage our relationship before we even got started). We weren’t rushing into anything, but when I was with him it felt so overwhelmingly right. That was nothing compared to the feeling when I wasn’t with him though. That was the worst of all, and I’d find myself reaching for my phone to share a joke I knew he’d find amusing or tell him a song we both loved was on the radio.

  In the past, Eve had been my first port of call when I had news to share, knowing she’d gladly listen to me going on about whatever was causing me heartache or hurt, but the support Max had shown me had been so sincere, so wholehearted, that he’d become my default contact when I was wobbly; and there’d been quite a bit to wobble about. My nieces (recent scans confirming the gender, which my brother and his wife hadn’t originally wanted to know) were both still growing, but the doctors had confirmed Twin-to-Twin Transfusion Syndrome, which could lead to the girls needing to be delivered before their October due date. We were quietly hoping things would stay stable enough for them to stay in utero until at least thirty-five weeks, but the specialists were also realists, telling us to prepare for all eventualities.

  I’d not seen Eve in a while. The last time I’d spoken to her she’d had concerns of her own, with her mum taking a turn for the worse and wandering out of the care home and onto the busy main road. Tawna had been in touch, and I’d asked her if she’d seen Darius, but he was remaining very elusive, not visiting the house as he normally did. I hadn’t mentioned to Tawna how Darius had been bragging about how he could get back with me if he wanted to. It would only cause her to worry about tensions riding high on her wedding day, plus I hadn’t seen her because she was spending all her free time at the gym, doing torturous classes to get wedding-ready.

  My own long summer nights had been spent crafting. With Max’s encouragement I’d not been able to shake the idea of starting up a small business out of my system. I wasn’t deluded enough to believe it could ever be my main source of income, but the pleasure I got from creating meant any money made would be a bonus. I’d slowly but surely built up my stock and had set up an Etsy page. I’d even made plans to rent a table at some of the local Christmas fayres that year. There were always loads of them in church halls and schools and people love Christmas decorations. Glittery stars, crocheted angels… I was already full of ideas.

  As I approached the charity shop, squinting into the sun as it started to dip in the powder-blue sky, nervous butterflies fluttered in my stomach. I was meeting Max’s family – the whole clan – for the first time. He’d assured me they’d love me, but knowing how much his family meant to him made their approval all the more important.

  Max was standing outside waiting for me, one foot casually tapping against the brick wall he was leaning against. Seeing him there calmed my nerves.

  “How are you doing?” He took my hand in his, giving it a firm squeeze.

  “Oh, you know. Pretty petrified about meeting the whole Oakley family.”

  “You have nothing to worry about,” he promised, giving my hand another pulse of reassurance. “Grant and Chris thought you were lovely, and the rest will too. They’re all very laid back and really friendly, I promise. I can’t guarantee Dylan won’t fire questions at you though.”

  “Nothing quite like being grilled by a child.”

  “Piers Morgan has nothing on him. He’s so damn nosy.”

  I pulled a face that probably doubled as a frown. “Oh no. What’s he going to ask me? I’m not used to being around kids that age. Noah doesn’t say much at all yet, only a few odd words.”

  “Nothing too probing, don’t panic. More ‘what’s your favourite colour?’ and ‘who’s your favourite Pokémon?’ than politics or the economy.”

  “Phew. I think I can manage that. Although the Pokémon one might have to be Pikachu by default. I don’t know any others.”

  “You will by the end of the night, I can assure you. Dylan’s obsessed. He’ll have his cards and sticker book out ready to show you. You’re his idea of a dream, the rest of us have heard it all so many times that we’re nodding blankly whenever he starts talking about it.”

  “Well, I’ll be the perfect audience for him, even if I do have to fake it a bit.”

  “You might end up loving it. There are adults obsessed with Pokémon. I’m not one of them though,” he clarified, pointing his key towards the car and setting the headlights flashing with one press of the button.

  “Maybe,” I gamely replied, opening the door and buckling myself in.

  I’d already made my mind up that if it all got to be too much I’d hide in a corner with Dylan and learn all there was to know about Pokémon. His questions, however incessant, were likely to be easier to answer than anything the adults would ask.

  Max’s parents’ house was as I remembered it from the day of Fred’s funeral – large and smart and set back from the road. The short driveway leading up to the double-fronted house looked like a car park, there were that many vehicles on it. The front garden was beautifully in bloom – someone with green fingers must have been tackling it – and as I got out of the car I heard laughter coming from the back of the house.

  “Sounds like everyone else is here,” Max said cheerily. “Ready to meet them?”

  “Ready.” I smiled bravely. I wasn’t normally one of those people who got nervous walking into a room but I wanted this over and done with.

  We followed a path around the outside of the house until we came to a tall wooden gate. Max reached over to undo the latch and the scene that greeted us looked like it belonged in an advert. Wisps of smoke curled from a white-hot barbecue and rows of pretty garden lights were strung out between the summer house and the shed. A group were playing cards at a table on the decking, and a young boy, who had to be Dylan was playing croquet (croquet!) with a man who, by default, I knew was Dale. The genetics were strong enough to make me look twice to ensure Max was still by my side.

  “Okay?” he asked, with gentle reassurance. “Not regretting saying you’d come?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Maxwell!” Dale came over and patt
ed Max forcibly on the back. His skin was a shade darker, his hair slightly darker too, but other than that they were incredibly alike. “Good to see you. And good to meet you, Sophie. I was beginning to wonder if Max had made up this stunning girlfriend he’s been talking about,” he added, teasingly jabbing Max in the ribs.

  “I’m real,” I replied with a modest laugh, immediately feeling comfortable in this company.

  “Welcome to the madhouse.” He smiled, extending a hand. “I’m Dale, Max’s youngest brother. The most handsome and debonair of the Oakley brothers.” He chuckled.

  “Yeah, whatever you say.” Max pointed his index finger to his ear and spun it in a circle, before bending down, cupping his hand in front of his mouth. “He’s deluded,” he said to me in a stage whisper.

  “Now now, don’t get competitive,” said a woman who looked strangely familiar. “I don’t know, Sophie. I thought it would get easier with time, but it turns out being the mum of four boys is hard work whatever stage of life they’re at. They might be getting older, but they’ve never really grown up.”

  Max leant over, kissing her cheek. “You don’t need to pretend just because we’ve got a guest. Everyone knows I’m your favourite.”

  Mrs Oakley smiled. “All four of you say that. I suppose it’s a good thing. Better than any of you feeling unloved.”

  Her words scratched against my heart, reminding me how I’d felt like the inferior member of my own family for so long. The events of the past few months had brought us closer together than ever before, and I no longer felt less loved. Nick and Anna had a tight bond, but that was independent of my relationships with both of them and I knew my parents loved all three of us, the same way Mrs Oakley loved her boys.

  “None of us could ever feel unloved, Mum,” Dale said. “Right, I’d better go and help Dad with the barbecue. You know how overexcited he gets, you’ll be eating cold sausages for weeks if I don’t rein him in.”

  Mrs Oakley smiled. “True, in fact, why don’t both you boys go and give him a hand. I’ll stay here and chat to Sophie. Give us a chance to get to know each other.”

  She all but shooed them away, before guiding me to a swinging love seat and encouraging me to sit. “I’ll get us a drink. What would you like? White or red wine, gin and tonic, fruit juice, beer? I can’t drink beer these days, it makes me terribly bloated.”

  “A glass of white wine would be lovely, thank you.”

  I rocked on the seat as she fetched the drinks. Chris had taken over playing croquet with Dylan, and I recognised the man playing cards as Grant. I wondered if the woman with him was his wife, as she had a toddler on her lap and I knew Max had another nephew besides Dylan so assumed the toddler to be Isaac. The family resemblance was strong with all of the Oakley brothers.

  “Here you go, Sophie.” Mrs Oakley handed me a large glass of wine and I steadied the swing to accept it, not wanting to lose a drop. She sat next to me and smiled. “So, tell me about yourself.”

  “There’s not much to tell,” I replied, wishing I had something exciting I could share. “I work as a secretary for a legal firm in town.”

  “And how do you enjoy that?”

  “Not much, most of the time,” I said with a laugh, surprising myself by how honest I was being with someone I’d only just met. “It’s not awful, but it’s not what I thought I’d be doing at my age.”

  “And what did you think you’d be doing?”

  “Something creative, I suppose. I wanted to be a fashion designer or an artist. In the end I played it safe.”

  “I used to be an artist,” Mrs Oakley revealed, “before I had the boys. I was pretty good. Gave up when I found out I was pregnant though because I didn’t have the capacity to focus. Baby brain, I suppose. I never really got back into it, life got in the way, but I still think about trying my hand at it again sometimes.”

  “You should. I’ve started making things again recently and it’s so relaxing. Time seems to slow down and I lose myself in whatever I’m doing and forget about everything else.”

  “That’s exactly what I used to find, nothing else mattered but the project I was working on. That’s why I couldn’t do it when the boys were small, because I had to stay alert for them. Even when they got older they still took up a lot of my time because I spoiled them. I should have let them do more for themselves, but I enjoyed taking care of them, and although I’d complain on a Sunday night when I had a pile of school shirts to iron, I wouldn’t have changed a thing. Doing things for them was how I showed my love.”

  “Well, whatever you did, it worked. Not many families come together every week like this.”

  “I’m very lucky,” she agreed, taking a sip of her wine. “Friends of mine never see their grown-up children, but mine can’t stay away.”

  As we sat in comfortable silence, the love seat rocking gently, I wanted to inspire Mrs Oakley the way Max inspired me. “You should definitely start painting again. You must have so many ideas stored away after all these years.”

  “Hundreds.” She grinned, and the way her eyes twinkled reminded me of Max. They were more tired, admittedly, more world-weary and the faded blue of washed-out denim rather than the misty shade of Max’s, but the shape was identical, the glimmer in them as warm. “Thank you for the encouragement.”

  “I wanted to pay it forward. It was Max who made me believe people might actually want to buy some of the things I make.”

  She reached over and placed a hand on my knee. It was familiar but not necessarily uncomfortable. “He’s really taken with you. We knew it was serious when he said he was bringing you here – it’s a long time since he brought a girl home. After what happened with Gina–”

  We were interrupted by Max’s dad, shuffling towards us aided by a black curved-handled walking stick. “Andrea, have you seen that large bowl my mother gave us? I thought it would be perfect for the pasta salad.”

  It suddenly clicked why Mrs Oakley looked so familiar – she’d been the lady at the car boot sale, the one who’d given Eve the bowl.

  “I think it got smashed,” she replied, a sad smile on her face. “Bunty knocked it off the draining board last time we used it,” she added, very believably. “You know how clumsy that precious cat of yours is.”

  “Oh. Oh, that’s a shame.” Max’s dad rubbed his hand over his beard.

  “I bought a new large bowl though, if you look in the cupboard with the Pyrex,” she said, all wide-eyed innocence.

  “I’ll use that then,” he said, before heading towards the house. On his way he made a fuss of the tortoiseshell cat who was perched on a chair, stroking its head affectionately.

  “I knew he’d not hold a grudge if he thought it was the cat,” she said mischievously. “He thinks the world of her.”

  “Did you remember it was my friend who had the bowl at the boot sale? I thought I recognised you from somewhere, but couldn’t think where.”

  “Of course I remembered you.” She scoffed. “I recognised you the minute I saw you. Faces have always been my strong point. Never forget one.”

  She pushed herself up from the seat. “Come on. Let me introduce you to everyone else. Do you play cards?”

  “Only snap.” I shrugged. “And pontoon. That’s about my limit.”

  “We’ll have to teach you then, won’t we? If you’re going to be a regular guest, learning cards is a must. Whist, gin rummy, that kind of thing. Nothing tricky.”

  I glanced across to Max, who was playing croquet. His mallet-wielding wasn’t going well if the groans he was making and Dylan’s hysterical laughter was anything to go by. I liked the thought that I might be a regular guest, that this family had made me so welcome so quickly.

  “I’ll give it a whirl,” I smiled, pushing myself up from the seat, “although I can’t promise I’ll be any good.”

  “If it’s not going well, you can always cheat,” she said with a wink.

  I pretended to be shocked, but after how coolly she’d told the story abo
ut the bowl, I wasn’t. I wasn’t shocked at all.

  By the time Max drove me back home it was late, the evening summer skies an inky blue wash over our heads.

  “I hope you didn’t find that too painful. And sorry for leaving you with Mum pretty much as soon as we got there. I know she can be overbearing at times. It comes from a good place though, she’s only like it because she can’t bear the thought that anyone might hurt her little boys.”

  “I like her,” I said, because I did. Andrea Oakley had been the perfect hostess, ensuring I was comfortable, always had a topped-up glass and explaining the little in-jokes so I didn’t have to plaster on a smile and pretend to understand what was so funny.

  “She said it’s been a while since you’ve taken anyone back.” I kept my voice nonchalant, although I was fishing for information.

  “It has.”

  His voice was clipped, but I kept pushing. “She mentioned an ex of yours. Gina?”

  Max groaned uncomfortably. “Trust Mum to bring that up.”

  “Messy break-up?”

  “I don’t like talking about it, but I suppose I know about your significant ex so I’ll tell you about mine. I met Gina through a friend – Iain, actually. He’d met her through Tinder and nothing had come of it, but he thought we’d get along, so we had a blind date.” Max paused momentarily, looking at me to gauge my reaction. “We really clicked and things were going great, we were together for eight months. We’d spoken about moving in together, even went to look at a few places. But then she disappeared.”

  I gasped. “What do you mean? Is she still missing?”

  He let out a half laugh. “She was never missing, Sophie. It wasn’t like she’d been kidnapped. She ghosted me.”

  I looked blank. “I don’t know what that means.”

  “She stopped answering my texts, she wouldn’t answer the door when I went to her house even though I knew she was in because I could hear the telly and she lived alone… basically she might as well have been a ghost because it felt like I’d imagined the whole thing. I thought I was going crazy.”