“He’s choking on a Werther’s!” she screamed, her eyes wide in terror. “Do something, someone!”
Finley, who was sat directly behind Fred, immediately intervened, instructing Fred, whose face was turning the colour of an overripe blueberry, to lean forward and cough as hard as he could. I didn’t think Fred had a cough in him as he helplessly gasped, but he somehow managed to release a loud bark, dislodging the sweet and firing it out of his mouth and into the hood of an unfortunate child in the row in front.
“Thanks, Finley.” Fred sat down as though he hadn’t just scared us all half to death.
“Always good to have a nurse on hand.” Finley pretended to brush dust off his shoulder, proud at the success of his first aid, and Norma offered him another sweet as a reward. He refused. “No other medics around to save me if I choke,” he whispered.
The remainder of the match was uneventful, both on and off the pitch – a nil-nil draw devoid of any drama other than the choking incident which we were still talking about as we walked away from the ground.
“Coming to the pub, Finley? I’ll buy you a drink as a thank you for saving my life.” Fred laughed, seeming oblivious to the worry he’d caused his wife. Poor Norma. She’d looked petrified when she’d thought her husband was going to snuff it. They’d been together so long I couldn’t imagine them ever being apart. They were the partnership to end all partnerships. Norma without Fred would be like Ant without Dec – unthinkable.
“I’d best get back to Joel,” Finley said, although his gaze lingered longingly on the pub door. “He’ll be ready for a bit of TLC by now.”
“Chicken soup and a cold flannel,” Norma advised, as though Finley’s nursing registration counted for nothing. “Makes any illness better.”
“I’ll bear it in mind.” He winked in my direction, showing he was only humouring her. “Good to see you, Sophie, even if we didn’t win.”
“Can’t win them all.” I shrugged.
“Can’t win any of them at the moment,” Dad complained. “At least there’s only one more home match to get through and then the season will be over. I’ll be glad of the break.”
I knew that wasn’t true. He’d be bored stiff on a weekend without football. Mum would have to drag him around Homebase or Ikea and get him started on a project around the house to keep him busy until August rolled back around.
“Want to go for a quick drink, Soph?” Dad asked.
“Come on,” Norma encouraged. “Live a little. We need some young blood for company or we’ll only end up talking about how much better everything was in the good old days.”
“All right,” I conceded, and I swore my Dad perked up at my response.
“I knew I could rely on you.” Norma placed her hand on my arm. “You’re a good girl, Sophie.” Then she turned to my dad, saying, “You did something right with this one. Kind-hearted and would bleed black and white if you cut her open.”
“Indoctrination,” I quipped.
“Maybe,” Dad agreed good-naturedly. “Although it never worked with Nick or Anna. Even as kids they weren't fussed about football. Tried all the usual tricks – bribing them with hot dogs from the burger vans and taking them to matches under the floodlights so they’d associate the football with staying up late. None of it worked. Although I used to love our Saturdays together, just me and my biggest girl.”
A rush of happiness took over my body at his words. It was as though a blanket had been thrown around my shoulders. I’d loved those Saturdays too.
“I’m glad you came today, Soph,” he continued, wrapping an arm around me. “It’s been like old times. Just a shame the lucky scarf didn’t work its magic.” He sighed.
“Maybe it brought another kind of luck,” I suggested. “Fred could have been in serious trouble with that sweet, if it wasn’t for Finley knowing what to do.”
“That certainly was lucky,” Dad agreed. “And I feel lucky to have spent time with you. We should do this more often, get together, just the two of us.”
“I’d like that.”
“Me too,” Dad said, planting a kiss on my head. My heart gushed with love.
In that moment I was a little girl again, and when he handed me a packet of dry roasted peanuts to go along with my drink, the same way he had so many times in the past, I was full of contentment.
Chapter 9
“You knock.”
“No, you.”
Eve and I had been standing on the doorstep of Tawna and Johnny’s house for five minutes already, debating who was going to take the initiative and let them know we’d arrived. Bridesmaid dress hunting had been scheduled for a month, but with Tawna still insisting I should give Darius another chance I wasn’t particularly looking forward to what should be a special day. Neither was Eve, who was firmly in the opposite camp.
“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
