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

Jane and Marcie were more traditional, but they too loved a drink. Our Christmas staff night out had been an alarmingly messy affair which had shown me a different side to their personalities. Marcie’s in particular. At work she was a stickler for the rules, continuously reminding us that as head of the admin team she had to be. After four flaming sambucas the rules had gone out of the window. She’d been the life and soul.
My relatives were gathered around a circular table at the end of the room. Mum and Dad smooched like a couple of randy teenagers, which would’ve been quite sweet if they were anyone other than my parents. Even after thirty-four years they still can’t keep their hands off each other. They were the model couple, flanked on one side by my stunningly beautiful younger sister, Anna (who’d flown in from Austria for the event with her husband, Jakob), and on the other by my brother, Nick, and his wife, Chantel, who were playing hidey-boo with my gorgeous chunk of a nephew. Ten-month-old Noah was the apple of all of our eyes. I dreaded to think what he’d be like when he was older. We’d probably have ruined him by spoiling him rotten.
I’m the least settled of the Drew siblings, despite being the eldest. I hadn’t take the university route like Anna and Nick had. I hadn’t secured a regular job with a good wage either, instead moving from one temp job in an airless box of an office to another before settling at my current workplace when they’d offered me a permanent contract. Three years on the work itself remained mind-numbing, but at least the people were nice. Being that bit older they were like additional mums to me; always probing to see if there were any men on the scene and keen to offer words of wisdom off the back of their own life experiences.
A couple of former colleagues from one of the more long-term temp stints were throwing shapes on the dance floor, and the old gang from school swooped in early to hit the mini quiches and bite-size onion bhajis from the buffet. I’m not sure why Tawna thought them worthy of an invite, because although we got along fine, other than a quick hello or clicking a polite “like” on their Facebook posts once in a while, we didn’t mix socially. Maybe they were invited to bump up the numbers, because the private room she’d hired at the back of one of Newcastle’s most exclusive bars was gigantic.
The football posse were laughing in a corner. They’d been sitting near each other in the Gallowgate end at St James’ Park since I was a kid, back when we were in the Champions League and had a team worth shouting about. Dad took me to my first match – on Boxing Day, when I was five – and I’d only missed a handful of home games over the years that followed. People were surprised to hear that, because they hold on to this stupid idea that only a certain type of person goes to the football, and I don’t fit the stereotype of “pot-bellied middle-aged man in an ill-fitting replica shirt, knocking back pints for fun”. There are people like that at the football – I know, because I’ve seen them myself on a match day – but our friends smash that theory apart. There was Fred and Norma – spritely, despite being in their eighties – and Joel and Finley, who were the sweetest couple you could ever hope to meet. Burly Bez, who was a local legend after getting the club crest tattooed on his forehead as a dare, looked like a numbskull but was a total sweetheart once you got to know him. They were a motley crew, but I was glad Tawna had invited them. Dad kept me updated with what was going on, both on the pitch and in our friends’ lives, and even though the matches I went to were few and far between they were people I cared about. I knew they genuinely cared about me too.
“Thanks for coming,” I said, sidling up to Joel.
He put an arm around my shoulder and squeezed. “Good surprise, eh? Didn’t know we were planning this for you, did ya?”
His delight was evident in his enormous smile, matched only by Finley’s toothy grin. They looked like a pair of gurning Cheshire cats, and although I’d wanted to tell them I’d rather be out on the Quayside, I clamped my mouth shut and shook my head.
“We nearly missed out on an invite,” Finley said, flamboyantly framing his face with his hands in mock horror. “I don’t usually answer unknown numbers, see, and I didn’t have Tawna’s number in my phone. I’m sick of those nuisance calls trying to flog insurance. Or telling me I’m due compensation for the road traffic accident I was involved in, even though I can’t drive.”
He tutted in annoyance, rolling his dazzling blue eyes in an over-exaggerated fashion. I should have gone to him for acting advice. Where I failed, Finley excelled.
“I’m glad you decided to answer. It’s good to see you,” I said, before crouching down to chat to Norma.
“Thanks for coming, Norma.” I raised my voice to a shout. She’s going deaf. “Make sure you get a piece of cake later. Have you seen it?”
I waved my arm towards the cake, knowing she’d approve. Norma never attended a match without being armed with sweets from the market. Midget gems, liquorice torpedoes, mint imperials… she wasn’t fussy, as long as she had something to ward off her sweet tooth. Dad jokingly threatened to send Norma his dentistry bill, saying she was the sole reason he needed a filling every time he went to the dentist.
“Smashing, isn’t it?” She flashed her false teeth. “And isn’t this place posh these days? We used to come here when we were dating in the sixties and it was nothing