Was it good for you, p.1
Was It Good For You?, page 1
WAS IT GOOD FOR YOU?
KATHRYN FREEMAN
One More Chapter
a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
* * *
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2023
* * *
Copyright © Kathryn Freeman 2023
* * *
Cover design by Lucy Bennett © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2023
Cover illustration © Debs Lim/Illustration X
* * *
Kathryn Freeman asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
* * *
A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library
* * *
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
* * *
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
* * *
Source ISBN: 9780008560355
Ebook Edition © September 2023 ISBN: 9780008560348
Version: 2023-03-09
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Acknowledgments
Credits
Thank you for reading…
You will also love…
About the Author
Also by Kathryn Freeman
Subscribe to the OMC Newsletter
About the Publisher
Chapter One
Tinkerbell jumped gracefully onto the sofa and curled up next to her. Sophie gave the pretty tabby a distracted stroke as she stared at her computer screen in smug satisfaction. This could be her proudest achievement to date. Okay, maybe that didn’t say much for the last twenty-nine years, but the work of art in front of her was her creation, her baby.
The way things were going, it was likely to be as close as she was going to get to one.
‘Isn’t it beautiful?’
She angled the screen towards Tinkerbell who glanced up, bestowing her a look that could have said You’re a genius – though possibly also You’re weird. Then promptly settled down to sleep.
Ah well, maybe the feline world wasn’t ready for spreadsheets. As for humans, her spreadsheets had never failed to elicit a reaction. Granted, it wasn’t always positive, but then some poor souls didn’t understand what an absolute game changer, even a life saver, a perfectly executed spreadsheet could be. Some even doubted that the time she spent creating it, and religiously updating it, was compensated for by the time it saved her. Yet how could it not, when she had her whole life in one easily accessed, perfectly ordered, repository?
And she really meant her whole life.
Tab one held her financials. What came in, what went out. Next was her meal plan, organised for the week to ensure she had the right balance of nutrition depending on which diet she was following. Tab three was her exercise plan, including boot camps and the routine Zumba, tennis and Pilates lessons. Personal care in tab four was all about making sure her hair, bikini line, eyebrows, nails and weekly massages were up to date. Then she had a tab for her holiday plans and one for the places in the UK she’d earmarked to visit each month. There was also a tab for gifts – what she’d given to who – and one for her social life which kept a record of best bars, restaurants, clubs, activities, when she’d visited and which she’d plan to visit again. Finally there was the most recently added tab, Love Life. Created six months ago following repeated nagging from flatmates Ava and Grace to get out there again.
Will, they assured her, had not been worth any further moping.
At the time it had felt like good advice. But. After quickly inputting the scores from last night’s lacklustre date into the spreadsheet, she fell back against the sofa and sighed. There, in bold red, was the reason she should have ignored her friends.
Dating was the one area of her life not going according to plan.
‘Hey, come on Soph. We’re going to be late,’ Grace yelled, walking into the living room. ‘Oh.’ She peered over Sophie’s shoulder. ‘Callum didn’t make it, huh?’
‘Nope.’
‘What went wrong?’ Ava, the third Musketeer, the Wonder Woman to their Superman and Batman (though on some days it felt more like they were The Three Stooges) came to join them, water bottle tucked under her arm.
Sophie pointed to the spreadsheet where Callum’s overall score had gone from eight out of ten after date three, to six out of ten and an automatic red line from last night. ‘He kissed me, and it was really mediocre. I mean, I gave it a three but that was being kind. Plus, we’d started to run out of conversation. First few dates I was kind of interested in his snowboarding and I’m not going to lie, the body building sounded sexy.’
‘Sounded sexy?’ Grace scoffed. ‘You so wanted to see him without his shirt.’
‘Fine, I did. Past tense. After last night, we’re done. No male body is sufficiently drool worthy to make it worth spending my Sunday evening listening to repeated tales of how he nearly got caught in an avalanche, or how much weight he can bench press.’
Ava scrunched up her face as she peered at the spreadsheet. ‘I still maintain it’s weird Soph, giving guys scores after every date.’
‘Why? It’s only putting a numerical figure to all the stuff that goes on in my head. You know, I like this about him but I’m not sure about that. Using the spreadsheet just organises those thoughts, plus it takes all the stress out of the decision of whether to see the guy again. His average score goes below seven out of ten and zap, it’s over.’
‘But what if you found some guy was scoring you?’ Ava persisted. ‘I’d be mortified if Ethan was doing that to me.’
‘Come on Ava, they always score us,’ Grace interrupted. ‘How many times have you heard them say she’s a six, or a nine. I think there was even a film made in the seventies about a woman who was a ten.’
‘And that was just based on looks.’ Sophie pointed back to the spreadsheet. ‘This is way more sophisticated than that. Besides, it’s only for me. A kind of mathematical brain dump of what I’m thinking. They’re never going to see their score, but I get an instant decision on whether to keep seeing them. No more time wasted on unsuitable guys or drifting into relationships that ultimately aren’t going anywhere.’ Like Will, and Chris before him. And the two before them. The months – the years in Will’s case, she thought with a familiar feeling of loss and anger – that she’d wasted dating guys who’d turned out to be not who she’d first thought. Or who she’d subconsciously probably known weren’t quite right but had never been able to put a finger on why, so she’d kept seeing them through habit, or that fundamental need for companionship.
‘You’re so obsessed with saving time.’ Ava gave her a concerned look. ‘I’m worried with all this documenting, analysing, ticking off and moving on, you’re forgetting how to live.’
Unconsciously Sophie’s gaze flew to the photograph on the shelf to her right. Two fresh faced twenty-one-year-olds grinned into the camera with identical smiles. Her heart twisted, the feeling familiar, dimmed a little by time but still leaving a hollow ache that could never be filled.
Ava must have noticed because she squeezed her hand. Then she felt Grace wrap an arm around her shoulders. ‘We get it. Just, you know, try to dial down the nerd part of your brain every now and again.’
‘Efficiency isn’t nerdy,’ Sophie protested, swallowing down the lump in her throat and forcing her gaze away from the photo and back to her computer. Quickly she saved the file and closed it down. ‘Right, I’m ready. Let’s get to Zumba. Jade will make us go to the front if we’re late.’
Jade was their five months pregnant, rocking, larger than life, highly enthusiastic Zumba teacher. Rich brown skin, afro hair in a tumble of corkscrew curls, she had the widest, brightest smile Sophie had ever seen. It was impossible to go to Jade’s Monday evening Zumba class and not laugh, not come out feeling a million times better than when she’d gone in.
&nbs
Fifteen minutes later they pulled into the leisure club car park.
‘Well, well, it’s the troublesome trio.’ Jade waved them inside and pointed to the front. When they all groaned, Jade’s smile grew wider. ‘I want to see your sweaty red faces when we try out the new routine.’
‘You’re getting meaner,’ Sophie grumbled as she trudged to the front. None of them wanted to be on show, and it wasn’t because they were shrinking violets, oh no. Sophie and Grace were more than happy to strut their stuff in front of the class (Ava, not so much). But they also liked to chat, to get distracted by the sight of the guys turning up for football training.
‘If I was mean,’ Jade declared. ‘I wouldn’t be about to give you the number of the nicest guy you’d ever hope to meet, would I?’
Sophie narrowed her eyes. ‘If he’s that great, why is he single?’
‘Hey, I’m great and single,’ Grace interrupted. ‘Maybe you should give his number to me.’
‘Err, I think Daniel would dispute the single part,’ Sophie interrupted.
‘Nah, we’re casual.’
Jade turned to Grace, her wide smile slipping a little. ‘No offense Grace, but my guy, he’s kind of on the quieter side. Not sure the pair of you would get on.’
Grace, a tall, leggy blonde with a no-nonsense attitude, frowned. ‘Sophie’s not exactly shy and retiring.’
‘No, but you’re loud, wild and a bit scary.’ Grace’s eyebrows flew to her hairline but Sophie and Ava giggled because the description was deadly accurate. ‘Sophie, she’s more … bouncy.’
‘Bouncy?’ Sophie stared down at her A cup chest. ‘The only time I give myself a pair of black eyes doing Zumba is in my dreams.’
Jade hooted with laughter. ‘Damn girl, that’s what I’m talking about. You’re fun. And chatty. Michael could do with a bit of fun and chatty in his life.’
Sophie privately thought nice, quiet Michael sounded like the type of guy she took pains to avoid. And would be red-lined after one date. ‘How do you know him?’
‘He’s Dave’s brother.’
That made her perk up a bit. She’d met Jade’s husband and aside from being tall and good-looking, he had a wicked sense of humour. ‘Okay, fine. Send me this paragon of virtue’s number and … wait, he wants to do this, yes?’
Jade’s big brown eyes darted briefly away before coming back to rest on Sophie, the big smile firmly in place. ‘He’s really looking forward to meeting you.’
Michael stood at the door and jammed the key into the lock while juggling bread, milk, a box of eggs and his briefcase in his other hand – why hadn’t he decided to sod the environment for once and ask for a carrier bag?
Finally he heard the blessed click, and he pushed the door open. A bundle of fur darted out from the living room and began to yap, running in and out of his legs.
‘Princess, stop that.’
But the aptly named long haired chihuahua ignored him and tried to climb his leg.
Sure, she was a tiny thing, but the motion was enough to unbalance the bread/milk/egg/ stack and the egg box fell out of his hands. Not just that, but in synch with the luck he was having recently, it landed upside down, the lid opening just enough to leave a trail of splattered egg. ‘Damn it.’
His exclamation was too loud. Princess backed away, little legs trembling. And then pissed all over the floor.
Okay. Michael inhaled a deep breath, let it out slowly until he felt his shoulders come down from his ears. Then he dumped everything else he was carrying onto the floor and reached to pick up the now worried looking pooch. ‘Sorry, gorgeous.’ Ruffling her head, taking care not to mess with the pink spotted bow his gran insisted on tying in her hair, he stared back at the puddle of dog pee. ‘She forgot to let you out again, huh?’
Clearly forgiving him for raising his voice, Princess licked at his hands.
Just then Fudge padded into view. The polar opposite of Princess, his brown lab was quiet and unassuming. About the only woman in his life who was, he thought with a wry smile.
After giving Fudge an affectionate rub, he raided the kitchen for paper towels and cleaned up the egg/dog pee mess. Then, dogs in tow, he went in search of the third female he shared this creaking cottage with.
He found Betty asleep on the sofa in the living room, newspaper spread out on her knees, reading glasses hanging on a chain round her neck. His gran was eighty-five now, but he’d never been allowed to call her Gran because I’m not old enough to be a grandma.
His heart squeezed as he stared at her. Ever since the fall, she’d seemed frailer and yes, old. Two words he’d never associated with her before. She must have sensed he was watching because her eyes fluttered open.
‘Ah, just the man I’ve been waiting for.’
Typical that she wouldn’t admit she’d fallen asleep. Just as she’d never admitted she’d been finding life harder, living by herself. It shamed him that it had taken a fall and a broken hip for him to realise she needed more help from the two boys she’d raised since they were teenagers. Dave, his brother, lived in London with his wife and daughter so he had his own family to focus on. Michael was single, plus the one with the medical degree. And really, moving back down from Manchester to take care of her had been a small price to pay for the years she’d given up looking after them.
‘How many other men have you got visiting this evening?’ he asked dryly, bending to kiss her cheek.
‘That’s my business.’ She pushed herself up from her slightly slumped position. ‘I wanted to play back that Loose Women programme we recorded but I don’t know how on this fancy system you’ve put in.’
When he made the decision to come and live with her, he’d decided two things were needed to stop him going stir crazy. First was a huge extension to the cottage so they each had their own space. Second was installing the latest TV technology so he didn’t have to resort to watching what she watched.
‘You mean the programme I recorded for you,’ he clarified. He knew from experience if he didn’t correct the phrase now, she’d be repeating it to everyone in the village. Just as she had when she’d informed Kath in the post office they would be going to bingo (err, he would drop her off and pick her up). Or when she’d told Sid in the village club that they planted their bedding plants last week … and okay, he had shoved a bunch of flowers in because she couldn’t bend down easily, but only under her direction.
She waved his comment away. ‘Same difference.’
‘Not when you’re my age.’ He wanted to at least give the impression he had one foot still in his thirties and not both firmly planted in middle-age. Even though at times reality felt otherwise.
He’d just found the recording for her when his mobile rang.
Betty peered over at him from the top of her glasses. ‘Who’s that?’
‘Jade.’ There was no point reminding his gran that he was thirty-five and entitled to a bit of privacy. She’d only wheedle the information out of him later. ‘Wonder what she wants.’ He glanced over at Betty but her gaze remained firmly on the TV screen. ‘You’re looking shifty. What do you know that I don’t?’
