I’ve read ahead again, passed this chapter. I need to lay
off the sugar, because chapter 27 is saccharine enough.
But we’re on chapter 26! And for this chapter, we get shots
of my tired, puffy, red face every time I get triggered by one of my usual
rants. Like this:
Yeah, that’s a cloak I’m wearing. It’s super warm. And it’s
not my only cloak …
Anyway, chapter 26 starts two weeks after Molly’s death, so
maybe a few days since the funeral? Giovanna doesn’t really make it clear.
There’s a line that already gets my back up:
… the shop has
remained closed during that time while I try to recover from the loss of two important
people in my life in close succession, pondering on how to move forward.
So now Molly’s death and breaking up with Billy are on par.
She’s finally elevated the death of her friend to the level of being sad her
relationship didn’t work out. Grrrrr …
Sophie says the pictures are still coming every day from
Billy. I call bullshit. That’s a huge reliance on the postal system, which
everyone knows is crap, and there’s no post on Sundays … is Billy hand
delivering these? Sophie shows her so-called bookworm abilities at last, and
totally gets categorised by my bitchiness:
It seems he has been
making his way through some of the classics that I’d mentioned to him when we
were together. Wuthering Heights, Sense and Sensibility and Jude the Obscure are
just a few of the books he’s been quoting.
First off, Tom’s amazingly talented sister Carrie has done a
song/video about reading which features way too many shit books, but still:
Anyway, my point earlier, my categorising of Sophie … she’s
a book poser. A poseur. Seriously, no one is that obsessed with the classics
and only the classics. The only type of person who only likes classics is the
type of person who doesn’t read but doesn’t want to come across as ignorant, so
they cling to books written by Brontes and Austen and maybe a couple of the
easier Dickens, and though they don’t actually read the books they maybe saw a
period drama or maybe got the cliff notes. Like, I’ve never read Romeo and
Juliet, but I can tell you that it’s about two thirteen-year-olds who start an
illicit relationship although Juliet is betrothed to Paris (who treats her
well) at the cost of a war between their families. And Romeo dicks Juliet about
but she still prefers Romeo being a prick to the Nice Guy that Paris is. And
then they get raging hormones and get married in secret, one of them fakes
their death and the other kills themself, thinking it was real. It was written
as a satire over the idiotic children that Shakespeare saw all the freaking
time.
Never read a word of it. But everyone knows the storyline.
And also, those stories are pretty famous. You can Google ‘love quotes’ and get
hundreds. I did it recently and got a load of F Scott Fitzgerald macros. Here’s
some from her aforementioned books:
“My heart is, and always will be, yours.” – Sense and
Sensibility.
“But nobody did come; because nobody ever does. And under
the crushing weight of his gigantic error Jude wished himself out of the world”
– Jude the Obscure.
“Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”
– Wuthering Heights.
“Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let the
pain make you hate. Do not let bitterness steal your sweetness. Take pride that
even though the rest of the world may disagree you still believe it to be a
beautiful place.” – Sense and Sensibility.
“At first I did not love you, Jude; that
I own. When I first knew you I merely wanted you to love me. I did not exactly
flirt with you; but that inborn craving which undermines some women's morals
almost more than unbridled passion--the craving to attract and captivate,
regardless of the injury it may do the man--was in me; and when I found I had
caught you, I was frightened.” – Jude the Obscure
“If he loved you with all the power of
his soul for a whole lifetime, he couldn’t love you as much as I do in a single
day.” – Wuthering Heights.
“It isn’t what we say or think that defines. It’s what we
do.” – Sense and Sensibility.
“You have never loved me as I love
you--never--never! Yours is not a passionate heart--your heart does not burn in
a flame! You are, upon the whole, a sort of fay, or sprite-- not a woman!” –
Jude the Obscure.
“Be with me always – take any form –
drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!” –
Wuthering Heights.
It took me ten minutes to find all those
quotes. There’s three apiece. I just filled one week. How exactly is this some
huge romantic gesture on Billy’s part? Even Sophie says
I
still can’t imagine him finding the time to sit down and read them, or having
the concentration to do so, but something tells me he must be.
Are you guys having the thought I had
after the second picture came? The one that goes ‘well, there’s no return
address, and she hasn’t sent anything back to Billy, so why is Billy doing this,
exactly? Why doesn’t he give up?
(Yeah, I love Mervin, Mrs Hyde, Gehayi
and Ket Makura!)
Don’t worry, Sophie takes care to
explain this to us, as his latest picture (how many did they take, exactly?)
arrives with a quote from Pride and Prejudice. By explaining, I mean
Needless
to say, I’ve never written back, so I justify opening them by telling myself
that Billy will keep sending them regardless, blind to whether I’m looking at
them or not.
Now, I’m not a huge feminist, or one of
those people who freaks out over little things by blowing them out of
proportion (much, anyway) but this doesn’t sit right. ‘Oh, he’s just going to
phone me and breath down the phone heavily anyway, regardless of whether I pick
up or leave for voicemail.’ ‘Oh, he’s going to hang in my bushes whether I want
him to trespass or not.’ … seriously, this is actually a form of
intimidation/stalking, dressed up as romance.
Just saying.
The next sentence is getting a face.
Despite
their not seeing me, the support from the community has been unwavering.
That’s my Fuck Off And Die face, by the
way. I have scared drunk men with that face. You know what you did, Giovanna.
So, the neighbors have left meals and
flowers and cards for Sophie. Bit much, really. At least there’s one glimmer of
reality in all this blatant Mary Sue Worship.
I’m
touched by their kindness, yet dubious as to whether I deserve it.
Hello, editor! It gets worse, apparently
all these wonderful tokens are going to Sophie’s mum at work, so Sophie has no
need to interact with them (she justifies it as being given the space she needs
… but I get the feeling these people are actually being sympathetic to her mum
for dealing with her, and her mum’s lying to spare her precious feelings) which
suits her fine.
She contradicts herself and makes my
head hurt:
…
although I’m hardly using the time productively. I’ve been trying to do all I
can to keep my mind occupied so that I don’t have to think too much about the
past or future – but I can’t concentrate.
So … she’s busy doing fuck all?
Seriously, she then cuts to how, about a week after the funeral, she’s sat in
the kitchen doing an impossipuzzle
which I always finds helps me thing, so
whatever Sophie. I’m pretty sure it’s the beans one, she describes identical
orange pieces. And then there’s a knock at the door (but did she finish the
border, at least?) and it’s Peter, Molly’s son. He’s tapping his legs again, so
he’s really cut up over losing his mother. As you would be, I guess? They swap
more platitudes, which are dialogue-tagged with things like ‘a glum smile’. A
glum smile? What is that?
Maybe?
Peter’s there to give Sophie keys. But
not Sophie’s keys, Molly’s keys, so … why did Sophie need to open up the
TeaShop for the wake? Why couldn’t he be returning her … never mind. I give up.
I should be used to shouting my brand of logic at TV shows and books and films
when they go on a completely stupid tangent and ruin a really compelling
storyline. I should be used to all common fucking sense leaving the building.
If people just asked questions … you know, one thing I’d like to think I’ve
achieved in writing the Uprooted series is that you can have a compelling
storyline without all these forced twists, that things seem organic throughout,
and that maybe you can stretch out a certain type of storyline without making
it feel dragged out. If someone ever turned around to me and said that, I’d be
so chuffed. I know it hasn’t happened yet, because so many people called me out
on Fearn at the end of the first book, which I will change … but when editing
is completed …
I’m off on a tangent, sorry. So Sophie
and Peter vomit words about Peter leaving for the airport, and they have a
long, unlikely conversation, including such literary gold as:
“There’s
some legal jargon in there, too, but I think everything’s sorted now.”
Yeah … you’re an adult, Peter. And
“legal jargon” is not so neat. It took me two hours to legally change my
surname by change of name deed, and that’s an easy paperwork (I took on my
stepdad’s name when I was 21, he’s been my stepdad since I was 4) I’d imagine
the reading of the will, the allocation of assets, it would all take a long
time. And why the hell do you have all this? As a beneficiary, Sophie should
have been at the will reading in order to know what she was being left. Peter
should not have her keys, or deeds to the teashop, or any of it. My
stepsister’s husband is a property lawyer, I’m sure he’d be annoyed at this
representation of his career.
The entire focus of this conversation is
on Sophie. I want to rage on and on about this so much.
He.
Has.
LOST.
HIS.
MOTHER!
FOR FUCK’S SAKE!
There’s a horrible time jump into the
middle of the night, and Sophie’s just staring at the keys. And I’m just
There’s some blah-blah-blah about Sophie
not reacting like she did when her dad died, and how she won’t mope for the
next seventeen years (finally! Character growth!) and she will improve!
And then she visits the shop. In the
middle of the night. There’s a lot of messages of support (?) stuck to the
doors and windows. I got so sentimental at this part.
They’re
wonderful messages of love and thanks, showing how much Molly meant to everyone
within the community. Once I’ve read them all and absorbed their warmth, I put
the key in the lock and let myself in.
Yep, I am feeling them feels.
I
instantly feel the love oozing from all around me as I remember how much
devotion and joy was poured into the place every day, and not just by Molly and
me, but by all the elderly women, mums and schoolgirls who chose it as the
place to visit as they mulled over their lives.
She’s sitting alone, in the middle of
the night, in a darkened tea shop. I’m sure she’s surrounded by love. Or, more
likely, she’s surrounded by a chill from the lack of adequate heating and an
absence that seems profound during the dead of night, with no one around,
making her feel the pain of the loss of Molly more. But that’s what a smart
writer would do, I guess?
Sophie brings up something she mentioned
on her first date with Billy, which hurt my head a lot. Remember I said she was
going to shat all over everything she talked about in her poem? Yeah, she says
her dream was to run a teashop, and sell ‘gift ideas’, flowers and books too.
It sounds scarily eclectic, and far too busy for one inexperienced girl to
manage on her own. Anyway, she blames going out with Billy for never pursuing
that dream and spends the rest of the night just sitting in the chair, smiling
to herself and dreaming up ways to bastardise the shop. Then she does the walk
of shame home.
We then get drivel about how, even in
London, she never touched her savings, or any of Billy’s money, because she was
frugal … so what money did she use? How did she come by it? How frugal can you
be on about three days worth of work at a coffee bar?
Anyway, so she’s sat on the sofa,
feeling smug about her finances and sketching out ideas for how her
teashop could look. Molly’s grave is still warm, you know? Her mum walks in
after about a morning of sketching and asks what she’s doing. She’s cagey at
best.
“What
are they?” she asks.
“Just little ideas …”
“They look pretty.”
“Just little ideas …”
“They look pretty.”
And then her mum watches her draw. I
hope those pictures end up on the fridge. She starts spilling her guts about
one idea and I’m like, dude, I know a few people who do their own craftwork.
You don’t sit there banging on about one design. Like, Sarah at Made By Birdies
was watching the Narnia films, and did about four different necklaces, a
bracelet and a couple of bookmarks – oh, and a ring – all based on Narnia. In
one DAY. I may have bought one of the necklaces …
So, Sophie and her mother talk about her
idea and her mother is currently the Other Character There To Love Sophie
Unconditionally, which I know is a mum thing, but still, I’m too pissed at this
book. And then Sophie’s mum suggests her new beau to help with some of the
carpentry. Because that’s man’s work. And Sophie gets excited, and the chapter
ends and we can celebrate that there’s only 5% more (and, I think, about three
more chapters!)
Tune in next time for more We Love Sophie,
and more Sophie Dramatics! I can hardly wait.
We’re nearly there, people!
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