Fix Them Up, page 1
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Reader Reviews for Fix Them Up
‘A binge worthy small-town romance!’
‘I can’t remember the last romance novel that made me this warm and giddy’
‘This book is a beautiful blend of love, loss, and self-discovery’
‘If you’re looking for a feel-good read with some heat, small-town charm, and authentic ADHD representation, this book is perfect!’
‘I cannot believe this is a debut novel, Maggie Grant has produced something wonderful here’
‘I absolutely adored the setting of Everly Heath, it’s like someone’s picked up Stars Hollow and dropped it in Northern England’
‘From the first page I was completely hooked and it had everything I love in a romance novel from the grumpy x sunshine trope to the small town with the nosey but caring community!’
‘This story didn’t lack for anything, with healthy amounts of banter, spice, and plot. What a brilliant debut!’
‘This book had me screaming and kicking my feet throughout the whole thing’
‘Just wow! This book was a roller-coaster of pure emotion and the best book I’ve read that shows ADHD and dyslexia and how hard it can be living with those on such a raw relatable level’
‘I have gone through all of the emotions reading this story. It had me captivated. It’s definitely a page turning, one more chapter kind of book!’
FIX
THEM
UP
MAGGIE GRANT
To the girls with brains wired differently –
Even when the world feels suffocating, remember this:
you are intelligent, brilliant, and bloody mesmerising.
And to eight-year-old me –
it took a while, but the words found you eventually.
Contents
Cover
Reader Reviews for Fix Them Up
Title Page
Dedication
As someone with …
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
One Year Later
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Copyright
About the Publisher
As someone with dyslexia and ADHD, I might have been forgiven for being late to my dad’s funeral had I not fucked up the eulogy. The morning had pointed towards success. I only snoozed my alarm twice. I tamed my frizzy hair into a respectable bun. I applied my eyeliner accurately and didn’t spill coffee on my black dress. I even ate breakfast. Usually, I’d forget to eat until the afternoon and then almost pass out.
Ordered.
Calm.
Absolutely no chaos.
I was as positive as I could be on the morning of my dad’s funeral. And then, my mum texted.
10 am sharp in the foyer.
Another text a few moments later.
Don’t be late.
I tried not to flinch as my mum sighed when I joined her and my stepdad, Graham, in the bright white foyer of the hotel. I wondered how often Mum had checked her watch. Graham gave me a sympathetic smile, his towering frame hunched over like he wished he had been made smaller. The foyer smelt of floral bleach, and the bright lighting made our funeral black look stark. Graham looked like Slender Man. The colour dwarfed my mum, making her look more sparrow-like than usual. And me – well, I was ginger, so the black made me look paler, if that was even possible. On a good day, I resembled the transparent fish I once saw at the aquarium in Brighton.
Stood together, the three of us looked like lame, sad Goths. The tinny speaker at the front desk played Carly Rae Jepsen’s ‘Call Me Maybe’, making me want to giggle hysterically.
‘All okay?’ Mum asked. There was only one answer she wanted to hear.
I nodded. ‘All good.’
Graham touched my shoulder. ‘You look lovely.’
I smiled tightly. ‘Thanks, Graham.’
I wanted to say something sarcastic, like Thanks, Graham, it’s dead dad chic! or Wednesday Addams is my style icon, but it would garner a dark look from Mum. She rarely understood any humour other than Mrs Brown’s Boys reruns.
We climbed into Mum’s sensible Volvo, Graham at the wheel, and drove to Everly Heath Church. It had been my dad’s local church, although he hadn’t been religious. But tradition prevailed, and he was baptised and married my mum before Everly Heath’s congregation. As we drove through the town, it was greener and leafier than I remembered. Not that I had visited very often. Everly Heath – the little town outside Manchester – felt very distant to me. But I couldn’t deny it was pretty.
Red brick Victorian houses flitted by. Huge oak trees that must have taken root over a hundred years ago. Families pushed prams. Kids ran ahead, their parents shouting for them to slow down. An elderly man walked a scruffy little dog. It was peaceful. It reminded me of some of the expensive neighbourhoods in London, around Hampstead Heath.
Everyone in Everly Heath was going about their day, oblivious that today was supposed to be a sad day.
The day I was going to deliver my dad’s eulogy.
‘Fuck!’
Graham almost veered into the other lane, and my mum whipped her head around. ‘What?’ she demanded, and Graham looked at me in the rearview mirror.
A familiar dread and shame filled my system.
I’m such a fuck up.
I repeated the sentence in my head like Hail Marys. I couldn’t even deliver a fifteen-minute speech at a funeral without cocking it up. Now I had to face my mum’s disappointed expression, familiar to me through failed tests and tense parents’ evenings of the past.
‘I forgot my speech notes. They’re in the hotel room. I need to go back.’
I checked my watch. We were half an hour early, so I might make it.
‘Don’t you have notes on your phone?’ Mum said snarkily.
Irritation flared, and so did my nostrils. ‘You know I can’t read on my phone. I printed it on my paper. I need the paper.’
The pale yellow paper and large font meant the words were less likely to do a silly little dance, which would result in a skipped line or two.
‘Katherine –’
‘It’s okay. I’ll drive Kat back, and we’ll be there in time for the beginning,’ Graham said.
Uncertainty flickered across my mother’s face. She was about to step into a church full of her ex-husband’s family, most of whom she hadn’t seen in fifteen years. She was biting her lip. She was nervous, even if she would never admit it.
‘No. I’ll drive Mum’s car. I’m still on the insurance. I’ll drive there, grab the notes, and then come back. You guys can do the welcoming and stuff.’
Graham frowned. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes,’ I bit out, instantly feeling guilty for snapping at Graham.
My tall, gangly stepdad walked into my life when I hadn’t wanted a replacement dad. I was still harbouring hope that my actual dad wanted to be in my life. But Graham never held my teenage surliness against me. He slotted in neatly, often running interference between Mum and me.
From the back seat, I leaned forward and whispered, ‘Sorry.’
Graham answered me with a pat on my hand.
Mum and Graham climbed out of the Volvo, and I jumped into the front seat, stress and sweat forming on my brow.
‘See you in a bit.’ I started the engine and pulled out of the church car park.
Twenty-five minutes later, I returned with a sense of déjà vu.
The car park was full.
I should have seen this coming; it was a small car park, and basically every person in Everly Heath had been invited, thanks to my uncle Brian and auntie Sandra being the most popular residents in the town.
I checked my watch.
Three minutes to go.
A black BMW had its reversing lights on, and I let out a breath. I flashed my full beam, and they reversed. As I shifted into gear, a white transit van hurtled past me at speed, nabbing the spot last minute.
My mouth fell open. I blinked furiously, hoping I’d imagined it. I watched as a tall dark-haired man appeared out of the van, his phone in the crook of his neck, completely ob
I beeped my horn loudly and the man turned around, confusion on his face. He returned to his call, so I beeped again. Finally, he put the phone down and approached the car, a bored expression on his features that only fuelled my fury.
‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ I exclaimed out of the window, gesturing wildly.
‘Can I help?’ he asked innocently, a Mancunian lilt to his deep voice.
The man stopped outside my open window, and some little goblin part of my mind registered he was undeniably attractive. He had deep, soulful brown eyes, a scruffy beard and hair just long enough to tuck behind his ears. I shook my head, ignoring how my heart raced as his eyes flickered across my face like I was a fascinating specimen.
‘That was my spot. You came in at breakneck speed and stole it.’
An understanding registered in his eyes, and his face turned from curious to unreadable.
He shrugged. ‘You were taking too long.’
He pulled his phone back out of his pocket, swiping it open. He squinted as his thumb shifted through what I could see were the green messages on WhatsApp.
‘Excuse me,’ I said, waving a hand in front of his face, ‘I was waiting for the woman to reverse out of her spot. You overtook me and stole the spot. It was my spot. I’d appreciate it if you moved.’
‘She was already gone, and you hadn’t even indicated yet.’
I took a deep breath.
It’s fine. Don’t fly off the handle, Kat. Use your words.
‘I really need that spot. Today is –’ A little voice told me if I mentioned it was my dad’s funeral, that I would start welling up. And I was not wasting tears on this dickhead. ‘Today is a big day for me. A significant day. And I know you’ll do the gentlemanly thing’ – the man glanced up from his phone, his eyes glimmered with humour – ‘and park at the rectory car park over there.’ I gestured to the auxiliary car park down the road from the church.
He huffed a laugh, and then his phone blared a loud ringtone, making me jump.
‘No can do, I’m afraid.’ He picked up the phone, answering it softly. ‘Hey, sweetie.’
I could feel my face heat with fury. This guy was speaking to his girlfriend while I was negotiating a parking space for my dad’s fucking funeral. He didn’t give a shit about the panic on my face or the plea in my voice.
‘Hey, dickhead.’ Fuck negotiation. I was never destined for the UN. ‘Can you move your fucking van?’
The man cocked an eyebrow. His eyes did that scanning thing again, and the side of his lips lifted. Was he… was he finding this funny? No way.
How was he so calm when I could barely contain my rage?
It made me want to say something really outrageous.
He returned to the phone. ‘Sweetie, can I call you back? Okay. Love you.’
I made a vomiting noise as he put the phone down, and then he changed. He went bolt upright, and he was… tall. He had to be over six feet.
He placed his hands on my window, leaning in. ‘No can do, Red. You’ll have to park at the rectory yourself.’
‘I am not called Red. Why on earth –’ The penny dropped. ‘Right. Ginger. Red. Very creative.’
The man’s lips twitched. ‘Actually, it was more a comment on the colour of your cheeks right now.’
‘You’re a prick.’ I don’t think I’d ever called anyone a prick. Or at least not to their face. I started the car, preparing to roll the tyre over his foot. ‘Can you get your hand off my fucking car?’
He leaned forward. ‘What’s your name?’
‘If I tell you, will you give me the parking space?’
‘Probably not. You’re not from around here, are you?’
Fury boiled, and I made a very unladylike noise between a grunt and a scream. I followed it up with a ‘fuck you’ and shifted the car into gear, leaving him standing there. I watched as his face broke into a smile and he shook his head, and then walked off into whatever pit of hell he’d appeared from. I mounted Mum’s car on the grass verge of the church graveyard and figured the vicar could shout at me later.
My dress got caught in the door as I climbed out of the car, and I made that frustrated noise again.
‘For fuck’s sake.’
I ran into the little room at the front of the church where Mum and Graham were waiting for me, relief crossing their faces.
‘All okay?’ Mum asked.
You can’t say she doesn’t have a strong brand.
‘All good. I got them.’
‘Then chop, chop.’ Her face was drawn and tense. ‘Your uncle saved us a spot at the front of the church. We held off as long as possible, but the vicar has to start soon. Really, Katherine. Of all days to be forgetful.’
I squeezed my eyes shut as self-hatred flooded my system. My mother hated nothing more than being late or being perceived as a nuisance. Funnily enough, I was often both.
I pushed open the arched door, and my mouth fell open. The church was full. And it wasn’t a small church. Every single pew was full of people, most I didn’t recognise. I halted, but Mum bumped into me, pushing me forward. As I shuffled towards the front of the church, my gaze snagged to the front row, locking eyes with my cousin, Lydia, who wore a form-fitting black dress and smart black trainers. Even for formal events, you couldn’t get Lydia out of trainers. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had been born with them bonded to her feet.
‘Hey,’ I said, relieved to see my cousin’s smiling face. We didn’t see each other often, but you didn’t need much time to like Lydia. She has this infectious positivity that hangs around her like a halo. I lowered myself into the pew next to her.
‘You okay, Cuz?’ Lydia smiled, giving my hand a quick squeeze. That was all I needed for the tears to well. Christ, we were so repressed in this country.
I replied with a watery smile. ‘Yep.’
‘You’ll do amazing,’ She whispered, squeezing my hand again.
The priest started, and I was handed an order of service with a picture of my dad on the front.
Jim Williams
13 February 1958 – 12 June 2022
Holding it was surreal. It was confirmation that he was really gone. In the picture, he had the same curly red hair and the same heart-shaped face as me, but it had gone round as he’d put on a bit of weight in his older age.
The echoey silence of the church made my heart beat faster. The sound of the priest’s shoes hitting the stone floors filled my ears, much too loud. My head spun as the priest took his space at the pulpit and, in a deep booming voice, gave an overview of Dad’s life and upbringing, touching on his ties up north in Everly Heath before he moved south to Reading to live with Mum and me. The priest artfully navigated my parent’s divorce.
‘… And despite Jim and Paula parting ways, they always remained friends and continued co-parenting their daughter Kat.’
I gave out an uncontrollable bark of laughter that echoed through the church. My mum shifted forward, her eyes wide. Fuck, that had been loud.
‘Sorry,’ I whispered to no one in particular but everyone in the church at the same time.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Lydia whispered back, covering her palm over mine and giving me a reassuring squeeze.
‘… And I’d like to ask Kat up here to say a few words about her father.’
My head whipped around to see the priest looking expectantly at me.
Fuck. With all the stress of the speech notes and the dickhead parking spot thief, I hadn’t had time to mentally prepare myself for this.
I stood up, shaking slightly and approached the pulpit. I looked out at the sea of black and felt the church spin. I exhaled, realising I was holding my breath, and began.
‘My dad – where do I start?’ I forced a laugh, glancing at my family sitting in the first pew.
My uncle and auntie looked up at me, smiling. My uncle Brian, a doppelgänger for my dad, gave me a small, encouraging nod. I couldn’t find any source of embarrassment in their features. This was their town, after all. They knew most of the guests invited, unlike me.
I cleared my throat, shifting my gaze away.
Focus on something else.
‘We, ah – we weren’t close before he passed. I think I’m allowed to say that.’ I frowned. ‘But I have fond memories of him growing up. Taking me to the park on my bike. I had stabilisers until I was like twelve. But he never made me feel bad about that. Sorry, I’m rambling.’
