Authors: Gil McNeil
Tina comes back down with Travis, and we start playing Musical Statues, which goes down rather well until Nelly wobbles onto Marco and makes him move, and he refuses to be out because it wasn’t his fault, and they both go into torrents of Italian, which is clearly their language of choice for Bickers. Everyone’s terribly impressed, particularly Archie, who seems very taken with all the hand gestures and starts doing some arm waving of his own, and it takes another round
of Pass the Parcel to restore the peace, so now I’ve only got one more parcel left; and I’ve learned from bitter experience that you can never have enough Mystery Parcels when it comes to birthday parties so it’s all rather nerve-racking, and I’m sure we’ve got more children than we started with.
Gran announces the food’s ready, so they swarm into the dining room and everything turns into a blur of pouring out beakers of apple juice and trying to stop Archie and Nelly having a sword fight with the cocktail sticks from their sausages. There’s a lull of about three minutes when I drink a hasty cup of tea and Connie takes over the juice patrol and then it’s time to do The Cake.
‘Shall I turn the lights off, dear?’
‘Yes, Gran. Just give me a minute to light the candles.’
I carry The Cake in on its silver cakeboard, staggering slightly because it weighs a ton, with Archie holding a tea towel and walking ahead of me so he feels like he’s got a proper job, and we all sing ‘Happy Birthday’ and everyone claps.
Jack goes very pink and wide-eyed as he stands up to blow the candles out.
‘Make a wish, sweetheart.’
‘I already have.’
He looks at me. I really hope he’s not going to say something about Daddy, because if he does I think I might burst into tears. Gran’s standing behind him, looking pretty close to tears herself.
He smiles and I give him a hug.
‘Shall I tell you what my wish was?’
‘You’re meant to keep it a secret, but you can tell me if you really want to.’
Please let it not be anything about Nick. Please.
‘I wished for a dog of our very own, like Trevor. Only a puppy.’
‘Oh, right.’
Gran smiles. ‘Shall we cut your cake up then, pet, and give everybody a piece?’
‘Yes please. And I can have a really big bit, can’t I, because I’m the birthday boy?’
‘Yes, lovey, you can.’
I’m in the kitchen with Connie eating a large slice of cake, which is even more delicious than I thought it would be, when more people start arriving with presents; Elsie and Jeffrey and Martin, and Maggie, and Linda and her teenage daughter Lauren, who’s wearing the shortest mini-skirt I’ve ever seen, with sheepskin boots, and Angela Prentice, which is rather surprising because I didn’t think she’d come, with a little present done up in train wrapping paper, and Betty and Mrs Davis, who both disappear into the kitchen and keep threatening to start on the washing up while Gran makes them a cup of tea. Tina’s husband, Fireman Graham, is outside helping Mr Pallfrey light the bonfire, using approved Fire Brigade techniques which seem to rely on lots of twigs and rolled-up sheets of newspaper rather than chucking half a can of petrol on and then running away.
I open the French doors in the dining room so we can go in and out with plates of food, while Mark warms up a saucepan of butternut squash soup with cinnamon, with Nelly climbing up his leg while he doles out bowlfuls. Archie announces he loves orange food, and will only be eating orange things from now on, and then it all goes a bit
Lord of the Flies,
particularly when we do the lucky dip, which seemed like a good alternative to party bags when I first thought of it, but in reality means I end up with sawdust all over the garden. The toffee apples go down very well, though, especially for jousting and duelling purposes; although they’re not ideal if you take the cellophane wrappers off and then accidentally drop them back in the box of sawdust.
We stand watching Graham and Mr Pallfrey guarding the bonfire and trying to stop the occasional shower of sparks from burning down the hedge. Cath and Olivia arrive, along with
Cath’s teenage son Toby, who’s only fourteen but at least six foot two, with a very determined quiff in his hair which seems to work for Lauren, who sidles up to him and starts chatting and giggling, which makes him go bright red. I volunteer Elsie for sparkler sentry duty while I collect up plates and try to stop Archie throwing baked potatoes into the bonfire because some idiot’s told him they’ll explode and he’s desperate to have a go, and then Martin helps Mr Pallfrey light the fireworks. They’re fairly modest, thank God, but they get a very enthusiastic response, particularly from Trevor, who’s having a fabulous time, stealing the occasional sausage and dragging Travis and a small boy called Philip round the garden, since they seem to have volunteered to try to keep hold of him. Elsie’s making everyone with a sparkler stand arm-widths apart, with no poking anybody’s hood, and only four at a time. She’s got a bucket of water at the ready for anyone who Starts Being Silly, and they have to form a queue or she won’t light their sparkler: I knew she’d be the perfect person to bring a bit of order to the chaos.
Martin comes over with a bucket of used fireworks: he’s taken his bobble hat off and his hair is sticking up in tufts.
‘I thought I’d better get rid of these, shall I put them in your bin?’
‘Great. Thanks, Martin.’
‘There’s a couple that didn’t go off, but I’ve soaked them in water, so they should be fine. Just don’t throw any lighted matches in the bin.’
I’m having visions of my rubbish being airborne now.
‘I’ll try to remember that.’
‘I wanted a quick word, actually.’
Excellent. This is the perfect time to be talking about Wood. ‘Oh yes?’
‘I want to go in tomorrow to give them another coat of wax. Mum says I can use her keys, but I wanted to check that it was okay with you first.’
‘Of course, that’s fine, and you must tell me what I owe you.’
‘You can pay me when I’ve finished. I’ve still got a few more bits to do.’
‘Well, if you’re sure.’
He smiles.
‘Did you have a nice supper with your friends? Fish pie, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, although we all drank a bit too much and Ellen wanted to play strip poker, so you were probably better off with your hotpot.’
He smiles again, but he sort of flinches, too. Damn, I didn’t mean it to sound like that.
‘I’m not sure your mum would approve of strip poker, would she?’
Christ, I’m just making it worse now.
‘No, probably not, although what she does or doesn’t approve of isn’t exactly top of my list, you know.’
‘Of course not. I didn’t mean—’
‘No, I know you didn’t, sorry. It just gets to me a bit, living at home. Still, the divorce will be through soon, and then I can get a place of my own.’
‘Will you stay around here?’
‘Yes, I like it. It was nice to get away, move somewhere else, but now I’m back I realise how much I like it here. The way people talk to each other, you feel part of something, don’t you?’
‘Yes, you do.’
‘So if you hear of anywhere, especially anywhere with space for a workroom, I’d be really grateful.’
‘Sure. I’ll keep a look-out.’
‘And I’ll be in tomorrow, to do the shelves.’
‘Thanks, Martin. Archie, stop doing that. If you throw any more potatoes you’ll have to go back inside the house.’
‘I’m only playing.’
‘Archie.’
‘Okay, okay, keep your hair on. That’s what Marco says, sometimes, to his mum.’
‘He does not.’
Martin tries not to smile.
‘I’ll just put these in the bin.’
Tina’s standing laughing as I collect up a few more plates.
‘Just look at my Graham. He usually gets really twitchy round bonfires. We’ve got so many smoke alarms in our house, whenever I do him a steak the whole house goes off. It’s terrible. But he doesn’t seem bothered tonight; it’s probably the dog, he’s always saying we should get one.’
‘Well have a word with Mr Pallfrey, and I’m sure he’ll let you borrow Trevor any time you want.’
‘No thanks. I got bitten by my Aunty May’s Jack Russell when I was little and it put me right off. But look at my Travis, he’s loving it. And I meant to say, Jo, thanks for asking him today. He was so pleased, getting his own invitation. He made me put it up on his bedroom wall you know. Not that many people ask him to parties.’
‘He’s been lovely.’
‘That’s why I came with him. He gets a bit overexcited sometimes.’
Archie runs past us, waving a toffee apple and a sausage, and joins the back of the sparkler queue.
‘They all do, Tina.’
She smiles.
Jack comes over, looking very happy.
‘I love it in our new house, it’s much better than stupid old London. Can I have a party like this one next year, Mum?’
‘I expect so.’
‘Are there any more sparklers, because we’re nearly running out?’
‘I think I’ve got a few more packets. I’ll go and get them.’
‘Well hurry up, because I want another go.’
He gives me a hug. ‘This is my best day ever, Mum.’
I walk round to the garage and open the boot of the car, where I’ve stashed the extra sparklers, feeling a weird mixture of relief and exhaustion; I always get a bit maudlin at some point on their birthdays, Nick used to call it my Flash Forward Panic Button. One minute they’re tiny and you’re trying to work out how to get their vests over their heads without pulling, and suddenly they’re telling you about their Best Days Ever, like those depressing ads for mortgages where you see the young couple going into their first flat and then five seconds later they’re playing with their grandchildren in a sunlit garden. It all goes so bloody quickly. Nick would have loved seeing them today, happy with all their new friends; he’d have really loved it.
I’m closing the boot of the car when I realise I’m crying, with no warning at all, and I can’t seem to stop. I don’t want anyone to hear me so I stand with my hand over my mouth, which only makes it worse. Oh God. There’s the sound of footsteps as someone walks past the garage door, and then stops. Damn. Please let it be Connie or Gran, and not one of the kids.
It’s Angela Prentice.
‘Are you all right, dear? I’m so sorry, I was just leaving, I didn’t mean to intrude.’
‘I don’t know what’s the matter with me. It’s just …’ Oh God, it’s getting worse.
She puts her arms round me.
‘My dear, I’m so sorry. You’ve been so brave.’
I try to wipe my face.
‘Not really. It’s just Nick would have loved this, so much.’
I’m off again. Christ, I’ve got to get a grip, and preferably sooner rather than later. I try to smile, but I don’t think either of us is convinced.
‘I’m very proud of my daughter too, I really am, and her partner, Sally. They’ve been so brave about finding a clinic’
Bingo. I appear to have stopped crying.
‘And now the baby’s nearly here. It’s very important to tell people how proud you are of them, isn’t it? I listen at the meetings every week, and you’re all always showing your children how much you love them and how proud you are of them, I hear it all the time in the way you talk about them, all of you. I seem to have let Peter get in the way of that over the years. But it’s never too late, dear, is it?’
‘No, it’s never too late.’
‘Because things happen, don’t they, dear?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s nobody’s fault, they just happen.’
‘Yes.’
She hugs me.
‘Are you sure you’re all right now? I can stay with you, or go and find your grandmother.’
‘I’m fine now, I think. But thanks, Angela.’
She smiles.
‘No, thank you. You can’t imagine what a difference it’s made to me, coming along every week.’
‘I’m so glad.’
‘I’d better let you get back to your guests, but thank you, it’s been a lovely party.’
I walk her to the gate and then go back up the path, holding the packets of sparklers. I wonder if Penny’s already heard the good news that her mum is undergoing something of a transformation. It’ll be just what she needs when she has the baby. How lovely. I bet Angela’s going to make a lovely gran.
The final sparklers get a rapturous reception, and then parents start arriving to collect their children, and things start to calm down, thank God. Even Trevor’s having a nice little lie-down.
Linda gives me a kiss as she’s leaving. ‘Best party I’ve been to in ages.’
‘If that’s true you probably need to get out more.’
She laughs. ‘No, it was. Fun, lovely food, and nobody having a fight. Perfect. Night, love.’
It’s nearly half past ten by the time everyone’s finally gone, and Archie’s fast asleep on the sofa. The last time I tried to carry him up the stairs I nearly collapsed halfway up, so I walk him up half asleep.
‘Thunderbirds are Go.’
‘Into bed, darling.’
‘I’m too tired to be in my bed tonight, Mum.’
I know the feeling.
‘Can I be in your bed?’
‘All right. But just for tonight.’
Jack follows us in, and climbs into bed.
‘Ooh, the sheets are all lovely and warm.’
I check the electric blanket, which is on. And I didn’t put it on. So Gran must have sneaked up and done it earlier.
‘Mum?’
‘Yes?’
‘This has been my best day ever.’
‘That’s good. Sleep time now, love.’
‘Has it been your best day?’
There’s mud all over the floor downstairs, and I’ve got a feeling we’ll be finding bits of sausage and toffee apple in all sorts of unusual places in the next few days, but yes, on balance, I think we can safely say it’s been one of my better days.
‘Yes. Go to sleep, love.’
He smiles.
‘Soon it’ll be Bonfire Night and then it’ll be Christmas, won’t it?’
‘Yes.’
Christmas. God, I’d forgotten about Christmas.
Archie turns over and mutters, ‘Thunderbirds are Go.’
I know just how he feels.
It’s half past ten on a Monday morning, and my Christmas shopping list is getting longer by the minute. Gran’s just called to recite the list of things she’s packing on her cruise for the umpteenth time, if only she could find the perfect suitcase; we’re off to Bluewater on Thursday, and if she can’t find one I’ll get one of those old-fashioned steamer trunks and lock her inside it until it’s time for her to leave, because if we have one more conversation about whether it might be chilly in the evenings and how many cardigans she should take with her I think I’m going to scream. And once we’ve addressed the Luggage Issue I’ve still got to buy Christmas presents for practically everyone and their dog – literally, in the case of Mr Pallfrey. I’m thinking a high-powered rifle and some tranquilliser darts might be good, but the boys want to get him a squeaky toy.