The Surprise Party

Matt had insisted on going to Cambridge with her to help choose the dress for the party, and when – after half a dozen outfits – she came out of the changing room in the blue outfit, he had given her a round of applause, saying she looked lovely, really gorgeous. For the first time in years, as she did a little twirl for him and the shop assistant, that was exactly how she felt.

Hidden away in the back of the wardrobe were the other outfits Matt had insisted she should buy. When she had protested that they were far too expensive and she couldn’t justify spending that much money on anything, let alone clothes, Matt had insisted on buying them for her as a treat. An investment was what he had actually said, as he had had them wrapped, and after a token stand-off she had let him settle the bill. And now they were yet another guilty secret that she was keeping from Sam. How had things gone this far?

Out on the landing Sam was pulling on the crisp white shirt she’d ironed for him. Watching him doing up the buttons, she felt a pang of sadness. It used to be that he said thank you when she did those things for him. It used to be that he thought she was lovely, and said so.

Just when exactly had they started to take each other for granted? There was a time when he used to come up behind her and slide his hands around her waist while she was at the ironing board, snuggling up, kissing her neck and making her giggle, till she had to push him away, afraid of burning herself or the thing she was ironing. Sometimes just recently it felt as if she was remembering a different lifetime, with two different people.

‘Penny for them,’ Sam said, as he caught her staring.

Suzie managed a smile, not knowing how to start the conversation that she needed to have with him.

‘No, it’s fine, nothing important,’ she said. ‘I was just thinking.’

‘Well, we haven’t got time for any of that,’ said Sam, buttoning his cuffs. ‘We need to be out of here.’

*

‘All right, all right – I’m coming, I’m coming, take your finger off the bloody bell,’ growled Liz as she hurried across the landing and down the stairs of Rose and Jack’s cottage. The bell kept on ringing and ringing until finally Liz threw open the front door.

‘Yes?’ she barked. ‘What is it?

‘Oh hello, love, I’m sorry, we’re not too early, are we?’ said the woman on the step, as she looked Liz up and down, all smiles and a big hat. ‘Have we got the right place? Only I wasn’t sure if there was anyone home. We didn’t want to arrive late and miss the big surprise. I’m Beryl and this is Charlie – Charlie and Beryl? Here for the party, Jack and Rose’s wedding anniversary?’ She waved an invitation under Liz’s nose. ‘We were there first time around, weren’t we, Charlie? I used to work with Rose years ago. And I wore this hat for their wedding. I thought it would be a nice touch to wear it again. What do you think?’ She turned left and right so that Liz could get the full benefit of all those chins in profile.

‘Charlie nearly gave it to Scouts for their Guy on Bonfire Night, cheeky monkey, but I’m glad I hung onto it now. Although I can’t get into my dress these days and we gave Charlie’s suit to the local amateur dramatics for some kiddies’ thing they were doing, didn’t we, Charlie? Are we the first?’ she said, peering past Liz into the confines of the hall. ‘Where have you got Rose and Jack hidden then?’

Liz was about to reply when a noise from the road made the woman look back over her shoulder.

‘Oh my God,’ she squealed, clapping her hands together. ‘Look at that, there’s June and Roger Bell – I haven’t seen them for donkey’s years. Always among the front-runners, those two. We were always the first to arrive everywhere, me and Charlie, June and Roger. Do you remember, Charlie?’ And with that she scuttled off back down the path to embrace the new arrivals.

‘You’re early,’ said Liz grimly to Charlie, who was standing on the doorstep holding a card and a present.

‘I know, Beryl always likes to be early, doesn’t like to miss anything. All the clocks in our house are set fifteen minutes fast, just in case,’ he said, eyes slowly taking in Liz’s tanned legs, bare feet and skimpy little robe. ‘Anything I can help you with, is there?’

‘No, thank you,’ she said briskly. ‘Everything is under control.’

‘Righty-oh. So, where would you like us then?’

Liz hesitated. Trust Suzie to be somewhere else when Liz needed her. Typical.

‘If you’d like to go round into the back garden,’ said Liz, managing a thin smile. ‘The marquee, on the lawn, you can’t miss it if you just go round the side, through the gate.’ She pointed to make sure he’d got it. ‘My sister will be back soon. She’s actually the one doing all the hands-on stuff. She shouldn’t be very long.’

He grinned. ‘Righty-oh, well in that case we’ll go round there then and wait,’ said Charlie, although he didn’t move. Instead he looked slightly sheepish and shifted his weight from one foot to the other as if working up the courage to speak.

‘Was there something else?’ asked Liz.

‘I was just going to say that you don’t look anything like your photo in the paper. It doesn’t do you justice – you’re not how I imagined at all.’

Liz’s smile broadened a little, wishing that she had been a bit more gracious; after all, it wasn’t every day you met a real-life celebrity. Dressed in her robe all fresh from the shower, she must be a fantasy come true for someone as old and wrinkled as Charlie. Famous TV star opens the door half naked; she could almost hear him telling his friends down at the bowls club or wherever it was people like Charlie hung out. ‘Ohhh she was so nice, lovely legs – and so natural.’

From the path they could both hear Beryl and the other new arrivals giggling and whooping with delight.

‘And fancy you being one of Rose and Jack’s girls,’ Charlie said, beaming now. ‘They must be very proud of you.’

Liz nodded, making a good show of looking modest.

‘You’re really famous round here, you know.’

‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ she began, all smiles and self-effacing charm.

Seeing her response, Charlie had brightened visibly. ‘You’re a lot smaller that I thought you’d be. I was saying to Beryl on the way here that I was hoping we’d see you. You know, I read your gardening column in the Gazette religiously every week, never miss it. I keep meaning to write in and tell you about how good that tip was about the hot manure bed under the melons. Last year I had four real beauties. Absolute crackers. And this year I reckon there’s going to be even more. You ask Beryl. We call it Suzie’s Magic manure—’

Liz managed to hold the smile. ‘Really, well gosh . . . fancy that – that’s lovely, marvellous,’ she said. ‘Now why don’t you and Beryl go round to the back and hide just in case Jack and Rose show up early too? I’m sure someone round there will find you a glass of champagne and some canapés.’

‘All organic I expect?’ said Charlie with a big stagy pantomime wink. ‘If we get the chance while we’re here I’d really like to have a quick chat with you about my brassicas.’

Liz smiled. ‘I can hardly wait,’ she murmured.

At which point a minibus pulled up in the driveway and people started clambering out, laughing and waving, bearing presents and outrageous hats and calling hello. From the shrieks of joy and squeals of laughter it seemed there was a good chance that Beryl knew them all.

Chapter Nine

‘Oh for goodness’ sake, why couldn’t you have gone while we were at the tearooms?’ said Rose testily, as Fleur bundled out of the car and headed for the toilets behind the service station.

Ungrateful bugger, thought Fleur, as she scurried across the tarmac, rooting through her handbag as she went. Fleur wanted to let Suzie know they were on their way home and couldn’t think of any other way of doing it without drawing attention to herself. She had planned to text as soon as they left the gardens, and then half way through had started to worry that if she did there was a chance Suzie might not pick up the text if she was still busy getting everything else ready. Phoning seemed like the only sensible option.

Fleur scrolled down to find Suzie’s mobile number and pressed ‘call’. The phone began to ring just as she pulled open the door to the lavatory.

The service station toilet smelt like a monkey cage. It was the kind of place where you’d feel dirtier after washing your hands, if you could bring yourself to use the hand basin. Liquid soap had formed a slimy grey stalagmite on the splashback and damp paper towels and crumpled tissue littered the scuffed, dirt-caked floor. The toilet seat was up, but there was no way Fleur was going close enough to even think about lowering it. Above a pitted and stained mirror a chipped yellowing sign read: ‘These facilities are inspected regularly.’ Fleur wondered by whom – trolls?

She let the door swing shut. On her mobile someone had answered.

‘Suzie?’ she said in a hoarse whisper, ‘Are you there? I just wanted to let you know that we’re on our way back, we’re—’

‘Who are you ringing?’ said Rose from behind her.

Fleur almost jumped out of her skin. ‘You frightened the life out of me,’ Fleur stammered.

‘I was worried about you. I thought you said you wanted to go to the loo?’

‘I did, I mean, I do. There’s a queue,’ said Fleur lamely.

‘No, there’s not; look the thing’s on green,’ said Rose, pulling open the door. ‘Are you sure you’re feeling all right?’

‘Oh, I’m just tickety-boo,’ said Fleur, phone still clamped to her ear as she stepped inside.

*

‘That was Fleur again, she said she couldn’t talk for long – they’re now on their way home,’ said Sam, handing Suzie her phone. ‘They’ve just stopped at the service station at Hunter’s Cross. What on earth are you doing in Hannah’s room?’