The Last List of Mabel Beaumont(48)
When the music stops, Erin continues to laugh. There are tears on her cheeks.
‘Are you quite all right?’ I whisper.
It takes her a while to compose herself enough to speak. ‘I’m so glad I came.’
And then the music starts again and Patricia’s looking at us a bit like we’re naughty schoolchildren so I don’t get a chance to ask her why until the end of the class.
‘It’s Hannah,’ she says, when I do.
‘Hannah?’
‘The girl I like at work. We’ve been seeing each other but while I thought it was serious, she thought it was fine to sleep with some guy from her school at the same time. We had a huge row and I was on my way home to lie on my bed listening to angry music when I saw you.’
There’s mirth in her expression but I can see in her eyes that she’s hurt. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say.
‘Sorry? But you turned my whole day around, bringing me here.’
‘About Hannah, I mean. You deserve better.’
She nods. ‘I do.’
I’m glad she knows. I didn’t, at her age. I decide bringing up talking to her family again would be a bit much, on top of the heartache. I’ll keep my eye on her. I’ll add it to the list when I get home.
1. Get in touch with friends and family
2. Contact the funeral parlour
3. Go to the supermarket
4. Clean the house
5. Find D
6. Help Julie get her husband back
7. Help Patricia get her daughter back
8. Make sure Kirsty is safe Reunite Kirsty with her family
9. Keep an eye on Erin
23
Mid December is a terrible time to have a birthday. I should know. Kirsty shares hers with Arthur, though I haven’t mentioned that to the others. I wouldn’t want them to be fussing over me, checking I’m all right, when it’s her day.
And I am all right. If I didn’t have them, if I wasn’t spending today at Kirsty’s party, I would probably be moping around a bit. Thinking about his past birthdays. He wasn’t a big fan of material things, didn’t collect anything or really have hobbies that required particular clothes or equipment. We tended to have a day out to celebrate. A pub lunch and a wander around a different town. That was the sort of thing he liked. Pottering. Finding a market or a nicely kept park with pretty flowerbeds or a river to walk alongside. Of course, it was always cold and often wet, the days at their shortest, but he said he liked the way the Christmas lights looked as it went dark in the late afternoon, and he said there was no one he would rather spend his birthday with than me. He was quite romantic, sometimes, especially if he’d had a drink or two with his ploughman’s.
‘You’re miles away,’ Julie says. ‘What are you thinking about?’
We’re on Patricia’s doorstep, Julie’s car loaded with food, wrapped presents in our hands.
‘Nothing,’ I say. ‘Just that Patricia must have a good weedkiller for these paths. I must ask her what she uses.’
Inside, it looks like a party shop exploded. Patricia’s made something she’s calling a balloon arch and there’s a tasteful happy birthday banner hanging above the windows in the living room. Everything’s in complementing pastel colours.
‘I’m making a playlist,’ she says, and she looks the closest to flustered I’ve ever seen her. ‘Tell me all your favourite party songs and I’ll add them.’
‘Before everyone gets here,’ Julie says, ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’
Patricia and I actually lean in.
‘It’s Martin, he’s moving back in.’ She looks from Patricia to me and back again, to gauge our reactions.
‘That’s wonderful!’ Patricia says, pulling Julie to her for a hug.
I’m pleased, too, but I don’t know how to tell her. ‘I hope you’ll set some ground rules,’ I say, and then I wish I could take it back, because that wasn’t what I meant to say at all.
‘Oh Mabel, I know you’re just worried about me getting hurt, but could you just be happy for me this once?’
She doesn’t wait for me to answer. She goes out to start bringing the food in and I station myself in the kitchen to make everyone a cup of tea. When I’m sure they’re both occupied, I slip my telephone out of my handbag and have another look at the last message I received from Kirsty’s mum.
Looking forward to the party. We’ll be there by three.
I check my watch. It’s quarter to two, and Kirsty will be here soon. Patricia’s invited her over for a piece of cake, since her birthday’s fallen on a weekday and Ben is at work. There’s no turning back now. The churning in my stomach has increased – I couldn’t even face my breakfast this morning – but it won’t be long, now, until I can pat myself on the back for a job well done.
The doorbell goes a few times. It’s all mums from the playgroup Kirsty goes to, and soon the house is full of young women and their babies. The whole place takes on the scent of baby lotion and milk. And then we all shuffle into the living room and go quiet while Patricia lets Kirsty in. She stands in the doorway with Dotty on her hip and one hand covering her mouth as we shout ‘Surprise!’ I’ve never been to one of these before. Plenty of parties, but no surprise ones. There’s a genuine thrill to those moments of anticipation, and then to seeing the person’s reaction. Kirsty’s crying now, and Patricia’s taken Dotty, who’s got her hands over her ears because she doesn’t like loud noises. Kirsty’s hugging everyone, and Patricia’s put the music on, but quietly, and I keep checking my watch because I know I won’t settle until the final surprise has been revealed.