“Oh God, Temi, you should so have been at the party,” I say regretfully. “I’m sure half the people there had never been to Greenoaks in their lives. You should have been here to say goodbye. That should have been the party we had—”
And then I break off midstream, my brain galvanized. That’s it. Of course. That’s it. It was the wrong party all along. It was stupid and fake and pretentious, and it wasn’t a proper goodbye to Greenoaks.
I stand up, suddenly full of energy, full of conviction, knowing exactly what I need to do.
“Temi, can you get on a train down here?” I ask abruptly.
“Do what?”
“I’m throwing a party. Farewell to Greenoaks. Tonight.”
“Another party?” She sounds astonished.
“Yes, but different. Not fancy. The party this should have been. Bonfire on the mound…drinks…a Talbot family party.”
“OK, I’m in.” I can hear the smile in her voice. “I’m on the next train. You’re not having a bonfire without me!”
As I ring off, I’m smiling too. I want to throw the party we should have had all along. With the right people at it. Not Humph. Not Lacey. Not a million strangers, just there for the drinks.
Impulsively I open a new document and write out an invitation:
Please join me on the mound to enjoy our last view of Greenoaks. 8 p.m. Drinks. Food. Bonfire. Love from Effie. No need to RSVP. See you there.
I copy the text, think for a moment, then create a new WhatsApp group, consisting of me, Dad, Bean, Gus, Joe, and Temi.
I title the group Effie’s Last Hurrah. Then I paste in the invitation text. And then, before I can rethink anything, I send it.
The evening air is still warm as Gus lays another lot of branches on the fire, in his tried-and-tested bonfire-stacking formation.
“Where do you want the rugs?” says Dad, panting as he reaches the top of the mound.
“There.” I point at the grass behind Gus. “Where we always go.”
It’s the spot with the best panoramic views. If you face one way you look down at the house and the drive so you can see who’s coming; if you turn the other way you get an amazing vista across the fields. I never really appreciated the views from the mound till I was grown up.
“Drinks!” Bean puffs as she reaches the top of the mound, too, clutching a brace of wine bottles. “God, I’m unfit.”
“Well done, Bean,” says Dad, and she shoots him a wary little smile. We’re all still a bit prickly. At least, Bean’s still prickly. Gus’s still drunk, though he’s denied it. Joe’s being the diplomat. And I’m in charge.
I like being in charge. I register this feeling, even as I’m telling Bean where to put the drinks. I must find something to do in life where I end up in charge.
“Got it!” Temi arrives at the top of the mound, clutching the bunting which she’s retrieved from the lawn. “All parties need bunting.”
I glance down past her at the quiet, tidy lawn. Now that the bunting’s gone, and we’ve cleared up all the broken china, you’d never think there had been a party there. Nor a family yelling fest. That party’s over. This is the party.
Temi jams a bamboo cane into the ground and starts tying the bunting round it—then exclaims in frustration as it falls over.
“I’ll help,” says Gus, coming over. “What you need is a bit of muscle.”
“I’ve got muscle!” says Temi indignantly. “I’ll beat you at an arm wrestle any day, Gus.”
“Balloons!” Joe appears, looking like a children’s entertainer, with a bunch of helium balloons bobbing above him. “Got them from the sitting room. What about the Versailles table settings?” he adds, deadpan. “Shall I bring those up too?”
“I think we can probably live without those,” I say, equally deadpan. As I’m speaking, Bean comes by, and I touch her on the arm, because there’s something I’ve been meaning to say. “Listen, Bean,” I murmur in her ear. “I think we should have another go at speaking to Dad about your furniture. Talk him round.”
“No,” she mutters back.
“But I’m sure we could persuade him—”
“Really, I’m over it.” She cuts me off, a little savagely. “I don’t want it anymore. I don’t care.”
I watch her head back down the mound, feeling conflicted. I think she does care. But I’m not going to push it right now. Things are fragile enough as it is.