Page 93 of Always Alchemy

He puts a light hand on my lower back—just his fingertips, really, brushing the curve of my spine through my black silk—and I find I’m oddly disappointed when he leads me through to where the others are mingling.

Dinner is delicious,obviously, cooked with great aplomb by Anton’s hilarious chef Jean-Jacques, who insists on coming out to introduce each course in rapid, completely unintelligible French. Anton does the translating for him. I sit between Kit and Pip, though Kit focuses mainly on Nancy, thank God. I think he’s worked out she’s an easier audience for his bullshit.

Pip is reading Environmental Change and Management at Oxford, which sounds seriously hardcore. I think I knewhe was at Oxford, but had forgotten. I suppose it’s not a surprise. He went to Eton, after all,andhe’ll be Lord Russell one day, when his dad dies, and you can’t tell me Oxford isn’t still totally elite at heart. Anyway, Pip was always that kid who signed up for the Model UN and stuff like that, and I remember he wrote for Eton’s environmental magazine. I’ve also found out that he’s become obsessed with rowing in the past year, which I guess explains the excellent shoulders.

Still, he spends most of his time asking me about my degree—I’m studying Sports Science at Loughborough—and my football training schedule. He knows a weirdly large amount about both already. Someone’s been doing their homework, but it’s less creepy than sweet.

As we all dine at this beautiful table in this beautiful room, my attention stays on Pip. I zone out his brother, who’s so much louder than him, as best I can, and enjoy the quiet strength of his features in the soft, flickering light of the many tapered candles. He has really friendly eyes. They’re a kind of blue-grey, I think, so they could be cold, but they’re not. And they go all crinkly when he smiles at me, which is often. I like his eyes.

After pudding, which is a melt-in-your-mouth apple tart done the French way, topped withcrème anglaiseand super-fine slices of glazed apple, Anton stands up and taps his wine glass with his fork. He says a few charming words about how we’ll have a new year in less than an hour, and how much it means to him and Gen to be surrounded by the friends they consider to be family at this time of year. Then he says, ‘We also have a birthday to celebrate in less than an hour. Would the birthday girl like to say a few words before everyone gets totally legless?’

I’ve known this was coming. Gen pulled me aside earlierto check with me if it would be okay, and I said yes. While I have no problems captaining the Loughborough women’s football A team in front of hundreds of spectators, I’m far less comfortable speaking in public. But my dad and Mads are grinning at me with so much love and pride, and Pip, when I glance over at him, gives me a solidly encouraging smile too, so I suppose I can do this.

I get to my feet.

‘Firstly, thank you, Gen and Anton, for having us all to stay and for such a lovely party. I want to be you when I grow up.’

There’s a smatter of laughter and a chorus ofahhs.I reach for my glass and take a hasty swig of the lovely white wine we’re drinking. I’ll need it for this next part.

‘And I’d like to propose a toast to my Mum, who was in labour with me right now twenty years ago.’ I screw up my face, trying to stop the tears from coming. ‘Mum, we miss you every day, and I’m sorry for ruining your New Year’s Eve that year.’

I hold up my glass with a shaky hand. In my peripheral vision, I see Pip’s stricken face and Nancy bowing her head.

‘To Claire,’ Dad says forcefully, and everyone else joins in. He jumps up from his seat and comes around to give me a firm hug and a smacker on the cheek before going to check on Nancy.

‘I also want to say a quick thanks to my dad,’ I press on. I just want to get this over with. ‘Thanks for being the best dad ever, even during the really, really bad times.’

We all raise our glasses and there are lots of noisy cheers and thumps on the table as everyone shouts some variation of:To Zach!He abandons Nance and comes around to give me another big hug.

‘I love you, Stel.’

‘I love you too,’ I tell him, before wriggling free. I’m aware I’m droning on here.

‘And one last toast,’ I say. I feel a bit shy about saying this, but it absolutely needs to be said. ‘I’d just like to thank Maddy, too. It’s so weird to think she was only three years older than I am now when she basically became a mum to me and Nancy. I can’t even imagine it, because there’s no way I’m anywhere near ready to have kids.’

‘I’m extremely relieved to hear that,’ Dad says drily, dropping back into his seat and pulling Mads towards him with an arm hooked around her shoulders. Everyone laughs.

‘But seriously, it must have been so, so weird for you, but you never let us feel it. You’ve been so lovely since that very first day we met you on Rafe’s terrace, and, well.’ I swallow. ‘I think things would have been really bad without you,’ I whisper, ‘for all three of us. So thank you for marrying Dad and saving us all and giving us two amazing little brothers. We love you so much.’

‘Hear, hear!’ Cal shouts really loudly, and everyone gives a massive cheer.

Mads is up and out of her chair in a flash, coming to swallow me up in a hug. ‘I love you,’ she whispers in my ear. ‘Watching you and Nance grow up into such gorgeous young women has been the honour of my life.’

I squeeze her back tightly as our friends’ voices ring out in her honour. ‘It’s not over yet.’

I can’t quite shakethis feeling off. It’s somewhere between melancholy and excess emotion. I feel weepy and fragile, even sitting here surrounded by all this love. I think of mybeautiful, amazing mum all those years ago, sitting in a hospital bed, preparing to meet me for the first time. It hits me every year, but this year it’s a lot. So, as soon as the fuss has died down and everyone’s back to their raucous, somewhat drunken chatter, I excuse myself to go to the loo.

Instead, I dive out through the kitchen into the still gardens. It’s bloody freezing out here. I didn’t quite think this through—not in this dress, anyway—but I need some peace and quiet more than I need warmth right now.

Down by the pool area, the noise from inside is far less intense. It’s a nice backdrop, but the sound of all that merriment feels like it could be floating over from a neighbour’s party. I sink down onto one of the sun loungers and watch the thick steam rising from the illuminated pool that Anton has had uncovered and heated specially for this weekend. It’s mesmerising, in the same way that watching a fire is mesmerising, and it gives me something pretty to gaze at while I allow myself to feel.

I miss her.

I fuckingmissher.

It’s like I’m split in two—loving Maddy and Jonny and Nicky and the way our family looks today, and being all too aware that if Mum hadn’t died, we wouldn’t have them in our lives, while still grieving for the way the four of us were when Nance and I were little and for all the things Mum never got to do, all the milestones she never got to see. Sometimes it feels like there are actual hands inside me, tearing me apart, and it’s agony.

It may be a decade since we lost her, but I’m still trying to find a way to sit with all these weird conflicts and huge, scary emotions. Because I know at the end of the day that there’s no real way to reconcile them or make sense of them.

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