Page 65 of The Promise of Tomorrow
Half past eight.
Gary and Diego turned up late, a while after Caz and Derek and their respective partners. Diego, ever the perfectionist, had been finishing a selection of Spanish Christmas desserts – a walnut cream pudding, marzipan sweets, cinnamon festive cookies, churros and mini nougat bars, and a colourfully decorated brioche-like cake, sliced in half and filled with cream. Gary held a huge helium balloon with ‘30’ written on the side, and he handed Elena a Birthday Girl badge.
The pizza arrived on time, and over a large slice, Elena chatted to her guests, complimenting the wine Gary had brought, and pointing out to Tahoor that all of his samosas had gone.
Five to nine.
She listened to Caz and Derek’s Christmas plans and laughed with everyone else when Julian attempted to persuade them that stick insects made the perfect present – as long as they were cared for responsibly. Cue a chat about everyone’s pets over the years. Tahoor had apparently had a pet turtle as a child in Pakistan!
Ten fifteen.
This could be her last night. She should have been terrified at the prospect, curled up in a ball under the bed. But after all the upset, all the stress, she hadn’t got any tears left and she wouldn’t lose her last precious hours to pointless panicking. She got Mum and Dad talking about the eighties. She loved their stories about making mix tapes, JR fromDallas, and leg warmers.
Ten fifty-five.
Gary turned up the music and she danced with him, before swirling around the lounge with Tahoor to Frank Sinatra, and then gently she pulled Gayle to her feet once he’d collapsed on to the sofa, breathless. Holding hands, Gayle and Elena danced, like they used to when she was a little girl.
‘How’s everything going?’ asked Gayle over the music. ‘I got your text about Scotland. You said everything had been sorted.’
Elena gave her a thumbs up, but Gayle led her into the hallway.
‘We may have lost touch over the years, but I can still tell when you’re worried. Your voice gets a tad too bright and your shoulders droop when you think no one’s looking. Do you want to tell me about the fortune teller?’ asked Gayle.
Elena squeezed her hand back. ‘No. Not tonight. I really, really, just want to enjoy myself.’
Gayle paused. ‘Of course you do, love. But I’m always here if you need a chat. Or a slice of cake. Or even someone to read you a story.’
‘I’m sorry for backing off all these years.’ Elena’s voice sounded full.
Gayle placed her other hand over Elena’s. ‘Now, we’ve put that to rest, love. You and I are back in touch and I don’t intend on kicking the bucket for a few years yet.’
Eleven thirty.
Elena’s mum appeared and frowned. ‘Everything okay?’
Gayle looked from her to Elena. ‘Fine, Melanie. We were talking books.’
‘No change there, then,’ said Melanie, and her features softened. ‘Have you seen the snow? It’s falling even more heavily.’
They went into the dining room and looked out onto the back lawn. Elena loved how excited her mum got every winter, sounding like a small, rapt child if the white stuff settled. It was a couple of inches thick now. The three women returned to the hallway and Tahoor came out of the lounge, a twinkle in his eye.
‘A person could die of thirst in this place,’ he said. ‘How about a coffee?’
‘I’m sure Elena can show you how to use the machine,’ said Gayle smoothly, eyes twinkling back.
Elena had overheard the two pensioners talking earlier, both sharing how difficult it was to get over a spouse’s passing.
Tahoor lowered his voice. ‘Truth is, my energy is lagging. Diego wants to show me some Flamenco moves, and Julian and Derek have been playing a party guessing game. I’ll need a large shot of caffeine if I’m going to join in.’
‘Tahoor!’ said Rory’s dad, Mike, striding into the hallway. He shook the old man’s hand. ‘We’ve hardly had a chance to chat. I’m still baffled by that missed goal that…’
Elena acted as if her eyes were glazing over, and her mum grinned. Elena looked into the distance and saw Rory talking to Caz and Derek, pointing out Brandy and Snap in the tank.
Gary boogied up to her. ‘There’s me thinking the best parties take place in the kitchen.’ He rubbed his hands. ‘Who’s up for a game of strip charades?’
Tahoor looked horrified and everyone laughed.
Elena consulted her watch.
