Page 37 of Not Moving Out
‘Shut it,’ I said, before I went outside into the garden.
I had set up tables, and despite the forecast saying it wasn’t going to rain, the clouds overhead were ominously dark. Obviously we could move indoors if we had to, but it was best to have it outside if possible, and some of our best summer parties had been held late into the night in the garden. Joe had started the barbecue in preparation, and was planning on cooking burgers, sausages and chicken outside. Dolly found the bottle opener, and she helped me get the garden ready and open a few bottles of wine in preparation. I was slightly nervous about how this year’s party was going to go, but things with Joe had been really good recently, and even his father had agreed to come down from Colchester with his new girlfriend. For the record, in ten years of summer parties, he had been to just one summer party. Dolly was excited because Maya was coming, although I had sensed a nervous energy about her for the last few weeks. Perhaps she was tired from all the studying she had been doing or maybe it was anxiety about her upcoming exams. Life was suddenly hurtling towards us all at breakneck speed, and there was no doubt it was fucking terrifying.
‘You okay, love?’ I said to her, as we put some extra cans of drink into the cool box.
‘Yeah,’ Dolly replied. ‘It’s going to be okay, right?’
‘What do you mean? Is what going to be okay?’
‘You and Dad? It’s not going to be weird, is it?’
I looked at Dolly, saw the look of concern on her face, and it made me so sad that she was worried about us.
‘It will be fine, love. Promise,’ I said with a smile, and I meant it. ‘Now, can you be in charge of music? Although nothing too, you know, out there. Remember most of us are middle-aged or older.’
‘What the hell is “out there”? I’m hardly into anything weird. Have you seen my Spotify playlists?’
‘Just keep it mainstream,’ I said, and Dolly gave me a sarcastic look before I heard the doorbell go, and it seemed our first guests had arrived.
The party was in full swing, and fortunately the weather, although still gloomy, had remained dry, and after serving all the starters Joe was now stationed at the barbecue in his ‘The Grillfather’ apron – a birthday present from Dolly and me for his fortieth. Dolly had been doing a great job with the music, and was currently playing ABBA, and everyone was in the garden, drinking, talking, and so far our annual summer party was going perfectly.
‘Do you know where Joe got the sausages?’ said Marmalade, while Mum stood next to him, sipping on a glass of wine.
‘Umm, not sure,’ I replied. ‘Waitrose, maybe?’
‘I shall have to find out. They’re delicious. Have you tried them yet, Freya?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Oh, you should. They’re so perfectly seasoned, and juicy, I imagine the meat ratio is probably quite high, although they’re soft—’
‘Okay, Martin, that’s enough sausage talk,’ said Mum. ‘I see Joe’s dad is here this year, darling. That’s a real turn-up for the books, and is that the new French girlfriend?’
‘Oui,’ I said, looking across at Joe’s dad and Juliette. She was lovely, had beautiful dark hair and spoke with a gloriously French/English accent. I had only said a brief hello to her, but she gave his father a proper glow. I didn’t think in all the years I had known Joe’s father I had seen him looking so happy and relaxed. It was clear he was genuinely in love. It was a shame that when he was finally happy, and perhaps with the chance of being more involved in Joe’s life, he was moving to the south of France.
‘She definitely has a littleje ne sais quoi, doesn’t she?’ said Mum, as Lucy came bounding across, a glass of wine in one hand and a hot dog in the other.
‘Lucy, hi, how’s it going?’ I said. ‘You remember Mum.’
‘Of course, hi,’ said Lucy.
‘Hello, again,’ said Mum. ‘It’s been, what, exactly a year since the last party?’
‘That’s right,’ said Lucy with a smile.
‘How’s the sausage?’ chipped in Marmalade, getting a stern look from Mum.
‘I’ve come to steal Freya away for a minute,’ said Lucy. ‘Do you mind?’
‘Not at all,’ said Mum, and Lucy and I started walking away, although before we were out of earshot, I heard Mum chiding Marmalade about the bloody bangers. We walked past Joe on the barbecue, and he was talking with Barney and Stuart, looking relaxed and happy in his favourite spot, a bottle of beer in his hand. Lucy and I walked inside and took a seat at the dining room table. I had no idea where Dolly was. The music was still playing, and it had moved on to Olly Murs, so she was definitely keeping it mainstream.
‘How’s it going?’ I said to Lucy when we had sat down.
‘Good. I just wanted to have a quick word,’ she said, a note of trepidation in her voice.
‘What’s going on?’
‘What do you mean?’ She met my gaze with a look of apprehension.
