The Surprise Party

by Sue Welfare

  Right on cue, there was a loud bang from outside.

  ‘I know, that’s why I’m calling.’

  ‘Well, it’s very kind but—’

  ‘No wait – don’t hang up on me. I just wanted to check the address.’

  ‘The address?’

  ‘Yeah. I miss you. I was thinking of surprising you, maybe sending some flowers or something.’

  ‘Not much of surprise now then.’ She smiled and managed to stop herself from telling him that she hated flowers, that this really wasn’t the time to send her anything, and that she had left Rose’s address on the pad by the phone in the house for him. Because after all, wasn’t this what she wanted? Someone who cared about her, someone who did nice things for her? Maybe Frank really did care after all.

  ‘About what I said—’ she began.

  He laughed. ‘Which bit? Was it when you said bugger off or that you never wanted to see me again?’

  She winced. ‘Did I really say that?’

  ‘Not exactly but a man can take a hint.’

  ‘Frank . . .’ Her voice softened.

  ‘Don’t you worry about me, chook, I’ve got the skin of a rhino. Now about your sister’s address,’ he was saying.

  ‘That’s really sweet, Frank, but—’

  ‘But nothing, Fleur, just tell me the bloody address, will you?’

  ‘Isaac’s Cottage, Mill Lane, Crowbridge.’

  ‘Okay, I’ve got that.’

  ‘What about the rest of it?’ she protested.

  ‘No, that was the bit I wanted to check.’ And then it was him who hung up. Fleur shook her head. Maybe he’d lost his nerve. As she looked around her she felt a great wave of homesickness – not for Crowbridge or for the past and all those tangled might-have-beens and old resentments, but for Cairns and the restaurant and the guys she worked with and her house out at Palm Cove and for Frank, dear old Frank with his big belly laugh and great big heart and the fact that he wasn’t taken in by all that woman of the world crap. And for a moment she longed not for the past, but for the future she had been building for herself. All these years she had been pining to come home, and she suddenly realised that she had been home all the time.

  *

  Megan had made her way around to the front of her grandparents’ cottage, trying very hard not to attract attention to herself. She was grateful for the fireworks which seemed to have drawn everyone’s attention skywards. While everyone else ooh -ed and aaah -ed, she wandered casually down the drive and ambled out into the road, as if she was just taking the air and enjoying the crashes and bangs and waterfalls of brightly coloured sparks shooting up into the darkening sky from the bottom of the garden. Most people at the party were around the back of the house, drinking and talking and entranced by the fireworks, so they didn’t see her leave, and those who did didn’t say a word.

  As soon as she was clear of the garden, Megan slipped her hands into her pockets and hurried off towards the village. Above her the streetlights were beginning to glow with a soft yellow light, coronas of brightness in the gloom.

  Head down, Megan was on a mission; she didn’t really know what was going on with Hannah or her mum and dad, but she felt that her sister was in big trouble and she was worried about her. She had never seen her dad and mum so angry, and although she wasn’t exactly sure what she was going to do when she found Hannah, Megan knew that she had to try something. Her plan was to go back to their house first and see if Hannah was there. If not she’d try the recreation ground and then finally Sadie’s house.

  Beyond the streetlights the darkness was thickening and creeping closer. Megan hated the dark. The fireworks were making it worse, the gaudy flashes lighting up the lane as bright as day before plunging everywhere back deep down into darkness. She wasn’t altogether sure exactly where Sadie lived. She knew it was somewhere on Moongate Lane, but she really was hoping that she wouldn’t have to go there and find it. If she was lucky Hannah would have crept home by now and be watching TV or be upstairs listening to music; although there was a part of her that intuitively knew that Hannah had gone home with Sadie.

  Moongate Lane was on the edge of the village behind the allotments. There weren’t that many houses up there, but past the wood yard and the barns was a straggle of cottages, inhabited by hippies and people with big hairy dogs and lots of babies. There weren’t many streetlights, Megan knew, because once she and her mum had gone up there to collect some wicker cloches for the walled garden from a man who made them. He lived at the far end of the lane where it petered out into a single unmade track.

  He had had dreadlocks and said that he recycled everything, which Megan knew was supposed to be a really good idea, but he hadn’t struck her as really good at all, just dirty with funny clothes and a kitchen full of jam jars and plastic bottles. He had given her mum a mug of tea made with leaves out of the garden – which didn’t seem right at all.

  There had been kittens in his hedge but not the kind you could pick up and love, even if they did look cute. They were the kind that hissed and bit and clawed you if you came too close, only he hadn’t told her that until it was too late and a ginger one had scratched her and bitten her arm. She had had to go to the doctor and have an injection.

  Megan put her head down and carried on walking, trying hard not to think about the man or the kittens or the big dogs or how much she hated the dark.

  But, just as she got to the corner, someone further up the road called out her name.

  Startled, Megan was about to run back to the cottage when she recognised the loping gait of Hannah’s friend, Simon, whom she had seen with Sadie and Tucker earlier. He hurried across the road to meet her.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, breathlessly. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve seen Hannah about, have you?’

  Megan shook her head. ‘No. I thought she was probably with you and Sadie and that other boy.’

  ‘Is she with Sadie?’ he asked, sounding surprised.

  ‘How would I know?’ snapped Megan. ‘I was just coming out to look for her.’

  Simon laughed. ‘Whoa there, I was only asking. She’s not at the party then?’

  Megan looked him up and down; boys could be such drips at times. ‘No . . .’ she said slowly in case there was some chance that he couldn’t keep up. ‘That’s why I’m going to look for her.’

  He nodded but didn’t move.

  ‘You can come and look for her with me if you like, I’m going back to our house and then the Rec and then Sadie’s house,’ she said with a confidence that she didn’t feel, as if the plan was rock solid, all the while thinking about the dark shadows, high hedges and wild cats up on Moongate Lane.

  She could see Simon weighing the options and after a few more seconds of waiting, she sighed and said, ‘Please yourself.’ And with that, Megan stuffed her hands back in her pockets and started off up the street, hoping that Simon might follow her.

  ‘So they’re definitely not at the party then?’ he said to her back.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Sadie and Tucker; they were going to crash the party and I thought . . .’ The words dried up, and when she turned back, Megan could see even in the half light that Simon was blushing furiously. ‘I thought I’d better not, just in case, well, you know . . .’

  ‘No, I don’t know,’ snapped Megan. ‘Why do people always say that? I hate people who say you know. What is it I’m supposed to know?’

  She wondered if Simon was always this drippy or if it was just because he fancied her sister. He stared at her and then shifted his weight from foot to foot under her gaze. She guessed from his expression that Simon didn’t have a little sister or he’d have known they don’t take much in the way of crap.

  ‘Okay. The thing is, I really like your sister and I didn’t want to crash the party because I didn’t want your mum and dad to think I was a total dork.’

  Bit late for that, thought Megan. Fancying people obviously did something weird to your brain.

  ‘Well, she�
�s not there now,’ said Megan primly, moving off.

  ‘Have you been to Sadie’s before?’

  Megan shook her head. ‘No. Have you?’

  He nodded. ‘Yeah, a few times.’

  ‘Well, in that case you can show me where it is,’ said Megan briskly, job done.

  ‘Do you think they might have gone back to your house?’

  Megan shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I failed my psychic entrance exam for Hogwarts.’

  Simon flinched. ‘Are you always this prickly?’

  Megan looked at him and raised an eyebrow by way of a reply.

  ‘What I mean is, if it were me, I wouldn’t take Sadie back to my place if my mum and dad were out – you don’t know what she might do.’

  Megan sighed. ‘Okay, I see what you’re saying but I still don’t know for sure. There’s no one at our house, so they might have gone there. It’s worth a look.’

  Simon nodded. ‘Okay, and if she’s not there, then we try the Rec?’

  ‘That was my plan,’ said Megan briskly.

  At which point Simon nodded. ‘Okay,’ he said, and fell into step alongside her. Megan wondered if all boys behaved like this when they fancied you and how interesting it might be to have a tame one all of your own.

  *

  In the garden behind the marquee, the night had darkened fast, the navy-black sky a perfect backdrop for the final round of fireworks. God alone knew how much Liz had paid for them, but they were most definitely spectacular. They had drawn almost everyone out of the marquee and onto the lawn and now, as a grand finale, Catherine wheels and a pair of fantastic firework fountains lit the fuse that ignited dozens of little flashing, fizzing, sparkling fireworks spelling out the words, ‘Happy Anniversary Rose and Jack,’ in glittering Technicolor. People cheered and clapped as the pyrotechnic good wishes burst into life.

  A little way along the path, under a pergola picked out in the glow of the fairy lights that he had hung earlier, Sam stood cradling a glass. He had had way too much to drink. He knew that because when he tried to focus on the tiny pinpoints of light, they fractured into shards, the fireworks refracting and reflecting in the bulbs only making matters worse.

  He’d spent a lot of the evening thinking as well as drinking; he couldn’t believe Suzie would carry on behind his back, not with Matt . . . not with anyone, if he was honest. It wasn’t the kind of woman she was, it was not in her nature and there was nothing, no real hard evidence to make him believe that what Liz had said was true – except perhaps for his own terrible sense of guilt. Perhaps him behaving the way he did had changed her. Perhaps he had driven her into the arms of another man.

  He winced at the image of him gathering Matt up by the neck like some Neanderthal. God, that wasn’t the kind of man he was, what had he been thinking of? Himself, his conscience snapped back. Him and his ego and his outrage and his hurt and his pride.

  He had been neglecting Suzie of late, that was the problem. Maybe neglect was too big a word but it was the only one Sam’s vodka-addled brain could come up with that came anywhere close to what had been going on. Things had been tough at work for the last couple of years, but he knew that that wasn’t really the problem. If anything, it had been his excuse for not helping out, because Sam knew in his heart that he hadn’t been supporting her, he hadn’t been there for her at all. And so over the course of the last few years the house had become her problem, the girls had become her problem, the dogs, the cats, the cars, the garden, the shopping, the day-to-day management of their busy, noisy, stress-filled lives – all her problem.

  And where had he been? Sulking. Sam belched and then hiccupped. It was true, he couldn’t deny it. The vodka had given him an amazing clarity of mind, if not vision, that truly surprised him.

  He had been feeling neglected and resentful for a while now and he knew he had been taking it out on Suzie; he just hadn’t wanted to admit it to anyone, least of all himself. One of the initial reasons had been her going off to college, and although that was back when Megan started school full time, he knew damn well that was when the rot had set in.

  Since then a little worm had been slowly eating away at his brain, one tiny bite at a time. Having the children early meant that up until now he had always been the breadwinner in the family; Suzie and the girls had needed him. Knowing that gave him a sense of pride and purpose, but there was a bit of him that was anxious that perhaps one day, one dark day, one day soon, Suzie wouldn’t need him any more.

  The rational man in him could see how it would be nice to have more money coming in, to have a wife who was happy with a fulfilling job, but that rational man’s knuckle-dragging counterpart couldn’t help but look ahead to a time when he would become superfluous to requirements, and Suzie would decide that she could live without him. Given the way he had behaved recently, who could blame her?

  The alcohol allowed him to consider with detachment the things he had been ashamed to admit to himself until now. When exactly had he turned into a pantomime version of his father, all moody and grumpy and uncommunicative, the things he had loathed most?

  When she’d finished college Suzie had started working part time, fitting in everything around him and the girls. She had taken on designing, hands-on gardening, maintenance, and that had grown and grown until finally one day there had been the walled garden. The walled garden, her baby.

  In his head Sam had planned to say ‘her job’, but he knew that the garden was just so much more than that to Suzie. It was a passion, a calling and it was fantastic that she had made such a success of it. He could see how much she loved it and there was a big part of Sam that was proud and delighted for her – but there was also a part of him that was horribly, horribly jealous. Not just of the hours she put in but of the joy the whole thing gave her. He was envious of how much she loved what she did. And how awful was that?

  Having the garden project also meant that for the first time in years Suzie wasn’t always home when he got in from work, and often when she was she was preoccupied, or on the phone, or busy planning. People rang up and dropped by and wanted to see her. He had to cook supper and do more around the house, and even though he didn’t mind doing any of those things, the truth was he felt neglected. While he felt petty and childish for feeling like that, another part of him felt that she had taken her eye off the ball. The ball being him, and it was hard to talk rationally when one of you was sulking.

  He also knew that thinking like that made him sound like a dinosaur, and now, on top of all the stuff with Suzie and the garden, there was Hannah. He shook his head in despair.

  He was getting more and more unsettled by the way Hannah was behaving. Was it his fault? Or Suzie’s? Was their daughter picking up on what was going on between them? Was this her way of crying for attention and if it was, why the hell couldn’t he handle it better? God, he was supposed to be the grown-up here.

  Once upon a time, in what now seemed like the dim and distant past, he and the girls had got on brilliantly. He remembered sitting at the kitchen table having Hovis moments with them after work, eating supper, chatting about the day, helping them with their homework, giggling together. Looking around those faces, at Suzie and the girls, Sam remembered thinking that his life was complete, a joy, something that they had built between them that made his heart sing.

  Now if it sang it was mostly thrash metal or something nasty by a band with a swear word in the title. The previous week he’d come home from work to find Suzie was out at a meeting. The dogs hadn’t been fed or walked and were eating out the kitchen bin. Megan had been at the kitchen table with her iPod on, totally oblivious to his arrival, eating peanut butter sandwiches, fishing it straight from the jar onto the bread without worrying about cutting up the bread or putting it on a plate. There was a great smear of peanut butter across the tabletop which suggested this was not her first attempt. Hannah had been up in her room playing music so loud that the plates were rattling on the dresser downstairs and, short of joining Megan in
her peanut butter fest, there was nothing to eat, despite Suzie having asked Hannah to put supper (which she had made before she left for work) in the oven to reheat.

  When Sam had gone upstairs to ask Hannah to turn down the music and give him a hand, she had told him to get out her room. When he refused she had stormed out herself, telling him he was a Nazi. Megan caved in and gave a hand although, as she quite reasonably pointed out, it was hardly fair because she always picked up the lion’s share of the work since Hannah had turned into a screaming troll.

  Despite the truth behind this statement, Sam had shouted at her and sent her to her room, which meant that by the time Suzie came in no one was speaking to anyone else, supper was burnt and one of the dogs had crapped on the kitchen floor. And what had Sam done then? Rally round, help her clean up? Nip out to get a takeaway? No, he had let her take over while he went upstairs to check his email.

  Oh yes, he could quite see why Suzie might leave him.

  On the whole, Megan was still fine, peanut butter and outrage notwithstanding, but he didn’t understand what was happening to Hannah at all. It was as if she had turned into someone else. For the first time since the girls had been babies he felt totally at a loss and frustrated by parenthood. If he asked Hannah to do something, she whined or snapped at him or stormed off in a huff, or burst into tears. Now, from his alcohol-fuelled high ground, he could see that he had passed the buck there too, complaining to Suzie because Hannah had behaved badly towards him, and accusing Suzie of taking Hannah’s side.

  Sam took another long pull on his drink. Only that very evening, hadn’t he said in a sullen, little-boy voice, ‘Oh that’s it, take her side, why don’t you?’

  He winced.

  God, wasn’t he meant to be the grown-up here – just how adult did that sound? And here Sam was threatening to punch out Suzie’s friends like some teenage thug.

  Actually, he thought, draining the glass down to the icy dregs, he wouldn’t blame Suzie if she was having an affair. Who in their right mind would want to share their life with a miserable, self-pitying, whining man-child?