‘Mermaids. And I will need a mermaid costume, and all my friends can be mermaids, and you can be a mermummy too.’
‘Yuck,’ said James.
‘I don’t think I should dress up,’ Posy replied. The idea of herself in a mermaid costume was too awful to contemplate. ‘I wouldn’t mind wearing a mermaid’s crown, but I think I’ll just wear a normal mortal’s dress.’
‘But you will make me a mermaid costume, won’t you Mummy?’
‘Of course. I wasn’t a Saturday girl at Laura Ashley for nothing.’
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’
‘And we should go to the beach and find lots of shells and pearls and seaweed to decorate things with.’
‘Of course,’ said Posy. What was she getting herself into now? She could cut up crêpe paper to make frondy seaweedy decorations. They could have shells on the table, a cake in the shape of a shell (by Aunty Flora), sealife-themed prizes, hunt the starfish, pin the tail on the dolphin or the seahorse …
‘We’ll have a whale of a time!’ she said.
She remembered that Frank had a great line in fish jokes, although they would probably be wasted on the young.
In a terraced house in Winchester Linus the Magician sat staring at his diary. He wondered if there was any way he could re-jig the bookings to accommodate Mrs Parouselli. He would have liked to see her again. Perhaps he could move one of the school bookings forwards, but no. He didn’t want to seem unprofessional, and the thought of phoning up some Parents’ Association secretary, re-opening negotiations, having to wait for the committee to consider it and get back to him … he had better leave the Parouselli party to Stella. He went back to his current project. He was making a magic box. The cleverly-angled mirrors meant that things, even quite large things, could disappear inside it. There was a particularly lovely Chopin Nocturne on the radio. Once he finished assembling the box he would clean out the rabbits. Stella was planning a new set of puppets, a nuclear family of meerkats. He was also working on designs for their set, a lookout, which was to have a number of exits for them (or some pretty impressive special effects) to pop out of. He heard Stella’s key in the lock. She was back from a playgroup booking. He went to help her unload.
Stella’s method of organising her props was the toast of the Wessex Association of Wizards. She had even given talks at the monthly meetings on the subject ‘Magic of Organisation - Organisation of Magic’. So many magicians just hurled everything into a trunk and wasted hours sorting and setting up and looking for things that they had mislaid. They now supplied boxes and many-pocketed canvas bags, designed by Stella and made by Linus to wizards from all over Wessex. Some of them were beyond helping though, irredeemably messy and disorganised.
‘You can’t teach an old dog new tricks,’ Linus had quipped when he saw Stella shake her head in disbelief at some of the members’ chaotic ways. She disagreed.
Stella went to change out of her outfit, some denim dungarees trimmed with red spangles, a drapey jacket and pink DMs. It had echoes of her post-punk, ‘Come On Eileen’ teenage tastes. Neither of them was working that night, and she had been planning a meal around the things that she had bought at the farmers’ market that morning.
‘I saw you fixed that ridge tile, thanks!’ she called down the stairs.
‘Cleaned out the gutters too,’ he told her. ‘I think I’ll repaint the weatherboards. I haven’t done them for a few years. The rest of the roof looked fine.’ He made twice yearly checks from the bottom of the garden with the binoculars, as well as keeping the gutters in tip-top condition.
May
Frank had only had a few hours’ sleep, but that was normal for him. He fell asleep easily enough (one bottle of red wine, a bottle of Kingfisher lager) but for some reason he had snapped awake around 4 a.m. He had lain there worrying about everything. Even his usual trick of trying to remember the words of all the songs he most hated had failed to get him back to sleep. He put them in ascending order of awfulness, and then lay there fiddling about with the positions.
1. True by Spandau Ballet.
2. Rio by Duran Duran.
3. Shout/Everybody Wants To Rule The World by Tears for Fears.
4. The Diana ‘Candle in the Wind’.
But who would he choose if it was a matter of so-called style? Perhaps the Thompson Twins. They had been really something. Then he began to choose the music for his funeral. He would have to leave clear instructions. Posy would be bound to get it wrong. Perhaps he should entrust it to Al, assuming Al lasted longer than him. Flora would be the one to get it perfectly organised. She wouldn’t be fazed. That would be if she could fit it into her busy schedule. Eventually, with amusing, mean thoughts about his sister-in-law, he fell back to sleep.
Poppy flung herself on to her parents’ bed at quarter past six. Her sharp little knees and elbows made further sleep impossible. Posy pulled her closer and breathed in the chocolate Nesquik smell of her hair.
‘Mummy. You haven’t forgotten it’s nearly my birthday have you?’
‘Your birthday will be cancelled if I don’t get back to sleep,’ said Frank.
‘No! No! You can’t cancel birthdays, they just come!’ Poppy was almost sobbing. Posy hugged her tighter.
‘Daddy’s only joking. Of course you can’t cancel birthdays.’
‘Well,’ said Poppy. ‘We need to get all the things for the party. And don’t forget to make my costume and buy me some presents and a card.’
‘Don’t worry, Poppy. I’ve got it all planned. Today we are going to get some shells for decorations.’
‘Are we?’ said Frank.
‘We can just go to Netley. It has good shells,’ Posy said placatingly.
‘Huh.’
‘We’d better bring a bag. If I find a starfish can I bring it home for a pet, or a seagull, or an oyster with a pearl in?’ Poppy asked.
‘Or a puffin,’ Posy added. ‘Or a penguin, or a pelican, or a cormorant. You sometimes see cormorants at Netley, but they might be a bit tricky to catch.’
‘Can we take a picnic?’ Poppy asked.
‘Of sorts.’
‘I can never decide if Netley is a profoundly sad and depressing place, or a beautiful and uplifting one,’ Posy said as they pulled into the car park. She looked up at the Victorian tower and chapel, all that remained of the military hospital, then down towards the shore. ‘You can’t park here, on this side.’
‘Bloody disabled,’ said Frank. ‘They get all the best spots, all the best views.’ He backed the car into another space. ‘Right. You take them to the beach, and I’ll sit in here and listen to the radio.’
‘Ha ha. Not likely.’
‘Don’t you want to come, Daddy?’
‘He’s only joking. He wouldn’t miss it for anything.’
‘Many a true word spoken in jest,’ said Frank, but he remained seated and started to roll a cigarette.
‘I don’t know why you have to smoke in places of outstanding natural beauty,’ Posy said.
He couldn’t be bothered to reply. He might have said, ‘Because we have just driven past where Melody lives. Because I may have ruined her life, and maybe yours, and maybe mine. Because I am trapped. Because the last time I was near here I was screwing her in the van,’ but fortunately he didn’t. He knew that Melody only had a few more weeks to go. He should ring her to see how she was.
They were soon plonking about on the beach. Pathetic little waves washed over the toes of their wellies. Tom was almost overcome by joy when a container ship went by. They could see speedboats involved in some sort of racing event, or perhaps just showing off, and Red Funnel ferries on their way to the Isle of Wight. There were rich pickings of shells, and pieces of old rope and driftwood. The children wanted to bring dead crabs home for party decorations, but Posy said no. She was pleased that they were all having a wonderful time.
Then Frank said ‘So, do I really have to come to this mermaid party?’
‘What do you
think?’ Posy replied. ‘Don’t let Poppy hear you talk like that. Anyone would think you didn’t want her to have a birthday.’
‘I was only joking. You know mermaids aren’t my kind of thing.’ Well, only twenty-two-year-old blonde mermaids from Weston who sing, he added bitterly to himself. Perhaps she might come walking by with her mum’s foul little dog. He kind of hoped so.
‘What’s that story about the mermaid who gets legs?’ he asked.
‘Oh,’ said Posy.’ “The Little Mermaid”. She falls in love and becomes human, but every step she takes is like walking on sharks’ fins, something like that. I can’t remember what happens.’
‘She probably tops herself,’ said Frank.
‘Or tops and tails herself. Do you want me to take Isobel for a bit? Your arm must be falling off.’
Posy headed back up the beach with the baby and spread out her mac for them to sit on. Isobel could amuse herself by picking up stones and shells and trying to get them into her mouth before Posy stopped her. One day, Posy thought, we will be the sort of family with a blanket lined with a groundsheet that we keep in the car. One that folds up and has cute little handles. She had some packets of white chocolate buttons in her bag, what her Aunt Bea would have referred to as ‘iron rations’. She called the children to come and join them. Frank came too, rolling another cigarette. Tom had let the sea get over the tops of his wellies, and the brine was wicking up the legs of his jeans. Posy knew that the tender skin on the insides of his legs would soon be chafed red. She wondered if mutated algae and viruses, warm from the Fawley oil refinery across the water, were now trying to breach his defences. Definitely an early bath for Tom. Perhaps Matey would act like Dettol on him. She ate most of Isobel’s bag of buttons, bad for a baby to have sweeties anyway …
‘It would be nice to live out here,’ she said. Posy always said this when they came to Netley. She looked longingly at the Victorian villas, and the pretty terraces, the boats and the deluxe duck-pond that they passed on the way.
It didn’t occur to Frank that they might live in one of those big posh houses. He imagined himself living in a solitary beach hut. Ah, that would be the life … the simplicity of it all. He would sleep under an army blanket on the hut’s narrow bench. No need to wash, just have a swim. No cooking, just go to a café. Imagine no possessions, he thought, just his bass, hardly any clothes, one pair of shoes, a camping gas stove, one tin mug, one spoon, one knife. He would brew coffee that blew his mind, and sit in the dark, drinking whisky, soothed by the warm onshore breezes. It would be like van Gogh’s room, just him and his boots. No decorations, no videos of Fireman Sam, no rabbits, no BettaKleen. If Posy had the same hut she would make it into a colossal changing bag. She would fill it with bottles of purple spray-on SPF 30 suncream, plastic sandwich boxes, wet wipes, first-aid kits, and brightly coloured beach games from the Early Learning Centre. He shuddered.
‘Are you cold, Frank? We’d better get going or the kids will start getting cold too. I wonder what the Netley school is like,’ she said. ‘I suppose the proximity to Weston would be a bad aspect.’
‘Spoken like a true Surrey girl,’ Frank replied. ‘You don’t even know anyone from Weston.’
‘Nor do you.’
Poppy’s bag was full of shells. Posy tipped them out onto one of the beach steps and checked for any that were still occupied. Poppy put these ones back near the water’s edge.
Time to go home.
In the pub that night Frank could hardly muster the enthusiasm to play. The music didn’t go well. Rich and Ron were being snappy with each other. They’d had a row about ELO. Rich hated them and all their works, Ron was insisting that they had huge merit, whatever the sound was like, and that technically Jeff Lyne was something else.
Melody was there for a while and Frank saw that her transformation from mermaid to manatee was nearly complete. She wasn’t in the mood for singing. All she wanted to know was, Had He Told His Wife Yet? The answer was, of course, still no. He couldn’t think of anything to say to her. She rang her brother for a lift, and soon she was gone.
Frank realised that he would have to be the one to top himself. There was no way forward that made any sense. During their break he couldn’t bring himself to speak. Al noticed that Frank had turned into a sad old polar bear alone in the zoo.
‘All right mate?’ Al asked.
Frank slowly shook his head and stared into his pint.
‘I am in blood
Stepp’d in so far that, should I wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as going on.
Or something like that,’ he said.
‘Get your point. If there’s anything I can do …’ said Al. ‘Fancy another?’
Frank nodded. Al rested his hand on Frank’s shoulder on the way to the bar. He’d get a couple of whisky chasers too. Poor bloody Frank, he thought. Poor sod. What a mess.
Aunty Flora came up trumps with the birthday cake.
‘I didn’t even know that there was silver icing,’ Posy said. ‘It is so beautiful. I don’t know if the girls will be able to bear to see it cut.’
‘It’s just a “Little Mermaid” tin that I hired from “The Cake Lady”. Easy peasy,’ said Flora. Coming up with amazing cakes was all part of her day’s work.
‘I’m glad she looks so demure,’ said Posy. ‘Are those real shells?’
‘Chocolate. But not suitable for nut allergy sufferers. The rest is fine, of course.’ Poppy came in.
‘Quick! Quick! Cover her up!’ shouted Posy.
‘Oh please can I see, Mummy, Aunty Flora? Please!’
‘Oh she might as well, Posy,’ said Flora, who was quite a soft touch with her niece.
‘Go on then …’
‘Oh Aunty Flora, it’s beautiful. I can’t believe it’s for me. It’s the most beautiful cake in the world!’
‘For the most beautiful niece in the world, with love,’ said Flora.
‘And Izzie,’ said Poppy.
‘Well Izzie is the most beautiful baby niece in the world. And here’s your present.’ It was wrapped in exquisite lilac-and-pink shimmery paper with copious bows. ‘I like being an aunt,’ Flora said.
Poppy carefully unwrapped it. She would save everything for her making things box. Inside was a Flower Fairies flower press, a flowery apron, and a large, glittery, white teddy with wings and a halo.
‘I thought you probably needed an extra teddy,’ said Flora as Poppy hugged her. ‘Especially an angel one.’
‘She’s beautiful. What’s her name?’
‘Well that’s up to you, isn’t it?’ said Flora.
‘It might be on her label. Animals come ready-named now. Oh yes. Here it is. Angelica Angelbear,’ Posy announced.
‘Wow,’ said Poppy. ‘Thanks, Aunty Flora.’
‘I’m so lucky to have all of these nieces and nephews. It’s a real treat coming to your party. I’m sorry I haven’t got a mermaid costume.’
‘That’s all right,’ said Poppy. ‘Nor’s Mum.’
‘Now, Poppy. We have to get a move on, they’ll be here soon. Either put on your new apron and help us with the party food, or go and change into your costume.’
‘Both,’ said Poppy.
‘You have to see her costume,’ said Posy. ‘It’s a triumph, though I say it myself. When Izzie’s a bit older I might go into business making them for girls and their dollies. I’m going to call it “Mermaid Tails”. Maybe I could have a whole mermaid and fairy-themed shop. Heaven.’
It was lovely to see Posy looking so happy, having a plan, being enthusiastic about something. Flora didn’t say that if she wanted to make the business a success she’d have to hurry up before the mermaid bubble burst.
Two hours later, fifteen little mermaids and fairies were cavorting in the garden watched by Frank and Isobel. James and Tom were inside still eating. Posy hadn’t expected the birthday tea to go so quickly; there was an unplanned-for pause before Stella’s Puppets and Magic show was due to start.
Stella arrived fourteen minutes before she was due to start.
‘Mrs Parouselli? Sorry I’m late. Football traffic,’ she said to Flora who let her in. Flora glanced at her watch. An apology for one minute late. Impressive.
‘No, I’m the birthday girl’s aunt, Flora. Would you like a hand with your stuff?’
‘I’m fine thanks. I’m sure you must have lots to do.’ Also she had it so perfectly organised that she didn’t like other people to have the opportunity to mess it up.
‘Mermaid cake? A cup of tea?’
‘That would be lovely. With lemon if possible.’
‘Very possible,’ said Flora.
She soon returned with the tea in one of Posy’s Cornish stoneware mugs and the cake on what she considered to be Posy’s best plate, the prettiest of a set of four Cath Kidston ones that she had given her.
‘Beautiful plate,’ said Stella. ‘I’ve seen them in one of my favourite shops. I was very tempted, and by some pink strawberry oilcloth, but I don’t think Linus would stand for it. Too girlie.’
Flora watched enrapt whilst Stella unpacked the show. There were many pocketed canvas rolls full of tricks and puppets, boxes that turned into tables, the magic princess’s hat container became a drum, and the rabbits travelled in style in a pink wooden crate with velvet and rope handles. She went back into the kitchen to report to Posy.
‘Nearly ready. I think we’re kindred spirits.’
‘Well, her husband was really nice,’ said Posy, tipping what was left of the Iced Gems into the bin.
‘The modern child has no qualms about just eating the tops. And they’re now enriched with vitamins and iron. Iced Gems! Talk about decadent.’
‘Irrelevant if it’s the biscuit bit they enrich. You should find out. There might be people relying on that for their children’s nutrition.’
‘Serve them right,’ said Frank, coming in from the garden. ‘I can’t stand it out there any longer.’
‘You’re meant to be supervising,’ said Posy.
‘Ready when you are,’ called Stella.
‘Phew!’ said Posy. ‘I’ll just line them all up for the loo.’
Happy Birthday and All That Page 15