by Nikki Ashton
“Who the hell organises a huge party with only two days’ notice?” she complained to Lucia. “I mean it wouldn’t be so bad if he’d just invited the village residents; we’d only have about eighty or so people to cater for, but no, he has invite everyone from bloody Rickeby too. And,” she cried. “Make it open house, so I have no idea what numbers to expect or at what time. I could kill him.”
Lucia put a comforting arm around Martha’s shoulder. “That’s why he’s organised a catering company and party planner.”
Martha lifted a single eyebrow. “The fact that he could get a party planner this late in the day, during the party season, should tell you how good that party planner is. He wanted to have a mud wrestling ring set up!”
“Ooh dear. I’m guessing you vetoed that idea, dear.” Lucia bit on her top lip. Martha was obviously furious and laughing at the situation would only make things worse.
“I bloody well did; stupid idiot. Although, Luke liked the idea.” Martha sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s going to be a disaster.”
Lucia hugged her closer and kissed her cheek. “It will be fine. Let’s face it, they’ll all be happy with food in their stomachs, some alcohol and few songs from the boys. That’s all anyone needs to enjoy a party; to be full and merry.”
“But what about the kids,” Martha groaned. “They’re not going to be able to enjoy playing with their toys, and what sort of Christmas Day will it be for them with Luke and me playing host and hostess?”
“It’s one day, dear, that’s all. We can always do the family thing on Boxing Day, and if I know those children they’ll all be happy as Larry running around and playing with all the other children on the bouncy castle.” Lucia pushed Martha’s hair that had escaped her messy bun, from her face and gave her a gentle smile. “The children are extremely privileged and have far more opportunities than most, yet all of them are well rounded, unspoilt and totally aware of their situation, so I’m sure you won’t hear any complaints from any of them.”
“I guess you’re right,” Martha sighed.
“Now if Gigi could talk and understood things a little better, that may be a different story,” Lucia said on a tinkling laugh. “That child is pure princess.”
“Hmm that’s true.” Martha grinned and shook her head. “I blame Luke for that too.”
“What do you blame me for?”
Luke walked into the lounge leafing through a ream of papers and stopped in front of his wife and mother, beaming a smile at them both. Martha desperately wanted to be furious with him, but that smile, the one that lit up his beautiful emerald green eyes, set a fire burning in the pit of her stomach.
“Damn you,” she hissed with a shake of her head.
“Am I missing something?” Luke asked, looking from Martha to Lucia. “What’s wrong?”
“I think Martha is a little concerned that having such a large party, with such short notice, is a little ambitious.”
Luke grabbed hold of Martha’s hand and pulled her a little closer to him. “Hey, you shouldn’t be worrying, that’s what I’ve got Guy for.”
“That’s the problem. Guy’s not exactly the best guy for the job,” she replied caustically.
“Okay so the mud wrestling was a bit off the wall, but he’s been spot on with everything else. He’s managed to get a marquee, a bar and a petting zoo for the kids.”
“A petting zoo!” Martha gasped. “You’re joking?”
“No.” Luke’s brow furrowed, unsure why Martha appeared to have an issue with it.
“A bloody petting zoo! Animals running around the garden and pooping everywhere, while there of dozens of kids and Ernie on the loose. Sometimes Luciano Mahoney you are the most stupid man on the planet!” With that she snatched her hand from Luke’s and stormed off in search of Guy, the party planner.
“What did I say?” Luke asked, staring after his wife.
“You’ve organised a party for an unknown number of people on Christmas Day of all days; so what do you think you said to upset her, hmm?”
Lucia gave Luke the thin lipped smile that she had always given to him as a child. The one when she was a little disappointed in him and wanted him to consider his actions.
“Martha loves organising parties,” he replied hesitantly.
Lucia inclined her head, but said nothing.
“I suppose when you put it that way, it is a little bit too much.”
“Yes Luciano, just a little.”
“Ah shit,” Luke muttered and sped off in search of Martha, almost barrelling into Abbie.
“Hey, Lucia,” Abbie said as she looked over her shoulder at Luke. “What’s bitten his ass?”
“Martha. She’s a little stressed and Luciano is firmly at the top of the blame list.”
Abbie giggled and nodded. “Yep, I kinda see where she’s coming from. That party planner guy is pretty lame.”
“So I believe, which means poor Martha is running around putting right all of his ridiculous decisions. She’s on the warpath about the petting zoo at the moment. She’s a little worried about there being animals, children and Ernie all chasing around the garden.”
“Oh I’ve seen the website of the company that are doing it. It’ll be fine, they bring pens to keep the animals in and there are handlers for all the animals. They’re very professional.”
“Hopefully, that will put Martha’s mind at rest then.” Lucia sighed and moved over to the sofa. She lowered herself down and let out a small exhalation.
“You okay?” Abbie asked a look of concern furrowing her brow.
Lucia looked up at Abbie and smiled, widely. “Oh goodness, yes dear. I’m just glad to get off my feet. I have terrible bunions.”
Abbie looked down at Lucia’s mid-height shoes that were slightly pointed at the toe. As usual, Lucia was dressed impeccably in a navy and cream, woollen two-piece, with navy shoes. Abbie didn’t think she’d ever seen the Mahoney matriarch in yoga pants, or slippers; she was always dressed as though she was going on a shopping trip followed by afternoon tea.
“Why don’t you kick your shoes off?” Abbie suggested. “I could go and get you your slippers. You do have slippers, don’t you?”
“I do dear, but slippers are for bed time,” she said with wide eyes.
Abbie hid a giggle and nodded. “Okay, if you’re sure.”
“Yes, I’ll be fine, I just need to take the weight off for a few moments. Sit with me for a little while, Abbie. Tell me all about you and Thomas.”
“Oh,” Abbie gulped. “You know too?”
“Abbie, sweetheart, do you really think that I don’t know what goes on? Plus, have you ever tried keeping a secret in this house, its simply not possible.”
Abbie’s hand went to her throat. “Do you think Jake knows?”
“I don’t think so,” Lucia soothed. “I’m sure if he did Thomas would be sporting some sort of injury.”
“Oh God. He’s gonna hurt him isn’t he?” Abbie flopped down on the sofa next to Lucia and let out a strangled groan.
“I’m joking sweetheart, Jake won’t hurt him,” Lucia replied, laying a hand on Abbie’s arm. “I won’t let him, Luciano and Anthony won’t let him.”
“But even if he doesn’t hurt him, he’ll make life difficult. I just know it.”
Abbie’s eyes brimmed with tears as she imagined Jake insisting that Tom leave the band, or something just as awful. The whole situation was messing with her head; for every step forward she and Tom took, they then took a whole leap back. Yesterday she’d been elated at Tom’s declaration of love, but now, well now she felt miserable that either her brother, or the man that she wanted to be with, may have to leave the band that they loved.
“Hey,” Lucia whispered. “Stop worrying. If I know Jake, and I’ve known him since he was a teenager, he’ll lose his temper, sulk for a few days then realise he’s being silly and shake Tom’s hand. He might make him suffer in other ways for a while, but ultimately they’ll be fin
e.”
“What other ways?” Abbie asked her voice quaking with trepidation.
Lucia waved a hand dismissively. “Oh practical jokes, that sort of thing, the odd barbed comment. You know, the usual things that Jake likes to do. ”
Abbie let out a sigh of relief. “You think so?”
“I do. Now, stop worrying and tell me; do you love Thomas?”
Abbie gave a watery smile and nodded. “Oh I do,” she said breathily. “So much.”
“Good, he deserves a beautiful girl like you. He’s always been the backbone of the band, so now it’s his turn for happiness.”
Abbie was surprised at Lucia’s words. She always thought that Tom was the butt of the jokes for the band. Something she didn’t understand; he was extremely clever and astute in making money outside of their music, yet they all intimated that he was stupid.
“You’re a little startled by that aren’t you?” Lucia said, watching Abbie’s face closely.
“A little.”
“They’d all be startled too, if I said it to them, but he is. The jokes, the messing around, the inappropriate comments; he does it all to keep them focused on the fact that they love each other and distract them from any problems. You watch him closely and you’ll see; silly Thomas usually comes out when the boys are arguing, or one of them has a problem. Jake’s funny but it’s Thomas who really turns their moods around.”
A golf ball size lump formed in Abbie’s throat, as she listened to Lucia. She was so right, Tom did exactly that; acted the fool so that they’d focus on him and not any other mess going on around them. God, he was a beautiful man and he was hers.
“Now,” Lucia said, pushing herself up from the sofa. “Let’s you and I go and see what we can do to help Martha and possibly delay the start of World War 3.”
As Abbie sat with Martha, showing her the petting zoo’s website on her iPad, Tom looked down at the next number on his list. Luke had given him and Skins the task of contacting some people within the community who would spread the word, without letting the whole damn country know what was going on. Jake was in charge of invitations and getting them through doors.
Tom, like everyone else, thought that Luke had lost his mind. It was a great idea and extremely generous of him, but totally insane considering the amount of time that they had to pull it off.
“Hello,” Tom said as his call was answered. “Can I speak to your editor please?”
After a few minutes of promising that he really was THE Tom Davies, Tom spoke to the editor of the local paper and shared Luke’s plan with him. The editor agreed to add a notice in the next days’ Christmas Eve edition of the local paper, inviting everyone to go along to the house on Christmas Day for the party. Tom stipulated that the requirement to be allowed to attend was that everyone bought with them something with their name and address on, as proof that they were indeed a resident and not press or crazy fans. Mike, the editor, agreed and said he’d get onto it immediately.
When Tom told Luke about the proof of address rule, Luke had looked at Tom in awe, slapped him on the back and then told Skins to make the same stipulation with all the people on his list.
“You almost finished with your list?” Jake asked, sidling up to Tom. “Only I need you to try that damn costume on. If it doesn’t fit, I’m running out of time to get you a replacement.”
“I told you Jake, I’m not doing it.” Tom turned his back on Jake and started to walk away.
“Oi,” Jake cried, pulling on his arm. “You don’t seriously think I believe that crap about you being scared of Santa, do you?”
“Well it’s true,” Tom hissed, furtively looking around the room. “And keep your voice down.”
Jake looked around. “Everyone’s too busy trying to pull off this ridiculous plan of Luke’s; no one is listening. So, to get back to the subject; are you going to try it on?”
“No. Now fuck off. Anyway, aren’t you supposed to be organising getting invitations delivered?”
“Yep, and it’s sorted. My delivery guy is coming around lunchtime.”
“You haven’t got them printed up already have you?” Tom was aghast as he stared at his friend. “It’s only ten in the morning. How the hell have you managed to get over two thousand invitations printed and delivered here already?”
Jake gave a smug smile. “Have you wondered why the kids are so quiet?” He beckoned for Tom to follow him.
When they reached Rocco’s playroom, Jake pushed the door open a little wider. Sitting around plastic yellow and green tables were Rocco, Eliza, Ethan and two other small people that Tom had never seen before. They were all cutting pieces of paper that had something printed on them.
“I stayed up late last night printing six invites onto each piece of paper and now the kids are cutting them into individual invitations.”
As Tom looked closely, he saw that each child had a stack of papers piled next to them.
“You can’t give kids scissors,” Tom cried taking a step into the room, before being pulled unceremoniously back by Jake’s hand.
“They’re kid’s scissors,” Jake hissed. “As if I’d risk my baby girls digits with metal ones, you dick.”
“Who are the other two kids? Did you drag them off the street to join your little sweat shop?”
“No,” Jake replied indignantly. “They’re buddies of Rocco and Ethan’s, and before you say anything, their mums agreed it was okay when they bought them over for a play date earlier. Although, I’m not happy.”
“Why not when they’re doing all your damn work for you?” Tom shook his head in disbelief. Only Jake could possibly get away with setting kids to work instead of letting them play.
“For one, the kid with the movie star eyes keeps staring at Eliza like she just told him he’d never have to go to school again and that he could eat chocolate for every damn meal.”
Tom let out a loud laugh as at that very moment, the little boy in question stopped what he was doing and watched in awe as Eliza cut at the paper, her tongue poking out of the side of her mouth as she concentrated.
“See,” Jake hissed. “Hey, Frankie, come on buddy, keep cutting.”
Frankie, jerked from his adoring gaze of Eliza, gave a grin to Jake and carried on cutting.
“They’re what, three-four years of age, Jake? It’s highly unlikely he’s gonna ask you for her hand in marriage any time soon.”
“That kid is four years of age and he already thinks she’s the shit,” Jake said. “Before you know it he’ll be fifteen and will have balls that have dropped and hormones that are raging. I get it, you know, why he’s looking at her like that; she’s beautiful. But she’s my baby.”
Tom looked over at his god-daughter and she was indeed beautiful, with her perfect cupid bow lips, a light dusting of freckles on her cute snub nose and golden blonde curls trailing down her back; but all the same, Jake was being ridiculous.
“And another thing,” Jake added. “The other little monster insisted on a family bag of jelly sweets and a chocolate Santa.”
As Tom shuddered, Jake inclined his head.
“Fuck off Tom, you don’t fool me,” Jake sneered. “Anyway, as I was saying, he’s conned me out of double what the other kids are taking. They’re all happy with the sweets, and didn’t even ask for family size. He’s a little wheeler dealer.”
Tom started to laugh quietly. “Who are his parents? I really need to congratulate them on providing their kid with the skills to outsmart the great Jake Hughes.”
“His name is Billy Devine, a friend of Ethan’s. His dad is Niall Devine, you know that Irish solicitor guy that’s married to Charlotte Price.” Tom nodded, remembering Charlotte from school. “As for the kid crushing on my daughter, well that’s his cousin; Frankie Price; Tom Price’s kid.”
“Didn’t Tom Price marry Bets Dobbs? Her and Charlotte were a year above us weren’t they?”
Jake nodded solemnly. “Yep, you see now why I’m worried. That little monster is from the g
ene pool of two of the biggest flirts Rickeby has ever seen. No wonder they ended up together.”
“Seesh,” Tom groaned, nodding towards the dark-haired, brown eyed child. “He’s a good looking boy now, with those two as parents he’s gonna be a real heart-breaker when he gets older.”
As Jake took a deep calming breath, Tom suppressed a laugh, loving every minute of winding his friend up.
“I have to stop this before it goes any further,” Jake said with shake of his head. “That is Tom Price and Bets Dobb’s kid; it couldn’t get any worse.”
“Hmm, he does look pretty smitten.” Tom nodded towards the children as Frankie reached out a hand to touch Eliza’s arm.
“Right that’s it!” Jake cried as he strode towards the children. “Okay, Frankie boy, let’s me and you go and take Ernie for a walk and have a little chat.”
Taking the opportunity to escape, Tom sneaked away, leaving Jake to have a man to man talk with a four year old.
“What the hell is he doing here?” Luke growled as Pete the Postman idled in the kitchen doorway. “Who let you in?”
Pete sighed heavily and waved at Martha who was standing behind Luke. Luke spun around, looked at Martha and then turned back to Pete.
“And you can keep your hands off my wife!”
“Oh Luke,” Martha groaned. “Stop being so ridiculous. I’ve explained this to you, Pete and I were only ever friends.”
When Luke and Martha had been separated for a short time, Pete had taken Martha on a date and then snogged her in front of Luke to make Luke jealous; evidently it had worked.
“He had his tongue down your throat, I saw it, so don’t tell me you were just friends.” Luke threw a glare at Pete before pulling Martha against his side.
“Well her snogging Pete isn’t half as bad as you…”
Before Jake had time to finish his sentence, Tom clapped a hand over his mouth. “If you value your life I suggest you shut the fuck up,” he hissed in Jake’s ear. “It’s bad enough you’ve asked Postman Pete to deliver the invites, you know how Luke feels about him.”
Jake’s eyes rolled towards Luke, who was gripping onto Martha for dear life and thankfully was too distracted with protecting what was his to have heard Jake almost discuss ‘The Bathroom Incident’.