by Zoe May
‘Here’s some napkins,’ I say brightly, placing a stack next to the cake.
‘Great, thanks.’ Chris takes them from me while holding my gaze.
‘No worries!’ I take a sip of my drink, cowering a little behind the cup.
‘I should probably help Tom with the coats,’ I add, noticing the influx of guests coming through the door.
‘Of course, don’t mind me!’ Chris says as I hurry over to the entrance. Within what feels like a couple of minutes, the hall has become packed. I look over to the buffet to see Chris chatting away to one of Lyn’s friends.
‘Who are all these people?’ I whisper to Tom, glancing around the room at the guests, of all ages, who are sipping at neon cups and chatting in a low, anticipatory hum.
‘Mum’s mates,’ Tom says simply, taking a swig from a vodka and coke.
‘I didn’t realise she had so many…’
Tom shrugs. ‘Well, she has lived in London a long time, and us EastEnders, we stick together.’
I can’t help laughing; he sounds just like Lyn.
‘You know when I first started visiting her, I thought she was lonely,’ I tell him.
‘That’s probably what she wanted you to think,’ Tom teases, tapping his nose conspiratorially. ‘I’d better go get her,’ he adds, before leafing through the rail of coats by the door to retrieve his fleece, which as usual, is covered in dog hair and doesn’t exactly scream ‘party’. But of course, that’s all part of the ruse to keep Lyn unsuspecting.
He pulls it on.
‘EVERYONE!’ He shouts. ‘EVERYONE, I NEED YOUR ATTENTION!’
The hubbub dies down and the guest turn their attention to Tom.
Chris looks over and I give him a little wave, before hating myself for being so dorky. Chris doesn’t seem phased though and waves back. Once Tom has everyone’s attention, he announces that he’s off to collect Lyn.
‘When we’re five minutes away, I’ll text Sophia, and everyone must be quiet. I mean it, completely you-can-hear-a-pin-drop quiet. This has to be a surprise! Got it?’ Tom says in his authoritative teacher way.
‘Got it!’ Several of Lyn’s mates call out.
‘I don’t look drunk, do I?’ Tom turns to ask me. ‘I’ve only had a couple.’
I quickly scan his face but apart from a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, he looks the same as always.
‘No, you look fine! Now go and get Lyn, the crowds are waiting!’
‘Okay, wish me luck!’ Tom calls as he dashes out the front door.
‘Good luck,’ we all call back.
Chapter Twenty-Three
‘Why you dragging me to some bloody council meeting? You know I don’t care about none of that shit!’ Lyn rages so gruffly that that we can hear her from inside the hall.
Crouching behind the buffet tables, we cower in hushed silence waiting for the moment Tom finally gets Lyn inside. Chris is next to me and I’m conscious of his arm brushing against mine.
‘Come on, Mum. It won’t take too long. Anyway, there’s free cake,’ Tom says. I can just picture him, linking arms with Lyn and clamping her to his side, shuffling her towards the entrance.
‘I got cake at home,’ Lyn huffs. ‘I don’t need no shoddy council cake. They’ve probably put something in it anyway, to get rid of us oldies.’
Marg starts giggling.
I shoot her a look. ‘Shhhh!’
She clamps her hand over her mouth and looks down at the floor. Chris’ lip twitches as if he’s suppressing a laugh.
‘Mum, come on,’ Tom groans, opening the door for her.
Lyn hobbles into sight and looks around the hall with a confused expression.
‘Now!’ I whisper and suddenly we all rise to our feet and holler, ‘SURPRISE!’
The confusion on Lyn’s face is instantly replaced by a huge smile. She grins from ear to ear, her face lighting up with excitement.
‘Council meeting!’ she tuts, giving Tom a clip round the ear before pulling him into a tight hug. Two seconds later, she’s ambushed by friends and family.
‘I can see Lyn’s a very loved lady,’ Chris says, smiling warmly as he watches everyone hugging and kissing her.
‘She is indeed!’ I look on affectionately, before reaching for a plate of cucumber sandwiches.
‘Want one?’
‘Thanks.’ Chris takes a sandwich, biting into it and nodding approvingly as he chews. ‘Very nice.’
‘Cheers.’ I pick one up and peel it apart. ‘I was worried the bread might go soggy so I patted the cucumber down with kitchen towel and then I lined each slice with butter, see?’ I hold it up to him.
‘Ah, right, yes. I see,’ Chris comments politely, popping the rest of his sandwich into his mouth.
I flatten the bread back down and take a bite, looking away. What am I doing? Trying to impress Chris with my culinary prowess just because he’s into baking? Why am I trying to impress him anyway? He’s with Laura, I remind myself.
‘Sophia! My love!’ Lyn comes up to me and pulls me into a hug. ‘I can’t believe you did all this!’
‘Well, it was Tom really,’ I reply modestly.
‘Nah, it was the pair of ya. Joint effort. Love, it means the world to me,’ she says, welling up. ‘I’m touched. Really, I am.’
‘It’s nothing, Lyn. You’re like family to me.’ Tears suddenly spring to my eyes.
‘We are family,’ Lyn nods to herself, wiping a tear from her eye. ‘We are.’
I blink back tears and pull her into another hug. I’ve known Lyn for four years now, and she’s always been there for me, providing a safe little enclave of love and support (and copious amounts of biscuits and cake). Whenever life has got confusing, whether it’s been because of big things like my terrible love life, missing my family or job dissatisfaction, or little things like crappy rainy days or PMT, Lyn has always been a source of love and support, cheering me up with her sweet smile and dry wit.
‘Look at us!’ Lyn comments, reaching for a napkin and mopping her eyes. ‘Right pair of sissies.’
She looks over my shoulder and spots Chris, who is politely giving us a moment, while checking out the buffet.
‘Is this your man, Sophia?’ she asks.
‘No! This is Chris! He’s a friend.’
Chris steps forward. ‘Nice to meet you!’ he says and attempts to give Lyn a polite kiss on the cheek, but she’s having none of it and pulls him into a hug.
‘A friend of Sophia’s is a friend of mine!’ she says and Chris laughs.
‘Happy birthday,’ Chris gushes. ‘You’re clearly a very popular lady!’
Lyn shrugs dramatically. ‘When you get to my age you pick up a few friends along the way!’
Chris smiles. ‘Well, I hope my 75th is as good as this!’
‘Thanks, love. But I’ve got my Soph to thank for that.’ She pulls me close.
‘Woop, woop! Let’s get this party started!!’ Tom comes hurtling over and tops up our drinks.
I give Lyn her birthday present – the embroidered cardigan.
‘Oh, Sophia, sweetheart. I love it!’ she says, holding it up to admire the stitching. ‘Better than this old thing,’ she adds, unzipping the quilted gilet she’s got on. ‘I’ll put it on right now!’
She takes off her gilet and hands it to Tom, who rolls his eyes indulgently before going over to hang it up with the other coats. Lyn pulls on the cardigan, which looks great on her.
‘How do I look?’ she asks, doing a little twirl.
Chris cracks up. ‘You look lovely, Lyn,’ he says.
Lyn beams at him. ‘Thanks darling,’ she replies as she does up a few buttons. ‘You know, Sophia told me she had a boyfriend and when I saw you, I just assumed, well, you know…’
Chris lets out an awkward laugh, while I shoot Lyn daggers, wishing she didn’t have such a non-existent brain-to-mouth filter.
‘Where is your boyfriend, Sophia?’ Lyn turns to me, with a sleuth-like expression on her face. I can feel Chri
s’ eyes on me too.
‘He’s, umm…’ I glance down at the floor. ‘He’s…’
‘Lyn! Lyn!’ A little boy, who I think is Alfie’s brother’s grandchild, comes running up to her. ‘Can we eat cake?’
‘Yes, love,’ Lyn says. ‘Of course, you can.’
‘But we need to light the candles first!’ Chris reminds her, turning to the cake where he retrieves a box of matches he’d thoughtfully stashed at the side of the plate.
‘Bit old for candles, aren’t I?’ Lyn objects as Tom sweeps in.
‘You’re never too old, Mum,’ he insists. ‘Light ‘em up, Chris,’ he adds with a wink.
Chris lights a match and holds the flickering flame to one of eight candles encircling the lettering on the cake.
‘I’m glad you didn’t try to fit seventy-five candles on there. Would’ve been a fire hazard!’ Lyn jokes.
‘Indeed!’ Chris laughs as he lights the next candle.
‘Chris made this cake, Lyn,’ I point out.
‘Really?’ Lyn looks taken aback.
‘His mum has a cake-making business. He knows all the tricks of the trade!’
‘Well, that’s quite something!’ Lyn remarks. ‘I thought you’d picked it up from a bakery!’
‘I know! So did I,’ Tom agrees.
‘Thanks guys,’ Chris mumbles, frowning with concentration as he holds the match to the final candle. The flame is getting precariously close to his fingers and the second it catches onto the wick, he yanks the match away and blows it out.
‘Close call!’ he says, discarding the shrivelled match. ‘My mum makes great cakes so maybe it runs in the family.’
‘It must do!’ Lyn insists. ‘Thanks love.’ Her eyes twinkle like the flickering candles. ‘That’s really kind of you, really kind.’
The little boy jumps excitedly, pulling on the hem of Lyn’s new cardigan.
‘Blow them out, blow them out!’ he cries.
‘Great idea!’ Tom agrees. ‘EVERYONE!’ he shouts, silencing the room before launching into a hearty rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’. We all join in and Lyn blushes ever so slightly, smiling ear to ear. Then she leans forward and blows out the candles, to a chorus of whoops and cheers.
Chris cuts the cake and then Tom and I help to plate it up, handing it out to the guests.
Eventually, I get to devour a slice myself. It’s insanely delicious, just as I knew it would be. After at least a dozen of Lyn’s friends have come up to compliment Chris on his amazing baking skills, which naturally Lyn’s already told them about, he and I wander off to the photo booth, leaving Lyn happily unwrapping presents. The photo booth is proving a huge hit, with a crowd of Lyn’s friends and family getting involved, from her older mates right down to the kids.
‘Let’s take a photo,’ I suggest to Chris as we approach.
‘Great idea!’
We wait while a few of Lyn’s mates don wigs and strike poses but then eventually, the trunk of dress up stuff is ours. I grab a blue wig.
‘Oh, nice choice,’ Chris says.
‘Yeah, for you.’ I hand it to him.
‘Really?’ He grins, raising an eyebrow, before taking the wig.
‘Well, in that case, I think it’s only appropriate for you to wear this,’ he insists, handing me a giant clip-on nose.
I roll my eyes. ‘Sexy!’
Chris rummages in the trunk. ‘And this,’ he adds, handing me a pink fedora.
‘Great!’ I shake my head. ‘But I think I need a wig too, I feel left out.’ I reach into the trunk and pull out a Rastafarian-style wig with dozens of beaded plaits. I put it on along with the nose and fedora.
‘Do I look hot?’ I ask, pouting at him as he adjusts his blue wig on his head.
‘Gorgeous,’ he declares, cracking up at the sight of me.
‘Here, I think these would improve your look.’ I hand him a gigantic pair of glasses and a pair of bright red lips on a stick.
‘You’re too kind,’ Chris jokes, taking them from me.
He puts the glasses on and he really does look ridiculous. I can’t help giggling. Tom was right, the photo booth was an excellent idea.
We arrange ourselves in front of the white backdrop and I hold out my phone to take a selfie.
‘Say cheese!’ I exclaim as we strike a pose. Chris widens his eyes in mock alarm, holding the lips over his own, while I pout hard, tilting my head back as if I’m trying to be cool. We stake a few more shots, pulling stupid faces, and then I grab the glasses from Chris and he tries out my fedora and we snap a couple more.
‘Let’s share the lips!’ I suggest on a whim.
‘What?’ Chris looks momentarily confused.
‘We can put them over both our mouths!’ I explain, tilting my head towards his and bringing my mouth precariously close to his. He shoots me a look – the questioning, hesitant, intense look – and I’m suddenly aware of how close we are, our lips just inches from each other’s. I feel his body against mine as we cosy up. I’m aware of his hand on my back. I take the lips from him and hold them up in front of ours, before taking a quick snap.
‘Haha! Great!’ I turn my camera to look at the photo, which shows us looking just as stupid as all the rest.
‘Awesome pic!’ I say, trying to sound casual.
Chris laughs as I scroll through them. ‘You’ll have to message them to me.’
‘Ladies and gentlemen!’ a booming voice intones. Chris and I look over to see Tom standing on the stage at the far end of the hall. ‘Thank you all for coming this evening. It’s wonderful to see you here; it means a lot. I think we can all agree that we’re among excellent company, and we have fantastic decorations, a wacky photo booth, a fabulous buffet courtesy of Sophia, and a wonderful cake by the charming Chris, which you should all be helping yourselves to by the way,’ Tom says, giving Chris a cheeky wink. Everyone turns around to look at him, causing him to smile shyly. ‘But,’ Tom continues, ‘I think it’s safe to say that this fantastic party wouldn’t be complete without karaoke.’
I let out a whoop and Tom grins.
‘So, without further ado, I’m going to kick things off with a rendition of Lucky Star by the one and only, Madonna! Take it away, Gerry.’ Tom glances over at Gerry, a friend from his work who’s agreed to help out with DJing and Gerry nods, pressing play on the karaoke machine. The synthetic-sounding ‘80s opening bars flow out of the speakers and with impressive, and no doubt alcohol-fuelled confidence, Tom belts out the song, dancing around and pointing into the crowd at Lyn when he sings the lyric: ‘You must be my lucky star, because you shine on me wherever you are.’ The whole thing is ridiculously camp and hilarious, but it’s certainly got the party started with everyone laughing and dancing about. I glance over at Lyn at one point and give her a knowing look; surely, she must be able to see that Tom’s gay, but she just smiles sweetly back.
Unexpectedly, Marg is quick to take to the stage after Tom, and does a surprisingly good rendition of Eternal Flame by The Bangles. The granddaughter of one of Lyn’s friends, a pretty girl of about sixteen or seventeen called Paige with long blonde, slightly ropey hair extensions, takes over, singing Poker Face by Lady Gaga. Then Lyn’s godson, a burly fireman called John who’s coat I took earlier belts out a rendition of Wonderwall by Oasis, and by this point everyone is pretty tipsy and practically queuing for a go. The dancefloor fills up and all the guests are busting out their best moves, with a few of Lyn’s elderly mates shimmying over to dance with Chris, who happily twirls them under his arm in mock ballroom fashion making them squeal with delight, while Tom and I dance nearby, cracking out ironically terrible moves with our glowsticks. Tom’s mirror ball and the cheap holographic lamps make the community centre feel like a proper cheesy disco and it’s impossible not to have fun.
The choice of karaoke anthems ranges from slow love ballads by Adele to classic nineties gems like Wannabe by the Spice Girls. After probably my fifth or maybe even sixth rather generous vodka and Fanta, I hop onto
the stage with Tom and we do a drunken and incredibly over-the-top rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody, which everyone seems to love (at least, I think they do. Tom and I love it anyway.) Then someone starts chanting ‘Lyn, Lyn, Lyn’ and after a bit of encouragement, she finally takes to the stage and in between swigs of a can of Guinness, belts out I Will Survive by Gloria Gaynor.
Feeling a little breathless after mine and Tom’s sing-song, I head over to the buffet to top up my drink, while Tom dives right back into the dancefloor, gyrating with one hand on his hip and the other pointing into the crowd as he sings along to Lyn’s karaoke anthem, screeching, ‘I will survive, I will survive, as long as I know how to love, I know I’ll stay alive.’ As I pour more fizzy drink into my cup, I can’t help noting what an amazingly good night I’m having. I expected Lyn’s party to be good, but this is literally the best night I’ve had in ages. It’s weird to think that just a few days ago, I was running out of Windsor Gatehouse, fighting back tears. Now, my face is aching from smiling so much. I finish topping up my drink, take a sip and then reach to touch my face, massaging the sides of my mouth, which sting a little from all the smiling.
‘Great party,’ a voice says. I turn around to see Chris standing behind me, looking slightly flushed, with a garland of shimmery blue tinsel strung around his neck and a glowstick tucked above his ear.
‘What are you doing?’ he narrows his eyes at me and I realise my fingertips are still pressed into my cheeks.
‘Oh,’ I laugh, moving my hand away. ‘Nothing. Want a drink?’
‘No, it’s okay!’ Chris replies. ‘Maude’s been plying me with sherry so I’m a bit pissed as it is.’
‘Haha, join the club!’ I giggle.
‘Come on!’ Chris says, taking my hand and pulling me back towards the dance floor. ‘Let’s dance!’
I laugh as I follow him back into the thick of it and let him twirl me around, feeling daggers from Edna and Maude. Chris beams at me, his blue eyes bright and happy and I can’t help grinning back.
Suddenly, Tom comes bounding up to us and plants a huge kiss on my cheek, before leaning up to plant a smacker on Chris’ cheek as well.