by Jenny Colgan
‘Great. That ought to compensate. We can take bets on who’s going to be the first person to fall through it. OK, Kate, where are we with the guest list again?’
Kate sounded bored. ‘Elton John, Elizabeth Taylor, the Beckhams, the Olivers, and an assortment of weather girls.’
‘Really? Oh no, I mean, ha ha ha,’ said Josh.
‘The Jameses, who are bringing their other mates from the office; Sophie and all your poncey lawyer friends; Holly’s florist mate; some of the old college crowd, who will sit in a corner and ignore everyone else all night. And us. Including Addison. Maybe.’
‘How many’s that?’
‘About fourteen.’
‘Oh God; we’re catering for two hundred.’
‘Well, I like sausage rolls,’ I said, staring at the massive platters of food. ‘But maybe not for the rest of my natural life.’
‘All that houmous,’ moaned Josh.
‘Well, they’re all bringing people,’ said Kate. ‘The Jameses have got me to deal with if they don’t. So, I wouldn’t worry.’
‘Please can I have a beer?’ I said.
‘No,’ said Kate. ‘You’ll have passed out by the time everyone arrives.’
‘On one beer?’
‘On the beer after the beer after the beer after the beer after the beer.’
We stared into space again.
‘What time do you think they’ll be here?’ whined Josh, for about the billionth time.
‘Either you stop asking or I’ll slap you on the back of the legs,’ said Kate.
‘Don’t have kids,’ I said, with a shudder.
‘Why would I need kids when I have you and Josh?’
‘What about Addison?’
‘And my autistic son, Addison.’
‘Maybe he can just be your son-in-law,’ I said.
‘You know, interestingly enough, the odds of you and Addison getting married are almost exactly the same as you being my biological daughter.’
I ballooned my cheeks and blew the air out of them slowly to stop myself from biting her.
‘Well, can we go to the pub then? That’s what most people do when they’re having a party. Relax, throw a couple of things together, then just let people turn up.’
‘Do they?’ asked Josh in alarm.
‘Yes,’ said Kate. ‘That’s why most parties are rubbish.’
The phone rang. It was one of the Jameses, phoning up to cancel. Just as well he didn’t turn up to tell us in person; Kate might have eaten him.
‘Well, either you turn up tonight or you don’t bother turning up on Monday morning,’ I heard her say menacingly down the telephone. Josh and I looked at each other with panicked expressions on our faces.
‘You can’t sack someone for not turning up to your party!’ we chorused, as soon as she’d slammed down the phone.
‘Why not?’
‘Ehm, because it’s wrong?’
‘Why? It was wrong of him to lie about his grandmother being ill.’
‘If he was lying,’ said Josh.
‘He was lying. He’s a very good liar. That’s why I hired him. He’ll be here.’
The phone rang again.
‘I’ll get it!’ yelled Josh, anxious to spare some other poor bastard.
‘Ehm, yes, she is. Hold on a moment. Who’s calling please?’
Josh slowly put his hand over the receiver and turned to face us with a dramatic expression on his face. He was clearly making the most of the moment.
‘Ahem … Skates?’
‘Uh huh?’
‘It’s someone called “John” for you. Or Kevin Costner, if you will.’
Kate’s head shot up as if she’d just been goosed.
‘Oh my God! But I haven’t had a bath!’
‘It’s the telephone, not the smell-o-phone.’
‘Tell him you’re not here,’ I hissed. ‘Be dark and mysterious. And Josh: stop making camp remarks.’
‘A month ago I could have been dark and mysterious,’ Kate hissed back at me, beckoning for the receiver. ‘But now I am absolutely desperate.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘Hello,’ she purred down the telephone. Here was one man who wouldn’t be getting a sacking. A sucking, maybe.
‘Really? Oh, what a shame,’ she purred on. ‘Never mind: how was America?’
‘The elder one was fine but the little one’s had a bit of a cough,’ I said to Josh under my breath.
‘I’m terribly sorry, but we’re rather in the middle of a party …’
Josh and I made huge ‘no’ motions in front of the phone, shaking our heads and waving our arms.
‘You could come if you like …’
Josh mimed extreme despair as she gave our address. I stuck my fingers down my throat and made elaborate vomiting motions.
‘OK, see you later!’ And she made that weird giggling noise again.
‘Yes!’ she yelled as she put the phone down, bouncing her fist off the table.
‘Here we go again,’ said Josh quietly.
‘Kate, by way of celebration, don’t you think we should open a bottle of that wine?’
‘No!’
Four hours later we were still sitting at the kitchen table, although we were a bit smarter. Josh, bless him, had his dinner jacket on. Huge amounts of hearty teasing hadn’t persuaded him to dress otherwise, so we were contenting ourselves by calling him by his surname and ordering him to bring us drinks. As soon as nine o’clock came, Kate had sanctioned the opening of the wine, and we fell on it like ravenous beasts.
‘What if nobody turns up?’ I asked, cramming a handful of prawn thingies into my mouth.
‘I’ll kill myself,’ said Josh. ‘My life will be of no meaning.’
‘I won’t care,’ said Kate. ‘John will be here.’
‘Aha – two such brilliantly well-balanced attitudes. I’m going to get Addison. The party’s officially started, and he promised to be here.’
I went and knocked on his door. There was the heavy sound of bolts being drawn back that made me think unpleasantly of right-wing militia groups.
‘Hey there … are you OK?’
‘Unh huh.’
‘It’s the party now. Don’t you want to come and have a glass of wine?’
‘Are there other people in the house?’
‘Nope, not yet. Come on.’
‘You know, once I was in a house that burned down.’
I stopped in my tracks and stared at him. A voluntary phrase about his own life was almost completely unheard of.
‘Oh my God! What happened?’
He ignored me.
‘So, I was thinking, maybe I shouldn’t have the bolts, in case there’s a fire …’
‘Did anyone die in the fire?’
He blinked.
‘Yes. My father. So, do you think I should take the bolts down?’
I was utterly dumbfounded and simply stared at him, my heart aching.
‘I’m so … I’m really, really sorry.’
‘It was a long time ago. Do you think Kate will let me have a beer?’
If she knew this, she’d let him have her car.
‘Ehm, I expect so,’ I felt completely disconnected, and simply followed him through into the kitchen. I had two alive and rudely healthy parents, even if they did live at opposite ends of the country and hate each other’s guts, and a sister who drove me crazy, and this was all way beyond me.
I wanted to grab him and sit on his lap and never let him go. So, I did the next best thing and got him a beer. He didn’t mention it again.
Five
At ten thirty, Josh announced he was heading into the bathroom to slit his wrists, and would anyone like a beer while he was in there, since we had one hundred and fifty, and there were still only four of us.
I wasn’t adding to the party mood at all – and neither was the music. We were letting Josh play ‘Wood Beez’ in an attempt to get it out of his system – post Addison’s bombshell I was
just staring into space. Oh my God, no wonder he was how he was. I was overflowing with love. I would make things OK for him. I would take care of him. I … well, I wouldn’t light any open fires around him.
Kate was hyperventilating in case she’d given John Doe the wrong directions. Addison having collected his beer, dripping wet from the melted ice in the bath, had disappeared again. In honour of the occasion he was wearing shorts and a T-shirt with the cover of The Wasp Factory on it. Josh had loosened his bow tie in despair, and looked pleasingly Brideshead. I had debated with myself whether to tell them about Addison and decided no, there are better times to discuss enormous emotional trauma than right before a party. During a party, shouted out at high volume, whereby you’ll completely forget about it the next day – that’s fine.
Finally, at ten to eleven, the doorbell rang. Our collective sigh of relief was enormous, and Josh strode to the door manfully. There, attractive and composed, with a rather nice bottle of wine, was someone who couldn’t have more been called Sophie if they’d had it tattooed on their forehead – not that a Sophie would ever entertain the possibility of getting a tattoo.
‘Everyone, this is Sophie,’ beamed Josh.
‘No, really?’ said Kate. I looked at her. She was usually beyond aggressive to women who crossed Josh’s path. If the girls were nice, it was like watching 1984. Fortunately they all tended to be blonde, posh and up themselves. Now I come to think of it, they were usually called Sophie as well.
‘Nice to meet you. I’m Kate, and this is Holly.’
‘Hellayerh!’ she said, managing to use a quite extraordinary number of syllables. ‘Naice to meet you! Nearw, which one of you is interested in joining the bar?’
Kate and I made Bugs Bunny-style simultaneous pointing motions at each other.
‘Both of you? How farbulous!’ She plonked down her pony-riding bottom. ‘Gin and tonic, please, Joshua. I say, wasn’t there supposed to be a party? Or was this just a ruse to get me to come along, hya hya hya.’
‘No, actually, the ruse was …’ I started, but Josh gave me an imploring look, so I shut up. Fortunately Sophie didn’t appear to be the listening-to-people-when-they-talk type.
‘The bar, yar? You know, I was in the top six of my year group there.’
‘Were you really?’ Kate said elaborately. ‘Well, gosh, that makes you better than us.’
‘Oh no, I’m sure it doesn’t,’ said Sophie, with a smile. ‘First question though, is getting in. It’s pretty tough. I mean, it’s not quite “what does your father do …?”’
‘He works for social services,’ I said promptly. Which was true.
‘Oh. Well, you know, never mind. What about yours?’
‘He’s a GP,’ said Kate, through gritted teeth.
‘Oh, how very mid! That will do you no harm at all, ectually. Of course, my daddy’s just a farmer, isn’t he, Josh?’
‘Eh?’ said Josh, who was busy carving up lemons.
‘I said, my daddy’s just a farmer, isn’t he?’
‘Ehm, no, actually; Sophie’s dad owns half of Cheshire! Ha!’
‘Ha ha ha! Well, not exactly half.’
I glanced at Kate. Her face was a picture.
Josh brought over the drinks and sat next to Sophie, gazing at her adoringly.
‘Next thing, you really have to grease up to any judges you know. Of course, I’m only doing it en route to a safe Tory seat – once we get rid of this bunch of charlatans, naturally.’
Thankfully, the doorbell rang. Kate and I both jumped up to get it, but I let her win. My heart sank when I heard an uncharacteristic yelp of delight. And, sure enough, she led in John, her face bright and glowing. He was definitely extremely suave, with a soft shirt on, which even though it looked just like an ordinary shirt in terms of buttons, collar, cuffs etc, was somehow also deeply, deeply tasteful and expensive. He was exceptionally handsome. He did resemble Kevin Costner, but in this light I realized it was Kevin Costner in his eighties baseball movies and not in his nineties post apocalyptic piss-drinking phase. He handed over a bottle of champagne and another of wine.
‘You know Holly and Josh, of course …’ We all nodded, although we didn’t know him at all. ‘And this is Sophie.’
I could hear from the faint tremor in her voice exactly what she was thinking: this is Sophie. She is blonde and she owns Cheshire. Do you prefer her to me? Well, do you?
John simply shook her hand, whilst Sophie giggled and blushed up at him.
‘Oh, hello, John … Ooh, you’re American. It’s so lovely to meet an American.’
‘Sophie was in the top six at her year in the bar,’ I said helpfully. Kate and Josh both looked upset. ‘But she’s never met an American.’
‘No, of course I have, Holly!’ said Sophie earnestly. ‘And I think they’re really nice.’
‘Well, thank you, ma’am.’ John pretended to tip his cap at her. ‘Any place a body can git a drink round here?’
‘Listen to that lovely accent,’ said Sophie.
Kate sidled up to me and grabbed the nearest thing that came to hand.
‘Hit her with this and I’ll throw her over the fire escape,’ she hissed.
‘It’s a plastic colander.’
‘So? Hit her a lot.’
The doorbell rang again, and I went to answer it. It was Chali and six complete strangers, most of whom were exceptionally scruffy, except Chali, of course, who was clearly their queen, and one other person who was unconscious and being carried. I was so pleased to see someone I knew that I went completely over the top, given that she was a work colleague and I’d known her for less than a month.
When I returned to the kitchen, the new age travellers in tow, Josh was still up fixing a drink for John, who was sitting between Kate and Sophie, who were both desperately trying to talk to him.
‘So, here we are then!’ I said stupidly. OK, so there were some people here, lots of booze, lots of food, music, candles and low lighting … yet, somehow, it didn’t quite feel like an actual party. The temptation was to say, ‘OK, everybody – start!’
‘OK, everybody,’ said Josh, popping open a bottle of champagne, ‘start!’ and he turned the volume up on ‘Pray like Aretha Franklin’.
When the new age travellers saw all the canapés, their eyes lit up, they dropped the unconscious one in the doorway and leapt across the room, pockets ajar. Chali, however, stopped them with a raise of her hand. As we all turned to watch her, she felt in her minuscule handbag. I watched, fascinated to see what she would bring out – a home-made cheesecake? Crack cocaine? In fact, she brought out a CD with a pure white cover on it, cut off poor old Scritti, and inserted it.
Immediately the house started to bang as if it were about to fall apart, and the new age travellers all started to hop up and down. The doorbell rang again. The first person tripped over the guy in the doorway and spilt some of their booze. Prawn wingwangs were suddenly being crammed into faces and jammed into the carpet. Fags were lit.
‘OK, everyone!’ announced Chali. ‘Start!’
Amazingly, after that, the place began to fill up. OK, I didn’t actually know that many people who were there, but still, it was pleasingly noisy. I decided to get seriously drunk, to compensate for not knowing many people at my own party. I talked confusingly for a bit to some of the Jameses, who had all turned up from the pub in suits and ties, and seemed nervous. One had even brought Kate another present, in case it was a continuation of her birthday party. I told him it was mine and took the present, but disappointingly it was a gizmo-gadget for her hand-held computer that told you share prices on the moon or something. I tucked it away anyway, in case I ever had to give Kate something.
Then I bounced through to the kitchen, carefully avoiding old friends from college who would doubtless be very happy to ask me how my career was going whilst talking about their new cars and that endlessly fascinating topic, London house prices. And, in fact, if I wasn’t very much mistaken, one of them was checking their w
atch, worrying about the babysitter. Argh.
Back in the kitchen, Josh was sitting at the table desperately trying to pretend that he was in a party of four when he clearly wasn’t – Kate and Sophie were both facing directly away from him. I sat down next to him and poured us both another glass of champagne.
‘How’s it going?’
‘Oh, fine, fine,’ he said, in his usual enthusiastic tones.
‘No, I mean with Sophie.’
Sophie was currently telling John why she was going to be the new Margaret Thatcher, but without the wishy-washy social policies. John appeared to be listening. Kate was wearing a very tight-lipped smile.
‘Oh, yes, yes, coming along quite nicely.’
‘Josh, she’s completely ignoring you.’
‘Well, that’s perfectly normal, isn’t it?’
I realized how hurt he was.
‘No it’s not! Either you should be in there fighting for her, or give her up as someone who’s too up themselves. Look at that guy too! He’s like a pig in shit.’
‘I think they call them pigs in a blanket in America.’
‘Really? Well, that’s what he is.’
‘So, you think I should win her back?’ he asked, perking up.
‘Well, I’m not sure you had her,’ I said tactfully. His face fell. ‘But, you know – yeah! Courtly love and all that.’
‘Yes, right. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Sophie?’
‘… that’s why I love America: it’s so classless,’ Sophie was saying to a polite-looking John. ‘Yes, Joshua? Oh, Joshua, please could you mix John and I another jug of Pimms?’
‘Sure,’ said Josh. I nudged him. ‘And … I’ll be wanting to talk to you when I get back!’
‘Ooh, do you think I’m in trouble?’ She nudged John flirtatiously.
Kate jumped out of her seat and came over to join me.
‘Complete bitch!’ she said loudly.
‘What’s that … you’ve got a terrible itch?’ I said, conscious of our proximity to the other two at the table.
‘No, didn’t you hear me? I said, “What a COMPLETE BITCH!”’