by Gil McNeil
‘I mean they’re not making the slightest effort – it’s pathetic. I’m starting to think this garden thing might not be such a good idea, you know. I mean if I want a load of sullen-looking people hanging around the place I can hire a few more nannies. And that old man over there keeps going on about his uncle who was taken prisoner by the Japanese. Like I care.’
‘I think he’s trying to make a point about the sushi, darling.’
Charles is smiling.
‘Oh is he? Well, if he doesn’t like it he can just bugger off home then, can’t he? I’m sure we’ll struggle on somehow, without his scintillating company. No, really, Charles, it’s not funny. Alice – this can’t really be the cream of the village, surely? Tell me there are some fascinating people who somehow got missed off the list. Local artists, something like that?’
‘Um. Not really. I mean I don’t know everybody, but this is pretty much it as far as I can see.’
‘Bloody hell. Well, that’s definite then. I thought this garden thing would be fun, but they’re all so boring. I’m sure they can use someone else’s garden. You wouldn’t mind, would you, Alice?’
Christ. I can’t believe she’s really going to pull out now. I mean obviously part of me is rather glad because it will get me off the hook, but it does seem rather hard just because people aren’t being very sparkling at her party.
Charles looks furious. Actually, he looks quite steely when he gets going.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Lola – we’ve said yes now. We can’t suddenly change our minds just because a few people turn out to be rather shy. Not everybody is as good at socialising as you are, you know.’
‘You’d think they’d welcome a bit of glamour. It’s ridiculous.’
‘We can’t back out now – we’ve said they can have the land.’
‘Well, don’t expect me to sort it out when it’s a total disaster.’
‘Thank you for being so encouraging, darling.’
Lola flounces off.
Charles smiles at me apologetically.
‘Sorry about that. Lola’s enthusiasms tend to come and go, but I’m sure she didn’t mean to be rude about your design.’
‘Oh no, not at all. I mean she has got a point, you know – I haven’t got the faintest idea about gardens.’
‘I’m sure it will be lovely.’
Lola’s parents have arrived, and The Great Composer is soon ensconced in a corner with a couple of trendy types dancing attendance and talking about tonal music. Lola’s mother has given Ezra loads of classical CDs because it’s never too early to start educating musical tastes, and then she hovers near her husband, looking anxious.
I’m introduced to Gerald and Lavinia, Charles’s parents, who also seem slightly vague about their grandparently duties. Lavinia is drinking sherry and having a long conversation with a woman who breeds cocker spaniels, and Gerald appears to be having a light doze in an armchair. But they have at least brought a nice present, a beautiful rocking horse which Ezra seems to like, mainly because Mabel has already fallen off it.
Lavinia keeps barking out orders at Charles: no wonder he copes so well with Lola. Years of being bossed about by his mother must have been really good preparation.
The afternoon passes in a blur of cake and yelling. Thankfully it’s dry so the children can play in the garden, although Bruno, a rather sturdy five-year-old, manages to get wedged into a bush behind the garage and has to be dragged out screaming. This doesn’t seem to bother his father, who works in Lola’s office and is wearing a mohair jumper, but his mother, Mimi, is worried that he might have developed claustrophobia and rings her homeopath on her mobile to book an emergency appointment.
Bruno appears to recover when Lola gives him a fun-size Mars Bar, which he crams into his mouth while his mother is busy explaining that he doesn’t really like chocolate and prefers dried apricots. Molly and I exchange amused glances, because Bruno looks just like the kind of child who would bite you hard if you tried to fob him off with a dried apricot.
Ezra’s busy marching round the garden telling everyone he’s six now, and a big boy, not like silly Mabel, who’s playing quite happily with Lily. They’re both having a lovely time in their pink party frocks and Lily’s teaching Mabel how to do ballet. Alfie and his new friend George are being dogs, and gradually Lily and Mabel get drawn in. Mabel might be the youngest but she can certainly hold her own. She refuses point blank to sit, but quite likes crawling round on all fours barking. They’re all enjoying themselves immensely when Ezra tries to join them.
‘I’m the biggest, so I’m in charge.’
George isn’t keen.
‘I’m the big dog. You can be a sheep.’
Oh dear. Somehow I don’t think the birthday boy is going to see himself as a sheep.
‘You can’t be the big dog – you’re just a baby. A baby like Mabel. Mabel table.’
Mabel is having none of this, and chucks a stick at him, and Alfie looks like he might be about to do the same and I’m just on the point of heading over to calm things down before someone gets impaled on something when Lily takes charge and announces that Ezra’s being Very Horrible, and nobody is to play with him. She’s very good at this sort of thing and likes to boss the little ones around at playgroup, but she does it so nicely that they mostly don’t care.
Alfie and George are still rather keen on the stick-throwing thing, but fall into line when Lily says she and Mabel are now cats, and Alfie and George have to chase them. They race off squealing and poor old Ezra is left looking very miserable.
Molly tries to help him out by asking him to show us his brilliant new rocking horse, and he reluctantly agrees, but then wanders off while Lola is introducing us to a man from her office who I think is called Tray, but it might be Troy, who seems very pleased with himself, and begins telling us about his recent trip to Peru.
Molly manages to escape but I get stuck with Tray for what seems like hours until Dan comes over to rescue me, after I’ve been giving him frantic looks.
‘Sorry, Alice, but Jim says he needs your help with Alfie.’
We move off towards the other side of the garden.
‘Did he really say that?’
‘No. He’s having a blinding time, chatting up all the women. Have you seen Moll?’
‘No. I think she’s gone inside. Oh, and congratulations, by the way, I forgot to say earlier, about the baby.’
‘Oh thanks. We’re hoping the next one might be a good sleeper. Lily was awful. Well, she still is really. She was up at half-past five this morning. Dancing round in her ballet outfit. Did Moll tell you? Janice’s signed her up for baby ballet, one afternoon a week. They all prance round in little skirts, hopping and stuff. She looks really sweet, but not at the crack of bloody dawn. I had to get up in the end – Moll needs her sleep at the moment.’
‘I think second ones are supposed to be easier.’
Actually, I’m not sure this is strictly true. Jim was a really good sleeper according to Mum, whereas I was terrible. But I want to be encouraging.
‘As long as it’s all right, I don’t care really. You forget, don’t you, how nervous you get, before they’re born, I mean. We’ve got the first scan in a few weeks, and I was thinking, maybe we should take Lily. Start getting her used to the idea. Moll thinks she’d be bored with all the hanging about, but I think she’d quite like it.’
I know what’s really scaring Molly is the thought of there being something wrong, and if there was it would be awful if Lily was there. But she doesn’t want to tell Dan because then he’ll worry. She rang last night, and I’m under strict instructions to say I think they’d be better off going on their own.
‘Maybe taking her to the next scan would be better – you know, the one where the baby’s a bit bigger. It’s hard to work out what’s going on when they’re so tiny, isn’t it?’
‘True, and I think Moll’s worried there might be something the matter with it. She was convinced there’d be some
thing wrong with Lily right up until she was born. She won’t say anything, of course, but I know she is.’
‘I did too, with Alfie. I think everyone does.’
‘I just wish she’d slow down. She’s always working on something, you know, for school. She was up really late last night covering loads of cards in that plastic stuff. And she’s always got work to do at the weekends.’
‘I know. But it’s half-term coming up soon, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, we were going to try to get away for a few days, but I’ve got a big job on. Oh and I meant to say, just let me know if you need any help with the garden. Moll’s been telling me all about it.’
‘Oh thanks, Dan, that’d be great.’
We talk about the plans while we walk back to the house to get some tea. It might be sunny but it’s still bloody freezing outside. He’s so nice, Dan, and he seems really excited about the new baby, although he says he thinks Molly’s got the idea he wants a boy, whereas in fact he’d prefer another girl because he thinks it would be nicer for Lily.
Molly seems to have got stuck in a long complicated conversation about the history of her cottage with an old man who’s lived in the village for about three hundred years, and Jim’s still roaming the house and seems especially keen on a rather gorgeous blonde woman called Nicky, who has fantastic legs, and works in Lola’s office. He says Lola’s been giving him the eye but he’s trying to avoid her because he’s been getting loads of good gossip, and apparently most of Lola’s office, especially the juniors, really hate her. According to Nicky Lola fired her secretary and an account manager in the same afternoon, mainly because she’d been shopping for trousers at lunchtime and couldn’t find any that fitted properly.
I wander back into the garden with my tea to check on Alfie but mainly to escape Tray again, who’s been giving me a lecture on Bauhaus now he’s discovered that I’m an architect.
Charles is outside too, trying to make sure none of the children end up in the pond.
‘The party seems to be going well.’
‘Yes, Lola’s marvellous at organising parties – well, marvellous at organising everything really. Good job too, because it’s not my strong point. Not a great multi-tasker – I think that’s what Lola calls it. It’s in the genes, I think. My mother’s always saying my father’s hopeless as well. Even the dogs ignore him. But if my mother so much as raises her eyebrows they all charge off to their baskets.’
‘Perhaps she might like to come round one day and try raising her eyebrows at Alfie.’
Alfie’s still running round in circles with George being a dog, but he doesn’t seem to be annoying anyone so I decide to leave him to it. Lily and Mabel are back to doing ballet, with occasional bursts of being sheep, just to keep Alfie and George busy. Ezra’s still circling on the outskirts trying to look disdainful, but obviously desperate to join in, poor thing, but in the end he goes back into the house. I’ve always thought it can be quite hard being the birthday boy.
Mr Channing comes over, and then someone called Frank, and Elsie Thomas, and we start talking about the plans for the new garden. Before I know it I’m being bombarded with information on soil types and herbs I’ve barely heard of. Mr Channing says he loves fennel, and Frank says he can highly recommend sage and then everybody gets rather overexcited, and starts talking about walled gardens and whether it’s possible to grow a really good peach on a south-facing wall.
‘If you’re after fruit trees, Graham Poltney’s your man. He comes to the meetings usually, but he’s had a terrible chest this winter. I saw his wife in the shop the other day and she said he’s on the mend, but he’s had a terrible time of it. He’s had a cough to wake the dead.’
Before Elsie can get too involved in Mr Poltney’s chest Charles steers her on to safer ground.
‘It’s so good of you all to help out like this.’
Mrs Thomas, who must be at least eighty, gives Charles a very flirty look.
‘They’ll be delighted, I’d say. Be nice to be taken a bit of notice of for a change. I was saying to old Frank, just the other day, wasn’t I, Frank, it’s as if you become invisible once you get your pension.’
Old Frank, who actually looks at least twenty years younger than Elsie, nods.
Elsie’s really going into one now.
‘It’s like that girl in the shop. Do you know she asked me if I needed any help carrying my shopping home the other day. The cheek of it! Day I can’t carry my own bit of supper home is a long way off yet, I hope. And when it does come I shan’t be bothering anyone to carry my shopping for me, I can tell you. I’m getting one of those wheelie bins, like Mrs Norris.’
Nobody seems quite sure what she’s talking about until Frank suddenly works it out.
‘Oh, you mean her electric scooter.’
Elsie gives Frank a withering look.
‘Yes, that’s what I’m saying. Nearly flattened me, outside the shop. Daft woman, she can’t control it, you know. They shouldn’t have given it to her, if you ask me. But she’s always been in with the doctor, that one. I’ve got a bad hip, and it’s no joke, believe me. But I just carry on – I don’t like a fuss. And I’m not having one of those home helps either. Waste of time and money, if you ask me. Snooping into all your things, and emptying out your cupboards. No thank you very much.’
Alfie chooses this moment to come over demanding more cake. Thankfully he says please, and gives Mrs Thomas one of his special pleading smiles, which she says reminds her of her grandson, and she wouldn’t mind another tiny slice of cake herself, so we all troop back indoors.
Lola’s in the kitchen making pasta sauce, and seems to have invited all her London friends to stay to supper, whilst making it fairly clear that the locals should be thinking about leaving.
Frank offers to drive Elsie home, and this seems to be a signal for most of the villagers to leave, so I invite Molly and Dan back to supper, and find Lola to say goodbye.
‘Oh do stay to supper – I’m making my special sauce. It’s fabulous.’
‘I’m sure it is, but Alfie’s really tired. We’d better get home before he starts kicking off. But thanks so much, it’s been lovely.’
‘Oh well, if you’re sure. Charles, give Alice some cake. And do take a party bag – they’re in the hall.’
It turns out we’ve all got party bags, and all the bags have names written on them. Mine’s full of jelly babies, and mini bottles of posh bubble bath and some silver nail varnish. Molly gets chocolate buttons, and metallic-blue nail varnish, which I know she’ll never wear. I must remember to ask her if I can swap it for some jelly babies. Alfie and Lily get whistles and sweets, and Jim and Dan get chocolate footballs and racing cars. Whoever did the research on the party bags did a brilliant job.
We try to persuade Alfie and Lily to wait until we get home before they start eating their sweets, but they’re having none of it and begin blowing their whistles, and then Ezra and Mabel start getting very agitated because they don’t have bags, and things get rather Tense. Lola tries explaining that the bags are for people who are leaving, so Ezra puts his coat on and says he’s coming with us and he wants a bag too.
Still on a high from discovering I now own silver nail varnish and have a pretty good chance of adding metallic-blue to my collection, I say they can come home with us for a bit if they like, because Ezra seems so desperate. Of course I don’t actually mean this, because nobody in their right mind would willingly take on a six-year-old at the end of his birthday party, especially not Ezra, but Lola seems delighted.
‘Maybe they could just wander down the lane with you for a bit. What do you think, Charles? I know, why don’t you go with them, get some fresh air, and see if you can’t get Ezra to calm down.’
We all walk down the lane, which is crowded with BMWs and massive jeeps, and the children begin squabbling, and Lily drops her sweets. Dan begins singing ‘Old Macdonald’ before she can get completely distraught, and does a very realistic impression of a sheep, wh
ich Lily loves. Alfie and Mabel soon join in, and even Ezra can’t resist. Jim gives me a pleading look, but I insist he sings too, and it turns out he can do a very good impression of a donkey, much to his horror.
When we get in Dan puts on a video while I open some wine and Jim lights the fire, and while I’m making pizzas Molly begins a story with a starring role for each child, and they all sit transfixed. Dan takes over, and then Charles has a go, although Molly has to take over again when Ezra climbs on Charles’s back and begins jabbing him in the bottom while he’s being a lion. I’m excused story-telling duty because I’m busy grating cheese and trying to work out who’s likely to throw themselves on the floor screaming if I put olives on their pizza.
Charles says he’d better get the children home but seems rather reluctant to leave. I don’t think he’s really looking forward to an evening with Lola’s smart friends. I’ve asked them to stay to supper but Ezra’s definitely had enough of being the birthday boy. He’s already whacked Mabel a couple of times and she’s squirted juice all over him, and looks like she might be building up to more violent retribution any minute. Sure enough as they’re leaving they start shoving each other and Charles ends up having to march them up the lane in disgrace.
The pizzas are a great success, and Jim and Dan talk about football while Molly and I are reduced to talking about clothes and babies, until we realise we’d better call it a night before we start swapping recipes for Victoria sponge.
Lily’s fast asleep as Dan carries her out to the car, and Alfie’s gone into a sort of half-asleep, half-awake trance in front of the telly. He doesn’t even murmur when Jim carries him up to bed.
All the talk about gardens and plants at the party has made me realise that I’m really going to have to start concentrating, and I fall asleep thinking about circular walls and water features, and end up dreaming about a huge wall, which falls down, and an enormous fountain that takes up the entire garden and for some reason is full of bright-pink water. Oh god.