‘That’s great news,’ I said. ‘We must catch up properly later. Have you seen Mum?’
‘She’s in the conservatory with your dad and Georgia. The landlord just announced ten minutes until we can join them so, if you haven’t already got yourself a drink, you might want to wait. There’s drinks on the tables.’
‘Thanks for the heads-up.’
Auntie Sue disappeared into a cubicle and I headed towards the conservatory in search of my parents and sister. The double doors were closed and there was an A3 sheet taped to one of them.
Welcome to June’s 80th birthday
Please relax in the bar until called through.
Thank you!
There was a lovely photo of Mum on the sign. I hadn’t seen it before but I recognised her surroundings as the back garden at Derwent Rise. Either side of the door were easels on which rested boards full of photos. The board on the left depicted Mum’s first four decades and the one on the right showed the next four. All the photos were at jaunty angles and mounted on pretty patterned paper with floral stickers and swirls filling in the gaps. Guilt prodded me again. This was Georgia’s work and it must have taken her hours to create. She’d said she was displaying a few photos but I hadn’t imagined something as impressive as this. I could have helped if I’d known this was the plan, although perhaps I should have realised. ItwasGeorgia, after all, and she never did things by halves, especially when it came to anything creative.
I peered through the glass, debating as to whether to go in or take heed of the sign. Directly opposite the door at the far side of the room was a long table and Mum was sitting on a chair pulled out at the end of it. Nearby was a small table holding a three-tier birthday cake. By the looks of it, Mum was directing Georgia on the angle to display the cake while also directing Dad on where to place a pair of giant silver balloons in the shape of an eight and zero. I smiled as I watched them. Mum did like everything to be just so. The interior of Derwent Rise was always immaculate with everything in its right place. When we were kids, Georgia and I used to wind her up by moving her ornaments a couple of centimetres and seeing if she’d notice. She never said anything, but they always moved back. We escalated our mischief with swapping ornaments around and, once more, they moved back with nothing said. Then I went and took it too far, swapping her favourite figurine of an Edwardian flower seller with the toilet brush. In my defence, the toilet brush was clean and dry, but Mum read me the riot act for that one and we never messed with her belongings again.
I slowly pressed down on the door handle and crept inside.
‘But Mum! This is where it was at the start!’
Georgia normally had the patience of a saint so they must have been faffing with the cake for quite some time for her to sound so exasperated.
‘It isn’t,’ Mum insisted.
‘It is. Exactly.’
‘Okay, it is, but it might have looked better from a different angle so it was worth a try.’
‘How long have you two been bickering?’ I asked, crossing the room, immediately kicking myself for such a negative opening statement. Couldn’t I have gone for a straightforwardhelloorhappy birthday?
‘We’re not bickering,’ Mum said, her tone a little defensive. ‘Just perfecting a few things. If you’re going to do something, you should do it well. You know that.’
It was Mum’s mantra for life and was the approach I took to my work. If only I’d managed to apply it to my personal life.
‘Happy birthday, Mum!’ I said as I bent down to hug her.
‘Thank you, Melanie. Your lovely card arrived yesterday, but why didn’t you save the postage and bring it today?’
‘I wanted you to have something to open when you woke up this morning.’
‘I see! That’s okay, then. We were concerned it meant you weren’t coming today.’
That sounded like a dig but I maintained my smile. ‘I did writelook forward to celebrating with youinside.’
She nodded but didn’t respond, which I translated asthey’re just words and it’s actions that count.Or was that my own guilt filling in the blanks?
‘I’ve missed you!’ Georgia launched herself at me and held me tightly.
‘The guests will appear at any moment,’ Dad said, so Georgia released me.
‘Good to see you, Mel,’ Dad said, giving me a quick hug. ‘Let’s get you over to the door, June.’
I stepped aside as Dad and Georgia helped Mum up from her chair.
‘Can you put the chair back?’ Dad asked me.
‘Sure.’ I pushed the chair back under the table and did a double take. Mum had linked her left arm through Georgia’s and her right arm through Dad’s. Since when had she needed help to walk? I caught Georgia’s eyes, my eyebrows raised in question. She shook her head slightly and focused back on assisting Mum.
