‘He didn’t let go when his tiny little teeth were clamped around my wrist! I’ve still got a scar.’
Meanwhile, a couple of the other staff members had ducked and dodged their way through the melee and were now guarding the terrace doors, only allowing in those seeking refuge, once they’d been frisked for weapons. Poor Mum was still trying to persuade people to stand down, even as she glanced tearfully at the soggy remains of the afternoon tea.
‘We should blockade the outside tap,’ Lance said.
‘Where is it?’
‘A standpipe by the chicken coop wall.’ He nodded to where a queue was forming. ‘With no access to the main building, they’ll soon run out of ammunition once we shut that down.’
I nodded, taking in the sight of a lawn full of older people, ducking and shooting and chucking bowls of water at each other with howls of glee, while their grandchildren capered about in the wet grass, the droplets on their bare skin glistening in the sunshine.
Madeline was perched on her favourite bench, gripping her sides as she wept with laughter.
I shook a strand of sopping wet hair off my face. ‘Maybe give them a few more minutes?’
31
Once aching legs began to tire and stiff backs seize up, we guarded the outside tap while Mum and Dad negotiated a ceasefire. Before anyone came up with any more mischief, I took the opportunity to shoo them inside the main hall for the final entertainment of the day. The one I’d been looking forward to the most.
‘Okay, everyone. We couldn’t have a Queen’s Jubilee party without a tea dance, could we?’
I ignored the collective groan as people sank into the chairs positioned around the edge of the room. ‘I expect everyone who can to get their booties on the dancefloor, and for those who can’t, I’m coming to get you anyway.’
Lance and another staff member whipped the curtains closed, plunging the room into semi-darkness. At the same time, the disco balls usually saved for wedding receptions flicked on, sending hundreds of tiny lights spinning across the shocked and delighted faces. Most importantly, loud enough for even Bertie’s broken hearing aid to pick up, the room was filled with the ‘Hippy Hippy Shake’.
The dancefloor was shaking before we got to the second verse.
* * *
This was where Elliot found me, oblivious to the time ticking, one arm supporting Madeline as she leant on her walker, the other hand gripping Ada’s as we na-na-naahed our hearts out to ‘Hey Jude’.
I spotted him standing in the doorway into the foyer, hands in his pockets, mouth slightly open as he took in the mass of sweaty, dishevelled bodies having the time of their lives.
Letting go of Madeline, I held up a finger to indicate that I’d be with him in a minute, prompting the first smile I’d seen from him all week as he nodded, settling up against the door frame to wait for me. That smile made my breath tighten in my chest. Seeing Elliot so low had reawakened the grimy accusations that I’d done so well at burying since we’d re-established our friendship.
This is your fault.
I knew that wasn’t true.
Doesn’t matter if you didn’t mean it. If you were young. If it was ages ago. Still your fault.
It was a very different experience, singing along while aware that someone – someone I’d once been in love with, and certainly still loved – was watching. Those nahs felt as though they were never going to end. Once the song had faded out, I asked Mum to help Madeline back to a comfortable chair to catch her breath and with an apologetic glance at the clock, hurried through the crowd to the doorway.
‘Sorry, sorry, I totally lost track of the time.’ We’d agreed a three-thirty meeting, and it was now almost four.
‘You’re a lot closer to the correct time than I was, so I suppose I can let it slide,’ Elliot said as we started walking towards the office. ‘Besides, I wouldn’t have wanted to miss that sight for anything.’
He grinned. After almost a week of bleak, distant glances, this made my heart ache. ‘I can’t remember the last time you looked so…’
‘Embarrassing? Sticky?’
‘Alive.’ He paused to let me enter the office first. ‘You looked completely, unashamedly alive.’
‘You should have seen me at the water fight, earlier. Ron Potter chucking a mug of freezing cold water down the back of my neck certainly woke me up.’
It was worth it to see the delight spread across his face. ‘A water fight?’
We spent a few minutes chatting about the day while I made us both a drink, and then got down to business. Or rather, we tried. We seemed to end up on one tangent after another, until Mum poked her head in and told me that they were going in five minutes, and if I wanted to stay any longer I’d have to lock up. Spurred on to race through the final arrangements, we met Mum and Dad jangling their keys by the front door, making no attempt to hide their smirks.
