‘Yes, don’t be weird about it.Just open it.’
The shirt is beautiful.It’s a simple dark navy linen, but it’s edged with floral Liberty fabric, and when he turns upthe cuffs, as he always does, there’s a flash of golden thread woven through the flowers.It fits him perfectly.
‘I can’t believe you made this,’ he gasps.
‘I’m naturally talented.’
It all feels complete when Haf pulls out a pot of gold glitter gel and swipes a couple of lines across his cheekbones, like golden blusher.He feels more himself – no, morethanhimself because of their love and belief in him.
Everyone is dressed up to the nines.Kit wears a slinky structured black dress that just screamsI’m an architectbut in a way that works for her so completely, which clashes with Haf’s pink sequin mini dress and cowboy boots.Any party is a reason for Laurel to wear silk, and she slinks along in a champagne gown.And tucked into high-waisted wide-leg trousers, Ambrose wears a shirt in the same floral Liberty fabric that trims his own shirt, making them a matching pair.
They walk over to the community centre at seven to find it packed full of faces that are now so familiar to him.There are still people to meet, and a herd of small children that he doesn’t yet know, who are frantically stuffing Party Rings into their faces.But he doesn’t feel like the stranger walking in any more.
In fact, he ends up doing the rounds, introducing his friends and family to his new friends and family.
It turns out that Ursula was tasked with decorating and she’s done an incredible job.No longer is there sad taped-up tinsel – instead there are well-placed fairy lights, and even a disco ball hanging from the ceiling over what seems to be a dance floor.There’s a huge Christmas tree, which Christopher’s not entirely convinced wasn’t actually Ursula’s, decorated in black and gold and glowing with soft light.There are also paper chains being made by some children in the corner, who throw them up onto the walls with abandon once they’re created.
‘Look, Christopher, there’s mistletoe!’shrieks Haf, pointing back towards the doorway.She lunges at him andhe just about ducks out of the way in time.‘Come on, for old times’ sake.’
‘Get off,’ he laughs, pushing her away as she comes in for a second attempt.‘Christ, there’ve been more than enough mistletoe kisses for one lifetime.’
‘Don’t say that.You never know what will come next,’ Laurel says sweetly.He’s pretty sure their drunken kiss last year also started out as a mistletoe kiss, but there’s not much he remembers from that part of the evening.
A few children start doing sock slides across the floor and for just a moment, Christopher thinks about joining them.Maybe later.He’s always enjoyed a good sock slide.
The tables have been dragged together for a huge buffet of picky food from the supermarket, and a whole table of various alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks, which for some reason is not manned by Enid, but Thelma.
‘Can I interest you in some sloe gin?’Thelma asks, waving a bottle of murky thick liquid.
‘Oh yes,’ cries Laurel, holding out a fresh glass.
‘Are you sure?’Christopher murmurs.‘It lookslethal.’
‘When in Rome, Toph.’She takes a sip and her eyes go wild.‘Cheese and rice, that could power a car.’
‘I’ll take one,’ adds Ambrose immediately, and Thelma fills up glasses for them and Haf too.
‘Now I regret agreeing to be the designated driver,’ says Kit sulkily.As Ambrose’s glass is filled up, she takes a sniff.‘Fucking hell, actually, I take that back.You’re all allowed only one.There’ll be no vomiting in my car, thank you very much.’
‘Oops,’ says Haf, her glass conspicuously empty.
‘Dear God.’
He leaves them to fight over Thelma’s rocket fuel, and finds Shaz and Gar by the tree, arms round each other’s waists.They look so right together that he can’t even imagine not realising they were each other’s person.
‘Happy New Year,’ he says.
‘Blwyddyn Newydd dda,’ says Gar, but not in a correcting way.He gives repeating it a good go, which seems to satisfy them both just enough to suggest it was vaguely correct.
‘I can’t believe everyone did this,’ he whispers.
‘Of course they did,’ Shaz says.‘Everyone loves you.’
‘Especially this one,’ says Gar, squeezing Shaz tightly.‘It was her idea.’
‘Give off, it wasn’t.’
‘It was,’ Gar insists to Christopher.
