The Surprise Party

Lizzie had managed a smile: someone of her age – for God’s sake, she was thirty-four not sixty-four. Anyway, apparently she was an ideal candidate for Gregor’s new treatment, needing just six initial diagnostic consultations and then twelve holistic in-house therapy sessions, followed by a regular regime which he promised Lizzie would help restore, retain, and maintain that springy dewy look that teenagers took for granted.

Lizzie leant in close to the mirror and screwed up her eyes, trying to judge how the new regime was coming along. Her glasses were in her bag but there was no way she was going to use them if she could manage without.

In an ideal world Gregor recommended four applications of his patent skin cream a day, although he understood most people (the implication being the lesser mortals) could manage only two. Gregor had looked a little disappointed when he’d said it. There were two little tablets to be taken with Gregor’s specially electro-neuro-something-ed mineral water, at fourteen quid a bottle, followed by an intensive facewash night and morning, bi-weekly facepacks, and then daily sessions with a strange silver machine with a long handle that you passed over the skin on your face, neck, hands and bosom before you went to bed.

Bosom was a very Gregor-esque word. He had lovingly lingered over the sound of it, extending the first syllable so that it sounded like something warm and liquid in his mouth, while his assistant had demonstrated the technique on a medical mannequin, pointing out the layers of deep tissue that the machine’s special rays reached and improved.

Apparently it did something really impressive with oxygen and magnets and ions . . . or maybe it was crystals and ozone and crushed rocks from Tibet. Liz couldn’t remember which now. Anyway, it puffed out air, smelt a bit like a mixture of cloves and seaweed and cost about the same as a really good holiday.

Slipping off her robe, Liz plugged in the machine and set the dial to high; after all, she wanted to look her fabulous best for Grant.

Chapter Four

In the marquee it was getting warm. Suzie was showing a copy of one of the original wedding photos taken at her parents’ reception to Matt Holman, whose company she had hired to do the catering.

‘God, it’s so romantic all this, isn’t it?’ he said with a smile, his gaze moving backwards and forwards between the photo and her face and then around the inside of the marquee. He took another long hard look at the photo. ‘I reckon we’ve just about got the look right. What do you think they’ll say?’

Suzie shrugged. ‘I genuinely don’t know. Mum and Dad are both a bit low key. I’m just hoping they’re going to be pleased with it. Actually I’m sure they will be, they’ll love everyone being together, having a good time. They’ve always had a lot of friends and most of them are going to be here tonight, but they’re not too keen on big displays and big fusses if you know what I mean.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘So a buffet supper for half of Norfolk?’

‘Might be a bridge too far, but it seemed like a good idea at the time and I’m sure they’ll be okay. I mean, how often are you married for forty years?’

He smiled and moved in a little closer. ‘You know, you look fabulous. I can’t wait to see you in your new outfit.’

Suzie reddened and hastily stepped back. ‘Stop it,’ she said in an undertone. ‘People will see us.’

He grinned. ‘I don’t care.’

‘Well, I do,’ she hissed. ‘Let’s get back to the arrangements, shall we? We’re going to put giant-sized copies of the original photos up on the display boards on the screens in front of your prep area,’ she said, pointing over to the far corner of the tent. ‘I thought people might like to see how everyone’s changed over the years and I’m hoping it’ll break the ice a bit.’

Matt nodded. ‘Great idea – you know this is a lovely photo. Has anyone ever told you, you look just like your mum?’

Suzie raised her eyebrows, warning him off.

‘Don’t look at me like that. It was meant as a compliment,’ said Matt defensively. ‘Good bones. Anyway we’re more or less bang on schedule; all tables in all the right places, garlands and swags look great. The top table is a picture,’ he continued. ‘Food’s all under control. Champagne’s chilling. So all we need now are the guests and the happy couple.’

Suzie nodded. ‘And we’ve still got the banners to put up.’

‘The banners?’

‘Uh-huh. Ten feet long, three feet high – “Happy Fortieth Wedding Anniversary to Rose and Jack”. I know it sounds a bit tacky and it probably is, but I was persuaded into buying them by the woman I bought the flowers from—’

‘Conned more like, you mean,’ Matt said with a grin. ‘Come on, before we break out the step-ladders, how about we grab a little drink? The outside bar is up and ready to roll. Steady the old nerves – or do you fancy road-testing a bottle of champagne?’

‘Nice idea, Matt, but I really need to be stone cold sober for the next couple of hours.’

‘Don’t be such a control freak, Suzie, relax. One little glass isn’t going to hurt anyone.’ Matt moved in closer and slipped his arm around her shoulders. ‘And besides I want to have a quiet word with you,’ he murmured. ‘Have you had a chance to talk to Sam about us yet?’

‘Will you stop it? This is a family party. There isn’t any us,’ Suzie hissed, pushing him away as she glanced nervously towards the open door of the marquee where she could see Sam pacing up and down, talking into his mobile. ‘No us – all right? The last thing we want is anyone seeing us and jumping to conclusions.’

‘Come on, you know what I mean. You’ll have to say something to him sooner or later. And he’s going to be hurt if he finds out from someone else.’

‘Don’t,’ said Suzie, raising a hand to silence him. ‘It’s just really difficult to know where to start,’ Suzie began, stepping away from him.

Matt looked heavenwards. ‘Come on, Suzie, this isn’t on. You are going to have to tell him. We can’t go on like this, all this creeping around. I mean, for God’s sake, it’s ridiculous. This is such a good thing for both of us. It’s a match made in heaven – you know that.’

Suzie bit her lip. ‘I do know, Matt. I do, but I’ve got no idea how he’ll take it. You know how he’s been recently. I can barely talk to him, and when we do talk it seems to end up in a row. You’re not seeing the best of him. I’m not sure what the problem is; we used to talk about everything, which makes all this worse. I’m worried about him. I don’t want to upset him any more than he already is. I just need to pick my moment.’

‘You are such a softy. You know that’s what I love about you, don’t you?’ purred Matt, leaning in to kiss her on the top of her head. ‘Trouble is, the longer you leave it to pick the moment, the harder it’s going to be to say anything to him, and the more upset Sam’s going to be when he finds out what you’ve been up to behind his back. Now, if you’re not going to have a drink with me I am going to get on, unless of course you want your guests sending out for pizza? See you later. Here, you’ll be needing this,’ he said, handing her the wedding photo.

Suzie sighed and glanced down at it. It was one of her favourites – the one where her mum and dad were cutting the cake, while on either side of them family and friends looked on with delight.

Suzie’s mum, Rose, was looking up at her dad with a grin, her eyes bright with mischief and warmth and the promise of things to come, while her dad, Jack, looked down at his new wife with such love and tenderness that, even forty years on, it was impossible not to be moved by his expression.

There was so much love in their faces, so much hope and joy and optimism caught in that single glance. Even now, after all these years, Suzie sometimes caught her dad looking at her mum in the same tender way and the look still tugged at her heart strings. How the hell had they managed to keep it like that, so fresh, so tangible and so alive after all those years together? She had always been aware that there was something really special between them, and for an instant Suzie felt envious and tired.

For years she and Sam had been best friends, best of everything to each other but recently it felt like she was running a marathon with him, all work and no reward, struggling to keep something going that felt battered and heavy and dead in the water. While she loved Sam dearly, at the moment it felt like their love, their marriage, was a bit dog-eared and beaten down by life. It was a real shame because in lots of ways the rest of their lives had got better and better over the last few years.

Once Hannah and Megan had started school, Suzie had gone back to college to take a horticultural course. After a few years of odd jobs and scrabbling around for work, a chance conversation in the local shop had led to the local estate owner offering to let her take over the running of a dilapidated Victorian walled kitchen garden, which belonged to the manor house just up the road from where Suzie, Sam and the girls lived.

‘Take over’ had proved to be a bit of a joke; there had been nothing to take over besides the lovely old brick walls covered in ivy, with buddleia and elder growing out of them, a dilapidated row of greenhouses, a few crumbling sheds and a cluster of outbuildings in various states of disrepair. Suzie had spent months clearing out brambles and nettles, bed frames, bicycles and broken glass.

But now, five years on, with the help of a start-up grant from the local council, Suzie had it up and running, selling vegetables and fruit and opening to the public for a few weekends over the course of the year. Then there had been the newspaper column and a regular slot on local radio, garden design work and various commissions to help other people set up productive gardens. Unknowingly she had stepped into the vegetable garden, ‘grow your own’ business at just the right moment.

Now, Suzie had kids coming from local schools and students to help out, as well as half a dozen dedicated volunteers, and so she had been able to turn her passion into a full-time job.

Meanwhile Sam had been busy working as an IT manager in a local electronics company, which had fared remarkably well over the last few years despite the recession – a large part of which was down to Sam’s management style, and the previous year he had been offered the job of Managing Director.

In some ways their lives couldn’t be better. They should have been happy – except that hadn’t proved to be the case. The last couple of years or so, Sam had seemed increasingly distant and cool and a long, long way from the warm, happy, relaxed man she had married.

And now of course there was Matt, and all the potential trouble that he brought with him. Having read a feature about the walled garden in the local paper he had turned up one day to take a look around. Six foot three in his expensive hand-tooled brogues, dressed in designer jeans and a white shirt open at the neck to reveal a light natural tan and just the merest hint of chest hair, he was a feast for the eye. And from the first moment she had clapped eyes on him Suzie had had no doubt that he was trouble. Trouble with a capital T.

‘You know what you need, don’t you?’ he’d purred as she showed him around one of the newly restored greenhouses. Suzie had looked up at him, not daring to ask.

That had been just over a year ago. Suzie glanced across to the servery area where Matt was helping one of the girls sorting out champagne glasses. As if sensing her looking at him, he looked up and smiled and then winked at her. Suzie felt herself redden. This was madness; she really needed to talk to Sam about him before someone else did.

‘Suzie?’ At the sound of her name, Suzie swung round.

‘You made me jump,’ she said, flustered, wondering if her face betrayed her thoughts.

‘Are you all right?’ Sam asked, looking concerned.

‘Yes, I’m fine, just thinking,’ she said, waving the words away and pasting on a smile. ‘There’s just so much to do. How’s it going out there?’

‘Well, the good news is the band are on their way here, they shouldn’t be long.’ He looked across the marquee towards their daughter Megan, who was still valiantly shaking out tablecloths. ‘I see you’ve found Megan. Do you have any idea where Hannah is? She said she’d help me put up the fairy lights and pin up the photos on the boards.’

‘I haven’t seen her for a while,’ said Suzie, glancing over her shoulder in a lame attempt to track her down. ‘Megan said she was around earlier.’

‘We know that,’ Sam said, sounding exasperated. ‘I was hoping you might know where she is now.’

‘Hannah did promise she’d be here,’ said Suzie.

Sam sighed. ‘Yes, well we all know what Hannah’s famous promises are like at the moment, don’t we? You know, you’re way too soft on her, Suzie – always making excuses. You’re going to have to make it plain that you’re not going to put up with this kind of behaviour. She knows tonight is important to you and that you need her to be here.’

‘We,’ said Suzie, feeling a flare of indignation.

‘What?’

‘We need her here, Sam. She promised both of us. You make it sound as if she is nothing to do with you.’

‘There are days . . .’ he said grimly, before turning to Megan and yelling, ‘Megan!’ Their younger daughter swung around as if she had been bitten.

‘Oh, that’s right,’ said Suzie. ‘Have a go at the one who did show up and is helping, that’ll really help things go with a swing.’

‘I wasn’t going to have a go at her, I was just going to ask her if she knew where Hannah was,’ protested Sam. ‘Is that all right with you?’

Suzie stared at him not knowing what to say. Exactly how had things got this bad between them? They never used to be snippy and sharp with each other; they had always been not just lovers but best friends. Yet now all they seemed to do was snap at each other.

Tablecloth in hand, caught like a rabbit blinking in the headlights, Megan was standing very still as she watched the two of them.

‘I’ve already asked Megan – she doesn’t know where Hannah is either, do you, honey?’ said Suzie. Megan, still rooted to the spot, swallowed hard. ‘It’s all right, don’t look so worried, you’re fine,’ Suzie said with a wave. ‘You’re doing a great job. And the tables look great, don’t they?’

It wasn’t hard to see where Megan had been; each table had been neatly laid with a white linen table and a ruby red linen top cover and in the centre of each table a cut-glass bowl of roses, greenery and a froth of gypsophila.

‘Yes, but it doesn’t really help us find Hannah, does it?’ said Sam with a frustrated sigh.

Megan smiled at her mum and dad and said not a word.

Chapter Five

Hannah made a point of staying off the main road, instead cutting between the houses and cottages, along the back lanes and down the footpath to the Rec, just in case her mum and dad were looking for her. The last thing she wanted was a lecture on how irresponsible she was and how everyone had to pull their weight. When she got to the gate of the playing field Hannah slowed down; it wouldn’t be cool to look as if she had hurried.

The Rec was on a slight incline, flanked on two sides by the church yard, with a footpath cutting through it, the neatly clipped grass rolling down past sandpits and swings, a roundabout and slides, to the village hall, and beyond that the football pitch, the pavilion, the bowling green and then the road.

Sadie was sitting on the swings, all alone in the play park.

‘You took your time,’ said Sadie as Hannah, with forced nonchalance, ambled over to where Sadie was sitting. Sadie was chewing gum. ‘We didn’t think you were going to show up. Me and the lads were just thinking about going down the river, maybe having a swim or something.’

‘I’d got stuff to do,’ said Hannah.

‘Right, yeah. For the party,’ said Sadie, more statement than question.

‘Yeah, for the party.’

‘So, did you bring any booze with you then?’ Sadie asked as Hannah sat down alongside her. Sadie had her heels buried in the bark chippings, her legs braced and arms at full stretch so it looked as if at any second she might launch herself into space. There was no sign of either Simon or Tucker.

‘No,’ said Hannah, starting to swing backwards and forwards. ‘No one said anything about bringing any booze.’

‘Oh come on, you could have brought something,’ Sadie said. ‘Least you could do, seeing as we weren’t invited to your stupid party.’

‘I told you, it’s not my party,’ replied Hannah. ‘If it had been mine you could have come. It’s more like a family do, you know.’

‘Right and so, what? You couldn’t invite any of your friends? Nice family you’ve got,’ said Sadie, lighting up a cigarette and taking a long pull on it. ‘Or is it just your nice friends who can come?’

Hannah didn’t know what to say, because the truth was that her mum had said she could invite anyone she liked, although Hannah knew that what her mum really meant was anyone she liked, and Suzie definitely didn’t like Sadie. So Hannah hadn’t even bothered to ask if she could come. Her mum didn’t think Sadie was a good influence, and Hannah knew without a shadow of a doubt that Suzie was right.

‘Yeah well, you know what my mum’s like,’ she said. ‘Like really straight, anything out of left field like you lot showing up and she’d go mental.’

Sadie sniggered. Hannah joined her.

Sadie was different and funny and her mum let her stay out as late as she liked and treated her like an adult, and she didn’t check up on her all the time. Sadie’s mum treated Sadie like she was a proper person with her own opinions and everything. Sadie came and went as she liked, wore what she liked, ate what she liked – and her mother trusted her, at least that’s what Sadie said. ‘She doesn’t treat me like I’m a baby – it’s always been like that. I live my life, she lives hers. It’s the way things should be.’

They had been listening to music up in Sadie’s bedroom when Sadie had been telling Hannah this, and ironically enough, just at that moment, Hannah’s mum had sent her a text to tell her that supper was ready and to remind her that she had homework to do – just like she was a little kid or something.

And Sadie had grabbed the phone and said, ‘Oh for God’s sake. There is no way my mum would do that to me. She knows the boundaries. That is just so out of order. Do you want me to text her back for you?’

Hannah had shaken her head and grabbed the phone because she had seen some of the text messages Sadie sent.

‘So you going back?’ Sadie had asked, taking a pull on her cigarette and flicking the ash out of the bedroom window.

‘No,’ Hannah had said. ‘No way.’ She pretended to be offended at the very suggestion, all the while wondering if there was any way she could secretly text her mum to let her know she was all right, that she would be back later and to save her some supper.

Suzie had made chilli, which was Hannah’s favourite, and she was cooking it because Hannah had asked her to. They had been talking about it over breakfast, planning to have tortilla chips and salsa, nacho cheese and guacamole and sour cream, the whole works, because Hannah had asked if they could. When she got home Suzie had saved her some of everything and Hannah had felt guilty and sorry, although she hadn’t said so.

Suzie hadn’t told her off for being late, simply saying, ‘Oh hello, honey, glad you’re back. Megan and I made a trifle too if you want some. You know what your dad’s like – I’ve been trying to keep him from eating it all. Have you had a good time?’

And Hannah had just shrugged.

‘Did you go out with Sadie?’ Suzie asked.

What could she say?

As she handed her the chilli, Suzie had said, ‘I don’t like to criticise your friends, Hannah, but be careful, won’t you? We trust you but we don’t want to see you hurt or in trouble, darling.’

Hannah had considered storming out in a huff but decided on balance that she was too hungry and the chilli smelt too delicious to miss. ‘You don’t know anything about Sadie,’ she’d said instead. ‘Not really. Not what she’s really like.’

‘You’re right,’ said Suzie, ‘but I have known people like her. I’m just saying, be careful.’

‘I’m going to eat this upstairs,’ Hannah had said, expecting her mum would protest.

‘Okay,’ said Suzie, putting a bowl of tortilla chips alongside a little bowl of sour cream. ‘Can you just make sure you bring the tray down when you’re done, please?’

Hannah had rolled her eyes and sighed. God, it was just so annoying to have a mum who was so understanding and so nice.

* * *

Today, sitting on the swings, Sadie looked as if she might have slept in her clothes. Her make-up was thick and as subtle as a car crash, and she was dressed in a long white vest top belted at the waist over black leggings and ballet pumps, teamed with a battered and oversized leather biker jacket. Her bleached and blue-streaked hair was bundled up into a messy pile on top of her head, held in place with a scrunchie and wrapped around with a bit of lace.

The thing was, Hannah knew it wasn’t just how Sadie looked or even how she behaved that her mum was concerned about. Suzie had said that there was something cruel, something spiteful about Sadie, you could see it in her eyes – and Hannah had known straightaway that her mum was right, although there was no way she would ever say so.

A lot of the things Sadie thought were funny were actually quite cruel, but Sadie was cool and diamond-hard, really mature and right up there with the best of them when it came to attitude, and that was what something Hannah really wished she had more of. Attitude. Don’t mess with me, take me as I am or leave me the hell alone attitude. If just a little bit of that rubbed off, then it would be worth it.

Ever since Hannah could remember, she had always been the good girl, the nice girl, the one who worked hard and went to after-school clubs and joined the Brownies and the Guides. She had been doing her Duke of Edinburgh’s Award until Sadie had shown up.

Teachers and grown-ups liked Hannah, but it was horrible always being good. The pretty bitchier girls had never wanted anything to with her and although they didn’t exactly bully her, they didn’t want her in their gang either. The girls Hannah used to hang around with were never cool; they were the clever, nerdy, ugly, fat ones – at least, that was what Sadie said.

Sadie had blown in at the start of Year 10 and for some reason, completely lost on Hannah, had decided to buddy up with her. Hannah’s change of fortunes had been instantaneous. Now she didn’t care what the other cliquey girls did or thought or even said, because she and Sadie were in a gang all of their own.

Boys liked Sadie, and she was clever too – clever enough not to get caught doing stuff, and clever enough to ensure she did just enough work to keep out of real trouble. Nonetheless, Hannah sometimes felt that having Sadie for a friend was a bit like sharing your life with a wild animal: she might be exciting to be around but you never quite knew when you were going to get bitten. Sadie could be unpredictable and moody and, although she liked her, Hannah had to admit that she never felt quite at ease with her. It wasn’t a warm, friendly, giggly friendship like she used to have with Lena Hall and Caroline Hunt. They didn’t go round each other’s houses for tea all the time, or camp out in the garden or drink hot chocolate around the kitchen table or laugh with her mum any more; in fact Lena and Caroline hadn’t spoken to her since Sadie had told the boys in their class that they were lesbians.

There was still a part of her that thought that maybe Sadie wanting her as a friend was a big joke and that Sadie would turn on her, or worse. But Hannah wasn’t planning to tell her mum that.

Sitting beside her on the swings, Hannah realised that Sadie was staring at her, blowing out a long dragon’s breath of smoke. She looked disappointed.