‘Shh.’ She nudges me hard in the ribs. ‘Don’t tell anyone.’
‘I haven’t,’ I whisper, which is technically true.
Laurie doesn’t want anyone to find out she is twenty today. The trouble is Nina knows, and so does Scottie and Monika, along with our new Jamaican volunteer, Chandice, who replaced Angus. I feel disloyal not telling Laurie that Nina has something up her sleeve but Nina made me promise not to say a word too.
‘I hate my birthday,’ she murmurs. ‘Growing up I never got nothing, only cards and the odd present from friends and teachers, but even if I did get something nice, as soon as I got home my step-mum would take my presents off me.’
I still find it hard to believe the cruelty.
‘Why would I want to celebrate my birthday?’ Laurie continues quietly. ‘Mum died giving birth to me, and evil step-mum didn’t want me the moment Dad died. She was only after his house and money. Oh well,’ she adds with a laugh, not allowing herself to feel angry, ‘that’s life, hey ho. Try this sauce, Holly, it’s good.’
‘How’s the flat looking?’ I ask, before tasting her sauce, which is delicious. Harriet donated some curtains for Laurie’s bedroom. ‘I want to domybit,’ she’d said, longing to contribute something towards Laurie’s new home, before telling me she’d also like to come to the café for Laurie’s birthday. ‘I’d love to see the café, if that’s OK,’ she’d said. The only thing left now to buy is a decent mattress for Laurie’s bed, but we want to find one that supports her back and that’s at least two hundred pounds that she doesn’t have. ‘Did Ian help you put up the curtains?’ I ask.
‘I’d be grey and old if I waited for Ian. I did it,’ she says, reminding me how capable she is. ‘They look nice. A bit flowery, but nice.’
‘When are you going to have a house-warming, Laurie?’ asks Scottie.
‘Never,’ she says, her face clouding over once more.
‘Laurie, are you all right?’ I ask.
‘Sorry, hate my birthday,’ she mutters again, making me wonder whether Nina should abandon any idea of celebrating it. But then again, Laurie’s flat was supposed to mark the beginning of something positive, it was a giant step away from her past. From her childhood and teenage years. ‘New home, new me,’ she’d said when we were painting her kitchen. I’ve noticed Laurie’s moods are still up and down, like a rollercoaster. When I’m with her, sometimes she’s full of chat and doesn’t stop talking. Other times she’s withdrawn, and pays even less attention to her appearance than normal. Like today. If I’m honest, she looks awful, as if she has just rolled out of bed and bunged on any old clothes, and her hair is greasy. Does she do it to make the hurt of not being loved feel less? I’m not loved because, well, look at me! I can’t even be bothered to wash my hair! I’m a mess! Who’d want to love me? She also told me recently that she’d ended her art therapy sessions. ‘She kept on asking me deep questions and stuff,’ Laurie had said. I imagine what she needs to do is truly grieve for the life she’s had, grieve for her past, for the family she never had, and then possibly she could heal. Yet, at the moment, she’s keeping me, and the counsellor, at a certain distance so she can stay in survival mode. And that’s fine. I don’t blame her. Sometimes that’s all we can do to get through; going any deeper than that is terrifying. Therapy was daunting for me because I hadto talk about Jamie, I had to process my feelings and work through the pain. At times I wanted to leave the room and head straight home to bed. Therapy could unearth so much trauma for Laurie, so maybe it’s safer to keep it at bay. Stay in survival mode. Still, when I look back to a year ago, Laurie is a different person, and that’s what Nina and I, and all the gang here, want to celebrate today. We want to show her she’s accepted and loved. Ignoring her birthday would allow her past to win.
‘What I’d like is to see Angus,’ she says, bringing me back to reality. ‘I miss seeing him through the hatch.’
‘I don’t,’ Scottie calls. ‘It’s bliss having the house back to myself.’
‘I miss him too, Laurie,’ Monika remarks. ‘He always made me smile.’
‘I miss Angus,’ calls out Tom, who’s in the dining room, preparing the cutlery with Chandice. ‘But I like you too,’ he tells her, patting her on the arm with affection. ‘You’re very nice.’
‘I wish I’d met Angus,’ Chandice remarks. ‘He sounds fun.’
‘I miss him too,’ I confess. I still hear his voice inside my head. Hear his laugh. When I go out for a run it’s not half the fun it used to be. Instinctively I turn, as if about to say something to him, and he’s not there. Often, I think of him, and wonder how he is. Occasionally I’m tempted to call him, longing to hear his voice. But I never do. I wish I knew how to stop missing him. Because most of all I miss him as a friend.
‘Can everyone stop missing Angus and cook?’ Scottie snaps.
Monika frowns. ‘Miserable sod.’
‘You didn’t have to put up with him twenty-four-seven.’ Scottie turns to us, wiping his hands on his apron, before conceding with a smile, ‘I miss him too, all right? But in the meantime, you’re going to have to put up with me.’
‘I’ve put up with worse I suppose,’ Monika teases, touching Scottie on the arm.
Nina rushes in and grabs me by the arm, before marching me out of the kitchen. ‘I’ve done the balloons, they’re in the office, so don’t let Laurie go up there. Has everyone signed her card?’
‘Yep.’
‘Good. Listen, I completely forgot about the candles.’ Nina has made Laurie a carrot cake. ‘Quick.’ She shoves a fiver in my apron pocket.
‘Laurie’s feeling low today,’ I warn her.
‘Well, this will cheer her up.’
‘She hates her birthday.’
‘That was before she metus. Have faith.’ Nina pushes me away. ‘Go. I promise you it’ll be fine.’
‘Where are you going, Holly?’ Laurie asks, joining us.
