‘Sure we will,’ he said. ‘Now, why don’t we get some good strong caffeine inside us and have a sugar rush. Hey, is that someone at the door?’
Vee got up to see who was there, wondering how quickly she could get rid of them, whoever it was. She opened the door and there stood Beryl on the step, smiling hopefully.
‘I won’t come in,’ she said. ‘I saw you get back and I don’t want to get in the way while you’re having your big reunion, but I’d like to invite you and your nephew to come around later. I’ve organised a fuddle at mine. I hope you haven’t got other plans?’
Finn was now standing at Vee’s side. He looked down at Beryl. ‘What’s a fuddle?’ he asked. ‘I bet I’ll like it, whatever it is.’
‘Oh, hello. Or should I sayhi,’ said Beryl, fluttering her eyelashes like a Victorian heroine. ‘It’s a party to welcome you to England. We’re having traditional British food. Winnie’s even making a sherry trifle.’
‘I don’t know what that is, but I bet it’s awesome.’
‘See you later, Beryl,’ said Vee. ‘We’ll bring a bottle.’
They watched Beryl go back into her own house. Finn turned to Vee. ‘I should’ve asked you first before I accepted,’ he said. ‘But we can go, can’t we… erm…’
‘I think it’s best if you just call me Vee. Drop the Aunty and forget Mom. There are two very important ladies who’ve earned that title, and I haven’t done anything to deserve it,’ said Vee, closing the front door. She made as if to go back to the sofa, but Finn put a hand on her arm to stop her.
‘Wait up,’ he said. ‘That’s not even a tiny bit true. Without you I wouldn’t be here at all. It doesn’t matter what I call you, though, does it? And we don’t need to talk about it any more right now.’
‘Fine by me,’ said Vee.
The relief of getting this conversation over was intense and she was delighted when Finn yawned and rubbed his eyes, saying, ‘I might have to take a nap if we’re gonna be partying all night with the oldies. But after that…’
‘After that, you’ll see how Willowbrook paints the town red,’ said Vee. ‘Watch and learn, Finn. Watch and learn.’
39
Beryl had checked and rechecked her preparations for the guests and with nothing left to do, sat down with a loud ‘ooof’ in her comfiest chair. She’d just set aside half an hour to a complete rest and put her feet up on the tasselled velvet pouffe so loved by her late husband Eddie, when the doorbell rang.
‘Who the heck is that?’ she muttered as she hauled herself back into a standing position and headed for the hallway. ‘Whoever it is, they’re too blooming early. Or maybe it’s one of those annoying men who are always wanting to clean out my guttering. Huh!’
She flung open the door, ready to give the person with the temerity to disturb her a piece of her mind, only to find Rick standing on the step, with a huge bunch of roses in one hand and a bottle of Prosecco in the other.
‘I know I’m too early,’ he said, as Beryl stepped aside to let him in. ‘But I need to talk to you before all the others get here.’
‘That sounds ominous,’ said Beryl, leading the way into the living room. ‘You’d better sit down. I’ll put the Prosecco in the fridge, but what are the flowers in aid of? Not that I’m complaining,’ she added. ‘I hardly ever get a bouquet, and that one must have set you back a pretty penny.’
Rick handed both his gifts over but didn’t answer immediately. He watched Beryl go through to the kitchen and deal with the bottle, putting the flowers in a jug of water on the windowsill.
‘I’ll find them a nice vase in a minute before the others come,’ she said. ‘If you want to say something in private, better hurry up, dear. You know how Winnie is for being bang on time for a party, and the rest won’t be far behind her.’
Rick seemed suddenly lost for words. He perched on the edge of a chair and cleared his throat. ‘I… erm… I…’
Beryl lost patience very quickly. ‘Stop shilly-shallying and cut to the chase,’ she said. ‘You’re worrying me now.’
‘Right. Yes. Well, I wanted to talk to you about the past.’
‘Any part of it in particular?’ asked Beryl, checking her watch. ‘The Tudors, maybe? Or the Romans? They were pretty interesting. I’m partial to a bit of Viking history, personally. All that pillaging… and so on.’
Rick smiled. ‘Okay, I know I’m wasting your precious time. Nineteen eighty-five, to be precise. The year of all sorts of…’ He paused.
‘All sorts of trouble?’ Beryl finished. She clutched the arms of her chair and faced him, swallowing hard. ‘It’s about my Patrick, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. I feel as if we’ve never mentioned him and we should. I do know what today is, and that’s the reason for the flowers.’
‘Patrick’s birthday. How on earth did you know that?’
‘Because it’s mine next week,’ said Rick. ‘We used to go to the same birthday parties. Jelly, ice cream, cake. Mine was always the weekend after Patrick’s. The flowers are because… well… I didn’t get you any when he died. I should have. He was… one of us.’
