‘What? But the guests will arrive in half an hour. You can’t leave now!’
‘But I’m still in my work clothes, which are covered in flour.’
Cynthia laughed. ‘You think people will look at you, do you? Don’t be daft, Sarah. You’re not going anywhere. And no one will look at you, I guarantee.’
Too tired to argue, Sarah wandered off to find her dad and help with the balloons. There were too many balloons already. Garish primary-coloured balloon posies clashed with sickly pastel bunting, the tables glittering with plastic stars and confetti.
A band was setting up in one corner of the room. Sarah wondered where her mum had found them. They didn’t seem like they’d be much in demand. The lead singer wore a tight shirt buttoned low to show off his chest hairs. Above his low-slung jeans, a beer belly spilled over his belt, straining the polyester fabric of his shirt. He’d done a valiant job of holding onto his hair, thin strands slicked over his bald patch and tied behind his head in a greasy ponytail.
‘I hope they sound better than they look,’ said Colin, noticing Sarah staring at the band. ‘Has Mum told you their name?’ The corners of his lips twitched as he spoke.
‘What is it?’
‘Melvis and the Cheeseburgers.’
‘You’re joking?’ Sarah spluttered from behind her hand.
‘I thought it was ironic, but after speaking to the band, they seem deadly serious.’
‘Goodness me. I know this is your big night, Dad, but I wish I was at home with a cup of tea.’
‘Me too,’ said Colin, ‘but don’t tell your mother.’
Sarah smiled. ‘How about we have a drink?’
‘Good plan. Grab me a pint of bitter, would you? There are still a few balloons left to blow up.’
‘I think there are plenty of balloons already.’
‘Agreed, but if I don’t get through the entire pack, your mother will have a fit.’
Sarah returned with their drinks just as the first guests were arriving. Some she recognised from her childhood, most she didn’t know, and assumed they were friends from her mother’s bingo nights. More than once she was mistaken for a waitress, and she decided it was easier to play up to the role, offering round plates of food to hungry middle-aged mouths.
The clink of a spoon on a glass signalled it was time for the speeches. People pushed their way to long trestle tables, vying for the best seats. Sarah sat herself down on a sticky plastic chair, wedged between two overweight men with large sweat patches forming on their shirts.
Never one to miss out on attention, Cynthia got to her feet first.
‘Thank you soooo much for all coming out tonight to celebrate this very special anniversary. I’m honoured to count you all as friends.’
Applause sounded from across the hall, and Cynthia’s chest puffed out a little.
‘Well, what to say about my Colin? He’s one in a million, that’s for sure. I’d like to say I don’t know how I’d cope without him, but I think we all know I’d manage just fine.’ Cynthia gave a coquettish giggle, and her audience followed suit. ‘On a serious note, apart from leaving the toilet seat up, spending too much time at the pub and still not knowing how to work the washing machine, Colin is the perfect husband.’
Sarah shifted in her seat as the rest of her table laughed.Cynthia was only joking, she told herself. But Sarah couldn’t shake the feeling Colin was being laughed at, not with. Cynthia took a deep breath, and Sarah prayed her mother would end on a positive note.
‘So here’s to us, and another twenty-five years of wedded bliss.’
A chorus of ‘To Cynthia and Colin’ rang out across the hall.
As Cynthia sat down, Colin got to his feet. He seemed unsure of himself, his eyes darting from his wife, to the assembled crowd and back again.
‘Get on with it!’ shouted the sweaty man to Sarah’s right.
‘Yes, yes, of course,’ said Colin, stumbling over his words, his face wearing a worried frown. ‘Thank you all for coming…’
Colin’s prompt cards dropped to the table, and he took a long swig of his beer. He placed the beer down and took a deep breath. ‘I don’t know who most of you are. I’m assuming you’re Cynthia’s friends and not just here for the free food, or even worse, rent-a-crowd.’ The assembled masses laughed at what they thought was a joke. Sarah sat silently, knowing whatever was happening was not good.
‘So, what to say about my wife? Well, we’ve been married twenty-five years and… and… I’m sorry, I can’t do this.’
