‘I can get the barn emptied no problem, it’s whether we can get the fire inspector here before then,’ grimaced Pamela.
‘Tom’s good friends with the fire chief,’ said Christine, ‘I’ll call him now and get the wheels in motion.’ She pulled her mobile phone from her bag and jumped to her feet, heading for the quiet by the maître D.
Morgan’s head was already spinning. ‘Hold on Christine!’ Morgan looked around the table at her three friends. ‘Thank you all for your help, you are the best friends I could ever wish for.’ She looked up at Christine. ‘But before you disappear, please tell me what you want to order for lunch. The waiter will be back in a moment.’
Chritine chuckled. ‘Just get me today’s special. I’m more excited about your party now, than eating lunch.’
Christine’s tummy fluttered. So was she.
Chapter two
Morgan’s head ached a little. She couldn't make her mind up whether it was the unexpected bottle of champagne mixed with wine she’d drunk with her meal, or the pressure of the enormous task she’d put upon herself. Who in their right mind would decide to organise such an event of great magnitude? And to be organised in such a small time period? A folkdance, come sixtieth birthday party, come party game event was an enormous task for a skilled party organiser, let alone a woman whose days mainly consisted of doing the accounts for two small businesses?
Closing the front door leading up to the living quarters of the pub behind her, she wrapped the extra lengths of her scarf around her and then slipped her gloves on. Morgan looked down at the grey three-quarter-length jacket and matching scarf. Grey was the on-trend colour for everything these days. Fashion, cars, masonry paint, interior design. Right now, Morgan blended into the dull day, she hoped the trend would hurry up and pass. Deciding to treat herself to a colourful jacket for her birthday brought a bright smile to her face. She turned around and headed towards the seafront, to Tammy’s Tearoom.
The day was void of colour, as boring as her outdoor clothing, as if the rain which had hammered down relentlessly throughout the night had diluted everything. Sky, sea, houses, people. The day was dreary and her head felt as if it had been put in a vice, but nothing would get Morgan down today. Her spirits were high.
She was still buzzing with excitement from her luncheon with the girls. They had come up with so many wonderful ideas, at the time, she couldn’t catch her breath. In the end, there had been far too many to use for the party, but they’d been filed away to use for future events in the bay. The local residents of Seagull Bay didn’t realise they had four middle-aged genius women amongst them.
Morgan continued slowly along the grey pavement with a smile brightening her face, the recognisable tapping of her walking stick to all who knew her barely heard above the squawking of the seagulls soaring above the seafront, most likely waiting for Ben the sea monger to throw them some scraps.
A couple of bay residents walking past on the opposite side of the cobbled road waved a greeting before their natural walking agility soon took them along their journey at twice Morgan’s speed. She didn’t mind being so slow, at least she was still able to potter around. The way the cane made her feel less attractive and insecure about herself was a small price to pay for physical independence.
Mrs Klein came out of her shop, the Bell, Book and Table, but didn’t notice Morgan. Morgan watched her wipe down the windowsill, taking pride in her shop’s appearance.
Morgan crossed the cobbled road carefully, making her way over to her. ‘Morning Mrs Klein. It’s a cold one, isn’t it?’
Mrs Klein spun around in surprise on hearing her voice. ‘Oh Morgan, it’s you. Where did you come from?
‘You probably didn’t see me because I’m the same colour as the dull day,’ she laughed, ‘Easy to miss.’
Mrs Klein laughed. ‘Roll on summertime is what I say. I miss the sound of children’s laughter when they walk past the shop on the way to the beach.’
Morgan nodded. ‘I agree, the bay does seem lifeless without all the tourists, and we don’t seem to have had many tourists as usual this winter either.’
‘I know. Christmas was really quiet with New Year's Eve not being much better. We should have organised a huge Christmas party again in the community hall like your Marie used to do. She was an angel that woman, no wonder God called her back to the heaven so early.’
Mrs Klein’s comment made Morgan’s chest tighten. She nodded in agreement. ‘She was.’
‘Off for a morning stroll?’
Morgan nodded. ‘Yes. I’m meeting Katherine in Tammy’s Tearoom. She’s back for a visit.’
Mrs Klein’s face lit up. ‘Oh is she? I’d really like to catch up with her.’
Morgan thought it was the perfect opportunity to tell her about the party. ‘Then you’re in luck. I’m going to be your fairy godmother. Not only am I going to make your wish come true for a catch up with Katherine, but I’m also going to make your wish come true to hold a party for the entire community of Seagull Bay.’
Mrs Klein’s brow lifted, and her eyes widened. ‘Really? How?’
‘All being well, I’m planning to host an event in a barn on Poppy Farm next Sunday. It’s my sixtieth birthday and I thought why not hold a party everyone can enjoy. I’m planning on holding a barn dance with plenty of games and activities for both the children and adults who might not want to dance.’
Mrs Klein placed a hand on one of Morgan’s shoulders. ‘Morgan, that’s music to my ears, but I can’t believe you’re turning sixty. You don’t look a day over forty-five, even though I know that’s impossible because I know you were in the same year at comp as my big sister.’
Morgan chuckled. ‘Thank you, and yes, I was. I sat next to Gillian in a few lessons. How is she by the way? Is she still living in London?’
Mrs Klein nodded her head. ‘Yes, yes. She’s been there going on thirty-five years now. I don’t think she’ll ever live anywhere else. Her children and grandchildren live there, and I know she minds them on certain days to cut down the childcare costs for her children.’
‘Please give her my regards the next time you call her, won’t you Judith?’
