Chapter 19
NINETEEN
It’s Christmas Eve and finally the day of the pensioners’ lunch has arrived and I can’t wait to see all the happy faces later in the day.
I’m just parking at the community centre when Kian’s black car pulls into the car park.
I step out of the car as Kian walks around to his car boot.
‘Hi, fancy meeting you here,’ I tell him as he looks up at me in surprise.
‘Hello there. How are you? You aren’t carrying any type of liquid, are you?’ he asks, a smile playing around his mouth.
‘Lucky for you, no. So what are you doing here on Christmas Eve?’ I take in his dark, slightly curly hair almost touching the collar of his jacket, and broad shoulders.
‘I might ask you the same thing,’ he says.
‘Well, I’m here to drop a few things off for the party,’ I tell him.
‘Today?’ he asks, looking a bit puzzled.
‘Umm, yes. It’s the annual Christmas meal for the local pensioners.’
He flicks a button and his boot springs open to reveal a load of bags and boxes.
‘Hmm. I’m not sure how that is going to work. What time is this party then?’ he asks.
‘One o’clock and will last pretty much all afternoon, and what do you mean by you don’t know how this is going to work?’ I ask with a feeling of anxiety.
‘Because there is going to be a birthday party here in a couple of hours. Two o’clock, to be precise.’
He lifts a box from the boot and places it on the floor. There is the head of a donkey poking out.
‘The pi?ata,’ he informs me.
‘Pi?ata?’
‘Yes, for the birthday party,’ he repeats. ‘Keep up.’
‘What? I don’t think so,’ I say as panic engulfs me.
‘Oh really.’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘And why not?’
‘Sorry, I just mean we will be cooking a roast dinner in the kitchen, so I’m not sure how it could work,’ I say, flying into blind panic. ‘Surely there must be some mistake here?’
‘Nope. The party is at two o’clock,’ he says calmly as he begins to unload the rest of the things that include bin bags full of inflated balloons in assorted colours.
‘But… but… it can’t be. There must be some mistake. Are you sure you have booked it for the right date?’ I can feel myself becoming light-headed. I really should have had a more substantial breakfast than a cereal bar. ‘It’s the pensioners’ party today, it is always at the same time every year,’ I explain.
‘I don’t think I could mistake Christmas Eve.’ He smiles, completely unruffled by my panicked outburst. ‘I booked it two months ago, I have the keys and everything.’
He pulls the key to the centre from his pocket to show me.
‘But I don’t understand. We have the annual party for the elderly in the community every Christmas Eve. Surely the council must have realised that when you booked?’ I ask, my head spinning.
‘Maybe it was a newbie in the office.’ He shrugs. ‘Maybe it was an oversight. Whatever it was, my daughter is having her birthday party here at two o’clock,’ he says, calmly but firmly, and I really feel as if I might faint.
I feel my heart pounding and the blood rushing through my ears. The date is booked out every year. It’s booked almost as soon as the party is over. Everything is in place. I have a ton of vegetables in the boot and Sue is bringing the cooked turkeys later. This cannot be happening.
‘Unless you want to be the one to tell my seven-year-old daughter and her friends that it isn’t happening, of course,’ he says, still completely unfazed and looking at me with those annoyingly piercing eyes.
He unloads another open box that contains a long string of bunting.
I can feel my heart sink. I remember him telling me his daughter’s birthday was on Christmas Eve. And he has gone to the trouble of organising a birthday party for her this year which is sweet, but someone has messed up the bookings big time.
‘Well, of course I understand that you can’t let her down, but I can’t let the old people down either. Is there anywhere else your daughter could have the party?’ I ask desperately as I retrieve my phone from my bag.
‘Yes, of course, the alternatives are unlimited on Christmas Eve,’ he says sarcastically.
‘I’m sure we can sort this out. I will just give the council offices a ring,’ I say, sounding far more confident than I feel. And, of course, I truly do not want to ruin his daughter’s birthday party.
‘Good luck with that.’ Kian shrugs. ‘They have finished for the Christmas holidays. Yesterday, I believe.’
Sure enough, the call rings out, with a message that the office will be open again in a week’s time, followed by a selection of numbers to call to report floods, problems with refuse collection and unwanted pests. I have one right here standing opposite me, but I’m sure that’s not what they mean. Strangely enough, there is no number to enquire about a problem concerning a double booking.
‘I can’t believe this is happening.’ I pace the car park, wondering what on earth I am going to do? Everything is set for the pensioners’ lunch, but then it is also the venue for Bella’s seventh birthday party.
‘Chill your bones,’ Kian says as he pulls a lollipop from a packet. ‘Want one?’ he offers.
‘No, thanks. And what do you mean, “chill your bones”. This is a disaster!’ I throw my arms up into the air. ‘It’s Christmas Eve, and we have two parties booked for the same time, at the same venue.’
‘It seems we do.’ He nods, his calmness really beginning to grate on my nerves. ‘It’s the first time I’ve done anything like this, but as Bella is spending Christmas with me, whilst her mother is on holiday with her boyfriend, I thought why not? I want her to feel special as her birthday generally just merges into Christmas, you know?’
‘I can imagine. And, of course, it’s lovely of you to do that. I bet Bella is really excited.’ At least that much we can agree on.
‘She is. And so are the parents of the children as it gets them out of their hair for a few hours on Christmas Eve, while they get things sorted for the big day.’
‘I can imagine. I just can’t think how this has happened though? What on earth are we going to do?’ I ask as my fists automatically clench and my neck feels as stiff as a board.
‘What do you suggest?’ he asks. ‘Flip a coin, heads or tails?’ He sucks on the lollipop and shrugs his shoulders once more. Why isn’t he flapping like a bird – as I am – instead of standing there like that lollipop-sucking TV cop from the seventies. Kojak, I think he was called.
‘I really don’t know, but I don’t think flipping a coin is fair. Is there no way you could have the party at your place?’ I suggest. ‘A dozen kids is a lot less than twenty-five adults.’
‘In a second-floor apartment? I don’t think so. The neighbours below would have me evicted. Maybe you could have the old folks at your house? So much easier than an apartment, I’d say.’ He surveys me for a moment as he takes another suck of that damn lollipop.
‘I can’t. My kitchen is too small, and so is my oven.’
Am I actually having this conversation with him?
He picks up one of the boxes and heads for the door of the community centre humming to himself. Humming! I walk beside him asking him what he thinks he is doing.
‘What does it look like? I’m getting these boxes inside to decorate the hall. The caterers will be bringing the party food at eleven,’ he informs me. ‘And the cake. Oh, you will like the cake.’ He smiles as he fiddles with the keys. ‘It’s a sea scene from Disney’s The Little Mermaid ,’ he tells me, clearly oblivious to my heart palpitations and the possibility that I might lose control of my bowels.
‘Caterers?’ I stammer.
‘Yeah, but don’t sweat. It’s sandwiches and cakes mainly,’ he explains. ‘I won’t be taking over the kitchen. Don’t you worry now,’ he says, smiling. This guy is so laid-back he’s horizontal. ‘It’s a bugger about the bouncy castle. It would take up half of the hall though, so I guess it will have to go outside. But it’s not going to rain. I’ve checked the forecast,’ he tells me.
‘Bouncy castle?’
‘Of course. What’s a kids’ party without a bouncy castle. Now, here I am making a sacrifice, so you might look a little more pleased. The kids will need to wear their coats, but I’m sure we can work together.’
‘Yes, yes, I’m sorry. I truly don’t want your little girl’s birthday to be ruined,’ I say, feeling as though I am about to burst into tears.
‘Well, you would have to be heartless if you wanted that. And as you have organised a Christmas Eve party for the old folk, I don’t think that’s the case.’ He smiles at me warmly.
I think of the mountain of vegetables in the car, and the bags of gifts waiting for all the pensioners back home. I can’t tell them that it’s all off, most of them have been looking forward to it for months. Many of them have no families to share their Christmases with at all.
As Kian turns the key in the door and enters the hall with me on his heels, he turns to me. ‘Look, I don’t want to be letting the pensioners down either, but you need to work with me,’ he says, ‘because we are agreed that I can’t be ruining my little girl’s birthday.’ He looks at me with those green eyes. ‘So here’s what I am proposing,’ he says, plonking the box down. ‘The only solution is that we have a joint party.’