Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
It occurs to me that Sue has been here all of five minutes and has managed to find out a lot more about Kian that I have this last week. Then again, maybe it wouldn’t have seemed appropriate to be asking where he was from and chatting happily in a car the other day to the man who had just soaked me to the skin.
We are heading into the kitchen to begin preparations, when the door opens and in walks Audrey, carrying a large bag. She takes in the children’s section with admiration as she enters the hall.
‘Oh, wow. I wish I had had the chance to go to a party like this when I was little,’ she says. ‘In fact, even now I love Disney.’ She smiles.
‘Well, I’m sure Kian would more than welcome a hand with the children once the pensioners are settled with their food,’ I suggest.
‘I definitely wouldn’t say no to that,’ he agrees, smiling.
‘Then I would love to,’ she says, gazing at the giant-sized Little Mermaid.
The pensioners’ side of the room is also looking great as my mum is a dab hand at turning red napkins into pretty fans, and Christmas coasters featuring robins are set next to the cutlery. The rosy-cheeked Santa poster on the windows will be smiling down on them all when they arrive, creating the perfect festive scene.
‘I guess you already have a central table decoration, but I wondered if you might like this,’ says Audrey, pulling the most glorious centrepiece from her bag that has us all gasping in admiration.
‘Audrey, it’s beautiful,’ I say, glancing at the huge showstopper of a centrepiece.
It’s a winter garden scene, adorned with silver pine cones and mistletoe berries. A robin is sat atop a snowy log, nestled amongst sprigs of holly and ivy and the whole sculpture is dusted in a sprinkling of silver glitter. When she places it in the centre of the table and adds a chunky red candle, it looks absolutely perfect.
‘We have an old plastic one that looks nothing like that,’ I tell her, thinking it another example of Audrey’s creative talent. ‘Thank you so much, it will take pride of place every year. If we can keep it, that is?’
‘Of course you can keep it. And you are very welcome. I’m pleased you like it.’ She beams proudly. ‘Right, I have heard there are a mountain of potatoes to peel.’ She produces a potato peeler from the pocket of her coat. ‘I just can’t use anything else,’ she explains.
There is laughter coming from the kitchen, when I walk through and introduce Audrey to everyone.
‘Oh, you’re the girl who won the gingerbread competition, aren’t you? Lovely to meet you,’ says Sue warmly.
‘Nice to meet you all too,’ says Audrey politely, before rolling her sleeves up and getting stuck in to the potatoes.
An hour later, a huge pile of turkey has been sliced and arranged onto plates along with the cooked, sliced ham.
Barry glances at his watch and mutters something about the local pub opening in an hour and Sue slaps him on the wrist and tells him he can get stuck into chopping some vegetables first, before he even thinks about it. Apparently, it’s traditional for the men to gather at the local pub on Christmas Eve and Sue doesn’t really mind, but thinks it only fair that Barry stays and helps with the preparation first.
I keep glancing at Kian as I prepare some sprouts, noticing how easily he turns his attention to everyone in the room. Audrey is standing beside him looking completely at ease as he chats away to her.
‘So, when did you get involved with the pensioners’ parties?’ he asks me as I pop some sprouts into a giant pan.
‘Ten years ago now. I just hated the thought of anyone spending Christmas alone. I know it isn’t exactly Christmas Day, but we are not allowed to open the centre then, so I thought, why not Christmas Eve?’
‘It’s a really nice thing to do.’ He smiles. ‘I mean, I know they have such things throughout the year, but most people want to be getting on with preparing their own Christmas than being here, I would imagine.’
‘You’re probably right. Although you would be surprised at how many people have volunteered in the past, just to give something back to society. Others, like Sue and Barry, began volunteering after retirement and have helped with the party every year since. And then there are the people who don’t want to be alone with their thoughts at Christmas.’
‘Which one are you?’ he asks, before picking up a piece of raw carrot from a pan and popping it into his mouth. ‘Although you are obviously not retired.’
‘What? I’m not sure. I just enjoy doing it, that’s all.’
I brush off his question, even though I do spend a lot of time thinking of Christmases past if I’m at home over Christmas. And it was a week before Christmas when I broke up with my boyfriend, and I took the rather expensive watch I’d bought him back to the shop for a refund.
We’d had a huge fight when he bought yet another bike having updated the one from the shed, then announced he would be going on a mountain biking holiday for a week after Christmas. We had to face facts then. We wanted different things, me wanting to save up to get married, him still a million miles away from that.
‘Sorry, no offence meant.’ Kian holds his hands up. ‘I just imagined a young woman like yourself spending Christmas Eve getting ready for a big night out in town, or a party somewhere.’ He smiles. ‘Not giving their time to the old folk.’
‘Well it just goes to show, we shouldn’t have preconceived ideas about people.’
‘Maybe not. That’s me told.’ He grimaces.
‘Sorry, if that sounded a bit harsh,’ I say, thinking I am probably still a little stressed about the party situation. ‘I suppose I’m just as guilty of making assumptions about people at times.’
‘You mean like thinking old folk won’t want to be in the same room as children?’ He raises an eyebrow.
‘Perhaps.’ I smile reluctantly. ‘And as for being young, I’m not that young. I’ll be thirty-three in January.’
‘Positively ancient then,’ he teases.
It’s hard to say how old Kian is, but I’d put him in his late thirties, maybe even forty. He looks after himself though, that’s for sure, managing to look good without looking too groomed, with that dark slightly curly hair and relaxed, yet stylish, sense of fashion.
We both go to pull a kitchen drawer out at the same time, and when our hands briefly touch, I feel my arm hairs stand on end.
‘Sorry,’ he says, allowing me to go first, before he reaches for a vegetable knife. ‘I might as well give you a hand before the party food arrives,’ he says kindly.
Kian tackles some parsnips and before too long, all the veg is in the huge pans.
‘I think we’re done,’ says Sue, shaking a tea towel. ‘Roast potatoes on in say, an hour, the other veg later. And you’re definitely on the gravy.’ She points at Mum. ‘Mine could never be as good as yours.’
‘No problem.’ Mum smiles, pleased to be complimented on her gravy.
‘So are you feeling a bit more relaxed now?’ Kian asks, as we walk into the main hall and survey the room.
‘I think I am,’ I admit. ‘The room looks wonderful, doesn’t it? And everything seems to be under control.’
‘I told you not to worry, didn’t I?’ says Kian, looking around at a place that unbelievably is set for a joint party.
‘You told me to chill my bones as I recall.’
‘I did, didn’t I?’ He grins. ‘Well in my experience, being stressy never achieves anything.’
‘Nor does lack of organisation,’ I retort.
‘Stress is a killer. No one ever died from forgetting something.’ Kian shakes his head.
‘What about forgetting to take life-saving medication?’ I say triumphantly, and he rolls his eyes.
‘Well okay, but you know what I mean. Maybe you should learn to lighten up and just go with the flow sometimes,’ he says, but not unkindly.
Glancing at the two halves of the room makes me think of how the partygoers are at such opposite stages of their life. It also makes me consider how precious life is and how quickly it passes by. My mind flits back to a birthday party one summer, where I was blessed with a sunny day and a group of school friends came to my house and we had a wonderful time. It’s hard to believe that was over twenty years ago now. I don’t remember every single detail, of course, but Mum took lots of photographs. Whenever I leaf through the albums all the memories of that happy day return in an instant.
Thinking about it, perhaps everyone is right about the two groups sharing the space as I loved being around my grandparents, especially at this time of year. My grandmother had the patience to teach me things such as biscuit baking and making paper chains. And I remember the year my grandad made me a wooden doll’s house, allowing me to help him by knocking nails into the wood and applying pastel-coloured paint. I have the doll’s house to this very day. I am truly grateful to have so many happy memories to look back on.
‘We both planned these parties, but I don’t think we had any choice but to share,’ says Kian. ‘But you have to work with what you’ve got, has always been my motto. No good putting yourself into an early grave through stress.’
‘Well I can’t argue with that, although sometimes it is easier said than done,’ I reply just as a large van pulls into the car park.
‘That will be the bouncy castle,’ he says. ‘Thank goodness for the blue sky, hey?’
There is no sign of rain on this beautiful, but frosty morning and I pray it stays that way.
‘It’s still cold though. I hope the children will all have coats with them,’ I say, feeling a little guilty that they can’t have the bouncy castle inside but there simply isn’t the room.
‘I did think about that, so I had the foresight to text the parents that the bouncy castle will be outside,’ he tells me. ‘I realised that children like to wear next to nothing when I picked Bella up from school last week on a non-uniform day. One kid was wearing nothing but a thin sleeveless dress and fairy wings.’ He gives a little shiver. ‘A couple of boys wore football kits, and not a coat or hat in sight. Sure it’s up to the parents, but I don’t want them catching their death of cold on my watch.’
‘I can’t blame you for that,’ I agree.