Chapter One Humps #2
For instance, who exactly should go in each team to make sure things are fair and balanced for everyone?
Or when exactly is the right time for Teddy to open his presents?
When should Maurice get the guys over in the café to bring out the food?
What drink orders do people have? How long should everyone have to eat?
Are the vegetarians properly catered for? Are the people with allergies?
The list inevitably goes on, and on, and on. But it’s fine, because that’s what I’m here for. That’s always what I’m here for.
I am the man who organises. It’s something I feel like I’ve turned into an art form over the years.
‘Are you planning on actually bowling a ball at this bowling alley party?’ Annie asks me as she takes a bite of her third prawn vol-au-vent. I’m constantly surprised and delighted at how relaxed she is around me. It’s like she’s known me for years. I wish I was the same with her.
I shrug my shoulders. ‘Eh, I’m not that fussed,’ I say as I write down the third drinks order I’ve taken today.
She frowns. ‘No, you don’t seem it.’ She gives me a gentle poke. ‘It’s okay for you to actually take part in stuff like this, you know. You don’t have to treat the whole thing like you are at work.’
It’s clear that she hasn’t actually known me for years, with a statement like that.
‘I’m fine. Honestly,’ I reply.
Annie gives me a look. ‘Alright,’ she replies. ‘Just try to take a few minutes out at some point to at least eat something, okay?’
‘I will. I promise.’
. . . but only after I’ve got this drinks order in over at the café .
. . and made sure that Teddy’s cake is ready to come out in ten minutes, when we all sing ‘Happy Birthday’ .
. . and then tell Maurice he’s okay to put the pop music back on the tannoy .
. . and make sure the actors in the T-Rex costumes are okay .
. . and check that the animatronic velociraptor isn’t covered in too many sticky children’s hand prints . . . and—
A prawn vol-au-vent appears in my field of vision. It wobbles slightly.
‘Eat,’ my girlfriend commands, breaking into my reverie.
I roll my eyes, take the vol-au-vent from her hand and pop it in my mouth. ‘There you go,’ I say, around the pastry.
‘Well done. Make sure you get something more substantial in you, before it all gets hoovered up by the gremloids.’
If this relationship does work out, I’m not 100 per cent sure Annie and I will ever be having children. Not unless I can persuade her not to call them gremloids, anyway.
A bolt of pain suddenly shoots through the back of my neck, and I have to hide the wince on my face from Annie. I don’t do a very good job of it, as she looks suddenly concerned. ‘You okay?’
‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ I tell her. ‘Just always get a little tense when I’m at wor— when I’m doing stuff like this.’
‘Sounds like you could do with a massage,’ she says, her eyebrows waggling ever so slightly.
The implicit invitation in this makes me smile broadly – and forget the pain in my neck.
‘Maybe we could discuss that later,’ I say.
Annie smiles with an arched eyebrow and starts to answer, but my attention is then drawn by the loud sound of crying.
I look over to the bowling lanes to see that little Piper has fallen over again. Quite why her parents, Lindsay and Claire, thought it appropriate to let their delicate little girl try bowling is beyond me. The balls are heavier than she is.
‘Oops. Gremloid down,’ Annie remarks, pointing at Piper with a satay stick taken from her plate.
‘I’d better go and see if they need another plaster,’ I sigh.
An event co-ordinator’s job is never done – even when he’s not technically at work.
I kiss Annie on the cheek – again marvelling that I can do this – and march over to where Lindsay has propped his daughter up on a chair, and is inspecting the fresh graze on her left knee. It will no doubt match the one on her right very soon.
As I do this, I pass Teddy, Tyler and two other boys giggling their heads off at Teddy’s new dinosaur mask, which makes loud roaring noises whenever he opens his mouth. I knew that would go down well. It’s just the type of obnoxiously noisy toy that boys of Teddy’s age adore above all other things.
Excellent. The birthday boy is happy. And that’s all that matters.
I can eat later. Right around the time I have that drink in a warm, quiet place.
Piper doesn’t need a plaster, thankfully – just a lot of sympathy from her mother and father. I leave them to their ministrations, and make my way over to where Leo is stood at the back of the party near the bowling ball racks, nursing a Coke in one hand.
‘How are you doing?’ I ask him.
‘I’m okay,’ he says with a quick smile. ‘Everyone seems to be having a good time.’
Possibly with the exception of you, my friend. You look like you’re about to jump out of your skin at any moment.
‘You gonna play pool with Jack over in the amusement arcade?’ I ask him.
‘Yeah, in a minute.’ Leo doesn’t look entirely happy about it. Jack tends to get far too competitive in such situations.
‘Okay, cool. Maurice had new tables put in a few weeks ago, so they should run well.’
‘You gonna play too?’ he asks.
‘Yeah. Hopefully. When everything’s been taken care of.’
. . . which probably means I won’t, if I’m being honest with myself. Everything being taken care of is a scenario I have yet to encounter in my life.
‘Great. You’re likely to give him a better run for his money than I can.’
I doubt that. Jack is better at pool than either of us. I think we only play so much as it’s something to do while we talk and drink beer.
I’d like to spend a little more time with Leo, as I can tell he’s not happy.
I have no idea why, but I know he’s not. Hasn’t been for a while now, either.
Jack’s sensed it too – hence why he invited Leo today.
Our friend has become increasingly unwilling to come out with us over the last couple of years, and both of us would really like to know why.
Leo’s always been the quiet one out of the three of us.
And he’s certainly been silent on what’s troubling him.
I can’t do any more about it now, though, as I’ve just spotted Maurice fussing around, over in the café with a couple of his staff. He must be talking to them about the cake. It’s almost time for it to come out. God, I hope there’s nothing wrong with it!
‘Go on,’ Leo says, noticing my look of worry as I stare over at the bowling alley’s manager. ‘Looks like you’ve got something important to sort out.’
I give my friend a tight grin, and hurry over to Maurice.
Please don’t let there be anything too badly wrong with the cake. Everything has gone so well, so far. Everything has been under control. The last thing I need is a cake-shaped spanner in the works!
Thankfully, Maurice informs me that there is absolutely nothing wrong with the birthday cake. Other than the fact it’s so loaded with E numbers that every child who eats a bit will be bouncing off the ceiling in about half an hour.
‘So, you’re ready with the routine we practised?’ I ask him. He looks at me like I’ve just shot his dog.
‘Yes, Charlie.’ His face is a picture. A badly painted one, made by someone with chronic depression. ‘But are you sure it’s what Teddy would like?’
I nod enthusiastically. ‘Oh yes. I’m sure he’ll like it,’ I say, trying my very hardest to ignore the look of dismay on Maurice’s face.
It’s right about now that he’s probably wishing he didn’t owe me so much of a favour for getting his bowling alley back on track.
I glance at my watch. ‘5 p.m. on the dot, then?’
Maurice nods like a man going to the gallows.
As do his two staff members.
They don’t owe me a favour, but they do have a boss who does.
‘We’ll go and get . . . changed,’ Maurice tells me, his face downcast.
‘Thanks, mate,’ I reply, with an encouraging grin, watching the three of them disappear into a nearby staffroom.
Excellent. Everything is proceeding as scheduled. Now all I have to do is make sure the T-Rexes are ready with their part of the upcoming show, and then I can sit back and watch as—
Oh, good God almighty, has Piper fallen over again? Has that girl got rubber bands for legs, or something?
Sorting poor old Piper out for the third time, along with actually having a go at the bowling myself, keeps me occupied until 5 p.m. When – on the dot as agreed – the Jurassic Park theme swells over the tannoy system, and from over by the café we all turn to see Maurice and his two staff members appear.
The female of the two is dressed like Laura Dern from the movie, in khaki shorts and a pink shirt.
The other one is wearing the closest approximation to Sam Neill’s big hat that I could find, along with his baggy blue shirt and red cravat.
Maurice is dressed like Jeff Goldblum.
Well, he would be if he was a good two or three stone lighter.
As it stands, Maurice is dressed as Jeff Goldblum, if Jeff Goldblum had suffered severe bloating from a wheat allergy.
I couldn’t find a black jacket big enough for the poor guy, so the bowling alley manager looks like I’ve wrapped him in a thick bin liner with arm holes.
The black trousers are similarly stretched, and the wraparound black sunglasses are also several sizes too small for Maurice’s head.
I will apologise to him (again) at length later on, but for now, he’s more or less achieving the desired effect, so I’m more than happy.
Maurice Goldblum is carrying Teddy’s E-number-loaded birthday cake (which is in the shape of a T-Rex head) and he and his staff are being pursued by the two T-Rexes, as they all come over to the lanes we are using.
The T-Rexes are doing a very good job of trying to look menacing and angry. A job made easier by the fact that it rather looks like they’re chasing after someone who’s decapitated one of their loved ones – and shoved its head on an over-sized plate.
Teddy is beside himself with joy at all of this, as I knew he would be.