Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
My dad’s big day rolls around, and begins in style with Archie, Jake, Josh and Trevor turning up at the front door with a portable throne. Guy helped them build it, a red-velvet covered seat on a frame, complete with four carrying poles.
He looks ever-so-slightly nervous as he clambers onto it, but soon settles into the idea as he is paraded around the village green waving at his subjects.
It’s not a big journey, which is lucky for the men tasked with carrying him, just a quick circuit and then off to the Cove Café for birthday brunch.
Once there, the feasting begins, and I suspect it might go on all day.
Connie has outdone herself, coming up with so many of his favourites.
It’s a long and luxurious multi-course feast that begins with a classic bacon butty, done on her home-baked doorstep-sized slices of bread, and served with his beloved HP Sauce.
After that, there is an actual pancake menu for us all to choose from – options including sliced bananas, strawberries, marshmallows, Nutella, blueberry compote, or any combination of the above.
It’s all finished up with a sumptuous fresh fruit salad drizzled with his favourite maple syrup, although everyone is stuffed by that point.
My dad manages to get through a creditable amount – he eats like a horse and always has done, paying scant regard to new-fangled trends like cholesterol or blood sugar.
But he’s also always been incredibly active, and when somebody is celebrating their ninetieth birthday, they’ve clearly been doing something right.
The brunch is accompanied by Buck’s Fizz all around, and then a game of Mystery Cricket on the village green.
Mystery Cricket was introduced after my departure from the village, so it’s also pretty mysterious to me.
I soon realise it’s a whole lot of fun and very Starshine indeed.
It involves a batter and a bowler, just like normal cricket, but the mystery bit kicks in because the batter has no clue what is going to be bowled at them.
It could be a ball, it could be pouch of jelly, it could be a water balloon or a bag of flour.
It takes googlies to a whole new level, and my dad ends up coated in both fluorescent green gunk and a flurry of multi-coloured sequins.
After that, he is taken on his throne back to Archie and Cally’s cottage, where he is given a mini spa-break by Meg and Lilly.
I’m not convinced that he really enjoys having his face exfoliated and his nails buffed, but the girls are so excited about it, and he is, as ever, the model of patience.
Cally uses her professional skills to tidy up his silver mane of hair, and her son Sam presents him with his specially curated outfit for the evening events.
‘Oh, this is all marvellous,’ he declares, ‘I feel very special indeed! But now, I’m going to ask you for the very best gift a man could have – I need a snooze. There’s no way I’m going to last the whole day if I don’t have a power nap!’
He is whisked away upstairs, and I decide that having a nap is actually a great idea.
I consider staying at the cottage and trying to get forty winks, but I’m not convinced how much rest is actually going to be had.
Meg and Lilly are sitting outside the bedroom waiting for him to wake up, coiled springs of excitement, so I head back to his place instead.
Being pregnant is a truly superb napping excuse – nobody expects too much of a woman who is growing another human being inside her own body.
I do get snaffled by the Betties on my way past their bakery, and they insist that I take home a box of their chocolate fudge cake, ‘for emergencies’.
I can’t possibly imagine ever eating another mouthful of sweet stuff again, ever, but who am I to argue?
I gratefully accept their gift and make my way back to the cosy solitude of the house.
I feel much better after an hour in bed, and in a jolly mood as I walk back along the green.
It is quite the hive of activity, as the remnants of Mystery Cricket are removed and it is transformed into an outdoor party venue.
Connie has also been transformed, from the friendly and benign café owning woman she normally is into a stern-faced sergeant major running a military operation.
She’s directing everyone around, her eagle eyes missing nothing.
Josh accidentally drops one of the beer kegs he’s carrying, and I half expect her to tell him to hit the ground and do fifty push-ups.
Still, she’s getting things done for sure.
I bet she was a nightmare when she was running her own restaurant in London.
I know a giant marquee had been on standby for the party, but the weather continues to be glorious so it’s not needed. A stage has been built, ready for the music that will come later, and part of the green has been coated in temporary wooden panels that fit together and make an ad-hoc dance floor.
There are trestle tables laid out, which Connie’s children and other volunteers are starting to fill with sumptuous amounts of food. This entire village is jam-packed with people who love either creating or consuming delicious food, I think.
Despite the amount I’d managed to eat earlier, my tummy does make a little rumble as I look at the feast – cooked meats, a whole salmon, sandwiches of every possible kind, salads and slaws and dips and giant glass bowls full of jellies next to jugs of cream.
It looks like an adults’ version of a children’s tea party.
Bear is here, snuffling hopefully around the edges that are just out of reach.
Ella’s little pooch, Larry – as much of a mystery as the cricket with his tiny legs and long white fluff – is at his side, and I wonder if they might work together and come up with some kind of master plan by the end of the night.
I’m fairly sure that if Larry jumped up into Bear’s back, they could reach the sausage rolls.
One entire table holds nothing at all but cake – Connie couldn’t decide between the lemon meringue, the chocolate torte and the apple pie, so in the end she just contributed all of them.
The Betties have produced a huge birthday cake in the shape of a cricket bat, and Jake and Ella have set up a mini-pub to keep the drinks flowing.
Literally everything has been thought of.
There’s even a photographer – Nathan, Sam’s boyfriend, milling around taking Polaroids.
I smile at how quickly and thoroughly it’s all been achieved, the way that everyone has come together to bring something to the mix.
Starshine always was good at throwing a party.
My mind casts me back to that New Year’s Eve, when the Millennium arrived in all its bug-free glory.
My dad was a lot younger then, and some of the people making this event happen didn’t even know Starshine Cove existed.
I was already plotting to escape it, with my mum’s unexpected support.
I remember feeling so trapped, so stifled – I hated the Millennium, I hated the party, and I hated Starshine and all its horrible perfection.
Now, as I wave to my friends and cast a sympathetic glance in Guy’s direction when he comes under Connie’s scrutiny, I realise I’m finding it all a lot more appealing.
I see what my mum always wanted me to see – the friendship, the love, the security.
Maybe I’ve finally grown up – or maybe this is what she meant, years ago when she was ill.
When she made me promise not to let losing her break me.
She told me that when I’d roamed long enough and far enough, I’d come home.
Is this home, I wonder, looking around me?
Is this the place I will stay and raise my child?
Over the years I’ve known lots of families who travel together.
It’s not the easiest of choices, but it’s possible – aid workers, volunteers, those dedicated to an alternative lifestyle, they still have relationships, still have children.
The kids are often magnificently feral, rich in life experience even if that life isn’t conventional. Could I do that? Would I even want to?
I’m not sure any more. Now, when I look at the village green, dressed for the party, I don’t have quite the same urge to run.
At least not all of the time. These people are my friends.
This place is my safety. This village is a world where I know I will always be welcome, where I can raise my baby surrounded by peace and love.
Have I finally roamed long enough and far enough?
Connie barks an order out at Guy, and I see him give her a brisk military salute as she walks away. It makes me laugh, and he winks at me before he follows her command.
He’s part of this place for me too, now, I realise.
As important to me as all the others. I know he might not stay forever – that his own roaming days may still not be behind him – and I hate the thought of him leaving.
He’s been so solid, so good for me. Like a supporting wall. I hope I don’t collapse when he goes.
That, I tell myself, is a worry for another day. It’s certainly not a worry for the day of my father’s ninetieth birthday party.
I walk around the bustling green to the cottage, carrying my dress over my arm.
Inside, I find a flurry of activity. Cally is blow-drying the girls’ hair for them, which is apparently a special treat and cause for much mind-blowing excitement.
They both have new outfits and are almost bursting with joy as they show me the fruit-flavoured lip gloss they’re going to be wearing.
Girls always seem to be in such a hurry to grow up.
I wonder what mine will be like. Not at all like me, is all I can hope.