‘It’ll grow back stronger than ever,’ said Pete, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘I’ll sneak up in the middle of the night and water it with extra-strong Baby Bio.’
Despite himself, Griff gave an involuntary chuckle. ‘You’re a good bloke, Pete, have I ever told you?’
‘No. You’ve told me I’m a bellend and a gonk on numerous occasions, but you have strangely bypassed the slop.’
‘Does it hit you hard sometimes, Pete, about Tara, when you’re not expecting it?’ said Griff, giving his eye a surreptitious wipe, making it look like a scratch.
‘Always when I’m not expecting it,’ said Pete.
‘I was thinking about Mum today making that cake for Dad’s sixtieth, can you remember? The snooker table. It was a work of art. She got Dad. She put him first and he put her first, but her . . .’ His lips pulled back over his teeth.
‘It’s his choice, not ours, mate,’ said Pete. ‘Mum’s gone and none of us wants to see Dad lonely for the rest of his life.’
‘I’m not sure I could move on if I lost Lucy,’ said Griff. ‘But I want you to. You deserve to find someone who really loves you, Pete.’
Griff was scaring him now. He was trapped in something dark, riddled with fear and frustration and pain. Tomorrow, he’d insist on taking him out for a pint and he’d get to the bottom of it, thrash it out, bash whatever was really troubling him into some perspective.
‘Come on, Cora’s moved out of the summer house, let’s go and get some of those posh vol-au-vents that Dad’s spent our inheritance on,’ Pete said, driving his brother forwards.
*
The food offering was superb but Pete knew that if his mother had been alive, it would have been better and everything homemade, from the buns to the bunting hanging on the pergola. He loaded his plate with pastry, his hunger seemingly signalling a renewed appetite for life. Griff picked up a couple of things half-heartedly, Lucy nibbled on an egg triangle.
‘I thought you’d dive in like Tom Daley,’ said Pete. Griff usually stacked a buffet plate as if he was gearing up for a fortnight’s siege.
‘Give it a rest will you, babysitting me,’ said Griff, moving away from his brother and mumbling something about going to the toilet. Lucy rubbed her forehead and sighed.
‘Tomorrow, I’m taking him out and he’s going to talk to me,’ said Pete.
‘He’s okay, really,’ said Lucy, her smile weak, which was not how Lucy usually smiled; tonight she was on dipped beam rather than full headlights.
Pete’s eyes skimmed across the garden; everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, chatting, eating, drinking. Cora and Nigel had their heads together and she was talking at him as if she was telling him off. He thought he ought to go over and say hello to her, disarm her.
As he wound his way over, he heard snatches of the exchange between them.
‘I don’t want them using the inside toilet, Nigel, there’s a perfectly acceptable one outside. No one has any reason to go in the house.’
‘Hello, Cora,’ said Pete, sticking on a friendly smile. ‘Really nice party for Dad.’
‘Just having a domestic about the loo arrangements,’ said Nigel with a tipsy grin on his face.
‘There’s already mud on the hall carpet and I’m not getting out the Vax,’ continued Cora, ignoring Pete.
‘Okay, I’ll clean the carpet tomorrow but I am not asking guests to use an outside loo.’ Nigel flapped his hand as if swatting the argument away, like a persistent fly.
‘Yes you will. Or rather you can buy another because you will never get that carpet looking the way it was this morning. It’s ingrained.’
Cora moved off and Nigel grimaced. ‘I’m in proper bother,’ he said with a giggle. ‘But today, I don’t care. You all right, son?’ Nigel turned suddenly serious. ‘I worry about you two boys. I know you’re all grown up but you never stop worrying about your kids.’
Griff appeared from the house and crossed Cora’s path, blanking her and she turned, eyes knives in his back. A smile appeared on his face as if triggered by a switch. He was pissing her off just by breathing the same air and he was glad about it. He waved over at Lucy to join them.
‘Dad,’ said Griff, putting his arm around his father. His voice was loud, meant to be overheard. ‘We couldn’t bring your real present. You can keep it at mine until you have a space for it but it’s all yours.’
Lucy flashed a look at Pete. They’d arranged to say this tomorrow, in order not to inflame Cora.
‘What do you mean?’ said Nigel. ‘You’ve given me my presents.’
Pete was aware of Cora hovering nearby. Griff wanted her to be inflamed.
Griff reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, clicked on photos and found the one of him and Lucy sprawled on the table that they’d taken with a very long selfie stick.
‘Here you go. Happy snookering.’
‘As if,’ said Nigel with a chuckle. His eyes zipped between the three of them and the picture. Shock settled on his features. ‘No. You’re joking. You are bloody joking.’
Pete shook his head slowly. There was nothing for it now but to go with the flow. ‘We’re not. Happy sixty-fifth, Dad.’
Nigel cheered, threw his hands up in the air. ‘Yes,’ he shrieked like a little boy, drawing the attention of everyone. ‘They’ve only gone and bought me a snooker table.’
Claps and laughs broke out, but Cora’s expression was murderous. She stomped towards the house, cutting through anyone in her path and Pete found himself hoping she’d stay there, let his dad enjoy himself for one night without her casting a fat, black cloud over the proceedings. He’d intended to take advantage of not being the designated driver and have a few beers but he changed his plan. He’d remain sober and keep his eye on things. There was an undercurrent to the evening that he wasn’t happy with.
Lucy brought out the cake with the sparklers fizzing on top and everyone sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to Nigel and after he had blown out his candles, there was a chorus of ‘Speech, speech.’
‘Well thank you everyone,’ began Nigel. ‘I welcome you all to my . . . our house. Where is Cora?’ He craned his neck, but she hadn’t made a reappearance.
‘Toilet,’ someone yelled and chuckled.
‘I’ll shout then so she can hear me,’ said Nigel. ‘It wasn’t so long ago that I didn’t think I’d be here to cebrelate . . . er celebrate—’ guffaws all round ‘—this birthday because I thought I’d have died of a broken heart. But I’m here with my family and my friends and I’m smiling again. You’ve just got to live life until you stop, haven’t you?’ People nodded, hear hears ensued, whistles and hails of agreement. ‘We’ve had a lot of sadness in a short time in our family and I’d like you to raise your glasses, not to me but to loved ones. In the hope that sadness will never defeat them because we are nothing without love, and with love we can get through anything. To loved ones.’ He lifted his glass and Pete noticed that Lucy was upset, fighting not to cry. He put his arm around her, pulled her into his side and wondered why the usually attentive Griff wasn’t doing this instead of staring at his parents’ rose bush.