Miss Potterton's Birthday Tea (6 page)

‘I expect parking round here is a bit of a nightmare. Maybe they're struggling to find a space?' Ian offered kindly. Both he and Tina were wondering who Tom was.

‘Well, no, Ian, that can't be right. Everyone is within walking distance or has a resident's pass. I don't understand it. I specifically said three o'clock. Didn't I, Tina?'

‘Yes. Yes, you did.' She nodded. ‘Tell you what, how about a nice cup of tea while you're waiting. I'm sure Dr Ian would like one – you must be gasping!' She smiled at him.

‘That would be lovely. Yes, please.' He looked like a happy schoolboy who'd been offered seconds.

‘No! Absolutely not!' Miss Potterton banged the arm of her chair. ‘Can you imagine the embarrassment of Mr and Mrs Govington-Holmes or the Right Honourable Muir Tyson-Blaine if they arrived and we were merrily drinking tea, with festivities well and truly launched without them? How would that look? No.' She shook her head. ‘We shall wait.'

She turned her head towards the hallway, her fingers fidgeting on the chair.

The expectation, as they listened for the reassuring ping of the bell or the light rapping of knuckles on the glass, gave the room a physical weight that bore down on them like a leaden cloak.

‘Do you drive, Tina?' Ian made small talk.

‘Only my son round the bend.' She smiled.

‘Ha! Very good!' He laughed too loudly and for too long.

‘No, never seen the point, really. Buses are good as gold from where I live and I wouldn't know where to start with a car, even if I could drive. I mean, it's not like I could get a car, so learning to drive always felt a bit pointless. My dad had a van. He was a delivery driver for Addison Lee back in the day.'

Ian nodded. ‘I think it's admirable not driving a car. I hate to think what my gas-guzzling tractor does to the environment.'

‘Oh God! Don't tell me Helen is encouraging you to go green and start riding a bike everywhere!' Miss Potterton tutted and ran her tongue over her lips, clearly parched.

‘No! No, quite the opposite. I'd like a bike, in fact, but she was very keen we got the four-by-four – good for off-roading and narrow country lanes.' He looked at the floor.

‘Do you do a lot of off-roading?' Tina wasn't exactly sure what that was, but she also wanted to make conversation.

‘No, never.' He stared at her.

‘But you live in a narrow country lane?'

Ian shook his head. ‘Again, no.' He pictured the top-of-the-range monstrosity that Helen had convinced him was necessary, when all he really wanted was a bike, and a little Mini with cup holders for his lunchtime coffee and a good sun visor. ‘In fact, I don't know why we got the bloody thing. Something else she talked me into.'

‘Language, young man!' Miss Potterton remonstrated.

Tina felt the giggle rise in her throat and turned on her heel, making a hasty exit to the kitchen. She felt his eyes following her as she left the room.

‘Mum, I'm getting bored.' Marley threw a sugared almond into the air and tried to catch it in his mouth. When he missed, he caught it in his hand and tried again.

‘Not too much longer. What's the bloody time?' She pulled her phone from her back pocket and slid the screen. ‘God, it's nearly half past! Please don't say they're not coming.'

She ran her palm over her face, wishing she'd never suggested the birthday party in the first place. Then she bent over the countertop and buried her head in her hands.

‘Knock, knock!' Ian alerted her to his presence.

‘Oh God! Hi! I was just having a think.' She was flustered and could feel two spots of colour rising on her cheeks.

‘This is my son, Marley. Marley, this is Dr Ian.'

Ian walked forward and shook hands with Tina's son, silently admiring the boy's impressive Afro. ‘Just Ian – don't worry about the doctor bit.' He smiled.

Marley nodded.

‘Are you thinking what I'm thinking – that we might be a bit light on guests?' Ian held Tina's gaze.

‘Don't! I'm hoping they've just got held up.' She blinked.

‘Yes, possibly.' He nodded. ‘But what do we do if they're no-shows?'

‘We…' She looked around the kitchen for inspiration, staring at the beautiful iced fruitcake with the ivory bow and pearl detail. ‘I don't know!' she squealed, dreading the thought.

‘Who are we waiting on?' Ian asked.

‘Oh, Gawd.' Tina hated having to recite the names, as if it was some kind of memory test. ‘We've got Mr and Mrs Govington-Thingy, and Mr Tyson-Blaine, and the three ladies from the Residents Association, whose names, I'm embarrassed to say, I can't recall, because in my head I've been referring to them as Huey, Dewey and Louie.'

He stared at her as if she was bonkers. ‘Right, do you have numbers for any of them?'

‘Oh yes!' Her face lit up as she remembered. ‘I've got Dewey's!' She rushed to a drawer and pulled out a circular from the Residents Association. ‘Can I borrow your phone, Marl?'

He handed it over slowly, thinking of his depleting credit.

Tina turned away from them both; she didn't want to be watched while she made the call.

‘Oh, hello, it's Tina here. I'm Miss Potterton's cleaner... Yes, cleaner. Anyway, the reason for my call is to see if you are able to come to her birthday tea today. We were expecting you at three and so…' She turned and looked at Ian and frowned. ‘Oh, I see!' She listened some more. ‘Oh really? Well, that's a shame. But thank you and sorry to have bothered you. Yes, I will. Thanks.'

She handed the phone back to Marley. ‘Apparently Dewey had already called to say that she and her two mates were unable to attend. And she happened to know that the Govington-Doo-Dahs are on holiday. They also phoned, apparently.'

‘And spoke to Cordelia?' Ian asked.

She nodded. The two stared at each other for a second or two. Then Tina clapped her hands together.

‘Okay, this is what we do. Marley, you make a pot of the finest Darjeeling. I'll bring the sandwiches and cakes through. Dr Ian, you go and remove the plates and bits and bobs we don't need, and we will try and dazzle your aunt with our lovely food and distract her with our great company. Come on, Marley, shake a leg!' she urged. ‘And we shall just have to hope that Mr Tyson-Thingy shows up as a kind of last-minute gift!'

‘Right, so I'm on distraction and plate removal, got it! And yes, do hurry up, Marley. I'm
bloody
starving!' Ian spoke with gusto, as if he was having fun.

Tina laughed, noting his emphasis of the swear word. He was great.

She approached the table carrying a three-tiered cake stand crammed with delicate, crustless sandwiches.

‘Good God, this is all rather lame! I've been to more atmospheric wakes.' Miss Potterton sighed.

‘Okay, well, apparently, Mr and Mrs Govington—'

‘Govington-Holmes!' Miss Potterton snapped in irritation.

‘Yep, them. Well, they are on holiday.'

Miss Potterton sniffed.

‘And the three ladies from the Residents Association are also now unavailable.'

‘Unavailable? What does that mean? Makes it sound like I've missed my appointment.' She tutted again and then adjusted the pearls at her neck. ‘Maybe it's time I admitted that I am just not as popular as I thought!'

‘Oh, bless…' Tina whispered, feeling her heart twist, wishing that Miss Potterton was the type of woman who liked a hug, knowing it would make them both feel a lot better.

‘The good news is…' Tina smiled brightly. ‘That you get to enjoy the company of me and Dr Ian and Marley. And the good news for
us
is... there's more cake and sandwiches to go round. And I for one can't wait!'

Without waiting to be asked, she took a seat at the table and laid the napkin on her lap. She watched as Miss Potterton dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. Disappointment was shitty, whether you were nine or ninety-four.

‘Come on, Marley, where's that tea?' she called towards the kitchen.

‘Does he know to add one for the pot?' Miss Potterton asked.

‘Oh, don't you worry. He might not have attended many tea parties, but that boy knows about making tea!' She beamed.

‘I would very much like to see your mother too.' Miss Potterton turned to her nephew as though they were mid conversation. ‘She was such a kind soul.' Her voice was soft.

‘Yes, she was.' Ian looked up at Tina. ‘We were saying earlier how much we both miss her.'

‘Oh.' Tina smiled as Marley arrived with the large silver teapot on a tray. His expression spoke volumes and it said,
I'm so glad my mates can't see me now…

‘Champagne, Cordelia?' Ian held the bottle over the empty flute.

‘I'm not sure I should – damned pills and whatnot.' She placed her gnarled hand at her neck.

‘Doctor's orders! I'd say a couple of sips of this is almost medicinal!' He poured her a thimbleful. ‘And it's a shame not to make the most of such a good bottle,' he added, peering at the label and making a mental note to add this to his wine journal.

‘Marley?' Ian lifted the bottle.

‘No, thanks.' Marley placed his hand over the top of the glass. ‘I don't drink. I'm training. My dad used to say, “If you're training, you can't be drinking”.'

‘Oh good, more for us!' Ian laughed and returned to his seat. ‘Is your dad an athlete too?' He pictured the suave, tennis-playing Spaniard.

‘No, but he can talk the talk.'

‘Ain't that the truth.' Tina dived in for another sandwich. No one was counting, but it was her fifth.

‘I don't see him that much,' Marley said. ‘You know, the odd text, or if he's in town... We don't really know each other, but it's cool, cos that's how's it's always been, really, and your normal is your normal.'

Ian marvelled at Marley's maturity and his lack of bitterness. The sadness was that the boy's dad was missing out on the chance to parent this driven, polite young man.

Tina sat up straight. ‘Oh, Marley's dad's very clever. He's a musician. So he travels a lot.' She gave a tight smile.

Marley looked at his mum. ‘He ain't a musician, Mum. And you don't have to keep saying that! He owns a guitar, but that doesn't make him a musician. I mean, you've got an oven, but you can't cook!'

Tina let out a loud burst of laughter that lightened the tone. ‘S'pose you're right, love. He was pretty good back in the day. I guess he gave up on his dream and forgot to replace it with something.'

‘That's why I've plans A, B
and
C. I don't want to end up just scoring a bit of dope and hanging around with my mates and sitting on the steps every night. Nah, mate, well borin'!'

Cordelia stared at the young man. ‘I think you might actually be talking another language,' she shouted and reached for her second Fondant Fancy.

Tina winked at Ian. It seemed her common, shop-bought confections were going down a treat.

‘So what are plans A, B and C? If you don't mind me asking.' Ian thought of Minty, who was usually to be found sitting on a beach, waiting for a life plan or a rich man to fall into her lap. He could hazard a guess as to which was more likely.
What a bloody waste.

Marley leant towards Ian. ‘I want to finish college and get my HNC in Sport and Exercise Sciences. If I do well, that might be enough to get me into uni, and I want to study physiotherapy or medicine, depends on how well I do and stuff.' He looked away, embarrassed to admit to his ambition, half expecting the same ribbing that he got from Digsy.

‘So, a doctor?' Ian didn't look shocked or as if this was beyond the realms of possibility.

Marley nodded. ‘That would be the dream.'

‘But you didn't stay for A levels?'

‘Nah, my school was proper crap and they'd kind of written me off and it felt too hard to try and change how they viewed me, so I thought college would be best, a new start.'

‘That makes sense.' Ian nodded.

‘And then I want to buy a house or a flat. So that's Plan A, really. In a nutshell.' He held Ian's gaze, shifting slightly in his seat, awkward at having shared his dream.

‘Sounds wonderful, Marley. And what are plans B and C?'

Marley pulled back his shoulders, his chin jutting slightly as if to emphasise his resolve. ‘If I fail, Plan B is to go back and repeat Plan A. And if Plan B fails, then Plan C is to go back and repeat A and B…'

‘I get the idea.' Ian grinned at Marley's single-mindedness, the like of which he hadn't seen for a long while – if you didn't count Helen's determination to sod off with Mr Sausage Pants. Funny, usually when he thought about that, he felt angry, upset. Right now? He felt... nothing.

‘I won't stop until I've made it happen and it doesn't matter how long it takes. I figure that getting to where I want to be is part of my job, and if I think I've already started on my journey, that spurs me on, you know?'

Ian nodded. ‘Yes, I do know. I remember after my first three years of uni, when a lot of my friends were going off to quite well-paid jobs and I knew I had another few years of slog and studying ahead of me, it was tough. But reminding myself that I was on my way, that I'd already put in a lot of leg work, made it easier to carry on.'

‘He's a good boy, works really hard.'

Marley cringed.

‘You must be proud of him.' Ian smiled at her.

‘I am. Not only because of what he'll achieve, but because he's lovely. I just want him to be happy. And I like him. I like spending time with him and I think that's the best compliment there is, really, that someone wants to spend time with you. I think that's love.'

Ian stared at her, trying to think of the last time he had wanted to spend time with someone or they him.