structure of varnished pine that I’d tried to make different by reinforcing the legs with a bridge-like structure, a nod to the dream I once had of becoming a civil engineer. At first, Livia hadn’t liked the lack of space underneath. Now, she loves to sit on the cushioned bench-seat, her feet resting on one of the beams, her body curved back against the wall.
The kettle clicks off. I fill the cafetière and leaving it to brew, unlock the door to the garden. The noise disturbs a male blackbird sitting in a nearby bush. There’s a panicked flapping of wings, and as I watch him soar into the sky, I’m reminded that Marnie is on her way home.
Smiling at the thought of seeing her again, because nine months is a long time, I walk across the terrace and climb the five craggy steps, enjoying the feel of rough stone against the soles of my feet, followed by dewy grass as I cross the lawn. The morning air smells of a damp mulch I can’t quite place, something to do with Livia’s roses. There’s a huge bed of them, on the right-hand side of the garden, in front of the wooden fence and as I walk by, I catch the incredible scent of Sweet Juliet. Or maybe it’s Lady Emma Hamilton. I can never remember which, even though Livia tells me often enough.
I walk around the marquee, checking that it’s properly anchored, in case my nightmare was a premonition of some sort, and see that they’ve taken it so far back it’s practically touching my shed, leaving only the smallest of spaces for me to squeeze through. I know why they’ve done it; they’ve had to leave room for the tables and chairs which will be set up in front of the marquee. But if it’s possible to resent a tent, I’m doing it now.
I sit on the low stone wall that borders the other side of the lawn, opposite the fence, and try to imagine what the garden will look like tonight with a hundred people milling around, lights tangled in the branches of the apple and cherry trees, and balloons just about everywhere. I always knew Livia wanted a big party for her fortieth but I hadn’t realised quite how big until a few months ago, when she began to talk about caterers and marquees and champagne. It had sounded so over the top that I’d laughed.
‘I’m serious, Adam!’ she said indignantly. ‘I want it to be really special.’
‘I know, and it will be. It’s just that it sounds a bit expensive.’
‘Please don’t ruin it before I’ve had a chance to work things out,’ she implored. ‘Anyway, the money isn’t important.’
‘Liv, the money is important,’ I said, wishing I didn’t have to mention it. ‘Josh is going away this summer and Marnie’s in Hong Kong, we have to be careful for a while. You know that.’
She looked at me, and I knew that look. Guilt.
‘What?’ I asked.
‘I’ve been saving,’ she admitted. ‘For the party. I’ve been putting money by for years, not huge amounts, just a little each month. I’m sorry, I should have told you.’
‘It’s fine,’ I said, wondering if the reason she hadn’t told me was because of the time I spent her savings on a motorbike. It still makes me cringe even though it happened years ago, before Marnie was born.
The thought of Marnie jogs my memory. I make my way back to the house and, stepping over Mimi, who always manages to get under my feet, find my mobile where I left it charging last night, tucked next to the bread bin. As I was hoping, there’s a message from her.
‘Dad, you’re not going to believe it – my flight’s been delayed so I’m not going to make my connection in Cairo. Which means I’ll get to Amsterdam too late for my connection to London. It sucks but don’t worry, I’ll get there somehow. Maybe they’ll put me on a direct flight and I’ll be there earlier than we thought! I’ll text when I arrive at Heathrow. Love you xxx’
Damn. I love Marnie’s optimism but I doubt they’ll put her on a direct flight to London. They’ll probably make her wait in Cairo for the next available flight to Amsterdam. Not for the first time, I wonder why I agreed to her taking such a roundabout way to get here.
When she began planning her party, the one thing Livia never imagined was that Marnie might not be there. We’ve always known the date of the party, so the first thing Marnie did when she knew she was going to be studying in Hong Kong this year was check when she had exams. But then the dates changed.
‘I now have exams on the third, fourth and fifth of June and then again on the thirteenth and fourteenth,’ she said, her face flushed with frustration when she FaceTimed us back in January. ‘I can’t believe I’m going to miss the party.’
‘What if I move it to the fifteenth?’ Liv asked.
‘I still wouldn’t be able to get there in time, not with the time difference.’
‘Or the twenty-second?’
‘No, because then Josh wouldn’t be there. That’s the date he’s leaving for New York, remember? He chose it to fit in with your party. He’s already got his ticket so he won’t be able to change it. I’m really sorry, Mum, I wish there was something I could do. But there isn’t.’
We spent hours trying to find a way around it, but in the end, we had to accept that Marnie wouldn’t be at the party. It was a huge blow for Liv. She wanted to cancel the party and use the money to buy flights to Hong Kong, and celebrate her birthday there. But Marnie wouldn’t let her.
‘I don’t want you to give up on your dream party, Mum. Anyway, Josh wouldn’t be able to come because he’ll have his finals. I’d have to study, so I wouldn’t be able to spend much time with you. And you know Dad is too busy to take more than a week off. And to come for less than ten days wouldn’t be worth it, not after paying so much for the tickets.’
Then, three weeks ago, she’d texted me.
‘Dad, what are you buying Mum for her birthday?’
‘A ring,’ I texted back. ‘With diamonds. But don’t tell her, it’s a surprise.’
‘Would you like to give her another surprise?’
‘Such as?’
‘Can I FaceTime you? Is Mum around?’
‘No, she’s out, looking for a dress for the party.’
‘Oh, good, I hope she finds one. Talking of her party…’
Then my phone had rung and that’s when she told me about the cheap flight she’d found, Hong Kong to Cairo, Cairo to Amsterdam, Amsterdam to London.
‘I’ve worked it out and if I leave after my exam on the Thursday, I’ll arrive in London on Saturday evening and could be at the house around nine. What do you think, Dad? It could be a surprise for Mum.’
She was sitting on a white desk chair in the student room she shared with Nadia, her roommate from Romania, and behind her I could see the duvet cover she’d taken from home, most of it puddled on the floor. She was wearing one of my old T-shirts and her mahogany red-brown hair was piled on top of her head, secured there, I guessed, by the usual pencil. It always amazed me, the way she did that.
‘I think she’d love it,’ I said, scooping Mimi onto my knee so that they could see each other. ‘When would you have
