Gilliflowers (4 page)

The men folk suddenly appeared in the kitchen. Shane gave me a keen look.

“What is going on?”

I tried to state my case, but it was dead in the water. Penny had already cleared her fishy plan with him. He said the kitchen was plenty big enough to accommodate us both and it wouldn’t kill me to let her make what would be a nice addition to the evening menu. Dick seconded him. I was outvoted.

Penny crammed her big fish in my fridge and left the kitchen triumphant. Shane closed the door after her. Striding over to me he gave my backside a skelp.

“Where the hell have you been for the last hour and a half?”

“I went out for a walk.” I said sullenly.

“And you didn’t think to tell us you were going or bother taking your phone?”

“No.” I said truthfully. “I didn’t think I’d be out long.”

“Don’t scold, Shane. He’s frozen. Look, he’s shivering.” Dick came to me, putting his arms around me, pulling me close and warming me with his body. “Why didn’t you put a coat on, silly arse.”

“I didn’t realise how cold it was.” I snuggled him grateful for the heat and also for the buffer he provided between Shane and I. “I had a bit of a headache. I needed a breath of air.”

“You had no business vanishing like that.” Shane picked up the kettle, taking it over to the sink to fill with water. He switched it on and then glanced me over. “You look tired. If you had any sense you’d welcome Penny’s help instead of obstructing her. I’m sick to death of the constant bickering between you. I don’t want the holiday to be one long round of quarrels.”

“Tell her then.”

“I’m telling you. She’s old enough to be your mother, so show her some respect instead of picking fights with her as if she was a member of your peer group. Do you want tea? It’ll warm you up.”

“I’d rather have a Bovril please.”

When the kettle boiled he made me a mug of Bovril and a pot of tea for everyone else, putting two bags into a six-cup teapot. It would be like goldfish piss. I slipped another two into the pot while he was collecting cups. He and Dick then sojourned to the lounge with the tray of tea.

The hot drink warmed me through, but in all honesty I still felt crap. My brain wanted to shut down my body so it could use the energy to repair itself. I refused to heed its demand. I didn’t want Penny wading in and taking over, stealing my thunder.

I’d worked hard and I wanted to see it through.

I had a mixed hot and cold buffet planned for the party. I’d made the majority of stuff beforehand and also had some good quality ready-made fare on standby. It only needed to be transferred from freezer to oven, things like miniature beef and onion pasties, individual cheese and broccoli quiches and yes, sausage rolls. There’s nothing wrong with a good old sausage roll.

I’d baked and glazed the ham joint on Friday. It looked beautiful with its orange glaze studded with cloves and decorated with orange slices. I was proud of it. It was in the fridge along with a roasted turkey crown covered with slices of smoked streaky bacon. They just needed to be brought out and returned to room temperature before slicing. I’d made a vegetarian chilli and a chicken curry some weeks earlier and frozen them. They were defrosting in the fridge. I’d reheat them later and put them into electric buffet trays to keep hot. I had new potatoes and rice to cook to go with them. It was mainly the cold foods left to prepare, dips, salads, sandwiches, a seafood platter and desserts.

Supping off my Bovril I set to work, gathering and setting out ingredients and utensils. First on the agenda to make was a rich lemon mousse. I felt slow and clumsy as I weighed and measured, but persevered. The original plan was to make individual portions of the mousse by dividing the mixture between disposable shot glasses bought for the purpose. I regretfully abandoned the idea. It would be fiddly and given my state more than I could manage without making a premium mess. Instead I poured it into a large glass bowl, decorating it with white chocolate shavings and fresh mint leaves. It looked pretty enough. I was pleased. It needed to go in the fridge to set and chill down.

Only, I scowled as I opened the fridge door. Penny’s minging fish was hogging the glass shelf I wanted to put it on. It had a sour expression that reminded me of her.

I glared at it and an opaque eye glared back through clear polythene wrapping. It would have to be evicted. I looked round for somewhere to put it. The kitchen table and counters were covered. I had pots in the sink and pans on the cooker.

An idea came to me. The salmon was hermetically sealed in its bag. It couldn’t get out and nothing could get in. Grasping the bag handle I carried it into the garden. It was freezing cold and therefore ideal for keeping fish fresh until needed. The tool-shed roof was flat and still had a layer of frost on it, a ready-made fishmonger's slab. I laid the bagged salmon on top of it and returned to the warm kitchen.

The sounds didn’t register at first. I was too preoccupied. They gradually got louder, bird noises coming from the garden, but not garden birds. It was the unmistakable elongated screech of herring gulls. It’s not unusual for them to come inland in the winter months. They’re the foxes of the air world, able to adapt and forage outside of their natural habitat. I went over to the kitchen window and looked out to see why they were being so raucous.

Shit! My hair stood on end. There was a whirling airborne gang of the creatures and they were dive-bombing the shed roof, fighting and vying with each other to be the first to snatch the salmon and feast on it.

Panic gave me a surge of energy. Wrenching open the door I hurtled outside yelling and waving my arms trying to scare them off. Herring gulls are big, aggressive and not easily scared. They didn’t spare me a look. They carried on screeching, quarrelling, fighting and swooping at the salmon bounty trying to catch it in their sharp talons.

I grabbed my Swiffer mop from the utility cupboard and ran back outside using it like a lance to try and ward off the birds and also to try and knock the fish off the roof so I could grab it. A couple of mean eyed gulls angrily attacked the mop, seeing it as a rival for their fish supper. It was like a scene from Hitchcock’s The Birds. I was terrified, my heart pounding madly. It pounded harder still as human screeches vied with those of the gulls. It wasn’t Tippi Hedren.

Penny shrieked as if she was being murdered. She’d brought the tea things into the kitchen and twigged the scene. I managed to swipe the salmon off the roof. Dropping the mop and grabbing the fish I raced for the back door. Deprived of their prey the seagulls rose into the sky screaming a lament.

Everyone was in the kitchen. The Muppet’s eyes were like saucers. Dick and Shane looked stunned and Penny’s complexion was apoplectic.

I felt a sudden empathy for the salmon as everyone swooped demanding an explanation. Penny accused me of throwing the salmon to
‘those horrible birds.’
I pointed out I’d actually been rescuing it. If I’d really wanted the gulls to have it I’d have taken it out of the bag first and given it to them with a side order of chips.

The Muppet said something for which I had no answer, mainly because I didn’t understand what it was he was saying. He took his wife’s hand patting it while making soothing noises.

Dick and Shane demanded to know how the salmon came to be out in the garden.

I quipped about it making a last ditch attempt to return to its spawning grounds. It went down like a lead balloon, so I explained about needing fridge space and how putting the fish outside to keep cool had seemed to be a sensible option. How was I to know it would attract a flock of savage gulls?

Penny snarked a comment about me being a stranger to good sense and walked out of the kitchen trailing the Muppet with her.

“You seem amused, Richard?” Shane looked coldly at Dick, who was grinning.

“Just seeing the funny side of the situation.”

“There isn’t one unless I say there is.”

Dick didn’t argue. He made solemn his face and respectfully lowered his eyes.

I cleared a space on a worktop for the salmon, saying defensively. “There’s no real damage done to it. It’s fine.” The adrenalin from the mini drama suddenly evaporated leaving me more exhausted than ever, and weepy along with it.

Dick made a move to embrace me, but Shane put out a hand and stopped him.

“What is wrong with you today, Gilli? You were tearful this morning, then you disappear without saying a word and now all this.” He studied me for a silent moment or two. “You’ve had a fit haven’t you? You don’t look right.”

“You wouldn’t look right if you’d had a run in with a flock of seagulls.” I wiped away tears with the sleeve of my top. “It was scary. They could have pecked my eyes out. I’d have had to learn Braille.”

He persisted. “When did you have the fit, this morning, is that why you shipped out so suddenly and came back looking as pale as a ghost?”

The man was a fucking warlock. I defied his witchcraft. “I haven’t had a fit.” It was true. I hadn’t had a fit because I didn’t have fits I had episodes.

He wasn’t convinced. “Take a break. Go to bed and rest. Let Penny have a turn in the kitchen.”

“I’m fine. I don’t need to rest. I’ve got stuff to do.”

“Penny is more than capable of working out what needs to be done.”

“It’s my job not hers.”

“Take the stubborn whelp upstairs, Dick. Tie him to the bed if you have to. He’s to lie down for a couple of hours at least.”

“Shane!” I all but stamped.

“Come on, honey. A rest will do you good. Shane is right. You look out of sorts.”

Taking a firm grasp of my hand he lead me upstairs to bed. I lay down, curling on my side. Dick spooned me. I asked him to promise to wake me if I fell asleep. He said he would, but only if I told the truth about whether I’d fitted. I confirmed I’d had a minor blip citing tiredness as the primer and sunshine on soapsuds as the trigger for it.

If he made a reply I didn’t hear it. The sleep I’d kept at bay claimed me within seconds of confession.

I awoke at six on Christmas Eve morning sitting bolt upright in bed, waking Dick and Shane as I said the word ‘party’ out loud. Pulling me back down between them they broke the news that it was all over. I was gutted. I was also cross with Dick for not keeping his promise to wake me. He said he had kept it. I’d opened my eyes to look at him and then gone straight back to sleep. Shane had also woken me to give me my evening medication and again I’d gone straight back to sleep after it. I had no recollection of either event.

Shane quietly made known his annoyance at being fobbed off. He refused to accept my fit/episode argument, calling it wilful verbal semantics.

I apologised saying I’d done it because I didn’t want to let them down over the party. He said the lie was the let down and missing the party might be seen as just punishment for it. Tapping my nose he then said he knew the real reason I’d kept quiet. It was because I couldn’t bear to relinquish control to anyone else, especially Penny. He issued a warning. I was to allow her to help me over the next few days so I didn’t stress myself out trying to do everything on my own in perverse one-upmanship.

We had a kissing and cuddling session, which I tried to turn into a sex session, but without success. I was told to muzzle the pup in case he barked too loud and disturbed Penny and the Muppet. I sighed, but obeyed. I suddenly realised I was absolutely famished and leaving the men folk to slumber some more I slipped out of bed and headed for the kitchen to get something to eat. The table and worktops were scattered with typical post party debris, crumb-laden plates, drinking glasses with dregs, cans and bottles.

On opening the fridge I was furious to discover my glazed ham sitting on a shelf intact. Penny, the mare, obviously hadn’t put it on the buffet table. She had wanted her salmon to shine and had left my ham in the fridge so it wouldn’t upstage it.

I gathered together a big plate of leftovers, poured a glass of milk and took them into the lounge. Switching on the tree lights and then the telly I flicked through the channels and found one showing Alistair Sim as Scrooge in ‘A Christmas Carol.’ I settled cross-legged on the couch to enjoy. Scrooge was followed by the original B & W version of ‘Miracle On 34th Street.’ It was almost over when Penny came into the lounge. There was no asking after my health. She launched straight into spoiling my pleasant festive morning.

“Why are you sitting here wasting time when there’s work to be done? The kitchen is a mess. You should have cleared it by now and made a start on breakfasts.”

“Is that a fact?” My temper rose at her arrogant tone. I stood up. “I don’t see why I should clear up after a party I didn’t attend.” I picked up my plate and glass from the coffee table to take into the kitchen, walking past her. “I’m recuperating. You played hostess last night so why don’t you clean up.”

She followed me down the hall.

“It isn’t my job to do it. It’s what my brother pays you for and whatever he pays you it’s too much. You use your affliction to hold him and Dick to ransom. They’ll get wise to you one day. They won’t suffer you as a burden forever.”

The gross unfairness of the remark and her use of the insulting term
affliction
edged my temper off the ledge. “Oh go fuck yourself, Penny.” I slammed my plate and glass down on the kitchen table, turning to face her. “It might put a smile on your miserable face.”

She flushed an ugly shade of red. “How dare you speak to me like that?”

“And how dare you tell me what to do in my own home. You treat me like dirt and it isn’t fair.”

“You are dirt, common as muck.” Sticking her nose in the air she walked out of the room.

“Fucking Bitch!” Grabbing a wine glass off the table I hurled its contents after her. There were only lees in it and they didn’t do much other than splash her heels and hurry her steps along. Dragging a chair out from under the table I dropped down on it.

I felt terrible. I shouldn’t have said what I’d said or flicked wine at the cow. I’d lost the moral high ground. I had no doubt she’d inform Shane and no doubt he’d haul me over the coals for it.