The House by Princes Park (58 page)

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Authors: Maureen Lee

Tags: #Fiction, #Sagas, #Horror

BOOK: The House by Princes Park

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‘Yes, he’s calling Mum on
his
mobile. We’re going home as soon as the fireworks are over.’

‘Have a nice time. Be careful now, and give Harry my love.’

‘We’ll ring again later, Bee.’

It would be nice, Ruby thought, when the camera moved to another location, to be on the banks of the Thames in the middle of all the excitement. Mind you, she could feel the excitement here. Buildings always seemed to know when something remarkable was about to happen. The air seemed to tingle.

‘Who was that?’ Matthew called.

‘Robert. He’s on the Embankment with Harry. I just saw them on television.’

‘I wondered what the screaming was about. What are you doing in there? I’m feeling lonely.’

‘Making myself a cup of tea, but I think I’ll have something stronger, a Martini, to toast the New Year – the new century. Would you like some whisky?’

‘Can’t, Rube,’ he answered gloomily. ‘Not while I’m taking those tablets. You have one for me.’

‘I’ll fetch orange juice, you can make a toast with that.’

She’d hardly been on the balcony a minute, when the phone rang yet again. Matthew groaned. This time it was an ecstatic Ellie. ‘Katy’s just had the baby, Gran, by express delivery. It’s a little girl. Brendan asked me to ring you first. They’re going to call her Ruby.’

‘Tell Brendan I’m very flattered.’ Ruby sniffed. She quite fancied a little cry.

‘Now I’m a grandmother!’ Ellie sounded slightly shocked, as if she’d only just realised. ‘It makes me feel dead ancient.’

‘Wait till your grandchildren have grandchildren, Ellie.
Then
you’ll feel ancient.’

‘I’d better go now and give Mum a ring. She’s at our Moira’s. You’ll come and stay soon, won’t you, Gran, meet your namesake?’

‘As soon as we can, love.’ She was glad Greta was staying in Cambridge with Moira and Sam and their five children. New Year’s Eve wasn’t a good time for widows. Frank Fletcher had died five years ago and Saffron, their beloved little girl, now eighteen, had been in and out of a series of unstable relationships. She was at the moment living with a dodgy character who sold used cars – a distraught Greta suspected they were stolen.

Life was so unpredictable. Just as one daughter had lost a husband, the other had acquired one. Heather, at the age of fifty-six, had married a fellow solicitor, and was living close to Daisy in Crouch End. The sisters, once so close, hardly saw each other nowadays.

‘Who was
that
?’ Matthew sounded cross.

‘Ellie. Katy’s just had the baby, a little girl. They’re going to call her Ruby.’

‘Good. Are you coming out again?’

‘In a minute.’ Ruby was staring at Daisy’s painting which hung over the mantelpiece. It went perfectly in the ultra-modern high-ceilinged room that had once been the
top floor of a grain warehouse. She and Matthew were the only residents over fifty in the development – she liked living in a place designed for young people.

Visitors often admired Daisy’s painting. Some asked what the artist was trying to convey, but Ruby never told them.

There were too many O’Hagans now to fit in the circle, too many for her to watch over, keep safe. She began to worry about Harry and Robert on the Embankment – things could get out of hand on a night like tonight.

‘Am I going to see the New Millennium in on me own?’ Matthew called plaintively.

‘Coming.’ She stepped out on to the balcony and closed the sliding door.

‘We won’t hear Big Ben.’

‘It doesn’t matter. It’s getting cold inside with it open. We’ll know when it’s twelve o’clock, don’t worry.’ She leant her head on his shoulder and he immediately put his arm around her.

‘I’m glad I’m with you,’ he whispered.

‘And I’m glad I’m with you.’

‘Honest?’

Ruby sighed contentedly. ‘Honest.’

They sat in silence for a while, the only sound the distant hum of the city, each preoccupied with their own thoughts. The past fifteen years with Matthew had been good years, almost perfect. They had travelled a lot, not only to Washington to see Beth, or to stay with relatives, but to places all over Europe. She had imagined this day, this very special New Year’s Eve, many times in the past, wondering if she would still be alive to see it, where she would be, who with, and there wasn’t a person in the world she’d sooner be with than Matthew. She said a prayer, thanking God for letting them both live long enough to welcome in the New Millennium, unlike the
Donovans and the Whites, all dead now, along with Connie and Charles, and Daniel Lefarge, Beth’s husband.

‘It shouldn’t be long now,’ Matthew murmured.

As if on cue, the world suddenly erupted in a mighty cheer. In the distance, church bells chimed, a glorious sound, accompanied by the mournful wail of ships’ hooters. Across the water, and on Kings Dock to their right, a thousand fireworks shot into the sky, exploding into a million stars. There were shouts and laughter from the balcony below. Somewhere close, a dog barked hysterically.

‘Happy New Year, Matthew.’

‘Happy New Century, Ruby.’

They kissed, a sweet, gentle kiss. There wasn’t much passion left nowadays.

The noise went on, the fireworks, the cheering, the singing, as their small part of the world celebrated the advent of the twenty-first century.

After a while, Matthew began to shiver, so they went indoors and found the telephone ringing.

It was Greta. ‘Happy New Year, Mam,’ she sang.

‘The same to you, love.’ Ruby was glad she sounded happy. Moira came on, then Sam, followed, one by one, by the children, all five of them, anxious to wish Bee and Uncle Matt a Happy New Year.

Then Heather rang, Daisy and Michael, Brendan, the new father, as drunk as a lord. Harry called again from the Embankment. He and Robert were on their way home with a couple of girls they’d met. ‘They’re Swedish and drop dead gorgeous.’

Matthew had been watching television all this time. ‘I think I’ll turn in,’ he said when Ruby judged there were unlikely to be any more calls.

‘Would you like some hot milk to take with you?’

‘No, ta, Rube. I’m dead beat.’

But Ruby had never felt more wide awake. ‘Goodnight,
love. I’ll join you in a minute.’ She kissed him, then watched him go, stooped and feeble, and remembered the tall, dark young man in the cheap suit she’d met the day the war ended. She sighed, went into the kitchen, but instead of milk, poured another Martini, then put her coat back on and returned to the balcony to watch the fireworks and listen to the bells and the sound of people enjoying themselves. All of a sudden, she ached to be part of the crowd, to dance and sing, celebrate this unique night. She was reluctant to go to bed, curl up beside Matthew’s warm body, while the rest of the world was wide awake and having a wonderful time.

She went over to the bedroom door and listened. He was already asleep, snoring softly. It wouldn’t hurt to go out, just for half an hour, mingle with the crowds, shake a few hands. She might well be a silver-haired old lady with arthritis, but she still didn’t want to miss anything.

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