After Leaving The Village by Helen Matthews

Author:Helen Matthews
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hashtag Press
Published: 2017-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 22

“Grab hold of this end of the lights for me.”

Kate passes the double twist of green wire down to Ben as she balances on the stepladder. Deftly she fastens one end to the stem of the wisteria, moves the ladder along and takes the loose end from Ben, draping the lights in an arc across the front of the house and fastening the flex to the drainpipe with a wire tag.

“We should have done this before Christmas,” Kate exclaims, hopping off the stepladder. She’s left it until the day of the drinks party but Tim’s gone back to the office and isn’t here to help.

“I’ll be home by five,” he promised as he left that morning. The drinks party is due to start at six o’clock.

They’d survived their family Christmas, Kate staying resolutely upbeat and Tim retrieving forgotten board games from the attic and introducing Ben to Scrabble, Monopoly and Cluedo. For a Christmas gift, Kate bought Ben three Harry Potter novels. As soon as she’d put the turkey in the oven, she started reading ‘Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone’ aloud to him, waiting for him to snatch it from her hands to read silently. By Christmas evening, in the gaps between cooking, eating and board games, she’d covered two hundred pages and her voice had shrivelled into a thin croak. Tim disappeared upstairs and returned with another gift, handing it to Ben, with a smug smile.

“A complete set of Harry Potter DVDs!” Ben exclaimed. “Thanks, Dad! Now I don’t need you to read any more, Mum.”

Kate runs indoors to switch on the fairy lights. “Ta-dah!” The front garden sparkles red, blue and green to welcome her guests. The sitting room has the clean scent of a Norwegian pine that brushes up against the ceiling. “What d’you think,

Ben? Does it look Christmassy?” She raises the sash window higher and pokes her head outside.

“When’s Dad coming home?”

It’s already five-thirty so Kate shakes her head and admits, “I don’t know.”

If Tim doesn’t turn up, this drinks party will be an embarrassing flop. She wanders into the kitchen and checks her preparations. Wine is mulling on the stove’s front burner, with a non-alcoholic version in a smaller pan on the back; the fridge is fully-stocked with beer, orange juice and bottles of Pinot Grigio. On the table is a case of Merlot, courtesy of the supermarket’s six-for-five offer. Not wanting to offend her Muslim neighbours, she’s shunned buffet staples of pork products in favour of falafels, hummus and pitta bread. There are blinis with smoked salmon and cream cheese, and homemade vegetarian mince pies. She’s handed out invitations to a dozen houses—if everyone comes there could be over twenty people.

Ben stumbles in with the box of glasses and almost lets it slip from his hands.

“Ben – be careful. But thanks for bringing them through.”

“Can Alfie come?”

Her heartbeat quickens. “Who’s Alfie—a school friend?” Don’t say too much Kate. Stay cool.

“He’s a dog, silly. Lives at number twenty-eight.”

“Lucy and John’s?” A young couple she met when she delivered their invitation.

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