Roses Are Red - Miranda Rijks Page 0,74

I love the most.

We walk into the imposing oak-paneled entrance hall, where a receptionist bustles over to us and offers to take our coats.

‘It’s this way, Mr Grant,’ she says, flicking her ash blonde mane. We stroll along a corridor lined with foreboding oil paintings, and then she opens a door, standing back to let us go in. As I walk through, there is a collective roar.

‘Happy birthday, Lydia!’

My hand rushes to my mouth and I have to blink away tears. There must be thirty people in the private room, all holding glasses of champagne. Thirty people who are important in my life, including Cassie, Fiona and a couple of key staff from work such as Nicky. Ajay and Marianne are conspicuous by their absence.

I turn to Patrick, feeling overwhelmed. ‘Did you organise this?’

‘Yes, with a little bit of help from Mia and Cassie.’

Cassie walks over and hugs me. Her hair has changed colour again. It’s now platinum blonde, and it matches her silver shimmery dress.

‘Thank you,’ I whisper.

The room is beautiful, with more oak walls, intricate cornicing, and large candelabras positioned in the corners. Three tables are covered with starched white linen and laid with silver cutlery. Waiters move silently between the guests, proffering silver platters of canapes and trays of champagne. As people come over to say congratulations, it strikes me that the last time I saw most of these people was at Adam’s funeral. And there are quite a few people whom I haven’t yet introduced to Patrick.

After hugging my sister, Bea, Fiona eases her way towards me. ‘Happy birthday,’ she says, air kissing, as she hands me a small gift-wrapped box. Mia takes the gift and places it on a square table next to the door where there is already a pile of colourfully wrapped presents. I don’t remember having a birthday party like this, ever.

‘I want to introduce you to Patrick,’ I say, grabbing Fiona’s hand and leading her to the other side of the room, where my divine husband is talking to my brother-in-law, Craig.

‘Can I interrupt?’

‘Patrick, this is Fiona.’

‘Hello, lovely to meet you,’ he says. Fiona’s eyes don’t leave Patrick’s face. It gives me a little surge of pride. Yes, my husband is handsome and he’s kind, and he organised this evening especially for me. I take a sip of champagne and feel warmth course through my veins. And then I notice Mia. She is staring at Fiona, a frown on her face.

I start walking towards her to check if everything is all right, but I get stopped by my elderly godmother, whom I haven’t seen since Adam’s funeral. When I next see Mia, she is laughing at something that Finlay is saying.

A while later, we sit down for dinner at three tables of ten, Patrick seated on my left and Craig on my right. After a sumptuous meal of salmon mousse wrapped in smoked salmon followed by roast duck, Patrick stands up and chimes a spoon on his wine glass. Everyone falls silent and turns to look at my husband.

‘Thank you all for coming. As you know, we’re here to celebrate my beautiful wife’s birthday. Most of you will have been surprised that we married so quickly, particularly after Lydia, Mia and Oliver suffered such tragedy with the death of Adam. His were big shoes to fill. But the thing is, I knew from that very first time I met Lydia that she was the love of my life. I knew that I was the luckiest man to find her, and I knew that I could never let her go. I never imagined I could find such love in middle age, and I wanted to share every possible moment of the rest of my life with this wonderful woman. So please forgive us for not having a big wedding, for acting with, what some might view as, inappropriate haste. That’s what love does to you. Please raise your glass to my wife, Lydia Grant. Happy birthday!’

Everyone bounds to their feet and lifts their champagne glasses, wishing me a happy birthday. Tears of joy prick my eyes. And as Patrick sits down, I grab him and plant a kiss on his lips.

‘Thank you,’ I murmur. ‘You have no idea how happy I am.’

The rest of the evening passes in a blur as I chat with friends and family, and then around midnight, guests start to leave, until it’s just Cassie and the four of us left in the room. Oliver has laid his