wallflower I was used to. Still, I told her I would. Then I left.
I had software to buy and a present to pick up for Uncle Roger’s party.
Chapter Fourteen
Despite Janet’s pessimism my uncle was in fine form on Saturday. In fact, seated in a sturdy wooden chair in the shade of the gazebo holding court, he looked like he’d last long enough to see a telegram from the Queen. The weather was exceptionally warm that October weekend and the party had, in Great British fashion, transferred itself to the garden, in order that its pasty-faced revellers might soak up every last ray of autumn sunshine.
Lucy, my stepsister, who I had last glimpsed gallivanting naked in the tree house, was playing the violin whilst the assorted friends and family listened on in a semi-circle of picnic blankets and deck chairs. She had obviously got a little more self-conscious in the intervening three months and was dressed in a lemon skirt and matching blouse. Her rendition of Happy Birthday to You was slightly squeaky but very well received by the indulgent audience. Once the clapping had ceased I stepped into the garden and coughed to alert the company to my presence.
‘Mercedes!’ Dad creaked to his feet from a blanket just in front of Uncle Roger’s chair. There was about eight years between them but whilst my dad looked sprightly for his age, Uncle Roger had an old-fashioned granddad-type look to him. Dad’s hair was greying but still kept some of his youthful deep brown curl, and today he had on a cricket jumper and linen slacks. They were very last season but kind of right for the day it was turning out to be.
‘At last!’ Dad’s mouth tucked up into the corners, suggesting a suppression of his usual characteristic irritation. ‘We thought you would never come.’
I looked at my watch. 1.45 p.m. ‘I’m only forty-five minutes late.’
Dad kissed me on the cheek. ‘I did say one o’clock.’
‘Oh, right. Sorry.’
‘Never mind. How are you, dear? Are you coping? Have you managed to do the house yet?’ He reached out and put his arm around my shoulders and gave me a quick squeeze. I wasn’t used to his physical embrace. We never had that kind of relationship. Nonetheless I knew he was trying and smiled.
I shook my head. ‘I haven’t got round to it yet. Maybe next week. You got something you want me to look out for?’
Dad gave me another squeeze. ‘Not at all. I thought you might want me to come with you? Help you go through your mother’s things. It won’t be a particularly pleasant experience.’
I was grateful for his concern but told him I’d be fine on my own.
‘Righty ho. Well you know where I am if you need me. You do understand that don’t you?’
‘Of course,’ I said and settled a play punch on his belly to mask my awkwardness.
‘You all right?’ he asked before releasing me.
‘I’m getting on,’ I told him. And I was. Since I had loaded the new firewall onto my laptop the Hackerman had ceased his mischief.
The nightmares hadn’t stopped. But this was neither the time nor the place.
‘Good. Glad to hear it. Now you go and say happy birthday to Uncle Roger. What can I get you to drink? We’re all on champagne.’
‘Thanks but I’m driving.’
‘What?’ His face fell. ‘We’ve made you up a bed in the spare room. Your cousins aren’t getting here till five. Come on, stay over. What have you got to run back for?’
I glanced at Janet who had come up to greet me. She had a ‘please’ look on her face.
Bugger. I would appear churlish now. ‘I’ll see how it goes,’ I said, kissing Janet on the cheek.
‘Hello love,’ she greeted me. ‘One glass of fizz won’t hurt will it?’ They were an ebullient couple and enjoyed life to the full. Though if you hung out with them for more than a day or so you did get the impression that alcohol was an integral component of ‘fun’. But it was a good-natured thing.
‘You two are terrible. All right, just one.’
They both smiled and Dad went off to fix me a drink while Janet guided me through the legs and glasses and plates to Roger’s square of shade. ‘We’ve been so lucky with the weather,’ she said. ‘I think this will be the last of it though. We thought we’d enjoy it before it disappears completely. Ah, here’s the birthday boy.’
Uncle Roger was talking to a plump middle-aged woman