be marvellous, simply marvellous.
She checked that the DJ knew that Howard’s favourite song was ‘The Green, Green Grass of Home’, Tom Jones’ version, and looked around for more little jobs to do: but instead her gaze fell upon the reason that her happiness, tonight, had not quite that perfect quality she had anticipated.
Patricia was standing alone, staring up at the Pagford coat of arms on the wall, and making no effort to talk to anybody. Shirley wished that Patricia would wear a skirt sometimes; but at least she had arrived alone. Shirley had been afraid that the BMW might contain another person, and that absence was something gained.
You weren’t supposed to dislike your own child; you were supposed to like them no matter what, even if they were not what you wanted, even if they turned out to be the kind of person that you would have crossed the street to avoid had you not been related. Howard took a large view of the whole matter; he even joked about it, in a mild way, beyond Patricia’s hearing. Shirley could not rise to those heights of detachment. She felt compelled to join Patricia, in the vague, unconscious hope that she might dilute the strangeness she was afraid everyone else would smell by her own exemplary dress and behaviour.
‘Do you want a drink, darling?’
‘Not yet,’ said Patricia, still staring up at the Pagford arms. ‘I had a heavy night last night. Probably still over the limit. We were out drinking with Melly’s office pals.’
Shirley smiled vaguely up at the crest above them.
‘Melly’s fine, thanks for asking,’ said Patricia.
‘Oh, good,’ said Shirley.
‘I liked the invitation,’ said Patricia. ‘Pat and guest.’
‘I’m sorry, darling, but that’s just what you put, you know, when people aren’t married—’
‘Ah, that’s what it says in Debrett’s, does it? Well, Melly didn’t want to come if she wasn’t even named on the invitation, so we had a massive row, and here I am, alone. Result, eh?’
Patricia stalked away towards the drinks, leaving Shirley a little shaken behind her. Patricia’s rages had been frightening even as a child.
‘You’re late, Miss Jawanda,’ she called, recovering her composure as a flustered Sukhvinder came hurrying towards her. In Shirley’s opinion, the girl was demonstrating a kind of insolence turning up at all, after what her mother had said to Howard, here, in this very hall. She watched her hurry to join Andrew and Gaia, and thought that she would tell Howard that they ought to let Sukhvinder go. She was tardy, and there was probably a hygiene issue with the eczema she was hiding under the long-sleeved black T-shirt; Shirley made a mental note to check whether it was contagious, on her favourite medical website.
Guests began to arrive promptly at eight o’clock. Howard told Gaia to come and stand beside him and collect coats, because he wanted everyone to see him ordering her around by name, in that little black dress and frilly apron. But there were soon too many coats for her to carry alone, so he summoned Andrew to help.
‘Nick a bottle,’ Gaia ordered Andrew, as they hung coats three and four deep in the tiny cloakroom, ‘and hide it in the kitchen. We can take it in turns to go and have some.’
‘OK,’ said Andrew, elated.
‘Gavin!’ cried Howard, as his son’s partner came through the door alone at half-past eight.
‘Kay not with you, Gavin?’ asked Shirley swiftly (Maureen was changing into sparkly stilettos behind the trestle table, so there was very little time to steal a march on her).
‘No, she couldn’t make it, unfortunately,’ said Gavin; then, to his horror, he came face to face with Gaia, who was waiting to take his coat.
‘Mum could have made it,’ said Gaia, in a clear, carrying voice, as she glared at him. ‘But Gavin’s dumped her, haven’t you, Gav?’
Howard clapped Gavin on the shoulder, pretending he had not heard, and boomed, ‘Great to see you, go get yourself a drink.’
Shirley’s expression remained impassive, but the thrill of the moment did not subside quickly, and she was a little dazed and dreamy, greeting the next few guests. When Maureen tottered over in her awful dress to join the greeting party, Shirley took immense pleasure in telling her quietly: ‘We’ve had a very awkward little scene. Very awkward. Gavin and Gaia’s mother… oh, dear… if we’d known…’
‘What? What’s happened?’
But Shirley shook her head, savouring the exquisite pleasure of Maureen’s frustrated curiosity, and opened her arms wide as Miles, Samantha and Lexie entered the hall.
‘Here