‘Come off it, Mum. The guy’s gorgeous and he’s smitten with you. Even more reason to have some fun, for goodness’ sake. And Friday is your birthday.’
Who was this young woman? Then again, Annie had no idea how much fun her mother had already had. Her ears heated. ‘I’ll think about it.’
By the time she’d driven home and Annie was settled into the big squishy living room chair with her feet up, Emily had calmed down. She even whipped up a batch of date scones to set on the table with butter and jam. Men were always hungry. She couldn’t help feeling it would be a bit of an anticlimax if Marco didn’t turn up along with Rodney.
She glanced out the window. A black Aston Martin stopped across the road.
Marco turned off the engine. He’d been kidding himself that he wouldn’t come. He was glad now because he could see Rodney sitting in his car, staring at the front gate. He’d bet the young man tried to build up the courage to knock on the door.
Marco crossed the street and knocked on Rodney’s car roof. ‘Hello?’
‘Oh. Hi.’ Rodney drooped in his seat.
Marco bent down. ‘You are coming in?’
Rodney poked his finger down his T-shirt. ‘I don’t think Annie’s mother likes me.’
Marco opened his door. ‘Annie’s mother will like anyone who makes her daughter happy. You can come with me. We will go in together. Your lady will be glad to see you.’
Marco wasn’t real sure about his own lady but he could understand her reluctance to become more involved when he had stated his intention to leave.
Today he was going to help Rodney.
It would be cathartic to help. To help an insecure boy like Marco had been all those years ago. He certainly would have benefited from some advice from another man.
To Emily it must have seemed as if Marco and Rodney had arrived at the same time and she opened the door with a smile that welcomed.
She greeted them both warmly and he couldn’t help his relief. Though why he was surprised was a measure of his own insecurity because she had always been polite.
‘Come in. Welcome. Annie will be pleased to see you and we have scones ready.’
The house floated on the aroma of fresh baking, Emily’s cheeks were flushed, and Annie lorded over them all from her chair.
It felt like a family. He swallowed the fear in his throat.
Or how he imagined a family would feel. He shouldn’t be here. Only when his father had been in jail had he had any idea of a stable life with his mother and he’d been ready to leave home by then. Was there any chance one day his life might come to this?
‘Marco, can you help, please?’ Perhaps Emily had sensed his ambivalence because she didn’t leave him to ponder too deeply for long.
Within minutes industry ensued as Emily directed and he could see where her daughter had inherited her organisational skills from.
A doting Rodney carried buttered scones across to his lady and Marco lifted down the heavy box of decorations that overflowed with a family history he could only imagine. Even at a glance he could tell some of them were very old.
‘Thanks.’ Emily peered in. ‘That’s the hardest part—getting that box down from the top of the cupboard.’
She lifted a handful of paper chains from the box, some of them falling apart, and set them on the table ready to hang or repair.
‘Annie and I make these every year with the greeting cards from her birthday we saved from the year. So there’s lots of them. It’s a family tradition. We usually put them up a week before someone’s birthday so that they can really soak in the lead-up.’
‘A birthday that lasts for a week?’ Marco had very few memories of any celebrations for his birthday.
Emily looked a little embarrassed. ‘It was really for Annie and Gran more than me. Some of these are from when Annie was only a toddler and just started to play with paper. See, that strip has part of her fourth birthday card on it.’
Marco shook his head and tried to imagine a home that stayed still long enough to hoard such things.
Rodney carried the ladder inside and they discussed their plan of attack.
Emily grinned at him. ‘You’ll be sorry you came. By the time you’ve finished blowing up the balloons—and they’re big ones that Annie loves—you’ll be exhausted. I’ve been dreading that job.’
Marco’s first sight of the balloons confirmed the reason she’d dreaded the thought.
‘They’re huge.’ Rodney was wide eyed.
Emily shook her head sadly. ‘I know. I had a pump but it broke and I’ve never got around to buying a new one.’
She frowned at the bag of hand-sized balloons. ‘I should insist on the little ones, these ones kill me.’ She looked up. ‘But Annie loves these.’
‘Maybe we could just do a couple?’ Rodney was looking dubiously at the balloon in his hand.
‘Not this year,’ Marco said with finality and a sideways look at Emily. ‘In these matters a woman’s wish is law. Perhaps if we do them one at a time, we will survive.’
They achieved the impossible, twelve enormous balloons, and all stood around admiringly at the colourful clump on the floor.
‘Rodney looks sick.’ Annie squinted worriedly at her beau.
‘It’s just a little headache,’ Rodney said gallantly, and Marco patted his shoulder.
‘Just.’ Emily smiled at Marco and Rodney was given a kiss by Annie. ‘We could not have done that without your big lungs. Thank you, both.’
Rodney blushed and Marco whispered in an aside, ‘That is why we do what they want. Worth it?’ Rodney nodded carefully.
‘So, Annie, if you tell Rodney where to hang the chains, Marco and I will sort the balloons. We’ll have it all finished by lunch.’
Much hilarity ensued as every time Rodney stretched the chains the loop broke and they had to strengthen the strips until Marco demanded a stapler and they began to staple the links together.
‘Some are older than others and fragile.’ Annie defended their chain and Marco shook his head. ‘Next birthday perhaps you could start with the stapler and then hang them.’ He glanced across and Emily was watching him.
Her face was quietly thoughtful. He saw her acknowledge that he would not be here for the next birthday. Or the one after that, because he had no continuity like these women and their years of family traditions epitomised by this handmade diary of life.
Suddenly he needed fresh air and a cold breeze on his face to snap him out of melancholy. He pulled his phone from his pocket. Pretended to glance at it. ‘Excuse me. I need to make a call.’
He left her standing in the middle of the room and Emily watched him go. She couldn’t help but wonder about his childhood. What had formed the man who froze at the idea of permanence? She crossed to the kitchen and looked out the window. He wasn’t on the phone. He was staring at the empty bird feeder and the silhouette of his face made her ache for the loneliness she saw in his usually smiling face.
She turned, picked up the seeds for the birds, and followed him out. ‘The lorikeet isn’t here today.’
‘I should not have come.’
‘Why? Because you don’t think you’re welcome?’
‘Because I cannot have a healthy future with any