‘You need to delete your satnav history and keep lemons on the dashboard – they disrupt the signals.’
By the time we get to Farnham, I’ve been educated on all the many conspiracy theories Leonard believes: that peanut butter is not made from peanuts, but a genetically modified substitute called Pleanuts, grown in underground labs in America. That JFK was not assassinated but lived to ninety-six in a Florida golfing community. That rather than building spaceships, NASA spends its time spying on the population. As I’m listening to all this, I start to question whether a seventy-something-year-old conspiracy theorist with a criminal record is the sort of person I should be encouraging my child to be friends with. I mean, it’s one thing to be neighbourly, but quite another to be a negligent parent.
‘Leonard, I know it’s not polite to ask, but since I’m inviting you to my child’s birthday party, will you tell me what you went to jail for? It wasn’t murder or anything, was it?’
‘Ha, no! Impersonating a police officer and fishing without a licence,’ he tells me.
‘At the same time or two separate incidents?’
Leonard shrugs. ‘It was a long time ago, you know; I actually don’t remember.’ And now I have to laugh, and Leonard laughs too.
At the house, Felix’s school friends Matt and Molly have arrived. Molly has two long black pigtails hanging down over her shoulders and she wears a T-shirt that says, ‘A girl designed you’. I don’t really understand it as a slogan, but I instantly like her vibe.
In the garden I’ve made a complex assault course. The grass is lava and Hockey Banjo has been taken hostage by the Dread Pirate Lucy (me) and tied to a flagpole erected above Sam’s studio door. Felix and his friends must overcome a series of challenges to rescue him. There’s a river of sinking sand to cross (the paddling pool full of bubbles and bonus prizes), arrows being fired by a rival pirate gang (my mum and dad firing Nerf guns from the upstairs window) and a terrifying troll bridge to navigate (the vegetable patch) where they must answer questions from a hideous troll before they can pass. Sam does an excellent turn as the troll, until Leonard asks if he can have a go and has us all in stitches with his Oscar-worthy imitation of Gandalf, yelling, ‘You shall not pass.’
The game is a huge success, and as soon as Hockey Banjo has been rescued, Felix insists we play the whole game again. Sam says he doesn’t mind being demoted from his role as troll, but as I watch him tug on his earlobe, I suspect he might, that’s his classic tell.
‘I thought you were a brilliant troll,’ I say softly into his ear.
When I go inside to get the cake, I find my mum in the utility room putting a wash on.
‘Mum, you don’t have to do our laundry. Please, just go and relax, enjoy the party.’
‘It’s good to see you back to your old self,’ she says, still sorting piles of clothes. ‘You just don’t seem very under control with the housework.’ She looks around in despair at the mountain of washing.
‘We’re not. But it’s okay,’ I tell her. ‘Come on, I’m doing the cake.’
I’ve left the candles in a bag in the bedroom. I run upstairs, but once I have them, I pause at the door, beset by an inexplicable feeling that I’ve forgotten something, that there’s something else I need. I go over to the bedside drawer, find my rings, and put them on, exhaling a breath.
As I bring the cake out into the garden, eight candles lit, everyone starts to sing. It’s not a masterpiece by any means, but Felix is delighted with it. ‘I’m afraid it got overdone on the top, and probably has a soggy bottom,’ I tell everyone.
‘Said the actress to the bishop,’ says Dad with an exaggerated, slow wink. His words make me hum with joy. Of all the times we’ve told each other this silly joke, this one might forever be my favourite.
Felix loves the book Leonard gave him and wants to start building a smokehouse immediately. ‘We might need a little longer than an evening for a project like that,’ Sam explains, and Felix asks if Leonard can come back next weekend to help. I’ve never seen anyone look more delighted.
My phone pings: Happy Birthday to Felix. Wish you were here! x R. Then there’s a photo of Roisin on a beach, in a bikini with two friends. Surprisingly, I don’t even feel too jealous.
Once the birthday cake has been eaten and the presents unwrapped, we say goodbye to the guests. Mum and Dad are the last to leave and they pause at the front door.
‘You’re sure you’re okay to come and stay next week, after my cataracts op?’ Mum says. ‘You’ve so much on your plate. Can you really afford the time?’
‘I will be there,’ I tell her.
‘Lovely party, darling,’ says Dad. ‘You always did know how to keep everyone entertained.’
As Dad heads to the car, I hold on to Mum’s hand and whisper, ‘How’s he doing?’
‘We’re taking it one day at a time,’ she says, nodding furiously. ‘It’s all you can do, isn’t it?’
When I take Amy up to bed, she drops her head onto my shoulder, exhausted. I inhale the gorgeous smell of her, savour the warm squidge of her podgy limbs. In the hall, I pause for a moment, watching our reflection in the hall mirror. I see a happy mother and a contented baby.
Sam offers to drive Leonard home, and now that the house is quiet and it’s just the two of us, I give Felix his present from me.
Unwrapping the parcel, he finds a round, red lava lamp. ‘Cool,’ he says, turning it over in his hands. He looks slightly confused, as though wondering why I’ve chosen this.
‘There’s a remote, so you can change the settings,’ I tell him. ‘It pulses. Like a heart.’ I take the remote and flick through the settings.
‘Oh, Mummy, it’s perfect!’ His face lights up and my heart swells with pleasure.
We spend the next few hours at the kitchen table trying to make a heart that beats. I’ve bought some chicken wire, plaster of Paris and red tissue paper, which we carefully model into shape around the lava lamp.
‘Can you . . . ?’ Felix asks me, pointing to the top of the wire aorta he’s trying to attach, and I reach out to hold it in place, while he tackles it with a glue gun. We’re still busy when Sam gets home. He shakes his head, then says he’s going to bed.
‘Do I have to go up?’ Felix asks me.
I look to Sam.
‘Mum’s call,’ Sam says.
‘I think, since it’s your birthday, and the weekend . . .’
By ten o’clock, we’re finished, and it’s spectacular. A work of art. It took a lot of patience, and an obscene amount of glue, but finally, Felix pronounces it complete. With almost religious reverence, he turns on the lava lamp, scrolling through the remote to find the pulse setting. I reach for his hand as we watch it come to life.
‘Wow,’ says Felix. ‘It’s amazing.’
‘Isn’t it?’ I whisper. ‘Is it too late to have it considered for the project fair?’
‘All the pieces have been chosen,’ Felix says.
‘We’ll take it in on Monday to show your teacher anyway.’
‘Thanks, Mummy,’ Felix says, leaning in to hug me.