In the party room, a dozen or so elderly people, who have no idea that today is any different from yesterday, sit in chairs in a circle. Three nurses run plates of goodies to them from the buffet. ‘Rhinestone Cowboy’ has just switched to Wings’ ‘Listen To What The Man Said’, and one of the nurses is unsuccessfully trying to coax a sing-along, with only one patient – Ronnie – joining in.
Today is Evelyn and Eddy’s joint birthday celebration. She’d failed, until a few days ago, to tell me that their birthdays fall only one day apart.
Michael is sitting beside me and Eddy near the bay window. Suddenly, Martin walks over to us, as though on a mission. ‘Wings was the group formed by Paul McCartney after the Beatles split up. But soon after that a terrible thing happened to Paul. He was shot by a mad man. Someone took his life and ended his talent.’
‘You certainly know your music, Martin!’ Michael winks at me. It clearly doesn’t matter to him that, in Martin’s mind, the wrong Beatle had died.
A short while after, I try to get Eddy to engage with me, but it’s not promising. There have been no more glimmers of recognition. I have come to accept this. I will go on talking to him about the past, and tell him the remarkable story of how I came to know him. I will not give up on my father now that I’ve found him, no matter what state his mind might be in. He has remembered me once. He might do so again. I take enormous strength from Michael’s belief that our memories, where love is concerned, are stored forever in a special vault. No one and nothing can touch them.
When I look up, Michael is slow dancing with Evelyn to Rita Coolidge’s ‘We’re All Alone’.
He’s wearing a fitted, white T-shirt that shows off his muscular upper body and firm upper arms. He appears to be concentrating very hard to avoid stepping on Evelyn’s toes. From time to time, he joins in on the odd line of the song. Once in a while, his eyes meet mine. Just the presence of Michael in the room makes me smile.
‘Your turn,’ he says. I realise he’s holding out a hand to me.
‘Oh no!’ I clasp my hands behind my back, quickly. ‘I’ve got two left feet.’
‘Well, I’ve two right ones, and we can’t look any stranger than this lot.’ He nods to a few of the nurses, who are good-sportedly dancing with each other.
I get up, and there’s a funny feeling in my stomach. Can it be the butterflies? ‘This one’s for you, Evelyn,’ Michael says, dragging me into the middle of the floor. It’s Nat King Cole’s ‘Unforgettable’.
‘Do you think all these nurses will wonder if I’m your girlfriend?’ I ask, when I’m in his arms. We’re almost the same height. But he’s broad and his chest is hard, and I like the feeling of him against me. I’m aware of the intermittent press of his fingers in my back.
‘Oh heck! I’m really hoping. But I’m sure they’ve already gathered I’m out of your league.’
‘You really shouldn’t say that about yourself. I mean, even though it’s true, of course.’
‘Actually, I shouldn’t sell myself short. I’m the sex symbol of Sunrise Villas. This happens when you’re the only male under the age of seventy.’
I chuckle, and his fingers give another somewhat communicative press.
‘Look at Evelyn and Eddy,’ I whisper, my lip catching the tip of his ear. Evelyn is gazing at the back of Eddy’s hand as she tenderly strokes it. ‘You know, I downloaded Long John Baldry’s ‘Let the Heartaches Begin’, and she wouldn’t even let me play it, because the memory hurts too much. Makes me feel so cheerless! No one will ever love me like that.’
‘Me neither. It’s a tragic waste of potential. We should drink to that some time.’ He pulls me a little closer so my cheek can almost sense the warmth of his.
His hand tightens on mine. We dance like new drivers trying to master the three-point turn. ‘Fancy exploring some other corner of the floor?’ I tease.
‘Let me work out how.’
‘You’re not really a bad dancer,’ I tell him. ‘You’re horrendous!’
Suddenly, he sweeps me in a skilful arc, casting me free with a single hand, then catching me before I lose balance. It’s like a lovely fading in and out of anaesthetic. Next, our feet seem to follow each other like sprightly lovebirds. ‘You can dance! Why were you pretending you couldn’t?’
‘I wanted you to like me for the right reasons.’
‘This is quite lovely, you know. It really is,’ I say, when I’m done chuckling. And I’m not playing with him any more; I’m rather beguiled and serious.
Then we go to get the cake.
Michael sticks three candles into the cream.
‘Three?’ I slump over the counter watching him.
‘One for Evelyn, one for Eddy and one for you.’ He strikes a match, and holds my eyes before he lights the candles.
‘Why am I getting a candle? It’s not my birthday.’
‘In a way, it feels like it should be. Something commemorative, anyway.’
‘Aw!’ I place a hand on my heart and feel happy tears come. ‘I’ve never had anyone light a candle for me for such a nice reason.’
‘You’ll have to let me do it again then, sometime,’ he says. And we smile.
We carry the cake in together.
‘Three cheers for Eddy and Evelyn!’ Michael pushes open the party room door, and we burst into ‘Happy Birthday’, along with the nurses. Very few of the patients seem to register the singing. It could well be the least jolly party on record. But Martin and Ronnie clap, and Evelyn is smiling.
‘Is it my birthday?’ Martin asks. ‘How old am I?’
‘It’s Eddy’s and Evelyn’s,’ Michael tells him.
‘Is it?’ Martin looks disappointed. ‘How old are they?’
‘How old do you think I am?’ Evelyn asks.
He studies her, then quite definitely says, ‘Fifteen.’
We laugh. ‘Evelyn is seventy, and Eddy is seventy-FIVE,’ Michael says.
‘I’m seventy-FIVE?’ Eddy repeats suddenly.
Evelyn takes hold of his hand. ‘You are. We were born five years and one day apart. We met at a wedding. Then we met again, properly, many years later.’ Evelyn winks at Michael. ‘But I think that’s where we’ll leave this story for now.’