‘Tits up, darling, remember why we’re here.’ He pats me on the shoulder and then strings his arm through mine leading us both to the terrace.
We are greeted by a long table made up with white linen sitting in pride of place under a net of festoon bulbs. Along the length of the table are silver candelabra with white peonies scattered in tiny stem glasses.
‘It’s stunning,’ I say almost annoyed at how pretty everything looks, how in any other circumstances I would be so happy to be here, to experience this. I know that when I get on that plane on Tuesday, I probably won’t ever be somewhere like this again.
‘God, she’s always so dramatic,’ Crispy rolls his eyes. ‘I’m almost expecting Liberace to fall out of the closet.’
I’m unsure if everyone had the same wardrobe treatment but every guest has stuck to the dress code in their own way, choosing to express their individuality with yet more strange additions to their outfits in the form of flower crowns, palm-sized jewellery and designer headscarves.
The only person who hasn’t yet made their presence known is the lady of the hour, so we all mill about, drinking coupes of champagne, waiting for the grand entrance.
Florian and I play the part of the opposing poles of magnets: when I go to the bar to order a drink, he is at the other end of the room talking; when he moves closer to the table, I find an excuse to talk to somebody on the terrace.
At half past seven, a string quartet begins to play in hushed tones, and the chateau feels as if it comes to life, as if this is the only true way to experience it. The chatter and laughter begin to subside. When we turn towards the staircase I seethe dressbefore I see the person wearing it. She makes her way down the stairs, Sabine’s arm in hers, in a cloud of chiffon and lace, so much material that it almost dwarfs her. She is beautiful, her silver hair loose and longer than I had realised it was, the same peonies that are scattered over the table embroidered onto the train as she sweeps down the last step into the lounge.
There’s applause then, some wolf whistles, and I watch how she glows at being looked at, at being admired, and suddenly she makes sense to me in a way she never has before. All the clothes, the jewellery, the scarves, this dress – all a massive fuck you to a world that has told her that she should grow old gracefully, should retire into a world where she would be ignored. She has never wanted to be ignored. She wants everyone to pay attention to the fact that here she is, very much alive and kicking.
The American beams at her enthralled audience and moves to the head of the table, to a seat that might as well be called a throne. Everyone follows, makes notes of the little place cards on the silver chargers. I linger at the bottom of the table, my name unfindable until Crispy nudges me.
‘The Queen has requested your presence tonight.’ He bobs into a curtsy and gestures to the seat next to hers.
I suspect a trap, look for Florian, but he is seated away from me, about as far away from me as the table allows.
She watches me as I take a seat cautiously.
‘No games tonight.’ She shoots me an apologetic little smile. ‘Just an old bat wanting the pleasure of your company for one last evening.’
I feel the tears welling in my eyes; of all the emotions I expected to feel tonight, sadness wasn’t one of them.
‘Are you sure?’ I ask.
‘Very sure.’ She nods and I plant myself gently in the seat next to her.
‘You look very beautiful.’
‘I never thought I suited white.’ I gesture to the dress awkwardly.
‘Darling, everyone suits white, but you suit it especially well.’
Dinner is a four-course affair, with waiters in white tuxedos butterflying service and presenting elaborately decorated dishes of veloutés, scallops and duck. At the end of the meal a cheese board is placed at the centre of the table for people to groan at but still pick through greedily as if it would be rude not to. I try not to count the bottles of champagne and wine that are taken away empty almost as soon as they arrive.
I don’t feel drunk though, I feel happy. The conversation flows easily at this end of the table and whenever I do shoot a glance down it, I notice that it is a similar story across the board. The hum of contentment.
There is a clinking of a glass and our eyes shoot to Crispy who is standing up, enjoying the attention of the eyes that find him.
‘Well,’ he starts, ‘it is tradition at these kinds of things to say some kind words about our birthday girl, but I’ve been to many soirees with her at the helm, so fear my stocks are running a tad dry on original content. So I have taken the liberty of choosing someone else to do the honours.’ The table falls into an uncomfortable silence. We look from face to face, waiting for someone to stand but when that doesn’t happen, Crispy clears his throat. ‘Ava,’ he holds up his glass, ‘would you do the honours?’ I feel the colour drain from my face, a clammy discomfort spreading over my shoulders and down my chest.
‘Oh… surely not me?’ I look to The American whose hand is placed on mine.
‘You are our wordsmith,’ she encourages. I stand up, reach for my glass but miss it, instead sending it spilling its contents over the table. My neighbours jump back, away from the liquid and I throw a napkin on them hoping to cover the worst.
‘Shit, so sorry!’ I gabble out an apology. My eyes flit from one expectant face to another until I see Florian’s. His eyes are gentle, soft and entirely void of judgement.Go on, he mouths and, in that moment, I find my breath.
‘I would have prepared something…’ I start. ‘If I had known… but I’m pretty sure that anything I would have prepared wouldn’t have really been able to summarise you.’ I look to The American who grins at me. ‘I had thought that my trip back to France would be something that I needed to endure, that there were no more surprises that this place could throw at me, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.’ I can’t help but let a wry little smile fall from my mouth. ‘I never expected that my landlord would have shown up in a black, tasselled kimono to give me her own guided tour of the home I have come to love as if I have been there all my life. I’m not sure if all landlords in France are expected to show the amount of dedication to their tenant’s experience as you have, but I have to say that even though I may not have always seemed it, I am nothing but grateful for your company.
‘And continuing the theme of things I never expected, I definitely never thought that my closest confidant would be you.’ I hold my glass in her direction. ‘That you would allow this mess of a woman to sit there and bore you with my almost daily dramas, and yet you gave nothing back but good humour, sage advice and a hell of a wardrobe.’ I gesture to my dress and Crispy hollers some wordless response. ‘But you have been more than a friend to me, you have been the person I needed, a person who I am honoured to know. You are incredible. Truly, the most incredible woman I have ever met. I have never believed too much in signs and destiny and fate, but I think that someone up there knew exactly what I needed, who I needed, and they sent me to you and what a privilege it’s been to know you for even the shortest of times.’ My voice wavers and I fight to control it. ‘I think I love you,’ I snigger. ‘I think that you might be one of the best people I have ever met,’ I add as she grabs onto my hand, watery tears in her eyes. ‘And I think I’m going to miss you the most when I leave. Happy birthday for tomorrow, you old thing.’ I hold my glass up to a chorus of happy birthdays and cheering until I am allowed to take my seat again where I immediately find my eyes back on Florian who nods approvingly in my direction.
‘I would like to say something.’ The American slowly gets to her feet, the wine going some way to make her look her age. All eyes and ears turn back to her. ‘Thank you, Ava, your speech was far better than anything I’ve got out of Crispy now for a decade.’ She winks. ‘I would like to say that when you live as long as I have, you realise that this table should be far bigger, that I could fill it fourfold with the amount of people that I have loved and who loved me but it is the curse of age and having far too much fun. But when I look at you, I see them too – see my parents, Jack, all the friends from every corner of the world I built my life around, I see Bluette and all the birthdays we should have had together celebrating, but tonight, I feel fulfilled, feel incredibly lucky that I get to still do this, to sit at a table with people who mean the world to me, old and new. Thank you for letting a lady have a bit of fun.’
