Page 32 of All the Things We Never Knew

So Gray had promised, and Lulu’s party was going ahead as planned.

She and Barney had been up the previous evening until late, cutting out bunting from green and white paper – balloons being deemed environmentally unacceptable, and pink babyish – and strung it up from the exposed beams in the dining room. I’d baked a three-tier cake with a not-very-successful attempt at ombre icing. Bottles of champagne, wine, beer and soda water for Aperol spritz were chilling in a zinc tub on the terrace. Cathy’s husband, Richard, had volunteered to man the barbecue.

And Lulu had modelled her dress for me – a vintage find from eBay, which she’d altered thanks to Orla’s sewing machine.

‘It’s awfully short,’ I’d told Gray, perching on the edge of his bed. ‘You can practically see her knickers.’

‘She’s sixteen, Anna. She can wear what she likes.’

‘It’s precisely because she’s sixteen that I don’t want her wearing what she likes.’

‘It’s a family party. Stop pearl-clutching.’

So I’d stopped, and told Lulu she looked beautiful in the strappy satin ’90s number, which showed off the smooth curves of her legs and arms, and which thankfully she’d elected to wear with her usual trainers instead of high heels.

Barney moved an armchair from the family room through to the kitchen, where the folding doors were open to the garden. Richard and I helped Gray downstairs and made him comfortable there, a rug over his knees even though the day was warm.

‘Christ, I feel like an old man,’ he grumbled.

‘Better than feeling like a cold man,’ I said as cheerily as I could. ‘Do you want a drink?’

He hesitated. ‘I’ll wait a bit. Don’t want to be shitfaced when I make my speech.’

An hour later, the house had filled up with people. Lulu was handing round snacks, her little cousins trailing admiringly behind her. Three of my recently divorced friends were getting stuck into the rosé and exchanging online-dating horror stories. A group of our neighbours were getting stuck into the Pimm’s and exchanging house renovation horror stories. Barney was drifting between the television, which was showing the cricket, and the food. Orla had pulled a chair over to Gray and was talking and laughing with him.

I approached them, a bottle of champagne in my hand. ‘I think it’s about time for you to do the honours.’

‘Before I get too pissed?’ he said.

‘Before everyone else does,’ I corrected, although what I had wanted to say was, Before you get too tired.

‘Right you are. Make sure everyone’s got a drink, send our firstborn over and I’ll get cracking.’

With Orla’s help, Gray got to his feet. I poured him a glass of fizz and handed him a teaspoon and he pinged the glass. Lulu put down the platter of blinis she’d been carrying and moved over to her father, standing shyly beside him. The room fell silent.

‘Family and friends,’ he began, clearing his throat. ‘Thank you all for being here with us today. As you all know, this has been a hell of a year for us as a family, particularly for Anna, my wife and my rock. But we’re not here to talk about all that – tempted as I am to make every occasion all about me, I’m not going to be doing that today.

‘Because today is all about our daughter, Lulu, who turned sixteen a week ago. When she was born, she took my breath away – and that was after I’d fainted on the delivery room floor.’

There was a murmur of laughter, and Gray carried on. ‘I couldn’t believe that Anna and I had created something – someone – so absolutely perfect. Sixteen years later, I don’t think she’s perfect any more – maybe if you could put your dirty clothes in the basket like your mother asks, darling.’

‘Daaaad,’ Lulu protested, although she was beaming.

‘But she still takes my breath away. Lulu is beautiful. She’s clever. She’s hilarious. She makes the world’s best cheese toastie. Everyone who meets her loves her – except maybe that religious studies teacher she had in Year Eight. And most of all, she’s the kindest, most loving daughter we could have dreamed of.’

The room had fallen silent; all I could hear was the crackling of the coals on the barbecue and the sound of Augustus slurping up a bit of smoked salmon that had fallen on the floor. Then Orla sniffed and Lulu let out a half-sob that might have been a hiccup.

‘I know…’ Gray began, and then seemed to choke up himself, before carrying on. ‘Just to briefly address the elephant in the room. I know I won’t see Lulu’s eighteenth birthday or her twenty-first. I won’t get to make a speech on her wedding day. But I don’t want anyone to be sad about that – not today, anyway. Because today is about celebrating the life of this gorgeous girl, who makes me and Anna so proud every single day.

‘We love you, little Lulu. Happy birthday.’

Someone started singing ‘Happy Birthday to You’, and everyone else joined in seconds later. I sang myself – sang my heart out, not wanting my daughter to know in that moment that it was breaking.

By midnight, all the guests had left. Orla had stayed to help me clear up, before departing for number five an hour before. The leftover food was packed away in the fridge ready to be raided by the children in the morning. The cake had been reduced to a few crumbs on its stand. The impressive haul of presents was stacked in the family room ready for Lulu to open the next day. The bunting was curling on its strings, but I’d decided to leave it up for the kids to enjoy for another few days. Gray’s carer had been and helped him into the shower and back to bed.

I poured myself a final glass of red wine, checked that the back doors were locked and went upstairs. The first floor was in darkness; I could see a faint glow from upstairs where Lulu was awake in her room, up late texting her friends, and could hear the faint splash of water from the bathroom as Augustus drank from his bowl, thirsty after all the smoked salmon.

I didn’t knock on the bedroom door in case Gray was asleep, but opened it as silently as I could and crept in. He was lying down, his face as white as the pillows, but his eyes were open.