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Chapter Forty-Three
To help take my mind off things, I’d been busy organising my fortieth birthday party in just over a week’s time. Whilst it had been challenging juggling this with work, dealing with my mind muddles, mood swings and ever-changing body (although I must admit, Ididquite like having these bigger boobs), the party would be one of the last main things to tick off on my MAP plan. And after having to put it off last year, I’m now really looking forward to it.
I’d decided last year to hold it at my aunt Cynthia’s Mansion Flat in Victoria. It was actually Lorenzo that had given me the idea during one of our Sunday afternoon conversations. Whilst he was cooking, knowing that they get booked up far in advance, I was on my iPad looking up some of the many amazing venues we’d used to host lots of launches and parties for our biggest clients. But despite being beautiful, none of them felt right for me.
Lorenzo had innocently asked me why my party had to be in a fancy place. He suggested it may be better to keep it simple by just having it at home or somewhere more relaxed, like an intimate dinner party with music and dancing.
‘Just because it is a big birthday, it is not necessary to spend big money to make it special,’ he’d casually commented whilst chopping up the vegetables. ‘What is important is to celebrate with people you love. It is family and friends you are inviting, not clients. No need to impress them. If people are relaxed and have good food, drink and good company, then they will have a good time. If they have a good time, so will you. That is is all that matters,’ he’d said like some wise party guru.
And he was right. This past year had shown me that I was much more content when I just did ‘me’. Happiness didn’t come from being flashy, or having designer clothes. In fact, I’d found that when I relaxed more, things were just better.
I’d thought about having the party at my place, but it would have been a bit more of a trek for Bella, Roxy, Fran and Annabel to get to. Whereas Victoria was more central and my aunt loved entertaining. She threw dinner parties every week, so if I was to have one in a home setting, this was the ideal choice. Thankfully, she was delighted to play host, so it was all settled.
Harrison had created the playlist based on a selection of around two hundred songs I’d sent over, covering everything from classic soul hits to modern dance and pop, plus some sixties and seventies music to keep Dad and the elders happy.
My mum and her sister, Aunt Sheri, were organising the food and I’d ordered plenty of prosecco, wine and spirits, as well as some mixers and sparkling fruit juices for the non-drinkers like me (it was going to be weird not being able to toast my birthday with alcohol this year).
I’d spotted an up-and-coming guitarist at a work event, so I had hired him to sing on the night. My giant birthday cake had been ordered. I’d bought some tasteful individual letter gold balloons which spelt out ‘Happy Birthday’, along with some other decorations to dress the room, and that was that. With a baby to plan for, I didn’t want to stress myself out more than I already was. So even though everyone had offered to help, I kept things simple.
I’d invited fifty of my closest friends and family, including Marie, Henri and Geraldine from France, and so far, everyone bar one person (understandable that Grace couldn’t travel from Australia) had confirmed their attendance, which was exciting. Well, everyone bar two people, I should say.
Lorenzo had said he was coming and had made a note of the address when we had last seen each other. But that wasbeforeI’d dropped the baby bombshell the following day. If he couldn’t even be bothered to say goodbye or send a one-line text message, there was no way he was going to fly hundreds of miles to my party. Especially when he’d know how angry I’d be and the fact that my friends and family would be after his blood because he’d left me in the lurch.
I just had to try and push him out of my mind and find a way to move on.
It wasthe night of my party, and I was feeling calm. The playlist was lined up, a slideshow of old photos of me with family and friends over the last four decades playing on the flat-screen TV in the large open-plan room with sky-high ceilings. Perfect for entertaining, it had large comfy nude-coloured sofas all around one side of the room, a great empty space dividing the living room from the dining area, which was ideal for doubling up as a mini dance floor, and then a large grand solid mahogany dining table where guests could also be seated if they wished to eat more formally.
The prosecco was chilling in the fridge, the cake had been delivered, and Aunt Sheri was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches to the food, so now all we needed were the guests.
Josh had stopped by earlier to style my hair, and make-up artist and good friend Brie was just adding some gloss to my lips to finish my natural look, and then I was done.
I slipped into a long blue dress which was pleated and loose at the front to hide my expanding stomach. Only a handful of people knew about the baby: Harrison, Dad, Mum (who I constantly had to remind to keep it a secret, which was difficult for her, as she was bursting with excitement about becoming a nana again‘at long last’), plus Bella and Roxy.
On the subject of the frienmittee, things had now kind of got back to normal. We hadn’t seen each other much as, since Lorenzo had left, I hadn’t really felt up to going out or chatting—especially knowing that they had never really thought much of him.
As always, Bella was more calm and sympathetic, but with Roxy, it had been a rockier path.
Now that ‘Loser Lorenzo’, as she called him, had in her view shown his true colours, there had been far too many ‘I told you so’ mentions for my liking. And whilst I didn’t entirely agree with her assumptions on what was right for me or her opinion of Lorenzo (although his disappearance had made it harder to defend him), I was looking forward to seeing her tonight.
Two hours in and the party was in full swing. The handsome young guitarist, Valentino, was a huge hit (especially with the female guests). From The Script’s ‘Man Who Can’t Be Moved’ to ‘Three Little Birds’ by Bob Marley and ‘Head Over Heels’ by the Ecletic Detectives—the band that Lorenzo and I both adored—Valentino’s acoustic versions of my favourite songs were performed to perfection and had everyone singing along.
The atmosphere was buzzing, drinks were flowing, food was being consumed with lots ofooohsandyums, people were chatting, laughing and dancing. The evening was almost flawless.
Every time the doorbell rang, I would secretly hope it was Lorenzo—the missing piece of the puzzle that would make an already magical night, perfect—but sadly it never was.
In an effort to continue to build bridges and stay on good terms with Charlie, I’d invited him along. He’d come alone and seemed to be busy chatting along with Uncle Phillip, who was also an advocate for green causes and passionate about environmental issues.
Time for the speeches. After everyone had said some lovely things about me, it was my turn to stand up and say a few words.
‘Good evening,’ I said, moving in front of the grand fireplace in the living room, looking ahead at everyone who had gathered around and whose eyes were now transfixed on me. ‘I feel so humbled,’ I added as I glanced around the room. ‘The fact that you’ve all taken time out to celebrate my fortieth birthday means a lot, so thank you for coming. Now, whilst I organise events for a living, as you know, I don’t actually have parties very often myself. But I was inspired to do this by a very special man: my dear friend Albert, who as you know I met in France when I was twenty. I’m delighted his wonderful wife, Marie, and his children, Henri and Geraldine, have joined us tonight.’
I blew a kiss to them in the crowd so that everyone could see where they were standing. I was glad Harrison was filming this. It would be great to send the recording to Marie afterwards.
‘For almost two decades, Albert remained an amazing friend. More than a friend, in fact. He was like a second father to me. But sadly, last year he passed away.’ I started to feel emotional, but I was determined to carry on. ‘He was taken from us far too soon, aged just sixty. But after his funeral, I made a promise to him, and to myself, that I would do my best to honour his memory and everything he taught me by living my life to the fullest. Now, as you all know, before, I was a bit of a workaholic—’
‘A bit!’ shouted my mother from the sofa. The room erupted with laughter.
‘Okay, thanks, Mum!’ I said, laughing. ‘Yes, more than abit, I’ll admit. I was all work, work, work. I was uptight and unhappy. In short, whilst my life appeared to be good from the outside, in reality, I wasn’t making the most of it. But despite his passing, Albert has been inspiring me to pursue my dreams and to build a more balanced and positive life for myself. A year on, I’ve grown so much. I took myself on a cookery holiday with a group of strangers who are now amazing friends.’ I smiled at Fran and Dan who were also in the room. ‘I learnt to cook Italian dishes, I rarely work at weekends or evenings, and I have experienced so many things, thanks to the extra courage that Albert gave me and the incredible love and support I feel from you all.’
