Tess Evans - Book of Lost Threads

She and Moss were surprised to see Helen’s car parked in Sandy’s drive. ‘She’s helping with the cooking,’ Sandy explained.

They were settling into their chairs in the living room when Moss saw Bill Green’s cab crunching up the gravel drive to disgorge a dishevelled Finn.

‘Am I too late?’ Finn puffed as he rushed in the door. ‘When I saw the note, I didn’t even stop to shower.’

Moss hugged him, wrinkling her nose. ‘I can tell. No, you’re not too late. We’ve only just arrived.’ She gave him an extra squeeze. ‘I’m glad you could make it. It’s our first Christmas.’

Finn kissed the top of her head. ‘But not the last,’ he promised. At Sandy’s invitation, Finn went off to the shower, and returned wearing his own grubby jeans and a large white shirt that flapped around his lean body.

Moss indicated the Christmas tree, draped with lights and tinsel. An angel wobbled precariously at its tip. ‘Beautiful tree, Sandy.’

‘Yeah.’ He looked pleased. ‘Helen helped me. Dad and I didn’t bother much after Mum died.’

‘I’ll do the drinks,’ Hamish offered.

‘Leave the wine,’ Sandy said. ‘This calls for champagne.’ The champagne had been on ice to toast Sandy’s announcement, but changing his mind, he popped the cork with a flourish and Hamish filled the glasses.

While Sandy took round the drinks tray, Hamish went over to Ana. ‘As soon as everyone has a drink, you can start.’

Sandy gestured for her to come forward. ‘As you all know, young Ana here worked in New York for the United Nations.’

Finn didn’t know, and looked at her curiously. For one so young, she carried herself with a certain dignity.

‘Ana, you have something to say, I believe,’ Sandy said.

Ana stepped forward, a bright spot of embarrassment on each cheek. She’d prepared a speech that she hoped was worthy of both donor and recipient. ‘Many years ago,’ she began, ‘a parcel of tea cosies arrived at the UN headquarters…’ (Mrs Pargetter sniffed and muttered, ‘United Nations, girl. United Nations.’) ‘The parcel was opened by a Mr Lusala Ngilu, from Kenya,’ she continued, ‘and it was the beginning of a wonderful tradition that has lasted to this day. Mrs Pargetter has served the United Nations for thirty-five years, as has Mr Ngilu, and before he leaves his current position, he wishes to honour the work done by Mrs Pargetter for so many years.’

She paused, and Hamish handed her a box, patting her arm affectionately. Mrs Pargetter looked bemused, blinking rapidly behind her glasses and sucking in her teeth nervously.

‘It’s my great pleasure,’ Ana said, ‘to present this award to Mrs Lily Pargetter, on behalf of Ambassador Ngilu and the United Nations.’ She walked over to where the old lady was sitting and offered her the box.

‘I must stand to accept this honour,’ Lily Pargetter said. ‘Finn, help me up.’

Ana presented the old lady with the box, shaking her hand before kissing her on the cheek. ‘You’ve been an inspiration to more people than you can imagine, Mrs Pargetter, me included.’

Lily Pargetter’s hands shook as she sat down and attempted to prise away the seal. Moss knelt down to help her, as the others crowded round with their congratulations. The seal was broken, and the box opened to reveal straw packing. Cradled in the straw, shining softly in the lamplight, was a silver teapot.

‘There’s something engraved on the front,’ said Sandy. ‘What does it say?’

Overcome, Mrs Pargetter thrust the teapot into Moss’s hands. ‘Read it for me, will you please, dear? It’s very small-I can’t quite make it out.’

Moss stood up and read: ‘ To Lily Pargetter, friend of the United Nations and mentor of a grateful Lusala Ngilu .’ The little group looked at each other. ‘Wait. There’s more. There’s the emblem with the olive branches and more words . Reaffirming faith in the dignity and worth of the human person.’

‘That’s from the Preamble to the Charter,’ said Ana, and they all fell silent.

Lily Pargetter’s eyes began to fill. ‘I’m not up to a speech,’ she murmured. ‘Just… thank you, dear. And thank the quartermaster from the bottom of my heart.’

‘A toast,’ said Sandy. ‘To Aunt Lily and the United Nations.’

Mrs Pargetter raised her glass. ‘And to Quartermaster Ngilu and all of you here.’

‘Could be in for some rain,’ observed Hamish as they sat down. The window looked out on indigo clouds, which had been massing on the horizon all day. Uneasy thunder slunk through the distant cloud-mountains, but overhead the sky was brushed with a lucent grey. There was an evanescent quality to the light that drained some colours, while others stood out in sharp relief.

‘It’ll be a while yet,’ said Sandy. ‘That’s if it comes at all. Drought clouds are a bit like mirages. They look like the real thing, but…’ He picked up his father’s old carving knife and, beaming in an avuncular way, began to carve the turkey while Helen, slightly flustered, passed around the vegetables.

‘There are two gravy boats,’ she fussed. ‘Bother! I left one in the kitchen.’ She bustled out to get it, tucking her hair behind her ears.

‘Whatever’s the matter with Helen?’ Mrs Pargetter asked. ‘She’s usually cool as a cucumber. Must be the heat,’ she murmured, dabbing at the perspiration on her upper lip. She was wearing a new white cotton blouse with a lace inset. She hoped it wouldn’t end up all stained under the arms. Not very ladylike.

The others nodded. The air was oppressive and the barometer on the wall in Sandy’s study signalled change to an empty room. There was a feeling of controlled anticipation among the diners, who did their best to engage in light conversation. A little inhibited by Ana’s presence, Sandy’s old friends were careful to keep the discussion to generalities, courteously including her as much as possible.

Finn looked quizzically at Hamish and Ana, but made no comment. He’d never been as convinced as Mrs Pargetter about the existence of a romance between Hamish and Moss, and he continued to eat in silence. His attention was drawn to Helen, who was talking to their host in a low voice. Finn had come to consider Sandy a confirmed bachelor like himself, and was put out by the sudden thought that Helen and Sandy might be a couple. He confided his suspicions to Moss in a whisper. ‘What do you think?’

‘Hard to tell,’ she replied. ‘From what I hear, they’ve certainly been spending a lot of time together lately.’

It wasn’t until tea and coffee were served that Sandy finally stood up and called for silence. Finn supplemented his host’s ineffectual voice by tapping on a glass.

‘Thank you all for coming,’ Sandy began. ‘And thank you once again to Ana for her presentation. I called you all together originally to make an announcement.’ He paused for effect. ‘I want you to know that I’ve purchased the site of the Opportunity footy ground.’

Finn, Moss and Mrs Pargetter looked at each other in horror. They’d all thought the bizarre project had been put to rest, but once again the shadow of a gigantic galah was flapping across their landscape.

Mrs Pargetter was the first to gather her wits. ‘You promised, Sandy. You promised and…’

Sandy looked puzzled. ‘I promised what? Oh, you mean the Great Galah. No.’ He laughed, a full-bodied, confident laugh. ‘No. That’s not what it’s for. This idea is quite new, and with the help of Helen and Hamish here, we can make it a reality. It will be my gift to you, my special friends, and a gift to Opportunity. Come back into the lounge. Leave your coffee. I’ve got something to show you and I don’t want anything spilt on it.’ He strode away and the others followed, gathering around a card table he’d placed in the middle of the sitting room. One of Rosie’s hand-crocheted tablecloths lay over a rectangular object which glowed red through the patterns in the lace.