The party winds down

"God, what's that smell?" Becky asked. After dropping Joseph at the railway station at Holmes Chapel, she was now visiting Aly's college friends' digs.

"It's probably last night's pizza," one of Aly's housemates called from the kitchen.

"POOH! It smells like last year's!" Becky chided. Paper plates, empty coke tins and cigarette butts festered on the threadbare carpet. An assortment of discarded clothes, socks and trainers occupied a corner. Moving the debris of late-night meals aside, she sat on a couch.

More of Aly's housemates appeared, slapping James' back and hugging Aly. Some presented her with cards.

"Aww, thanks ya'll," Aly said, "that's awesome."

Becky soon relaxed with the group as everyone toasted the couple with beer and lager. "What's the college like?" Becky asked Aly and her friends.

"Right fine," Aly said, her friends nodding. "It's where I met James," she added.
James went beetroot red to whistles and calls of, "Oooh, lover boy!"

*

I returned to the party with Sean and threw myself into the remainder of the birthday celebrations. I noticed no red Porsche on our drive, and felt some relief.

"I hope Aunty didn't eat him," Sean joked. "That bastard will give her gas."
I chuckled.

Guests inside the tent were enjoying the music and games, led by Rachel. Wesley and his friends had rejoined the party. Grabbing his mum's hand, he took his friends to the lake, running breathlessly across the lawn, eager to show them the fish and the ducks.

Most of the Koi carp were hiding at the bottom of the water; the occasional splash and plop broke the surface. I saw Sean, slyly hiding behind a bush, throwing stones into the water. The children leapt up and down, looking into the swirls of water, shouting, "There's one!"

Taking Tony, our gardener and odd-job man, by the arm while his lad Alan played with the other children, I invited him to the family meeting on Sunday morning.

"I would really like you to come, Tony. We're making some changes and I value your input." He could not hide his surprise and enthusiasm when I explained what I had in mind. The change would give him independence and the work would help him take his mind off his marriage problems.

I took Liz and Becky aside and told them about Joseph and the reason for his visit. Telling them my intentions for a family meeting, they agreed with some consternation. Sometime later, Sean returned from the lake in a mood as sour as vinegar. He moped about in the kitchen, clattering pans and dishes.

"Come on, for goodness sake, tell me what's troubling you, Grumpy."

Sean smiled half-heartedly, "It's the engagement, John, I don't know what to do." His face looked pained and serious. I struggled, perplexed, and asked was it James and Aly? "No, it's not about that...it's Rachel. What do I do?"

"I don't see the problem, Sean. You like Rachel and Rachel likes you."

"OK. One, I'm 48 and she's 29." He showed a thumb. "Two, I'm independent and a loner, while she's a caring person who loves people." His index finger pointed. "Three, I take lives, she saves them." He used his middle finger. "Four, she's sweet, and I'm a right bastard at times." His fourth finger joined the others. "And there's more," he said, looking more troubled than I had ever seen him.

I breathed a sigh of relief when Wesley came over and rescued me by his innocent intervention. Relationships were important, I knew that well. Luckily, I had stumbled upon Liz in her dad's office in south Wales, otherwise I'd now most likely be a lonely bachelor. Advice from me on relationships? It was the blind leading the blind.

Wesley wanted to show his friends how dogs chased sticks. I whistled for Bourne. Aunty joined too. I headed out of the house, with children following me, and quickly whispered to Liz, "Have a word with Romeo," pointing my thumb to Sean. She raised her dark eyebrows and shrugged her shoulders with a querying look.

Later that evening, when Liz and I were sitting in bed reading, I happened to say, "Our chicks are leaving the nest." I immediately sensed it was a bad idea.

Liz said, "What do you mean leaving? We can all live here. The house is big enough or we can make it bigger." She turned her back to me and switched off her bedside light. I realised someone else felt insecure.

Following an old adage my mum lived by, don't let the sun go down on your wrath, I put my arms around her, feeling her body shake with sobs.

I whispered, "It's OK. We're getting older; life grows and changes. Our children are becoming independent but they will always be our children. They will still need us, and if they want to live here, that's fine. We'll make room, I promise."

Liz turned to me and said softly, "Hold me." I did. It felt good.