Tommy whistled out loud, ‘Wheweee,’ as he lifted his black bag into the hallway. The Charlemont Old People’s Nursing Home had been transformed for the day with flowers and balloons everywhere, and big banners in reception and the corridors saying ‘100 years’. One of the young nurses pointed them in the direction of the huge dining room where the party was to be held.
He noticed as he walked past the sitting room and day room that the residents – well, that was what his ma liked to call them – were all dressed in their very best, cardigans and dresses and blouses and skirts and jackets. He supposed it must be a very big thing to them, the residents, to have someone make the hundred mark! Maybe they were all trying to make it and it was just that his grandmother was the first past the winning post.
‘Lil’s sitting pretty in her chair up there,’ a staff nurse told them. ‘Matron is with her and a few of the family have already arrived, Mr Butler. Your brother from Canada and his family are there.’
Pat Butler grinned. It was ten years since he’d seen Matt and only two of his kids had ever been to Ireland before. He was silly to have worried: today was going to be one of the Butler family’s finest as they all assembled to pay tribute to his ma, a wonderful woman.
His grandmother looked lovely. Her hair was all nice and softly curled and looked even whiter than ever, like a halo around her small face as she kissed and hugged and welcomed everyone. Auntie Paula and his cousin Brian were fetching everyone drinks from the small bar the family had set up. There was wine and beer and sherry and vodka, and Coke, orange and big bottles of red lemonade. The presents were all put on a table in the centre of the room, and he shoved the hatbox on the ground slightly under the tablecloth beside two huge floral arrangements. His cousin Andy was taking photos of everyone with his grandmother on a fancy digital camera.
‘Go on, smile with Nan.’
‘Give Lil another kiss!’
Lillian Butler was lapping it all up and wiped tears from her eyes as six great-grandchildren were deposited on her lap and around her.
‘I only wish poor Tom was here to see them all,’ she smiled.
Tommy helped himself to a sausage roll and some vol-au-vents. Some had prawns in them but he preferred the cheese and ham ones. There was loads of grub, for the Butlers all had big appetites. The Canadian and Australian cousins were grand, asking him to come and visit them when he was old enough.
‘What do you do for fun around here?’ asked Aaron Butler from Alberta, the same age as himself and about a foot taller.
Tommy racked his brains, thinking of playing football in the road or up in the park with the lads and walking to the cinema or the chipper. Somehow it didn’t sound as good as it really was.
‘I do snowboarding and ski in the winter and kayaking once the weather gets warm!’ said Aaron.
Tommy stuck out his chin. ‘Yeah, well, we don’t get enough snow here for that kind of thing but we all hang round, messing, if you know what I mean.’
More and more people were arriving, and the room was filling up and buzzing with sound. He was surprised to see Mr McHugh had arrived and was engrossed in talking to his ancient old uncle Donal.
‘An event like this, young Thomas, is part of social history and not to be missed. Thank you for inviting me along to join the celebration.’
Everyone was getting on really well and the glass of sherry had given his nan two rosy cheeks.
‘We’ll all eat first,’ bossed his aunt Kitty, ‘then everyone here will get their turn to go up and say happy birthday to Mammy and give her their present and good wishes.’
Tommy watched as the Butler family moved like a pack of migrant wildebeest towards the buffet table, arming themselves with plates and knives and forks. He decided to hang back and remove the plastic covering off his gift, for he was dying to be first in line for his granny to see what he’d got her. He tilted open the lid to take a satisfied peek.
Janey! He couldn’t believe it! Inside was a scummy black and white hat like you’d wear going to a funeral. His da would kill him. He turned it over in the box, crouching down as if the Memory Hat might miraculously appear underneath. He felt like crying as he looked round the room. Where was his hat?
Ray was stuffing himself with chicken goujons and potato wedges when Tommy grabbed his mobile phone off him and took off.
‘Give me back the phone!’ threatened his brother, as Tommy disappeared into the quiet of the corridor with his hastily rewrapped black plastic disaster.
Please let her be there, he begged, knowing it was almost closing time as he rang the number that was written in curly writing on the side of the lid. She had to be there!