How To Choose a Sweetheart (19 page)

He fumbles in his pocket and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper.

“This way, maybe we can all share the responsibility. Here goes.

We met Jazz in our bookshop,

She hated it and had to stop.

We miss her lots, she is the best,

But she deserved her well-earned rest.

So off she went and met Al-an

We didn’t know him, but now we’re fans.

We know that she’s not coming back,

She can’t anyway, she got the sack,

And secretly we’re all quite glad,

That now she’ll never, ever be sad.

Amelie says she’ll be your driver,

Chris wants you to know you owe him a fiver.”

Jazz takes the red rose from a vase in the centre of her table and throws it. It hits Max in the face and everyone cheers. He picks it up and gives it to Cath, who gives it a sniff and holds it closely to her chest.

“Don’t shoot me, folks, I’m only the messenger,” Max says. He realises that his poem’s not going down so very well, screws up the paper and lobs it over to the back of the room. Evlis Costello’s nephew catches it.

“But, well, what we’d really like to say is that we love you both and we hope you’ll be really happy, and thanks for the party.”  It sounds better, even if there are no jokes. “Let’s give a toast.”

Everyone stands and Max raises his bottle. “Jazz and Alan.”

The room joins together in their wishes and the happy couple look deeply into each other’s eyes.

“Now for heaven’s sake and mine,” Max says. “Let’s get that music back on.”

A snare drum beats out the intro to ‘My Baby Left Me’ by the King himself. The young waitress grabs Mr Costello Jr and yanks him into the middle of the room where they kick out their legs and dance.

T
he light’s fading as Cath and Max walk home. The streets are quiet and the air is full of the smell of summer flowers lightly mixing with the after-shocks of a burst of rain on the tarmac.

“Two poems in a fortnight,” Cath says. “Do you think you’ve found a new career?”

“I’ve just doubled my output, so I doubt it. My previous effort was in primary school about a girl who thought she was a cat.”

“Can you remember how it went?”

“You can ask my mum when you meet. It’s probably in a box of treasures somewhere.”

“That’s something I’ve never thought about. Max, aged six.” There’s a teasing undercurrent in her voice, as if she’s looking forward to exposing him layer by layer.

“I wouldn’t gloat if I were you. There are still plenty of stones for me to look under.”

They reach a side road and check that the way’s clear.

Max points at a puddle on the floor. In it is the reflection of the moon.

“It’s a sign,” he says. “It means that I’ll only ever get to love you more as long as the moon keeps shining.”

“Then I hope it never stops.” She kisses him with a pressure that Max feels in his toes.

“Maybe we should go there sometime.”

They cross the road.

Max’s thoughts turn to Alice and Mr Evans. “I hope everything’s been all right at the ranch.”

“Alice will be tucked in and sleeping.”

“I wonder how the lesson went.”

“I’m sure it was fine.”

They get to Cath’s road and she starts running. “Race you back,” she calls.

“But I’ve hurt my ankle.” Max jogs after her, determined not to win, but to make it seem close.

The happy couple disappear quickly around the bend.

Where they were standing only moments earlier, a pair of heavy boots stomp. They wander over to the next road and the left boot lands in the puddle where the moon was reflected and break it up into little, shiny ripples.

Inside the boots is Sci-fi man. His shoulders are hunched, he has binoculars hanging from his neck and he’s carrying a strange electrical device. A dribble of snot hangs from his nose as he talks into the machine, quietly so only the aliens will be able to hear.

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With warm and sincere thanks to Karen Watkins, Kath Middleton and Ken Hare for their kindness, keen sight and understanding of the English language.

xxx