Impossible to Forget(25)

Tiger sauntered into the kitchen, fully dressed, which was unusual for that time of day. He moved about the room collecting his things with a surprising sense of purpose as Maggie watched, curious about what had prompted the tidy-up but also enjoying having an excuse to focus her attention on him without feeling awkward.

‘I’ll be getting out of your hair tomorrow,’ he said as he unhooked his denim jacket from the back of a chair.

Maggie’s heart jolted. The duration of Tiger’s visit had been characteristically vague, with none of them, including Tiger himself, being quite sure how long he intended to stay. Having overcome her initial wobble at his arrival, she had got used to having him around and felt sure that they were still building up to something, slowly but steadily.

But now, he was leaving, and so soon. Panic flooded through her. She wasn’t sure what she’d been hoping for, but she had expected that there’d be more time for the situation to play itself out.

‘I’ve got a coach booked down to Dover tomorrow,’ Tiger continued, ‘and then I’m heading to St Petersburg.’

‘St Petersburg, as in the Soviet Union?’ clarified Leon, looking up from his copy of New Musical Express and staring at Tiger open-mouthed. ‘I thought we couldn’t get beyond the Iron Curtain. Won’t they just chuck you in a gulag and leave you to rot?’

‘Only in spy novels, mate,’ said Tiger. ‘It’s pretty safe to travel there as long as you don’t do anything stupid. They watch you like a hawk, and you can’t really wander about on your own, but you can go and see. So, I’m catching a train from Paris on Monday night.’

‘What’s this?’ asked Angie, wandering in in an oversized Choose Life T-shirt that had gone a bit grey in the wash and a pair of baggy leggings, her auburn hair tied back with one of Leon’s socks. She had clearly only just got up.

‘Tiger’s leaving us,’ said Leon. ‘Tomorrow.’

Angie crossed the room and threw her arms around Tiger. ‘Oh mate, that’s a bugger. I’ll miss you,’ she said. ‘Where are you going?’

‘St Petersburg,’ replied Tiger.

‘Cool,’ said Angie. ‘Well, we’d better have a send-off party tonight then. Give you something to think about when you’re freezing your bits off in Siberia.’

‘St Petersburg is nowhere near Siberia,’ said Leon. ‘God, Angie, didn’t they teach you anything at school?’

Angie swallowed and Maggie thought of their conversation about her childhood. She wondered how often she got caught out like this, holes in her education exposed. Then again, the geography of the Soviet Union wasn’t Maggie’s specialist subject either.

Angie recovered quickly enough. ‘Absolutely nothing, Leon mate. I know nada, rien, nichts, niets,’ she said wryly.

Maggie noticed that as usual, Angie seemed to have decided to throw a party without any consultation with the rest of them, but for once she didn’t mind. It might be exactly what she and Tiger needed to finally decide where they stood.

‘A party, great idea,’ she said enthusiastically.

Leon gave her a sideways glance, as if he didn’t quite believe what he’d just heard.

‘Just us, or shall we invite a few people over?’ asked Angie.

Maggie, who didn’t have a few people to invite over, would rather that it was just the four of them, but she could see the advantage of a houseful. It would give her and Tiger more opportunity to make themselves scarce without drawing any attention.

‘Let’s see who’s free?’ she said. ‘Make a proper night of it.’

‘Okay. I’ll go and do a ring round. Anyone got a phonecard?’

Maggie rolled her eyes, got the newly purchased phonecard out of her purse and handed it to Angie. ‘Try not to use it all up,’ she said. ‘It’s still got ￡2.40 on it.’

‘Thanks,’ said Angie, slipping the card into her hair and heading for the door.

‘Aren’t you going to get dressed first?’ asked Maggie, but Angie just shrugged.

By the end of the day, they had mustered about ten guests who had all promised to bring their own drinks. Leon offered to make a chilli, his signature dish, and Maggie bought some plastic plates, forks and cups from Woolworths. Angie made a bowl of her world-famous punch, and they moved Leon’s sound system downstairs so that they could have some music. Maggie knew that it would have made more sense to use hers as her room was on the ground floor, and was immensely grateful to Leon for not suggesting it. Finally, Angie threw scarves over all the lights to create more of an intimate mood and they were ready to party.

The four of them gathered in the lounge and Angie filled plastic cups with punch, handing them round proudly.

‘Best punch you’ll ever drink,’ she said.

Maggie took a sip and recoiled involuntarily. It had quite a kick.

‘What did you put in it?’ she asked through her coughing.

‘Oh, you know,’ replied Angie vaguely. ‘Bit of this, bit of that.’

‘A lot of that,’ laughed Maggie, ‘going by how it tastes.’ But she took another mouthful.

By nine o’clock, no one had arrived.

‘What time did you tell everyone to come?’ asked Leon.

‘I didn’t really. Just said we were having a house party.’