“Me, me, me, me, me, me, me.” Val can hear them as they flit between the soft cream lounges and the clinking metal and glass of the bar. All jockeying for position, a cacophony of Christmas cheer warming up for the main event.
“Well, I had to …”
“Really, well I am going to …”
Glasses are raised and refilled, phones passed about: photos of kitchens, puppies, houses.
“How much?”
“Yes, well I think we’d get at least a mil’ in this market.”
“Do you want another drink, Val?” She shakes her head. Her hands are shaking as she reaches in and out of the buff paper bag beside the smokey glass coffee table. Her nervous crackling draws attention. “What’s that? Oh yes, present time. Great idea.” Her niece with the lovely long nails lifts a spoon and taps on the side of her glass.
“Presents everyone, then, I think the restaurant might finally be ready for us!” Her beautiful dark eyes roll skyward in their mascaraed shells, as her siblings guffaw in agreement.
Matching envelopes are passed to each other. Plastic cards with logos flicked at, kisses exchanged, hands shaken. “Oh you know Covid and all, nothing in the shops, thought you would prefer this, plus it’s just not so heavy for dragging home.”
“Aunty Val, Merry Christmas,” her youngest niece leans in, brunette curls bounce as she air kisses Val’s weathered cheek, and waits.
She can’t get out of it now. Her neat clipped fingernails withdraw the first of her parcels, turn it over slowly to check the name tag, before passing it to the young woman. A small package in red and silver with a little tag. “Ooh, did you make something?” All eyes turn to Val, as she nods and reaches into her little bag to bestow multicoloured boxes to her waiting family.
The red and silver is torn with French tips and discarded, as her niece stares at the little crochet square puzzled, then quickly lifts her glass. “Oh, granny chic! I love it”, the air splits again with scent at Val’s cheek as she darts in to purse botox lips, before quickly turning. “Oh, must get another drink.” The little square is flicked to the table and rests, radiant against the minimalist grey.
“Oh, lovely Aunty Val.” A chorus cycles about the table as each opens their little box to reveal a square of no particular size, colour or material, until a kaleidoscope of cotton, wool, polyester, paper and ribbon festoons the little coffee table. Her grandnephew plays with a square, pudgy fingers squeeze and poke through the holes until his mother gently removes it and tucks his little fists tight in swaddling cloth.
“Oh, they’ve just buzzed us. They are finally ready, ” her daughter’s cool, clear tone gathers attention. “Mum, are you right to go through? I’ve just got to check everything is OK at the house. We’ve been waiting forever for this tradie and he has finally arrived – today of all days …” Her voice trails off as she lifts her phone and strides to the foyer.
Val lifts herself off the soft cushions of the lounge, eager to ensure no one is delayed for her, and busies herself absently with her handbag, smiling to her siblings, her nieces, nephews and grandbabies as they collect half-filled glasses and disappear.
“Me, me, me, me, me, me, me … ” She can hear them singing joyously, the carol echoing against the full-length windows of the restaurant. A brilliant summer sun catches the soft tips of the lapping lake outside, darting arrows over the coffee table. Val watches as its gentle arcs catch the jewel colours of her soft little squares and she sits again.
Her fingers itch, she can already see the beautiful rug that all those lovely squares will make. She lifts the first little square and turns it softly, to align with the next. It’s a perfect fit. Her hands flitter to her mouth, keen to stifle the flutter of delight growing within her, and she catches the scent of her grandnephew, left imprinted on her square, and breathes in deep. Slowly she turns each piece, a jigsaw of life. Baby mixed with sanitiser, soap, Chanel and Giorgio Armani.
Oh, it is too perfect. All of the little squares, all she has to do is sew them together. Surely, they won’t miss her at lunch.
