Once in a Lifetime

by Chrissie Manby

‘Wow.’ Dave gave a low whistle. ‘L-O-L-A Lola. Good work, Frank. Who’d have thought he’d get a girl like that? She is smokin’.’

  ‘I hope she’s got a personality to match,’ said Dani primly.

  ‘Who cares about her personality?’

  ‘You did not just say that,’ Dani complained.

  ‘I don’t rate your chances of winning him back now,’ Dave continued.

  ‘I don’t want to win him back. But if you don’t shut up, I will stick Lola’s effing birthday cake in your face.’

  As Dave and Dani watched, Cheryl the events manager ushered Nat’s party to their places. If there was one thing she was good it, it was making sure that events at The Majestic always ran on time. As soon as the last bum was on a seat, Cheryl scuttled across to the screen behind which Dani and Dave were still hiding.

  ‘Canapés are done. Main courses at the ready.’

  Dave responded with a heel click and soon the waiting staff started streaming out of the kitchen, placing main courses on the table and filling glasses.

  When Dani wasn’t needed, she slipped out of the kitchen to find her spot by the wheelie bins. Dave came to join her with a cigarette.

  ‘So what do you really think?’ Dani asked him.

  ‘I think our friend Frank has done all right for himself.’

  ‘She’s not his type, though, is she?’

  ‘She’s every man’s type. Those legs.’

  Dani shook her head.

  ‘You’ve got great legs too,’ said Dave. ‘I mean, not that I’ve been looking at them or anything. Ever.’

  ‘I didn’t need you to say that,’ Dani said.

  ‘Only trying to cheer you up.’

  ‘I don’t need cheering up.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really.’

  Dani plucked the cigarette from Dave’s hand and took a cheeky drag.

  ‘You never smoke any more,’ Dave commented.

  ‘I know.’

  Dani exhaled a long grey plume.

  ‘It’s weird seeing Frank back here as a customer,’ said Dave.

  ‘It certainly is.’

  ‘But you’re all right about it, aren’t you? I mean, after everything …’

  ‘Everything that happened twenty-two years ago? Of course I am. I’ve lived more than half my life since then.’

  ‘Good. Because I know it can be tough. Seeing an ex.’

  Dave’s ex-wife Julie, who had also worked at The Majestic in the summer of 1996, still made a hobby of making Dave jealous.

  ‘It’s different. You and Julie were married. You shared a dog.’

  ‘Don’t know what I would have done if she got custody of Sparkle,’ Dave said. ‘Do you want to take the cake out when they’re ready?’ Dave asked then. ‘You made it, so you should.’

  ‘No,’ said Dani. The very last thing she wanted was to stand next to the real Lola for even a second. She could imagine the picture they would make only too well. Her kitchen whites were no competition for Lola’s mini-flapper dress. Her comfortable clogs would look like ancient coracles next to Lola’s expensive shoes. And as for her hair. When she was in the kitchen, Dani had no choice but to stick her shoulder-length brown hair into a bun that could be covered by her white chef’s hat. Health and safety demanded it. Still, she did not want to go up against Lola’s bright blonde waves.

  Go up against?

  Hang on. This was ridiculous. There was no question of ‘going up against’ Lola. There was no competition between them. Full stop. Lola was Nat’s girlfriend. Meanwhile Dani had let go of Nat more than two decades ago. She no longer even knew him well enough to call him a friend. It didn’t matter that he was in love with someone else. Someone younger and slimmer with much better shoes. Lola was scrubbed up for her birthday. Dani was at work.

  ‘I’ll take the cake out,’ Dani told Dave.

  She wanted to claim her achievement. The cake looked bloody beautiful. It was well worth being proud of her efforts. She was a professional.

  ‘But first I need to go and check my face,’ she admitted.

  Chapter Eleven

  Before Dani left the kitchen, Dave lit the candles with the Zippo lighter he’d had for almost twenty-five years. The same one he’d used for Nat’s eighteenth birthday Frankenstein cake.

  As Dani walked in with the cake already ablaze, the birthday guests started singing. Meanwhile Lola started primping. In anticipation, presumably, of the obligatory photographs. While Dani was still halfway across the room, Lola whipped out her phone and checked her make-up with the selfie function.

  As Dani drew closer, Lola’s mother quickly cleared a spot where the cake could land. Dani placed it there carefully and stood back, with the other guests, to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ one more time.

  When the singing was done, Lola didn’t blow the candles out right away. She wanted some photographs first. And photo approval. So that by the time she actually got round to blowing the candles out, they were dripping wax onto the icing with which Dani had achieved a rare perfect mirror shine. To say that Dani wasn’t pleased was an understatement, but she kept a lid on the urge to say, ‘Please blow out the bloody candles before they melt the cake,’ and instead smiled and agreed to stand behind Lola for one more photograph.

  ‘Make a wish,’ someone shouted.

  ‘I know exactly what I’m wishing for,’ said Lola, with a wink at Nat.

  The man standing next to Nat gave him a friendly dig that almost knocked him over. Lola blew out the candles and the guests gave her a round of applause. Dani sank back into the shadows.

  ‘Now, Lola,’ said a man Dani took to be Lola’s father. ‘Before we cut the cake, there’s something we’ve got to give you. It’s been pretty difficult thinking of the perfect birthday present for a girl like you. What do you get the girl who has everything? I’m assuming you don’t need another BMW just yet.’

  The birthday guests chuckled politely.

  ‘Your mother and I ruled out jewellery too, since that’s the domain of another person in this room now.’

  Nat gave a comic grimace and tugged at his collar.

  ‘You go on far too many holidays and you’ve already got a beautiful home. So what could we get you, our darling girl? When you were little, you wanted a rabbit and we got you two of them. Though they didn’t last long.’

  Lola gave an embarrassed shrug.

  ‘Then you asked for a pony and we got you one of those.’

  ‘Awww, lovely Missy,’ Lola remembered her horse. ‘Mischief was her proper name,’ she explained for Nat’s benefit.

  ‘Yes. Of course, you forgot all about Missy as soon as you got into boys,’ Lola’s father sighed. ‘But there was something else you asked for that we never gave in on.’

  Lola tipped her head to one side, as though racking her brain for a single whim that had not been indulged during her clearly privileged childhood.

  ‘We always said that you couldn’t have one until we knew you’d be responsible,’ her father continued. ‘Well, now that you’re thirty, we hope that’s a given.’

  ‘Oh, I’m very responsible now!’ Lola promised.

  ‘In that case.’

  Lola’s father dialled someone on his mobile.

  ‘You can bring her in,’ he said.

  ‘Her?’

  All eyes were on the doors to the restaurant as one of the hotel’s porters used a luggage trolley to wheel in a large box that was covered in gold wrapping paper and finished with a huge pink ribbon.

  ‘Don’t get too excited. It isn’t another pony,’ said Lola’s dad.

  ‘Then what is it?’

  Lola leapt up from her seat with unseemly haste. Dani was reminded of Roald Dahl’s Veruca Salt as Lola scrabbled to get the ribbon undone. Then Lola pushed aside the flaps that kept the box closed and her eyes widened as she saw what it contained.

  ‘Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god! Thank you, Daddy. Thank you, Mummy. This is the best best birthday present ever!’


  Perhaps Dani should have guessed what was inside from the look on Lola’s face. So similar to the look on her daughter’s face just a few nights earlier.

  Lola reached into the box and lifted out … a dog!

  Lola’s reaction was the exact opposite of Dani’s upon seeing Flossie’s surprise gift from Jed. Lola was delighted. She jumped up and down, looking much younger than her thirty years as she did so. She cradled the puppy – a pure black cocker spaniel – in her arms and kissed it all over its velvety head.

  ‘Oh my god, this is wonderful,’ she said.

  ‘And cheaper than a BMW,’ her father quipped. ‘Though still bloody expensive. It’s a pedigree puppy is this one. Years of breeding. Grandmother won something at Crufts. Nothing but the best for my girl.’

  ‘Thanks, Ian,’ said Nat, addressing Lola’s father.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Ian. ‘Sorry, mate. I guess it’s you that’s going to be doing the poop-scooping and wotnot.’

  ‘No, he won’t. I will look after my dog myself,’ Lola insisted.

  ‘I’ll believe that when I see it,’ said Ian, giving Nat another hefty nudge in the ribs.

  ‘Well,’ said Lola’s mother. ‘What are you going to call her, sweetie?’

  Lola held the puppy at arm’s length to get a better look at her. The puppy wriggled in the air.

  ‘Princess,’ said Lola after just a moment’s thought. ‘I don’t know why. It just came into my head. But she does look like a princess, doesn’t she?’

  ‘Just like her new owner. It’s perfect,’ Lola’s mother agreed.

  While everyone was fussing over the puppy, Dani caught Nat’s eye, just for a second. She did her best to keep her face pretty neutral, but she could tell that the puppy had taken Nat by surprise as much as Lola, and that he didn’t have a clue how he was supposed to react.

  He wasn’t the only one. Cheryl the events manager didn’t know what to do with herself or her clipboard. Dogs weren’t allowed into the hotel dining room unless they were assistance dogs – guide dogs and the like. But these people were important customers and Cheryl had her eye on future bookings. She didn’t want to upset anyone. On the other hand rules were rules. Lola’s shrieks of delight had drawn the attention of everyone else in the restaurant and not all of them looked impressed.

  ‘May I suggest you take your coffee through to the lounge,’ Cheryl said, using her clipboard to waft Lola, Nat and Princess in that general direction. ‘Yes. Just through there. The lounge.’

  Strictly speaking, dogs weren’t allowed in the lounge either but a new Majestic Hotel rule was being written.

  As the birthday guests left the restaurant, Dani cut the cake into slices, ready to be served with the coffee. She secretly helped herself to a forkful. It was delicious. Magnificent. The best she had ever made.

  Once the whole cake was cut, Dani carried it into the lounge and left it on a low table so that Lola’s party could help themselves. Nobody noticed. They were all too busy fawning over the puppy. Nobody, that is, except Nat. He saw Dani come in and he watched her leave. In the low light of the bar, she looked to him exactly as she had always done. Exactly as he remembered.

  ‘Nat! You have a go!’

  Lola thrust the puppy into his arms.

  ‘Perfect practice for a baby!’ said Lola’s dad.

  Chapter Twelve

  Since she’d worked an extra shift to be there for Nat and Lola’s party, Dani had the next day off in lieu. She got up early, determined to get stuff done for once. Alas, the first thing she had to do was pick up some puppy mess.

  ‘I would have done that,’ Flossie insisted when she came downstairs. ‘If you hadn’t got up first.’

  All the same, Flossie let her mother finish the clearing up with a quick squirt of Vanish and some elbow grease.

  ‘Can I make you a coffee, Mum?’ Flossie asked while Dani was washing her hands.

  ‘Why?’ Dani asked.

  ‘Is that a yes?’

  ‘Yes. But …’

  Flossie had a way with the coffee machine. Dani could only get it to make espressos, but Flossie could get a veritable Starbucks-worthy array of drinks out of the thing. Fortunately, she seemed to think the coffee machine with its little plastic capsules was exempt from her – or rather Jed’s – eco-diktats.

  ‘What kind of coffee do you want?’

  ‘I’ll have a cappuccino,’ Dani said.

  ‘Coming right up!’

  ‘But I want one without strings attached.’

  ‘Mum, why do you always think I’ve got an ulterior motive if I do anything nice for you?’ Flossie asked.

  ‘Because you usually have.’

  ‘That’s not true. Sometimes I’m just a really lovely daughter.’

  Dani had to laugh at that.

  ‘And you let me keep Jezza,’ said Flossie. ‘I owe you a lot of coffee for that.’

  ‘Three small poos’ worth so far today. Is Jed coming over for lunch?’

  Flossie nodded. ‘If it’s OK with you.’

  It wasn’t. Dani wasn’t in the mood for another lecture. But she remembered what her mother had said. The more they welcomed Jed into the family, the better. With a bit of luck, if they let him become so welcome he started to seem like part of the furniture, Flossie might go off him altogether.

  ‘So,’ said Flossie, as she set the cappuccino down on the table. It was perfect. She’d even sprinkled chocolate on top. At least she could always get a job as a barista. ‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.’

  ‘Hmmmm,’ said Dani.

  ‘It’s about the summer.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You know how you said last year that once I finished my exams, I could have a special treat. Well, given how hard I’ve worked, a holiday in Greece seems reasonable, doesn’t it?’

  ‘What? A holiday in Greece? I was thinking more like fifty quid to spend in Top Shop. Who’s going to Greece? Has Xanthe’s mum invited you?’

  Xanthe’s mum, Angeliki, had family near Halkidiki.

  ‘Sort of.’

  Dani tilted her head in a questioning way.

  ‘She’s said we can drop in.’

  ‘We? Drop in?’

  ‘If we get that far?’

  ‘Hang on. I’m confused. Who’s we? And why wouldn’t you get that far?’

  ‘Because me and Jed were thinking of backpacking down there?’

  Dani was grateful that she had yet to take a mouthful of the coffee because she would certainly have spat it out.

  ‘What? You can’t backpack to Greece with Jed, Flossie. I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’ll be really cheap.’

  ‘I’m not thinking about the cost. You’re sixteen.’

  ‘Exactly, I’m sixteen. I’m not a baby. Everyone I know is allowed to go travelling. They’re allowed to drink. They’re allowed to have their boyfriends sleeping over. They’re allowed to live like the adults they are.’

  ‘Nearly are. Who are you talking about anyway? I don’t know any of your friends’ mothers who think any differently from me.’

  ‘They do. Loads of the girls at school have more freedom than me. You’re like some nineteenth-century dad compared to everyone else’s parents!’

  ‘Because you’re not an adult.’

  ‘I’m old enough to go to work.’

  ‘But you don’t,’ Dani pointed out. ‘And you don’t always act like the grown-up you seem to think you are. You promised me, for example, that you would look after Jezza. I have not seen you clean up after him once.’

  ‘That’s because you’re always on it before I get a chance! He’s usually not even finished cocking his leg before you’re there with the Febreze and a wet rag.’

  ‘It’s unhygienic to leave the mess around.’

  ‘Mum, a bit of dirt never hurt anyone. Just like a little bit of risk never hurt anyone. You have to put yourself out there in the world to get anywhere. Backpacking to Greece could be the experience that makes me.’
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  ‘Or gets you into a lot of trouble. Flossie, this discussion is finished. There’s no way … What do you want for dinner?’ She tried to change the subject.

  ‘I told you. I’m staying over at Xanthe’s tonight, like I always do. Then tomorrow, everyone from GCSE media studies is going to meet up at Xanthe’s to work. You know that’s what I’m doing, Mum. I do it every week.’

  It was true. Flossie had been staying over at Xanthe’s house every Friday night since the beginning of the school year.

  ‘Isn’t it Xanthe’s turn to stay over here?’ Dani suggested. ‘Then you could both take Jezza to boot camp before you work on your project.’

  ‘It’s easier at her house,’ said Flossie.

  ‘Look, I’m glad you’re taking your GSCEs so seriously,’ said Dani then. ‘I have to admit I was worried when you first brought Jed home that he might be something of a distraction. Promise me you’ll keep your focus. It’s only two more years of school then you can do whatever you like.’

  ‘I promise,’ said Flossie. ‘If you promise you’ll think about letting me go to a festival this summer at least. If I can’t go to Greece then you’ve got to let me go to Reading.’

  ‘After we’ve seen your GCSE results,’ Dani attempted a compromise. ‘And you’ll have to find the money yourself. You’ll maybe even have to get a job.’

  Dani thought that would probably be the end of it. Flossie had shown no inclination to find weekend employment so far. But she was about to surprise her mother.

  ‘I’ll look for something after my exams. Jed’s going to be so pissed off about Greece,’ Flossie sighed. ‘But I’ll tell him we can go to a festival if we can get the cash.’

  ‘That’s not quite what I said,’ Dani tried but Flossie was already on her way out of the kitchen, sending a message to someone as she went.

  Suddenly, Dani didn’t want her coffee after all.

  Sixteen. It was a strange sort of age. A limbo. At sixteen, Flossie wasn’t old enough to vote. She wasn’t old enough to drink, or to get married without parental consent. But she was old enough to join the Territorial Army, with that same consent. That was messed up, Dani thought. How could you be allowed to sign up to die for your country if you weren’t old enough to have a say in how it was run?