Page 44 of So Thrilled For You

Simmons: Why not, Charlotte? Why is it so hard to imagine?

Charlotte: Because I used the best icebreaker games. Nobody could’ve felt alienated after those. Did you know, when meeting people in groups, you have to speak within the first ten minutes otherwise you disengage from the social situation? So, I ensured everyone at that baby shower had a chance to be noticed and listened to within the first ten minutes so the group would feel cohesive. Did you know, there was this research done at Harvard University, about the best way to ‘break ice’ in social groups, and it involved—

Simmons: —We’re going off track here. Can you go back to your movements on the day in question?

Charlotte: That’s what I’ve been doing. How am I supposed to know you don’t want the exact details of the icebreaker games? It might be relevant, you know? Maybe I accidentally missed someone out and they didn’t get a chance to speak within the first ten minutes, and they . . . started a fire in protest?

Charlotte

Everything is melting. Everything is fucking melting.

It’s fine. It’s great. I’ll make it work. It’s fun! Fun, fun, melting baby shower. Who likes set icing on a cupcake anyway? It’s much better when it’s dripping down your fingers and ruining someone’s nice sofa. I made the mistake of leaving the ice cube bag on the counter to try and take more photos, and it’s now a bag of water. But who needs ice? Ice isn’t important! Nobody really wants ice! I mean, many guests have asked if there’s any ice left but they don’t really want it. They want watermelon! I have watermelon. That’s so naturally refreshing. I’ll cut up more, serve it about, distract them from the ice. Watermelon doesn’t melt. Hooray for watermelon!

Oh God, I do wish everyone would hurry up and eat the food before it melts. Eat. Eat! Come on everybody, eat it all, before it becomes soup. I check the time on my phone. We’re running about seventeen minutes behind schedule, but that should be OK. We’ve cancelled the egg and spoon race and can always discard another one of my games. Though it would be a shame to waste the celebrity baby billboard I’ve made. I scurry about, asking people to say cheese while I take as many photos as possible, though people are more reluctant to pose while eating. Everyonelovesthe peony wall. I knew they would. When the devil tried to tempt Christ in the desert, they really should have used a peony wall. People seem to be mingling. That’s good! The icebreakers must really have worked – they’re now icemelters.Cry laughing face! Whoops.I’m thinking in emojis again. I need to calm down. I saw Lauren chatting to that cool girl from Nicki’s work – Phoebe. I don’t know anything about her but there were loads of photos of her on Nicki’s account of them on nights out, so I got in touch to invite her. Steffi’s a seasoned mingler and needs no icebreakers but she’s been distracted by this business deal. Hot air hits the back of my legs and I turn to see her sneaking through the sliding door, her phone in her hand. She has a weird, glazed look in her eyes until she senses me watching her, and grins sheepishly.

‘Sorry, last duck out, I promise,’ she says, putting her phone in her pocket.

‘Watermelon?’

‘I’m alright thanks.’ Steffi never eats. No wonder she works in publishing, where she seems to live off bad white wine and canapés. She wouldn’t last a day in my primary school where the only lunch option is baked potato and beans. ‘It’s going really well. You’ve done a great job, Charlotte.’

‘Everything’s melting and we’re seventeen minutes behind schedule.’

She squeezes both my shoulders. ‘And yet the day is still perfect.’

I pull her into a hug.

‘Are you alright?’ I ask her. I make eyes at her bulging pocket, ‘All going well?’

‘Yes. It’s great. I’ll be up all night. So much to do. But it’s for good reasons.’

I let go and examine her again. She won’t really make eye contact and looks on the verge of crying. ‘Then why are you sad?’ I ask her.

Her hand goes to her throat.’ I’m not, I’m . . .’

‘What’s happened?’

‘I . . . I . . . never mind.’ She forces a grin. ‘I’m great. Just stressed. And bowled over by your party throwing abilities. You’re amazing, Charlotte. You know that, right?’

It’s an unexpected compliment and it’s just what I need to hear. I forget the melting stuff for five seconds. ‘Thank you.’

‘What can I do to help?’

‘Take pictures,’ I instruct her. ‘Take lots and lots of pictures while I work out what to do about the melting . . . Do you know the hashtag? Do you mind trying to get one with Nicki and everyone? At least one of her with each guest? She’s in the kitchen I think . . .’

Steffi pushes her hair back off her neck where it’s starting to curl from the heat. ‘You know what? Let’s swap jobs. You know peoples’ angles much better than I do. Why don’t you round up Nicki, and I’ll see which foods need rescuing and put in the fridge?’

I’m torn. She’s right. I do know how to best frame a shot. It drives me crazy how bad people are at taking pictures. No rule of thirds! Cutting off people’s legs. Leaving loads of weird head room at the top. It’s not hard to frame things, people. You can easily watch a few YouTube videos about ‘How to Take the Perfect Photo’.I even made Seth watch them because I was sick to death of him taking bad pictures of me on all our holidays. However, I also don’t know if Steffi understands the urgency of the cupcake icing situation.

‘I promise nothing turns to liquid under my watch,’ she says, reading my mind. ‘And it gives me an excuse to check my phone a bit more away from everyone.’

‘If you’re sure?’

‘I’m sure.’

I pluck Nicki from the kitchen where she’s been chatting to Lauren. ‘Come on. Photos,’ I tell her. She groans and struggles to get off her stool, while Lauren wrestles Woody like he’s a wet fish.

‘You say the bedroom is upstairs, second on the right?’ she asks and we both nod. ‘I’ll try and put him down now. He’s not had any solids yet, but he’s too tired.’

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