December 31st, 1991
Mum was mightily surprised this afternoon, when she opened the door to find me standing there.
“Happy Anniversary!” I exclaimed, attempting not to drop the bag of Duty Free goodies, as Mum lunged at me for a hug.
“Tom! Tom!” She yelled. “C’mere!”
Dad was out on the balcony, his face turned to the sun.
“He can’t hear you, Mum, the door’s shut.”
“Och, yer a wee rascal,” she chuckled. “You should have told us you were coming.”
“Then it wouldn’t be a surprise,” I said, removing the bottles of Champagne and chocolates I bought at the airport.
“Ooohh,” Mum cooed, pointing to the cabinet behind me. “Glasses are in there. Did you just arrive?”
“Uh-huh, the flight got in at half two.”
“Did you get the train?”
I nodded. “So easy isn’t it, and really inexpensive. Plus, you know me, I like to people watch.”
Mum squeezed me tightly. “Dad will be so happy to see you!”
“Looks like you’ve been enjoying the sun,” I said, just as the Champagne cork popped, making Mum jump. “Gets me every time,” she laughed as I filled the glasses, the bubbles fizzing away.
“The sound of celebration,” I said, keeping an eye on Dad as we crept in his direction.
Slowly, Mum opened the door and stepped outside as I remained out of view.
“Och, Champagne, now that’s fancy,” Dad said.
“Aye well, it’s no every day you celebrate twenty-five years of marriage,” Mum uttered, as I peered out to see her leaning in for a peck, before handing the glass to Dad.
“Where’s yours, Liz?”
“Right here,” I said, stepping into view.
A look of what I can only describe as astonishment flashed across Dad’s face. “Ya wee rascal,” he said, shooting up, wrapping me in a hug.
“That’s what Mum said!”
“You’re meant to be in New York.”
I shook my head. “Sorry, that was a white lie.”
We raised our glasses and clinked them together.
“Happy Anniversary to my lovely Mum and Dad, and here’s to many more!”
“Thank you, hen,” Dad smiled. “What a brilliant surprise.”
“Certainly is,” Mum said. “Oh, and Happy Hogmanay.”
“That’s right,” I said, looking at my watch. “Only eight hours of nineteen ninety-one remain!”
“Here’s to my two favourite lassies,” Dad said. “Here’s to us.”
“Here’s to us,” Mum and I echoed with another clink.