Chapter Fifty-Eight
Monday 2nd September
'She's absolutely wonderful, and marvellous and beautiful,'
Nikki grabbed the post when they left an hour or so later, dumping most of it in the recycling bin without even opening it. "How can we have letters from builders already offering their services? You haven't called any have you?"
"No, they just watch the house sales, and planning applications," Harry explained. "Hang on. That big white one, I want to see that."
Harry ripped open the envelope and a glossy brochure fell out. He couldn't stop the smile spreading across his face.
"What is it?" Nikki asked.
"It's perfect!" he smiled.
He turned the open brochure around to her.
"It's a greenhouse." Nikki commented.
"Not just any greenhouse…" He flipped a page and an elegant white glass house illuminated at night filled the page. "It's the Orangery at Kew."
"And?" Nikki said impatiently.
"They do weddings!" Harry smiled, flicking over another page to show the decorated tables.
"You mean; we could get married there?"
"I rang them a week or so back, apparently Sundays aren't busy, they have availability. I'd forgotten I'd told them to send the details here. Shall we go and have a look? The orangery looks a bit big for the size of our guest list but the Nash Conservatory is smaller; or the Princess of Wales Conservatory if you really want to be in amongst the plants." He tipped the brochure towards her again.
"Harry, it looks spectacular. Can we afford it?"
Harry shrugged and smiled. "The students arrive this week, and I've had some interest in the website, I've a meeting on Tuesday it could be my first pathology contract."
"That's not going to make you millions; didn't you say it was a homeless man?"
"Doesn't mean no one care's how he died." He paused for breath. "AND," Harry added eager to get back to the previous topic. He was looking at an extra insert in the brochure. "There's a Christmas special; an after dark walk through the grounds. So after the wedding we can walk through 'an illuminated trail through our enchanted winter landscape.' Can you imagine Jorge's face? What could be further from Vegas?"
"OK, you've won me over. We should at least go and look," she smiled, "We'll go and see it later shall we?" She moved the rest of the junk mail towards the recycling bin, flicking through one last time to make sure there was nothing else important.
"Oh, we've missed a parcel," Nikki said, flapping the red card.
"Was it for us?" Harry asked. "I'm not expecting anything else."
Nikki turned the card over, "No, it's not for us; it's for a Mr Burrows. That's not even the people before is it? Their name was Bhatnager."
"Can I see it?" Harry asked.
"I think it's for me," he said after reading the card. "It's not Mr Burrow; it's Mr Burro. I think it's from Beto and Jorge, does it say where we can pick it up from?" He handed the card back to Nikki.
"Why would they address it to Mr Burro?"
"They probably didn't, Beto probably just wrote Burro on it without thinking."
"Why does he call you Burro?"
"It's a long story." Harry insisted.
"I'm not in a hurry," Nikki retorted.
"It means donkey in Spanish. Beto used to think I was like a donkey."
"Did he?" Nikki asked salaciously and pulled a face to match.
"No, not like that!" Harry insisted. "I've not heard any complaints though," he added trying but failing to keep his cheeks from reddening.
"None from me!" Nikki replied innocently.
"Moaning…yes; complaints…no…"
"Alright, alright!" Nikki interrupted, covering his mouth with her hand. "That's enough, but why did Beto think you were a donkey?"
"Because he thought I was stubborn and stupid,"
"He's got a point," Nikki admitted.
"Anyway, the name stuck. He always called me Burro. I'm surprised you didn't notice. Is there a map to show where to go?"
"Yes, there is."
##
"What could Beto have sent that needed such an enormous box, it cost him $25 in postage!" Nikki exclaimed as they placed the box down on Leo's kitchen table. She leaned on a chair to get a better look.
"It must have been important," Harry said.
He opened the card.
'Dear Burro,
I wanted to send you an ipod, but Jorge claimed you'd not know how to use it, so I got you some CD's instead, he said you could probably work those.
May your new house be filled with music, happiness, laughter and love, now and always.
Love Beto and Jorge'
"That's a lot of CD's," Nikki stated as she peered into the large box. She reached in and pulled one out. "Elv1s – all the number one singles; very thoughtful," Nikki smiled.
"Jorge's album!" Harry exclaimed happily.
"Am I sensing a theme?" Nikki asked, reaching into the box again. "Why has he sent you a CD of Colombian folk music?" She held the CD up to Harry, who nodded.
"Look at the picture," he suggested. It was then she noticed the donkey.
They pulled out a handful more, a mixture of classic, pop, blues, jazz, R&B.
"Good job, I got you to look after my stereo. Does it still work?" Harry asked.
"Of course it still works. It's still in the box you brought it over in before you went to New York. It must be here somewhere." Nikki pointed at the stack of boxes at Leo's. Harry had spent months clearing Leo's house and almost as soon as it was done, they had moved all of her furniture and stuff in. Or all that was salvageable.
It hadn't been pretty. She was glad she was moving.
"There must be something else in there?" Nikki insisted. Harry dived down deep into the box, showering the room with Styrofoam and pulled out one last odd shaped box.
"What on earth is that?" Nikki asked, looking at the asymmetric sides.
Harry opened the box and chuckled. "He sent me a ukulele!"
"Please no," Nikki laughed, "You have to be making that up. Please be making that up!"
Harry pulled out the small instrument and waved it at her.
Nikki covered her ears and shut her eyes. "It had better be in tune!"
"If I joined that rowing club I'd have to get up at 5:30 on the weekends…" Harry began.
"And…"
"If I joined a ukulele club, they'd meet in the evenings and I could stay in bed for longer on a Saturday morning…" He grinned.
"You might have to sing," she said cautiously.
Harry screwed up his face, "I'll have to work on my fingers first. Maybe I'll be OK."
He pinged each of the four strings in turn.
"That is definitely not in tune!"
"But you do have a tuner, I remember packing it, along with the music stand and a whole heap of other stuff you claim you can't part with."
He smiled happily. He'd spent years worrying that if they were ever to become lovers that their friendship would suffer, but it was the exact opposite. Their friendship grew stronger every day.
"I think the ukulele sounds like an excellent new hobby." Nikki smiled back. "Much MUCH better than rowing. Learning an instrument is one of the best mental training exercises there is. It'll keep the dementia away."
"I'm not sure that is as comforting as you think it is," he replied, sticking his tongue out at her as he did so.
Nikki looked back to the empty box and the stack of CD's, "They're good friends aren't they?"
"They're fantastic. I don't know what I would have done without them," Harry admitted.
"I think I feel jealous," Nikki laughed.
"You said it already; we wouldn't be here, now like this without them."
"Then I have a lot to thank them for."
"Even the ukulele?" Harry asked.
"Even the ukulele." Nikki admitted.
Leaning on a Lampost (or in Nikki's case one of Leo's chairs): George Gay (George Formby or Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain)
If you look up Kew Gardens website and click on venue and business hire, you'll get the visuals and the after dark Christmas spectacular.
No apologies for my ukulele fixation.
