Dad swallows. “Is this… is this all for me?”
“Yes!” everyone shouts.
“And this is what you’ve been up to? Why you’ve been so distracted lately?” Dad says.
“Yes!” Mum tells him.
Dad looks completely relieved.“I thought… I thought… you’d gone off me because I was getting too old…”
“What?” Mum sounds aghast.
“Nothing,” Dad says hurriedly. “I was being daft. But you do know it’s not my birthday until tomorrow?”
“Which makes it an even bigger surprise,” Mum says.
“I can’t believe you did all of this.” Dad still sounds dazed.
“Well, believe it,” Harry says, giving him a huge hug as Mum beams. “We think you’re ace. We wanted everyone to know it.”
“Where are your costumes?” someone yells.
“They’re in the car,” Mum says. She passes me the car keys. “Go and get them, would you, love? Once we’re all dressed, this party can really get started!”
In no time, we’re all in our costumes. I’ve gone for a generic eighties vibe – leggings, baseball boots, tutu and fluorescent top with my ponytail right on top of my head, tied with a scrunchie. Dad’s Indiana Jones, and Harry’s some weird rodent called Roland Rat she discovered and instantly fell in love with when she was Googling the eighties.
“Why aren’t you putting on your outfit, Mum?” Harry asks. “We don’t even know what you’re dressing up as yet.”
Mum smiles mysteriously. “I’ll put it on in a minute. Just before the band starts.”
Aunt Loon rolls up in her wheelchair. I’m not sure she’s that great with the steering; it’s juddering about all over the place.
“Since when has Aunt Loon been in that?” I whisper.
“The nursing home is lending it to her for the day,” says Mum. “Since that fall she had she’s not been as steady on her feet as she was. They’re trying to encourage her independence.”
“Oh, this stupid damn thing,” Aunt Loon mutters, wrestling with the electronic wheelchair controls.
“What seems to be the problem?” Mum says, bending down to help. She fiddles with the lever. “There you go.”
“I hate fancy-dress parties,” the Loon mutters darkly, not thanking Mum. “Who are you meant to be?” she asks, looking me up and down.
“Just an eighties girl,” I say.
“A what?” she shouts, cupping her hand behind her ear.
I repeat myself.
“Hmm,” she says, disdainfully. “You could have made a little more effort.”
Ugh. She really is the worst.
“Do you want to put on your video montage?” Mum asks Harry hurriedly. She gives my back a quick, reassuring rub.
“Oooh, yeah!” Harry says, and runs over to where a giant projector screen has been set up ready.
“Can I have your attention, please,” Mum says into the microphone. “Harry has been spending the last few months filming the run-up to this party as a tribute for her dad. If you could all look this way, we’ll watch it.”
“Happy birthday, Dad,” Harry says. “Hope you like it!”
As the film begins to play, it’s quickly obvious that Harry’s managed to capture an awful lot of Puttock family life over the past few weeks. There’s me, half-asleep, staring out of the window at Dad and Ian building a shed, and later on, howling in my werewolf suit. There’s Amber and Mark dealing with a screamy, angry Chichi while Uni looks on, then a shot of the four of them sleeping soundly on Amber’s bed, and another of them moving out. There’s Mum frantically trying to do all the catering and banner-making for the party, getting blue paint all over the carpet, while Dad was holed up in the shed. And there’s Crystal Fairybelle, stealing the babies’ comfort blankets – none of us knew what had happened to them; Harry’s such a cheeky monkey for not saying anything! – and then we see her following Dad around, and a shot of Dad, taken when he clearly thought nobody was about, cuddling the dog and scratching it tenderly behind its ears. People laugh.
The last scene is of Harry grinning at the screen, and holding a banner that says ‘Happy Birthday, Dad!’
I glance at Dad. Unless I’m very much mistaken, it looks like he’s trying hard not to blub.
Behind me, the band strike up a few notes, and people start to clap and cheer as they turn round. When we see who’s up on the stage, everyone gasps.
Except me.
Because I want to disappear into a hole in the ground.
I thought my parents had hit their maximum embarrassment potential when Dad entered a talent competition back in the summer, dressed in gold hot pants, riding a unicycle and playing a trombone.
But nope. Mum’s decided to give him a run for his money.
She’s wearing a practically transparent white lace corset top, a white skirt, white heels and white elbow length gloves. Around her head is an enormous white bow, and she’s got on a belt buckle reading ‘Boy Toy’. There are chunky gold crucifixes round her neck, and she’s striking a pose as the opening notes to Madonna’s ‘Like a Virgin’, the song she’s been listening to constantly all over the house for weeks, ring out.
She really can’t dance but I can see she’s doing her best to get a routine going (as much as I can see, anyway – I’ve got my hands over my eyes), but her lip-syncing’s pretty good. She must have been practising all those times I heard this song play.
She could have picked a different song, though. Mortifying doesn’t even come close.
Dad’s loving it and almost killing himself laughing. “See this, Suze?” he says. “This is one of the reasons I love your mother. She’s always been up for a laugh.”
He’s cheering louder than anyone, and puts his fingers to his lips to let rip a deafening wolf whistle.
I can’t help myself. I start to giggle. I haven’t laughed at anything in such a long time, and it feels really good. And for a few minutes, I allow myself to forget about everything else and just get swept up in the craziness that is my mother dressed in the world’s skimpiest lace outfit, prancing around to a Madonna song.
If she wasn’t so utterly embarrassing, I might even tell her that she doesn’t look half bad. Mum’s got a pretty good figure for someone her age.
“Thank you very much!” Mum says, blowing kisses as she finishes the song with a flourish, and everyone gives her a huge round of applause. “Now, planning this huge surprise hasn’t been easy, and I couldn’t have done it without help from the rest of my family, but in particular, Suzy has helped out loads. Come up here, Suze!”
As everyone claps loudly, I walk onto the stage and smile sheepishly. Mum gives me a big hug, and as she pulls me close, whispers in my ear: “I’ve got you some Bojangles vouchers as a thank you. I know you’ve had a lot on, but you’ve been a star helping with all this. Look how happy your dad is!”
She pulls away, and says to the crowd, “Thank you all for coming to help my husband celebrate his forty-fifth birthday. Happy birthday, Chris!”
“Happy birthday!” everyone echoes as Mum jumps down from the stage.
Dad grabs her in a huge hug, and then they’re kissing.
Oh dear God, my eyes. This is actual snogging, in public, with tongues.
“Wow, they’re really going for it,” Harry murmurs.
I have to look away before I barf.
“Good one, Mum,” Amber says, who’s obviously a lot cooler with our parents swapping saliva than I am. “I’m going to say something now. I’ve got a surprise for Dad too.”
Amber gets up onto the stage holding Uni and takes the microphone. There’s a loud squeal of feedback and Amber drops the mike in alarm. Uni jumps in her arms then crumples up her eyes as if to cry. Amber quickly puts her over her shoulder and pats her back. By some miracle, the scream we’re all waiting for doesn’t come. Amber smiles with relief and tries again, bending down apprehensively to pick up the microphone.
Actually, now I come to think of it, the ba
bies seem really chilled. I haven’t heard them cry once the whole time we’ve been here.
“I’d like to say a very happy forty-fifth birthday to my wonderful Daddy Bear,” Amber says, smiling. The parents have finally unlocked their lips and are standing with their arms wrapped around each other.
The room ‘awwwws’ as one.
“I’m really lucky having two such amazing parents,” Amber continues. “They’ve always supported me in everything I’ve done, especially lately, since having the twins, and I couldn’t have wished for better.”
Mum and Dad exchange a sappy look.
“Now, where’s Markymoo?” Amber says, scanning the room. “Mark, come up here with Chichi, please.”
Amber beams as Mark joins her on the stage, Chichi held peacefully in his arms. “Aren’t our babies the most gorgeous?”
Mark slips his arm around her waist and the pair of them beam happily out at the crowd, the very picture of a happy family. If a happy family consisted of Kylie Minogue and Michael Jackson with two baby Smurfs, that is.
“Daddy, we’d like to sing you happy birthday and the twins are going to join in too,” Amber says.
“What’s she talking about?” Dad mutters. “They can’t talk, let alone sing.”
Amber and Mark start to sing, very badly and out of tune, bobbing around with the twins who seem completely baffled by the whole thing. They get another big clap once they’ve finished.
“Happy birthday!” Amber says. “From Marky and me, and Uni and Chichi. They love their Grampy!”
Dad raises his pint in her direction.
“Seems like they’ve really got things together,” Dad says. “What a relief. And it’s great Amber’s finally getting her independence and they’re living in their own place, making it work. I thought for a while there they weren’t going to be able to do it.”
“They’ve done brilliantly,” Mum says in agreement.
“Now, we haven’t given you your present yet,” Amber says. “And you’ll get your proper gift tomorrow, on your actual birthday. But here’s a little warm-up present for you. We’ve got an announcement to make…”
“Oh God, now she’s pregnant,” Dad mutters, clamping Mum’s arm with a vicelike grip.
“She can’t be,” Mum says, but even she looks freaked.
“We’re moving back in with you!” Amber says. “Now you can see your grandchildren every single day. Isn’t it wonderful news?”
Mum screams with delight. “My baby’s coming home. And my baby’s babies. Oh, this is wonderful news! I’m so excited, I can’t believe it.”
As Amber, Mark and the twins get another huge cheer, and Mum rushes off to dish out kisses and cuddles, Dad looks like he’s about to hyperventilate. Or pass out. Or maybe both at the same time. He’s doing a weird snorty breath through his nose, trying to keep calm.
“They can’t be coming back, we’ve only just got rid of them. Not enough space in our house…” he mutters.
“Well, Daddy, what do you think?” Amber appears with an absolutely enormous smile on her face.
“I’m… I’m… I don’t know what to say.”
“I told you he’d be blown away,” Amber says happily to Mark.
“We’re really looking forward to coming back,” Mark says.
“I’m delighted,” Mum says. “I’m going to be able to help out much more now the party’s out of the way. Much more time to spend with my delicious grandchildren.”
“That’s great, Mum, thanks,” Amber says. “We need you!”
“But what about your friend’s house?” Dad manages to get out. “What happened?”
“We had a call from Josh a couple of days ago,” Mark says. “Australia’s not worked out and he’s really homesick. So he’s coming back. Next weekend, in fact. He offered for us to stay there with him, but that would be crazy, there’s too many of us and we’ve got too much stuff.”
“Of course that would be crazy,” Dad says, shaking his head slightly. “Too many of you, and too much stuff…”
Amber sighs happily. “Coming home. I can’t wait.”
And actually, although I never thought I’d admit it, it will be nice to have her back. And the twins. I’m looking forward to hanging out with them more, especially now they’ve stopped crying all the time.
“We do have a plan for a deposit, Chris,” Mark says, seeing Dad’s not exactly delighted by the news. “Amber’s agreed she’s going to stop spending so much on the girls’ clothes, and I’ve had a pay rise, so I hope we’ll be able to afford our own place before too long.”
“Great,” Dad says weakly.
“Now we’ll be able to look after Crystal again,” Amber says. “I’ve missed my puppywup loads.”
Dad pauses. A strange expression flashes across his face. “Um. About that. You can come home on one condition. Me and the dog, well, we’ve bonded of late. Man to man, you know how it is. So, Amber, I’d, er, be grateful if… if the dog and me, could, er, still hang out sometimes.”
Amber shrieks with delight. “Daddy! You’ve fallen in love with Crystal! Of course we can share him. I found this darling pink coat online I want to order, you can help me choose all his clothes now!”
So much for her spending less.
Dad drains his pint, tucks Crystal under his arm and staggers off in the direction of the bar, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, mate, I won’t let her dress you in any more of those ridiculous outfits,” he says to the dog. “Triple whisky, please, neat,” he orders.
“I always knew he liked the dog more than he let on,” Mum says knowingly.
A few hours later, everyone’s danced, eaten and sung themselves into a stupor. We’ve been having so much fun it’s hard to believe it’s still the afternoon, but now our time’s up and we’re getting ready to leave the scout hut, gathering up plates of food, presents and cards, and packing everything into crates to go back in the car.
A couple of huge men have come to take away the photo booth. And I get an idea.
“Er, excuse me, but has this thing only been hired for a couple of hours?”
“Nah, love,” one of the men reply. “It’s an all-day thing. It’s paid for up till midnight.”
“In that case, I don’t suppose there’s any chance you could take it to Collinsbrooke School, is there?” I say. “We’re doing a fundraising event and this would go down a storm.”
The man looks at his mate. “We don’t usually do a double pick-up. What’s the event for?”
“Our headteacher, Mrs Cooper is leaving, and we’re raising money for a recording studio in her honour.”
The man starts to laugh. “Old Cooper, I remember her, she was head when I was a kid. Didn’t take too kindly to those stink-bombs we let off in her office, though. Can’t believe she’s been there so long. Cooper was a legend. Yeah, it’s no problem to drop this off there for you.”
“That’s fantastic, thank you so much!”
I run back over to where my family have almost finished stacking plates of sausage rolls and slightly curling sandwiches.
“That was a great party,” Dad says, a huge smile on his face. He stumbles and cracks up laughing.
I’m starting to suspect he may be the teensiest bit tiddly.
“Are you glad we surprised you?” Mum says. “I know you said you didn’t want a party…”
“I didn’t. But that one was fantastic,” Dad says.
“Look out!” There’s a shout from behind.
People are scattering left and right.
It’s Aunt Loon. Advancing at speed in her wheelchair.
I guess Dad’s reactions are a little slowed from the alcohol, because he doesn’t manage to move out of the way fast enough. Aunt Loon hits him from behind at speed.
Dad totters and wobbles unsteadily, then ends up sitting on Aunt Loon’s knee as they collide into the tables and chairs, knocking them over like skittles.
Food flies everywhere, there are crisps, bits of cake, sausages and san
dwich all over them.
“Oh my goodness,” Mum says, rushing to help Dad up after they finally come to a stop. “Are you both all right?”
“I did warn you to get out of the way,” Aunt Lou mutters crossly. “It’s the stupid steering on this thing. Get off my knee, would you?”
“That was brilliant! I got all that on film!” Harry says, delightedly. “I’m going to post it on YouTube. If it goes viral it’ll make a fortune. I’m going to be rich!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Back home, I’m trying to decide what to do about the school party. It’s not long now; it was always going to be a tight turnaround after Dad’s bash. I really don’t want to go. I know I owe it to my friends to be there but it’s the last thing I want to do. I’ve been trying to get hold of them ever since we got home to get an update on everything, but their phones have been permanently unavailable.
I’m mainlining one of Dad’s birthday presents – the biggest box of chocolates I’ve ever seen – when there’s a knock at the door. When I open it, Mrs Green is standing there with a huge parcel in her hands.
“This arrived while you were out,” she says, smiling as she hands the box over. “The courier left it with me. Apparently he had firm instructions it had to get to you today.”
I assume it’s a birthday present for Dad, but when I check the label, I’m surprised to see it’s addressed to me. There are stars and flowers and hearts round my name and address, which is written in funky purple glitter pen.
I frown in confusion. What’s this? Who’s sending me a parcel?
Unless… maybe it’s a bomb. Maybe a crazed Drifting fan from school heard they weren’t going to show and wanted to get revenge.
And now Mrs Green is holding it. What do I do? I can’t let our elderly neighbour get blown up.
I shake my head slightly. What am I like? Of course it’s not a bomb. I do not appear to be reacting well to all the stress. Even so, when I take the parcel, I bend my head towards it briefly, to see if I can hear any ticking. It seems okay.
Suzy P, Forever Me Page 19