Happy Birthday and All That

by Rebecca Smith

  When they got home Posy and the children made him a cake, with lemon icing and hundreds and thousands. He just had a tiny slice; he always said that he wasn’t that keen on sweet things.

  ‘Apart from tea of course,’ said Posy. He did take three sugars. Sometimes it seemed that she even wanted to undermine him when it came to what he did and didn’t like to eat. He didn’t point this out, better to keep the peace.

  ‘I thought I’d cook you a special dinner,’ Posy said. ‘Anything you like.’ She meant anything within vegetarian reason of course.

  ‘Thanks, Pose,’ he said. ‘Maybe another night. Didn’t I tell you we had a gig?’

  ‘No. OK then,’ she sounded a bit hurt. ‘Or I thought we might ask Flora to babysit and go out to dinner or something.’

  ‘You should have said before. Well you could always come to the gig …’ He knew that she wouldn’t. She would have nobody to talk to while they were playing, and anyway Tom had a bit of a cough, she probably shouldn’t leave him. Maybe they’d try to go out together another night.

  He had quite a good time with the band. They would have gone down better with a few songs from Melody, but she hardly ever showed up now. Al said that he had seen her in town with her mum. He said that she had been looking a bit porky. Frank nearly punched him.

  Coming back from the pub he thought, ‘I’ll just have another slice of that birthday cake.’ He looked in the tin but it was all gone. They had scoffed the lot already. There was nothing left but a few crumbs, some smears of yellow icing, and the plastic candle holders all clogged up. That year Posy had got him a trick candle that wouldn’t blow out. Ah well, he told himself, you can’t have your cake and eat it. He made himself some crisp sandwiches instead.

  There was a constant parade of celebration cakes through the house at the moment. They’d just had Izzie’s first birthday. Flora had made her a pink rabbit-shaped cake. Then it had been Easter, and Posy had made her traditional cake decorated with fluffy yellow chicks from Fancy Ways. She had even taken the children to church. James’s best friend George had come to play on Easter Monday.

  ‘Did you have a nice Easter, George?’ Posy had asked.

  ‘Not really Mrs Parouselli. It was very disappointing,’ he had said politely. ‘I only got two boxes of Miniature Heroes and three “Premier League” eggs. And two of them were Gary Southgate.’

  ‘Oh dear. Is that bad?’ said Posy. ‘It sounds like plenty of chocolate to me.’

  ‘We’re going skiing in Switzerland next week,’ said George, brightening, ‘so I should get some more then.’

  Posy loved her garden, but she didn’t believe in gardening in the conventional, hard work way. She liked buying seeds and putting in slugproof bedding plants, but anything that required special treatment, such as thinning or watering, might as well forget it. Plants should be able to manage, to fend for themselves. She would water her tomato plants and her strawberries, but that was it. Flora had given them a pair of standard bay trees as their wedding present. The pots were now cracked and weathered. Every autumn Posy thought about buying some of that special gauzy stuff to protect them, but somehow she couldn’t be bothered. One year she moved them into Frank’s shed, but he quickly moved them out again, saying that there wasn’t enough room. Posy pushed them up against the side of the house; they would just have to take their chances.

  The bay trees’ leaves were burnt black by the frost and were falling off prematurely. Eventually so many of the leaves were gone that Posy asked Frank to saw the trees off a few inches above the soil. There were new twigs and leaves sprouting around the bottoms. At least she could have some new bay bushes if the standard trees were gone. She dreaded Flora seeing them. Flora would never have allowed them to get into that state. Flora always labelled the pots of her indoor hyacinths with the correct colour so that she wouldn’t give away the wrong ones or place them in an inappropriate room and have to waste time moving them. Posy wondered if she should see the bay trees as symbols of her marriage.

  She was in the garden, tidying up, when really she should have been in the house tidying up. The next day was James’s party. There was too much to do. She felt compelled to clear up the garden as there was a chance that the children would play outside for part of the time, and even more importantly, that some of the parents would make inspections of it when they came to collect their offspring at half past five. She had spent many hours negotiating the guest list with James. They had eventually managed to get it down to nineteen. Posy had thought she could count on at least a few no shows. No such luck. They were all coming. Thank goodness she had booked a magician.

  ‘And how much is that?’ Frank had asked. They really were on skid row, financially.

  ‘Only forty pounds to pay for a forty-five minute show.’

  ‘I suppose that’s quite good,’ said Frank. He certainly wouldn’t want to be responsible for keeping them all entertained. Posy declined to mention the £25 deposit she had already paid and the fifty pence for each balloon animal that would comprise the major part of each child’s party bag. She had been thinking of making a stand against party bags, but had crumpled under the pressure as the great day approached. She knew that each child winning a prize would say, ‘Please would you put it in my party bag, Mrs Parouselli.’

  To reply ‘You have no party bag. Put it in your pocket’ was quite beyond her.

  She wiped the slide with some kitchen roll and picked up all the buckets, balls, spades, and tractors and chucked them on to the lid of the sand pit. It was not picturesque. Would it be possible to cut the grass before tomorrow afternoon? Probably not, it was so damp and long and tangled and muddy. Better to concentrate on the indoors.

  Linus the Magician arrived during teatime.

  ‘I am very pleased to see you,’ Posy said as she let him in. Her duties were now almost complete, and the baton of keeping the party happy but under control was about to be passed on. ‘I thought we’d do the show in the front room. Would you like a cup of tea? Some birthday cake?’

  ‘Tea would be delightful,’ he said with a small bow. ‘I shall take about fifteen minutes to set up. There’s rather a lot to bring in from the car.’

  ‘Pity you can’t just wave your wand,’ said Posy. ‘Oh, I suppose everyone says that.’

  ‘You are the first.’

  She wished she could stay to watch him set up.

  ‘I suppose I’d better get back to the party.’ She could hear the decibel level rising. Frank and Flora might be struggling with all of those boys. How wonderful, she thought, as she headed back to the kitchen, to wear a tuxedo every day. She wondered how old he might be, forty, maybe even fifty. He was balding and really quite fat. She thought of the lines in The Night Before Christmas.

  ‘He had a broad face and a little round belly

  That shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly.’

  Actually the belly wasn’t that little, and she hadn’t seen him laugh yet.

  ‘He was chubby and plump - a right jolly old elf,

  And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.

  A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

  Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.’

  Back in the kitchen Frank was jiggling Isobel about; she was finding the party a bit overwhelming. The guests seemed to have had enough to eat and looked as though they might start throwing things. Flora was mopping up spilt juice. Poppy, inspired by her red, sequinned, very sparkly shoes, was singing ‘Over The Rainbow’ very loudly in an attempt to impress her big brother’s friends.

  ‘Who needs to go to the loo before they see our special visitor?’ Posy yelled. A few hands went up, and an orderly queue was formed. The rest of the children started to charge towards the front room.

  ‘Not yet, he’s not ready yet!’ she bellowed. She headed them off into the dining room. A sheep dog would have been handy. ‘Right. We’ll play musical bumps while we wait.’ James had chosen their Elvis double CD as his party m
usic. ‘Jailhouse Rock’ seemed appropriate.

  Before Posy had eliminated many of the contestants the magician appeared.

  ‘Mrs Parouselli, are you ready?’

  ‘More than,’ said Posy, and switched off the music, which was now ‘A Fool Such As I’. She marched them all into the front room. Frank said, ‘I think I’ll take Izzy in the garden. It’s too noisy for her.’

  ‘Shall I cut up some cake for their goody bags?’ Flora asked.

  ‘Yes please,’ said Posy. ‘I’d better stay in here in case they get out of control.’ For Posy it was an act of supreme selfishness. She wouldn’t miss the show for anything.

  ‘Hello boys and girls!’ Linus bellowed. Posy knew from his leaflet that there were several doves and a rabbit hidden somewhere about his person. He had strings of silk handkerchiefs, enough to dry all the tears in Hampshire, bendy wands, feather flowers, puppets, magic boxes, newspapers to tear, springy snakes that leapt out of tins, rope that could not be cut, everything that anyone could possibly want.

  Parents started to arrive as the show was finishing. He let the children stroke the rabbit.

  ‘Mrs Parouselli, it has been a pleasure,’ he said when she gave him the envelope with the money in. He had noticed that she’d been the most attentive member of the audience, the loudest clapper; he had considered choosing her to help him with some of the tricks, but tradition dictated that he call up the birthday child, not their pretty mother.

  ‘I loved the show …’

  ‘I think you’ve missed your vocation. You should have been a boxjumper. It has been an honour to appear at James’s party. I only wish you had parties every day. Here take some of my cards.’

  Posy thought that he was about to do one last trick (pick a card, any card) but he gave her a few of his promotional postcards. One side was about him:

  Linus the Magician

  Children’s Party Entertainer

  Magic, Balloon Creations, Real Rabbits and

  Doves, Jokes, Audience Participation.

  Guaranteed Laughter!

  Available for small and large bookings.

  Ages 4-11 years.

  Member of the Wessex Association of Wizards.

  Then his phone number and address. She saw that he lived in Winchester, not far from Flora. Magic must be quite lucrative. On the other side was the ad for ‘Stella’s Puppets and Magic’, suitable for ages three to eight. Same address and phone number. Married then.

  ‘Come back soon!’ Poppy yelled after him. He gave a small bow and was gone. Poppy and Posy stared after him.

  ‘I know, Pops. Let’s have him at your party!’ said Posy.

  ‘Yeah!’

  ‘It’s only six weeks till your birthday,’ said Posy. ‘It’ll fly by.’

  When all of the children had gone Frank came back in with Isobel.

  ‘I had to keep her away from all the noise,’ he said. They had been sitting in his shed, sort of looking at lift-the-flap books, whilst all the time Frank had been wondering about Melody. He wished that she would find a boyfriend of her own. These twenty-two-year-olds, he thought, maybe they bounce back. Maybe they don’t feel things the way a grown-up would. Maybe this was no big deal to her. Young people were so casual about things, spending all their time texting each other on their mobiles.

  ‘The magician was great,’ Posy said and showed him the card. ‘And it was lovely seeing James confidently go up to help him, knowing that he would be all right.’

  ‘Linus isn’t a very jolly name, is it?’ Frank said, and grimly handed it back.

  ‘Isn’t it? I thought it was quite sweet, friendly, like in Snoopy, and something to do with music.’

  Oh, how could she be so ignorant?

  ‘He was taken out into the forest and left to be devoured by dogs,’ said Frank.

  ‘Oh.’

  He was surprised that she didn’t know that, the amount of time she must have spent reading baby-name books.

  A week later Posy telephoned the magician.

  ‘Hello. It’s Mrs Parouselli. You did my son James’s party.’

  ‘I remember.’

  ‘Could I book you for my daughter’s party in a few weeks’ time? We were thinking of May 15th or 16th.’

  ‘May is very busy. I’ll just have a look in the book.’ She could hear some fumbling and a some pages turning. ‘Sixteenth you say? I’m sorry, I’m fully booked that day. Or fifteenth? No. Three school fetes. Would half past five be too late?’

  ‘Oh.’ Posy was very disappointed. ‘I think they might have boiled over by then.’ She felt strangely close to tears.

  ‘How about “Stella’s Puppets and Magic”? She seems to be free on the fifteenth after two. How old is the birthday girl?’

  ‘Poppy. She’ll be six.’

  ‘Stella has a magic princess’s hat, doves and a white and a brown rabbit.’

  ‘She sounds perfect,’ said Posy. ‘Can I book her instead?’

  ‘Certainly.’

  ‘Can we say the fifteenth at four o’clock?’

  ‘We certainly can. Would you post us a cheque for the deposit, twenty-five pounds, and Stella will send a confirmation. She also does balloon animals too if you want them.’

  ‘Thank you. Thank you.’ Posy knew that the mention of a magic princess’s hat would be enough to convince Poppy that Stella was superior to Linus in every way. She must book Flora to help with the party too. Doing a girls’ party was much more appealing. Now where was that Party works catalogue? Should they go for a ballet theme, or maybe flower fairies, or princesses, strawberries, or maybe jungle? And what should Poppy wear? My paper cup runneth over, Posy told herself, but she was still a bit miffed about Linus not being able to make it. Perhaps for Tom’s birthday, although that wasn’t until October.

  Flora had practically finished the work for Al. He had been very co-operative and done almost exactly as she told him, painting where and when it was needed, keeping the place cleaner, and paying for the Ikea things in advance as requested. The landlord had been tricky. First of all Flora found him hard to track down, then he was obstinate about moving the furniture. When she told him that it had woodworm and evidence of a possible beetle infestation he became more helpful. She had started mentioning licences and the Council. After the fifth phone call he had judged it easier just to go along with her.

  Now she was taking round the final few pieces, some tasteful toys, child-sized cutlery and a storage unit that Al had agreed to over the phone. She would take it back if he didn’t want it. When she had started working with him he’d offered to get a key cut for her, but she had declined, saying that she thought he’d find that making duplicate keys for a rented property was contrary to his contract. It had turned out that he hadn’t seen as much of her as he’d expected to. She seemed to get a lot of things done during the short sharp shocks of her visits. When she wasn’t there he wondered why he had bothered with the whole business.

  Flora rang the bell and when he buzzed her in she carried her first load upstairs. She would get him to help her with the storage unit.

  ‘So,’ she said. ‘How’s it all going?’

  ‘Great,’ said Al. ‘I got Caroline and Finn to come and see it last week and she was pretty impressed. I didn’t mention you. It wouldn’t have had the same impact.’

  ‘That’s absolutely fine,’ said Flora. ‘Discretion assured. I haven’t even mentioned to Posy that I’ve been working for you. Caroline need never know.’

  ‘They’ll be the last to know,’ said Al. ‘And she agreed to Finn staying over. She was amazed by the furniture. Actually I think she was a bit narked.’

  ‘Maybe she does smell a rat,’ said Flora.

  ‘I think it was more to do with how come I had the money for it, and how come I’d never wanted to go to Ikea with her. I told her I hadn’t wanted to go now, but getting myself and the place together was just so I could see more of Finn.’ He nearly added, ‘And she fell for that one too.’

  ‘Good,
’ said Flora. She was starting to run out of time for this job. She had her invoice ready in her bag. ‘So do you want to come down and see the toy storage unit before we try getting it up the stairs?’

  ‘OK.’ Al realised that he was going to have to act fast. His guaranteed time with Flora was running out.

  She had the back seat of her car down to accommodate the monstrosity of pale wood and brightly-coloured plastic boxes that was to make his life complete.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Al said. ‘How much did you say it was?’

  ‘£49.95. No carriage charge,’ said Flora.

  ‘Why don’t we decide over dinner?’ said Al. She looked stunned. ‘Flora,’ he went on, ‘I really appreciate all you’ve done.’

  ‘Prompt payment and a thank you are all that’s necessary.’ She pulled the invoice out of her bag. ‘Here.’ He caught hold of her hand and kissed it. It was very soft and lemony clean.

  ‘Shall I take it you don’t want the storage unit?’

  ‘It’s you that I want.’

  ‘You have quite the wrong idea,’ said Flora. ‘And I’m quite sure that it’s not me that you want.’

  ‘Flora …’

  ‘Al, I’m really flattered.’

  She glimpsed a whole possible future for the two of them. She might even have a baby, maybe two. She blinked it all away.

  ‘It would never work.’

  ‘Try. Just dinner.’

  ‘I think I’d better go,’ she said. She got into the car, the invoice still in her hand. She chucked it onto the passenger seat in an un-Flora-ish gesture of abandon. She would waste the price of a stamp to be away quickly. Al just stood there and watched as she plugged in her seatbelt and slid her sunglasses down from their resting position on the top of her head.

  What could he have been thinking? What folly! He hated people who wore their sunglasses on top of their heads. Lord, what fools these mortals be! She drove away. Back he went, up the stairs and into his tidy, tasteful, clean, stupid room. But what good was sitting alone in his room? He might as well go to the pub.

  On the way home from school Poppy announced the theme of her party.