Happy Birthday and All That

by Rebecca Smith

  Posy saw that it was one of the raffle prize envelopes from the school fête.

  ‘Oh thank you. That’s really kind of you.’ She opened it. ‘Wow! A hot air balloon flight! Thank you! Oh it’s for today. That’s so lucky. Thank you. Look Frank! I wonder how many it’s for.’ She turned the leaflet over. ‘Oh, it says “family”, that’s great. Thank you.’

  ‘It is for you,’ he said solemnly.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Posy.

  ‘Cheers,’ said Frank.

  Karim’s Grandfather nodded at them and returned to his chair.

  ‘We’ll wave as we go over,’ Posy called. ‘Thanks.’

  As soon as they were out of earshot she started to worry. ‘Do you think they have crash helmets? Perhaps we should go back and get the cycle helmets. Do you think there are baby-sized ones? Do you think babies are allowed to go? Perhaps Izzie and I will just watch while you all go …’

  ‘She is a toggler,’ said Poppy. ‘Are we really going in a balloon?’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Posy.

  ‘If Mummy thinks that the crash helmet arrangements are sufficiently impressive,’ said Frank. ‘If the parachutes come with belts and braces.’

  At that moment Posy wished that he was dead. She felt as though venom must be squirting out of her eyes at him. She could push him out, or win a real life balloon debate on who was the most at fault.

  ‘Wow, are we really going in a balloon?’ James couldn’t believe it.

  ‘We’ll see,’ said Posy.

  They went to the so-called ‘community marquee’ first because each year their favourite thing was the Southampton Geological Society’s lucky dip. For just twenty-five pence you got a small labelled rock - often rose quartz (Poppy’s favourite), or smoky quartz or strawberry quartz or iron pyrite. Elsewhere there were rides and hook the duck, and some of the hot air balloons tethered next to the arena. The children had their faces painted - James as Spiderman, Poppy as a butterfly, Tom as a ladybird. As they wondered what to do next they spotted a small purple and yellow striped tent, like the ones that knights have at jousts.

  ‘Hey kids. It’s Linus the Magician! And Stella. They must be doing a show. Let’s go and say hello.’ Posy’s heart was gladdened by the sight of them, but as she approached Linus disappeared into the little tent that was to provide the backdrop for the shows. Her face fell, and Stella noticed.

  ‘Hi Posy! Hi kids!’ she said. Frank hung back and Posy noticed that Stella didn’t acknowledge him. Posy knew that Flora had been out with Stella the night before, and she thought that Flora would have told her about Frank and the baby - she hadn’t asked her not to. ‘Linus is just getting changed,’ said Stella. ‘He doesn’t like the audience to see him in his civvies.’

  ‘Pay No Attention To The Man Behind The Curtain!’ Linus yelled. ‘Mrs Parouselli, I will be right out.’ He reappeared in his costume, a dinner jacket with a purple silk lining, a fez, his huge trousers (surely a clown size) held up by green braces. His bow tie was purple, spotty and askew.

  ‘For you,’ he said, and presented her with a feather bouquet. Frank looked disgusted and walked off to the next stall to examine a display about Hearing Dogs for the Deaf.

  ‘May I keep it?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course,’ he said.

  ‘You can’t guess what I have in my bag,’ said Poppy, doing a twirl to show him her Miffy rucksack.

  ‘And you can’t guess what I have in my bag,’ he replied, taking off his fez and pulling a black velvet bag out of it. ‘Now, James first.’ He gave the bag a shake, it acquired some angular bulges. He offered it to James. James pulled out a turquoise calculator with buttons like Smarties. ‘It will help you to find the answers,’ he said. ‘Now Poppy.’ This time the bag contained a silver and pink sequinned heart-shaped purse.

  ‘Wow,’ said Poppy. ‘Is it magic?’

  ‘You will always be rich in love,’ he said.

  ‘Now Tom.’ Tom got a bendy plastic sword. ‘To help win all of your battles.’

  Isobel was asleep in the pushchair. ‘Come back for the show and I’ll make her a balloon animal,’ he said.

  ‘What about Mummy?’ asked Poppy.

  ‘Oh, I don’t think there’s anything in that black bag for me,’ said Posy. Behind them a band struck up. ‘We have to go,’ said Posy. ‘It was lovely to see you. Thanks for all the presents. We’ve been given a balloon flight ticket, somebody else’s raffle prize.’

  Linus raised his impressive eyebrows. ‘Well Bon Voyage. Are you all going?’

  ‘Probably,’ said Posy. ‘I don’t really know what’s meant to be happening.’

  ‘A common feeling,’ said Linus.

  ‘Come on then kids, let’s go and find our balloon. Where’s your dad got to?’

  ‘Bye everyone,’ said Stella. ‘Flora said she’d come and see us later.’

  Frank was now watching the brass band that was marching around the arena. Why was it that marching music always filled his eyes with tears? How he loved those upright xylophones.

  The band were dressed in fake-fur tiger costumes. They must be bloody hot in those, he thought, hard to play and march in them, pretty clever. He wondered if they had any vacancies; perhaps that was where his future lay. He could recall seeing them before when they had been bears. Or perhaps that had been their rivals. In which case he wondered who would win in a pitched battle? What would they be like zipped out of their suits? Much camaraderie in the pub or on the coach home he supposed; or perhaps that very tall one with the trombone was a bully. He was wondering whether to approach them afterwards when he sensed Posy and the children standing next to him.

  ‘Daddy, look what the magician gave us!’ said Tom.

  ‘He’s not a real magician,’ said Frank sourly. ‘He’s a party entertainer.’ Posy looked at him with thin eyes.

  ‘Are those tigers meant to be scary?’ Poppy asked. ‘Because they are.’

  ‘I think menacing, or sinister might be the words you want, Pops.’

  ‘Do you have to spoil even a marching tiger band?’ Posy asked. ‘They are meant to be fun, friendly, Poppy,’ she said. But Posy could see that Poppy might have a point. ‘Come on, let’s go and find out about this balloon flight.’

  ‘Can we get an ice cream on the way?’

  ‘I think that might be a good idea.’

  Izzie woke up, as if by magic, in the queue for the ice creams. Posy got her a strawberry Mini Milk, a mistake. She wanted a 99 like everyone else, so of course Posy swapped.

  ‘I wonder how many Mini Milks are actually eaten by children,’ Posy mused. The children’s chins, hands and forearms were soon streaked with ice cream.

  ‘Well I hope we won’t be too sticky to be allowed in the balloon,’ Posy said when they had all finished. She set to work with the wipes while Frank queued at the balloon flight Portakabin window. He returned smiling.

  ‘We can all go. We can either go soon or come back tomorrow, but then the weather might not be right.’

  ‘Go now! Go now!’ shouted the children.

  ‘I suppose we’d better go today,’ said Posy.

  How could she be so downcast about a balloon ride? All the joy really had gone out of her. She wasn’t even pleased about this. Was it really just another thing to worry about, to be organised and got through? Then he remembered that, of course, everything was his fault.

  ‘The man said that it’s not really a balloon flight, it’s just going up for a bit, then coming down again. You stay tethered,’ said Frank.

  ‘Well that sounds like a balloon flight as far as we’re concerned,’ said Posy.

  ‘We have to wait in there, about half an hour,’ said Frank.

  ‘Well that will give me time to change Izzie and take everyone to the loo,’ said Posy.

  If Posy had been a bit quicker with the wipes she might have met Melody and Melody’s mum in the loos. She might have met Francesca. As it was they had disappeared into the tea tent by the time she got to the front of
the queue.

  Melody waited with Francesca while Anita came wobbling back with a tray of tea, scones and a jug of hot water to warm up the baby’s bottle. Melody had reserved a few of the white plastic garden chairs, enough for them to put their feet up and put all their stuff on. The matching table was ringed and smeary from many previous cups of tea and coffee and cakes. The smell of the hot canvas marquee, the trodden grass and the nearby sweet pea displays was quite soporific. Anita always liked to look at the horticultural displays, the hanging basket and fuchsia competitions, the cacti and bonsai exhibits, the roses and begonias. It all seemed a bit pointless to Melody, but she plodded round without complaining. Francesca looked almost insignificant inside her vast Burberryish checked conveyance. It was a pram that was also a car seat and a buggy. Frank had paid for half of it, five gigs that Posy had never known about. It had cost more than The Wild Years’ van was worth. Isobel’s Silver Cross pushchair, state of the art when Flora had bought it for James, looked scruffy and ancient in comparison, even to Frank. The matching changing bag that Melody had chosen was loaded with more stuff than even Posy could have thought to bring. Posy had missed out on all the paraphernalia and extra baggage of bottle-feeding.

  ‘Oh Mum,’ said Melody, ‘I wanted a Diet Coke as well.’

  ‘They’d sold out. You’ll have to get one outside.’

  ‘Warm her bottle up Mum. That doughnut van’ll have some.’

  Caroline would have, as she put it, gone ballistic if she’d seen Finn and Al tucking into their bag of ten doughnuts. If she’d seen the flagon of squash that Al had bought Finn, there would have been hell to pay. If she’d known then about Frank and Melody, and seen Finn being introduced to Melody by the doughnut van, sitting on Anita’s lap while he ate his fourth doughnut, consorting with the enemy … but she was at home, having some time to herself, and would never find out, at least about the doughnuts and the squash. The doughnut van was also out of Diet Coke. Melody bought herself a raspberry Slushpuppy.

  ‘She’s really cute,’ Al told Melody as Francesca drained her bottle. (‘An empty bottle is a reproach - Penelope Leach,’ is what Posy would have said.)

  ‘Look at those blue eyes!’ Francesca’s eyes were beautifully, impossibly blue, exactly like Frank’s. Al realised that might not have been the best thing to notice. ‘And that golden hair,’ he added quickly, ‘just like her mum’s.’

  ‘Her middle name’s Sapphire,’ said Melody. ‘Want a cuddle?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Al, though nothing had been further from his thoughts. ‘Pass her over.’

  Francesca Sapphire was dressed in a lilac and white outfit of many ruffles. Al thought that it didn’t look very comfortable for a baby. Anita spent many hours ironing little Frankie’s things.

  Al had completely forgotten what babies felt like, but it all came rushing back, the weight of them in your arms, the heavy, heavy head.

  ‘She is gorgeous,’ he said. He found that he had to do some hefty sniffing. ‘Hey she smiled at me! Look Finn! She wants to be friends with us.’

  Finn looked up from the little square tub of jam that Anita had given him.

  ‘What can she do then?’ he asked.

  ‘Just smiling, pooing and crying,’ said Melody.

  ‘Soon she’ll be laughing and sitting up, rolling over, crawling … you’ll have to get your flat all baby-proof,’ said Al, concerned. Melody did seem very young to be in charge of a baby.

  ‘Hey, I am her mum,’ said Melody, taking a big swig of her Slushpuppy. She rattled the ice against her teeth. Instant headache.

  ‘If you want any help Melody. You know I’d love to …’

  ‘Cheers,’ said Melody.

  ‘That’s an offer you can’t refuse,’ said Anita.

  ‘You could come back for a cup of tea, on your way home, if you wanted. I could give you a lift in the van …’ He had biscuits, those new white mugs, he even had a litre of fresh milk in his very clean fridge. He could picture the baby kicking on the soft cotton rug that Flora had chosen for him. Melody would be pretty impressed with that box of toys. He’d get a changing mat, anything she wanted. He had new sheets, a new quilt, even a spare cover.

  ‘I dunno,’ said Melody.

  ‘It’s only down the road,’ said Al.

  ‘We’ve got Mum’s car,’ said Melody. ‘Bloody miles away, in the car park.’

  ‘Maybe one day next week then, maybe go over a few songs. We’ve missed you. It’s ages since you sang with us.’

  ‘I’ve had my hands a bit full, haven’t I?’ said Melody.

  ‘I’ve done my place up,’ said Al. ‘Painted, all new and clean. It’s really nice.’

  ‘Dad got me my own bed, and a pop-up tent with balls. You could put your baby in the tent,’ said Finn. Melody offered him some of her Slushpuppy.

  ‘How about Wednesday then?’

  ‘Don’t you work?’ asked Anita.

  ‘He does a lot of work for charity,’ said Melody.

  ‘Paid,’ Al put in. ‘And the band of course. I’m going back to teaching next term too.’

  ‘You’re a teacher, are you?’ This looked promising.

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘I didn’t know you were a teacher, Dad,’ said Finn.

  ‘I took some time out from it while you were a baby,’ said Al.

  ‘Oh. My mum’s a teacher too,’ said Finn.

  Al decided it was time to go.

  ‘Come round on Wednesday.’ He wrote his number on a napkin. ‘Great seeing you. Look, she’s fallen asleep.’ He carefully passed Francesca back. Melody deftly strapped her into the pushchair. She wasn’t someone who would be fazed by harnesses, correct adjustment of car seats, and the workings of microwave steam sterilisers.

  ‘Quite a machine you’ve got there,’ he said.

  ‘Pardon,’ said Anita.

  ‘Nice pushchair. Great to see you. Come on Finn, let’s go and find the bouncy castles.’

  ‘He looks like a great dad,’ Anita said, as soon as they were out of earshot.

  ‘Mmm,’ said Melody. ‘And he’s already divorced.’

  There were no crash helmets to fit the most junior balloonist, but the Parousellis decided to risk it anyway. The enclosure where they waited was next to the entrance to the main flower show marquee. Posy closed her eyes and breathed in roses, popcorn, candyfloss, lavender, doughnuts, the strawberries the children were eating, all her favourite smells of summer. A display of police dog antics was now taking place in the main arena, the children were entranced and clapped at appropriate moments. Isobel shouted ‘Woofman! Woofman!’ whenever a dog trotted by. Frank stared away from the festival towards the trees. They didn’t speak.

  ‘Parouselli family,’ called the balloon-ride organiser.

  ‘It’s us, it’s us!’ shouted Posy. ‘Come on.’ She frantically loaded everything that they wouldn’t be taking into the tray of the pushchair. ‘Come on kids, dump all your stuff,’ she said.

  ‘I need to bring this,’ said Poppy. She had taken off her Miffy rucksack and was clutching it.

  ‘Really Pops,’ said Frank, ‘your dollies won’t mind staying here. They’ll be quite safe.’

  James gave a huge snort.

  ‘What’s so funny, Jimmy?’

  ‘Come on, time to get in,’ said Posy. How typical of us, she thought, to have been waiting for half an hour and then not be ready when our names are called.

  The balloonist helped them into the basket, he was firing up the gas, casting off.

  ‘We are going to have such a lovely view of everything,’ said Posy. ‘This is so exciting.’

  ‘I can’t believe we’re really going in a balloon,’ said James. ‘This is the best day of our lives.’

  ‘And Lettice’s,’ said Poppy. She opened her rucksack with a flourish. ‘Abracadabra!’

  Lettice peeked out of the top.

  ‘Poppy! How could you! You can’t take rabbits up in hot air balloons.’

  ‘You didn’t say she could
n’t bring her,’ said James.

  ‘James you knew! You were in on this! You should have known better!’ Posy was too astonished to appear very cross.

  ‘Aiding and abetting the bringing of a rabbit to the Balloon and Flower Festival,’ said Frank. ‘That’s pretty serious, Jimmy.’

  ‘Is that a rabbit you’ve got there?’ asked the balloonist. ‘I can’t be responsible for a rabbit.’

  ‘Mightn’t she be able to cope with the altitude?’ Posy asked.

  ‘What if she jumps out?’ said the balloonist. ‘I don’t have bunnychutes.’

  ‘She won’t jump out,’ said Poppy. ‘She’ll be very good.’

  ‘She is a very well-behaved rabbit,’ said Posy.

  ‘It’s “no dogs except guide dogs”,’ said the balloonist.

  ‘But she’s not a dog,’ said James.

  ‘She will be good,’ Poppy pleaded, stroking Lettice’s velvety ears. ‘Please.’

  It was then that Lettice caught a whiff of the horticultural exhibits. The lure of the vegetables was too much. She leapt out of Poppy’s arms, over the rim of the basket and into the crowd. Posy, still holding Isobel, was after her, neatly scissor-jumping over the side in a way she hadn’t known was still possible. Poppy, James and Tom scrambled after them.

  ‘There she goes!’ yelled Posy, seeing a white tail bob beneath a tent flap. They apprehended her in front of the Southampton Allotments Association display. James stole a carrot for her.

  ‘Let’s get back to the balloon now,’ said Poppy. ‘I’ll keep her in my bag.’

  ‘I’m holding on to her for now,’ said Posy. Managing with Izzie and Lettice was tricky but possible.

  But they were too late. The balloon was taking off. They didn’t see the flash of purple silk and a bobbing fez as Linus untied the ropes and disappeared back towards his tent, because, of course, the show must go on.

  The children were waving and half crying. Posy stood with Isobel on her hip, the rabbit under her other arm. Her hands were too full to wave goodbye, her mouth hung open, an empty balloon. Above the children’s heads the speech bubbles floated up but popped before they could reach Frank.