While reading their irreverent replies, I receive an individual message from Ian.
“How are you feeling, my sister?” he asks.
Ian knows I often miss my mum on my birthday—although I haven’t told him what I’ve found out. This time, I’m definitely going to tell Theo first.
“Good, thanks,” I reply. “I’m really enjoying this one.”
“And how are you finding being forty-six?” he asks.
“It’s not as bad as I thought. Getting older is fine when you’re getting it right.”
“When you’ve got what you always wanted,” adds Ian.
I’m about to correct him with a reminder that I didn’t really know I wanted kids, but stop myself. “Yeah, it’s brill.”
Then the kids come out with dinner and I have to say goodbye.
As soon as the meal is served, it becomes clear it’s rank. The salad is drenched in a dressing that contains way too much balsamic vinegar, the pasta has been overcooked till it’s disintegrating, and the Bolognese sauce is unseasoned and so bland it tastes like baby food. But I love it, because the kids have made it. They’ve made it for me.
“This is fab!” I gush, as I help myself to more. “Thanks a lot, kids.”
I watch as all three of their faces are illuminated by grins.
Theo gives me a smile that’s more knowing. He turns to the kids. “You’ve done an outstanding job, gang.”
“Woo-woo!” cheeps Archie, directing an overfull spoonful of Bolognese into his mouth and spilling half of it down his shirt.
Theo has opened a bottle of Chianti and fills our glasses.
After dinner, he produces a cake he confesses he and the kids didn’t make but bought from the bakery in Camaiore, and the four of them sing “Happy Birthday.” As I blow out my candles, they chime in with“Buon compleanno,”which Theo must have looked up on his translation app. Callum and Mabel take several pics, with various combinations of subjects, various setups, and various reshoots. But I’m happy to pose for them all. I don’t even have to blot my skin as it’s less greasy and much clearer since Mabel overhauled my routine. Then we cut into the cake, which is made of sponge and contains rum, custard, chocolate and whipping cream. And it’s gorgeous.
I notice Callum posting one of the pics he’s taken on Instagram. When the kids go inside to load the dishwasher and Theo follows to supervise them cleaning the kitchen, I have a quick look. It shows the five of us sitting around the cake, with me at the center. And underneath, he’s written the caption,Happy Birthday,Adam!and has added#fam.
I feel like I’m glowing with happiness. I listen to the four of them giggling and am not sure I’ve ever had a better birthday.
I check the rest of my social media, including liking all the Happy Birthday messages that have been posted on my Facebook page. Then I see I’ve received an email from my dad.
Something inside me shrinks.
But this time I know I can’t ignore it.
I open it and start reading.
Happy birthday, lad! Hope ur having a good un. Sorry to disturb u but just to let u know me and Debbie are going on a last minute holiday to Umbria next Sunday. The doctor Debbie used to work for has a caravan and they’ve had a cancellation so have given us the week. Isn’t that nice? It sounds a bit posher than we’re used to but we’re looking forward to it. Is Umbria near u? Dad
Shit. Is he angling to meet up?
“What are you reading?” asks Theo. He takes a seat next to me and retrieves his glass of wine.
“Nothing important,” I say.
“Is it from your dad?”
I rear back in my seat. “Why do you say that?”
Theo rubs his stubble. “I can tell from your face. Nobody else makes you look like that.”
I reach for my wine. “Like what?”
