‘What gave it away?’ I laughed, bopping one of the balloons. ‘Yes, can it be poured out, please?’
‘No problem,’ he replied.
‘Ooo – and I’ve brought a cake with me too – would you mind putting a candle in it when she arrives, and we can all sing Happy Birthday?’
‘When she arrives?’ he repeated, quizzically.
‘A couple of people need to leave early, so I thought it would be nice for her to blow out the candles while everyone is here.’
I’d recently started hosting our version ofCome Dine with Me, as the only one with a table big enough to squeeze around, and despite my embarrassingly woeful scores, I’d baked Kat a chocolate cake. I pulled it out of my bag and opened the tin to show him.
‘No problem,’ he said again, as if he was malfunctioning. His moustache twitched, as he took the cake from me. It was fair enough – it was a bit GCSE Home Economics. The sponge was slightly crispy and it had sunk in the middle, but it was impossible to tell under all the buttercream, and the Smarties would hide the crunch.
I had another look at the photos and chuckled to myself. Those carrot costumes had been hilarious – I’d bagsied the rabbit and spent hours doing Kat and Sara’s make-up. My bathroom had been covered in orange paint – never before had carrots looked so carroty. I propped the last few photos up on the mantelpiece and the room was just about party perfect as the waiter returned with the prosecco and the guests started to arrive.
Kat’s parents were first, Clare and John, with her twin sisters, Zoe and Charlotte, amid a flurry of squeals and kisses.
‘Hiiiii! Welcome, welcome, grab a drink,’ I said, hugging them all.
‘Thank you for doing this, Abi,’ John said, taking a prosecco.
‘It looks great!’ Zoe cooed, scanning the room, her Gucci sunglasses perched on top of her long blonde hair.
‘She’s going to love it,’ Charlotte agreed. They were identical, but with her fringed black bob, it was difficult to tell.
Next to arrive were Kat’s university friends, then the PR lot from work and a couple of the girls from our HIIT class. The room was full of excitement and laughter as the clock struck four, and the waitress came back in to check we were ready.
I tapped my glass with a fork. ‘Shhhh! Quiet, quiet, quiet! She’s here.’
Everyone tussled about and shushed each other, giggling from the prosecco. There was a snort of laughter from Charlotte, and Zoe elbowed her in the ribs, then finally there was silence as we all faced the door, and it creaked open.
Sara pushed Kat in ahead of her; she looked radiant in a bright green dress, and chunky, silver earrings, her blonde hair in thick curls down her back. She froze in the doorway and clapped a hand over her mouth.
‘Surprise!’ we chorused, through an explosion of party poppers, and cheers.
‘What the…?’ Kat’s eyes widened as she took it all in. Her family, her friends, the room. The ridiculous, oversized balloons.
‘Happy birthday, beautiful!’ Sara sing-songed, putting her arm around her.
‘You guys! This is amazing,’ Kat said, eventually stepping into the room as her mum rushed over for a hug.
‘Happy birthday darling! Thirty years – where has the time gone?’ she said, welling up.
Kat’s was open-mouthed as she looked around. ‘The banners and the party hats…’ She spotted the PR girls and waved. ‘And all these photos – who did all this?!’ she said, overwhelmed. ‘Abi!!!’
‘Just a few memories,’ I said. ‘Everyone helped with the photos, I only printed them out. Although I did dig out some good ones of us three.’
‘Photographic evidence of where all my money has gone,’ Sara added.
‘So many good times,’ Kat said, laughing at herself dressed as a carrot. ‘Thank you, girls, this is so thoughtful!’
‘I can’t take too much credit,’ Sara said, holding up her hands. ‘It was pretty muchallAbi – she’s been planning it for weeks. My only job was to get you here on time. I did have others, but Abi ended up doing those as well in the end.’ She mouthed an exaggeratedsorryat me as I gave Kat a hug, and there was a second hush as the waiter arrived with my sad-looking chocolate cake, topped with a flickering pink candle.
‘Haaaappy birthdaay to you...’ he started, and everybody joined in, nice and loud, including the beardy guitar-man and half the beer garden, much to Kat’s mortification. By the time we’d finished caterwauling, she was beetroot red.
‘Make a wish!’ I shouted, and she stopped for a second, then closed her eyes and blew out the candle.
*
