Annabel's Perfect Party (6 page)

Chapter Eight

Annabel had come back upstairs that night looking fairly smug, but Katie and Becky put it down to her not having got into trouble with Mum about her French – Bel was lucky that way. She avoided having to talk too much to her sisters by grabbing her French vocab book and curling up in bed with it, saying she needed to do some serious learning – after all, they could hardly argue with that.

The next morning, though, there was no avoiding the subject of parties. The French disaster and its aftermath, followed by Katie's exciting news, had nearly driven Mum's birthday party ban out of Becky's and Katie's minds. But as soon as they got up on Thursday morning, Becky remembered.

“Katie, Mum's in a good mood at the moment, isn't she? With your being in the football team? Do you think if we asked her ever so nicely, and promised her we wouldn't fight about it, we could convince her to let us have a party?”

“Maybe,” conceded Katie cautiously. “She
was
really pleased about the football. It might be worth a try. What do you reckon, Bel?”

Annabel, who'd been brushing her hair and grinning to herself in the mirror, realized that she ought to be taking more of an interest here, or the others would really start to suspect. “Mmm. I think so. Let's try.” She couldn't hide a smug, excited sort of smile, but luckily the others just thought she was keen on the idea.

The triplets were particularly polite at breakfast, handing each other things without being asked, and smiling a lot, as if to say that the idea of them fighting about a party was absurd – they were devoted sisters. Of course, they
were,
but today they were making sure that everybody knew it.

After a while of extra-quiet, extra-polite toast-munching, punctuated by milk-slurping from Annabel who was having cereal, Katie caught Becky's eye and waggled her eyebrows in a way that made her look positively demonic. They had decided earlier that as Becky hadn't actually been part of the argument that had got Mum so angry, she had better be the one to bring the subject up again.

“Mum?” wavered Becky, while Katie nodded encouragingly at her.

“Mmmm?” said her mother through a mouthful of toast.

“We were wondering. . .” Katie rolled her eyes in disgust and made a “Get on with it!” face. “Well, we were wondering about what you said about our birthday party? That we couldn't have one because we were fighting? We're really, really sorry and everything, and we thought maybe, if we come up with something that we'd all like, could we still have a party? If we were brilliantly good?”

All three of the triplets fixed their eyes on their mother anxiously. Annabel was faking the anxious look, but she was very convincing. She couldn't resist quickly dropping one eyelid in a wink at her mother, though, when she was certain the other two weren't looking.

Mrs Ryan looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling, and then at her toast, enjoying teasing Katie and Becky. Then, “As it happens,” she said slowly, “I was thinking about that myself.” She got up and went over to the dresser, picking up a big brown envelope. Then she tipped the contents on to the table – a cascade of sparkly, silvery cards.

The triplets stared at them in amazement. Then Katie said, “Can we touch. . .?”

“Of course, darling. Read one,” answered Mrs Ryan, smiling hugely.

Katie gingerly picked up one of the cards, and her sisters leant over to look at it with her. On the front was a snowflake, cut out of shining, pearly paper that caught the light in loads of different colours somehow. She opened it up and read out, “‘Please come to our party! Annabel, Becky and Katie would love you to come and celebrate their birthday' – Mum, this is brilliant! You changed your mind?”

“What sort of party is it, though?” asked Becky, sounding confused, but excited. “Oh, and when is it? Is it that same Saturday, the day after Dad comes?”

Katie checked the date. “Yes, from 2 p.m. until 8 p.m. Wow, that's ages. What are we going to do, Mum? We were going to ask you if we could try and work out something we'd all like, have a sleepover, maybe, but we hadn't thought of anything much yet.”

Mrs Ryan gave them a smile that looked scarily like Annabel at her very smuggest. “I'm not telling you, I'm afraid. You'll find out on the day – it's a surprise. Now, there are ten invitations there – all you have to do is give them out, and tell whoever you're giving them to to get their parents to phone me and tell me if they can come. Then I can give them their instructions.” Another deeply smug smile.

“Their instructions?” echoed Katie, intrigued. “Mum, what are you planning? This sounds so cool!”

Mrs Ryan just looked down at her watch. “You need to get going, girls, or you'll be late. Don't forget the invitations, will you? We haven't got a lot of time left before the party.”

There was no danger of that. Katie swept them up and back into the envelope, and then bore it reverently out to the hall to put it in her rucksack. Becky followed her, and Annabel loitered at the kitchen door until she was sure they were out of earshot.

“Mum, you're a star! Those invites look gorgeous – how did you do them so quickly? Katie and Becky loved them!”

“Well, let's just say I'm going to fall asleep on the sofa this afternoon. It was just lucky I had the paper and the glitter, that's all. Annabel darling, do you really think you'll be able to keep all your plans a secret from Katie and Becky? You know keeping quiet isn't your strong point! Wouldn't it be easier to tell them?”

Annabel looked very determined, and set her mouth in a firm line, frowning at her mother. “I am
not
telling them! Sorry, Mum – I didn't mean to snap, but I
really
don't want to tell them. They laughed at me when I tried to keep my idea of the party a secret the first time, it was
so
annoying. They didn't mean it that way, but it was like,
Oh, poor Bel's so ditzy, she can never keep secrets
–
well, I'm going to show them now. This is going to be the best birthday they've ever had, and I'm going to organize it perfectly, and it's got to be a complete surprise. You
mustn't
tell them, Mum!”

Mrs Ryan was surprised. Annabel never being able to keep secrets – even down to what was for pudding or what she was going to wear the next day – was a family joke, she just had this
need
to tell people about things. Her mother hadn't realized that it upset her. She'd been noticing over the past few weeks that now they were at secondary school the triplets really seemed to be growing up and changing – amazingly fast. “Don't worry,” she soothed. “I won't. It's a lovely plan, Bel. I'm very proud of you, you know.”

“Come on, Bel!” came the screech from the hall. “What are you
doing
?”

Annabel dashed over and gave her mother a hug. “See you later! Thanks again, Mum!”

 

T
he triplets raced off to school, desperate to tell their friends that the birthday party of the year was back on. Halfway there, Annabel suddenly stopped dead. “Hang on! We haven't worked out who we're giving these invitations to yet. We ought to do that before we get to school – we can't exactly go back to someone and say sorry, we've changed our minds.”

“
You
could, Bel – no one would be surprised,” laughed Katie.

“Ha, ha and again, let me see,
ha
,”
said Annabel, thinking back a little irritably to what she'd just been saying to Mum. “Be serious. Who are we going to invite?”

“Hmm. Ten invitations. Well, Megan and Fran and Saima for a start.”

“And Fiona? I know we don't see as much of her as we used to now we're all at Manor Hill, but she's really sweet,” suggested Becky.

“Yes, definitely Fiona,” agreed Katie.

“There's one really important thing we need to decide,” mused Annabel, still in serious mode. “Are we going to invite any boys? I mean, lots of our friends are boys, but do we want them at our party?”

Katie made a face, scrunching up her nose. “It's difficult – we don't know what we're going to be
doing
,
so how do we know if it'll be weird having boys there.”

“I think we should have boys,” broke in Becky firmly. “I don't think Mum would have organized anything really girly, or she'd have told us to stick to inviting girls. I mean, she knows there are boys we hang around with sometimes.”

Annabel carefully didn't let her relieved expression show. She'd been desperately trying to think of a way to convince the others that it would be OK to invite boys without showing that she was in on the secret.

“OK,” agreed Katie. “So, we've still got six more invites! Did you want to ask Jack and Robin, Becky?”

“Oooh,” giggled Annabel. “Very keen, Katie! Something you're not telling us? Which one, hmm?”

“Shut up, Bel,” snapped her sister, embarrassed. “Just because you can't think of anything except boys and make-up, it doesn't mean I can't.”

Annabel sniggered. “Can we invite Jordan and Matthew? They're fun, they'd be good to have at a party. Just two left now?”

“Mmm. I think we should ask Moira, you know, she lives near Saima? She's nice. It's hard to know who to give the last invitation to, though – I mean, there's lots of people I like in our class, but I'm not sure I like
one
of them more than anyone else.” Katie nibbled her thumbnail in a distracted way.

“Well, I think we should ask David Morley,” said Becky, a bit hesitantly.

Annabel and Katie looked blank.

“You know!
That boy who has to sit with Amy and Emily and Cara in history. The poor boy never, ever speaks to them, and they just pretend he's not there. I feel sorry for him, he still hardly knows anyone, and he had to move away from all his old friends. I reckon he
needs
a party invitation more than anyone else.”

Katie and Annabel exchanged glances, and decided that Becky was being soft-hearted and Becky-ish, and thinking of David as a kind of cross between a boy and a stray dog. It was probably best to humour her.

“And besides,” Becky added unexpectedly. “You should look at him, Bel. He's cute, under all that hair. Honestly. A bit like an Old English Sheepdog.”

Annabel sighed. Great – now a boy/Old English Sheepdog cross was coming to her perfect party. . .

Chapter Nine

The triplets delivered all the gorgeous invitations that morning, feeling remarkably smug, and making sure that everyone saw that their party was very much on again. Saima, Megan and Fran were suitably excited, and desperate to know what kind of party it was going to be.

“We can't tell you!” Katie laughed. “We honestly don't know! But Mum is
really
good at parties,” she assured them. “I mean, just look at the invitations. She's excellent at that kind of stuff. I'm so excited, and it's only nine days away!”

“You can all come, can't you?” asked Annabel anxiously.

“Definitely,” said Saima, and Fran and Megan seemed pretty certain too. Fiona, Moira, Matthew, Jordan, Jack and Robin got their invites at registration, under the disgusted eyes of Amy and co. Max made some nasty comments about the boys going to a “
girls
'
party” (said in an incredibly disdainful voice). But Matthew and Jordan, who sat quite close to him and his mate Ben, just gave them the kind of look one gives a two-year-old sister who's just been sick over one's DS
3
(Matthew's sister had done this twice, so he had it down to a fine art) and Max shut up.

The class was still waiting for Miss Fraser to arrive to take the register, so Becky nipped up to the front table where David Morley was sitting with a couple of other boys, vaguely looking at his science practical write-up, as though he thought he might have remembered it all wrong. Becky was within half a metre of him when she realized that Katie and Annabel weren't
following her as she'd thought. She cast an outraged, panicky look over her shoulder – they were still chatting to Matthew and Jordan and enjoying ignoring Max. Well, she couldn't just turn round and go back, that would look really silly. She took a deep breath and faltered, “David?”

David looked up – one of the pretty, popular Ryan triplets was standing next to him looking distinctly nervous.

“Hello,” said the nervous triplet – he hadn't a clue which one it was, but he muttered, “Hello, er. . .” which seemed to do.

“Um, hello,” said Becky again, and then pulled herself together. “We wondered – me and my sisters, that is – if you'd like to come to our birthday party. It's in half-term. Our phone number's on the invitation – can you get your mum or dad to phone my mum about the details? Thanks!” And then she bolted back to her seat, leaving David looking like a cross between a boy and an Old English Sheepdog and a tomato, and feeling just as mixed-up.

 

The triplets had never been more desperate for a school holiday to arrive. Their dad would be staying in the tiny flat he had not far from their house, which he used when he was back in England. Annabel had had a very good go at getting Mrs Ryan to let them take the last Friday off school so they could all go and meet him at the airport, but her mother wasn't having it. By the day, though, they were all in such a state of jittery anticipation that it probably wouldn't have made much difference if they
had
taken the day off. Interesting-looking things kept appearing in the kitchen cupboards, and their mother was wandering around the house looking busy and panicky – and then decidedly furtive as soon as she caught sight of Katie or Becky. Her bedroom had become a Forbidden Zone. Annabel was finding the secret-keeping very difficult but she was still totally determined. What made it all so much harder was that she couldn't let on that she had a secret at all, and she had to keep pretending to Becky and Katie that she was just as bemused and desperate to know what was going on as they were. Dad was in on the secret, obviously, as he was going to be helping organize the party, and he'd sent a series of tantalizing emails, which seemed to have the words “party” and “presents” in every sentence.

Mrs Ryan and Annabel were finding it alm
ost impossible to snatch time to discuss the party without Becky or Katie popping up unexpectedly to ask what they were whispering about. The longest time they'd had to work stuff out was the walk home from school the Friday before, when Mum had gone to fetch Annabel after her detention. Annabel had been fairly confident about her second French test – after all, Becky and Katie had spent the previous evening snapping their fingers in her face in a particularly annoying way and then yelling French words to demand an immediate translation. Most of their vocab list felt as though it was carved into her brain. Mr Hatton was very impressed with her thirty-eight out of forty, and spent ages telling her that if only she'd put the effort in in the first place she could be really good at French, waffle, waffle, while Annabel nodded vigorously and attempted to look suitably sorry. Then she'd dashed out of school to meet Mum and banish French from her head entirely by planning how to decorate the house for the party. Annabel was still in favour of repainting the living room glittery. She'd reminded Mum about it every day that week, in very subtle ways like leaving her glitter nail polish lying round, but Mrs Ryan was holding out. Annabel felt that she and Mum were well on track, though. Annabel did a lot of drawing and painting anyway, so provided she was careful she could make party decorations without the other two realizing what she was doing. Mum had a cake-decorating book, and another one with good ideas for party food, so Annabel had spent quite a lot of time in the evenings hiding in the bathroom making lists, and designing birthday cakes. Katie and Becky thought she was putting intensive conditioner on her hair even more obsessively than usual, in preparation for the party. The week did seem to fly by, though, and Mum had to calm Annabel down when she had a mild panicking session on Thursday night as she was convinced they'd never get it all done.

The next day, scarily enough, was actually the day before the party, and the triplets were mentally ticking off the minutes of their last lesson of the afternoon. How could geography go on so long? Was it some kind of time warp? Mrs Travers let them start packing up five minutes early – even she could see that the last few minutes before half-term were not the best time to introduce Year Seven to the mysteries of sedimentary rocks.

“See you tomorrow!” the triplets yelled to Megan as they set off home with Saima and Fran, who had been warned that if they wanted to walk with them they had to go
fast
.
It was probably the first time they'd gone down the high street without stopping to look at any of the shops – without stopping at all, in fact.

The triplets practically broke the front door down, jumping up and down in frustration as Katie fiddled with the key, and then hurling themselves into the hall. Yes! Bags and parcels that definitely hadn't been there this morning.

“Dad!” squawked Katie rapturously, rushing headlong into the kitchen and screeching to a stop next to the table – there he was, banging down his coffee mug to leap up and seize them all in a massive hug.

“Watch it, you three,” Mum warned, laughing, “your dad's not going to be much use at your party if you strangle him now.”

They disengaged themselves reluctantly, and Dad sat down again. Becky and Katie, almost unable to let go of him, even for a second, leant themselves up against his chair, and Annabel perched herself on the table.

Mr Ryan shook his head, looking around at them. “How long is it since I've seen you? Three months, is that all? You look so different. . .” he tailed off, and then appealed to his ex-wife. “I'm not imagining it, am I? They've grown?”

Mrs Ryan nodded. “Oh yes. They never stop.”

“And you've never seen us in our Manor Hill uniform either, Dad – that's different,” Annabel broke in.

“True. You look very smart, Bel. Very sensible and businesslike – we get the full party girl outfit tomorrow, do we?”

“
Oh
yes. And I'm going to make up Becky and Katie, and do their hair.”

“Do you
have
to?” Katie moaned. “You take so long. And I can never tell the difference, anyway.”

“This is a party, Katie. You are
going
to look nice, however long it takes. You
promised
.”
Katie had, in a weak moment the evening before. Annabel had refused to fetch her a reviving chocolate biscuit when she'd been flaked out on the sofa after just managing to break her keepy-uppy record – now at 102. Annabel had cruelly waved the packet round the living-room door until Katie had promised.

“Dad, what are all those things in the hall?” asked Becky, and the other two stopped their half-hearted bickering and pricked up their ears. “I mean, your clothes and things are at the flat, aren't they?”

“Those parcels, sweetheart, are yet another thing you're not allowed to know about.” He exchanged a knowing glance with their mum. The contents of the parcels was secret even to Annabel, who looked very slightly huffy. “Until tomorrow. Oooh, less than twenty-four hours now. Be patient.” He smirked a little.

“You are
so
enjoying this,” Katie grumbled. “When do we actually get to find out what's going on, Mum? I mean, if you've got to do stuff to the house we're going to see, aren't we?”

“No hints,” said their mum firmly. “Not a word, so don't pester, Katie.”

And with that the triplets had to be satisfied until the next day.