Happy Birthday and All That (20 page)

‘Are you cold, Frank? We'd better get going or the kids will start getting cold too. I wonder what the Netley school is like,' she said. ‘I suppose the proximity to Weston would be a bad aspect.'

‘Spoken like a true Surrey girl,' Frank replied. ‘You don't even know anyone from Weston.'

‘Nor do you.'

Poppy's bag was full of shells. Posy tipped them out onto one of the beach steps and checked for any that were still occupied. Poppy put these ones back near the water's edge.

Time to go home.

In the pub that night Frank could hardly muster the enthusiasm to play. The music didn't go well. Rich and Ron were being snappy with each other. They'd had a row about ELO. Rich hated them and all their works, Ron was insisting that they had huge merit, whatever the sound was like, and that technically Jeff Lyne was something else.

Melody was there for a while and Frank saw that her transformation from mermaid to manatee was nearly complete. She wasn't in the mood for singing. All she wanted to know was, Had He Told His Wife Yet? The answer was, of course, still no. He couldn't think of anything to say to her. She rang her brother for a lift, and soon she was gone.

Frank realised that he would have to be the one to top himself. There was no way forward that made any sense. During their break he couldn't bring himself to speak. Al noticed that Frank had turned into a sad old polar bear alone in the zoo.

‘All right mate?' Al asked.

Frank slowly shook his head and stared into his pint.

‘I am in blood
Stepp'd in so far that, should I wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as going on.

Or something like that,' he said.

‘Get your point. If there's anything I can do …' said Al. ‘Fancy another?'

Frank nodded. Al rested his hand on Frank's shoulder on the way to the bar. He'd get a couple of whisky chasers too. Poor bloody Frank, he thought. Poor sod. What a mess.

Aunty Flora came up trumps with the birthday cake.

‘I didn't even know that there was silver icing,' Posy said. ‘It is
so
beautiful. I don't know if the girls will be able to bear to see it cut.'

‘It's just a “Little Mermaid” tin that I hired from “The Cake Lady”. Easy peasy,' said Flora. Coming up with amazing cakes was all part of her day's work.

‘I'm glad she looks so demure,' said Posy. ‘Are those real shells?'

‘Chocolate. But not suitable for nut allergy sufferers. The rest is fine, of course.' Poppy came in.

‘Quick! Quick! Cover her up!' shouted Posy.

‘Oh please can I see, Mummy, Aunty Flora? Please!'

‘Oh she might as well, Posy,' said Flora, who was quite a soft touch with her niece.

‘Go on then …'

‘Oh Aunty Flora, it's beautiful. I can't believe it's for me. It's the most beautiful cake in the world!'

‘For the most beautiful niece in the world, with love,' said Flora.

‘And Izzie,' said Poppy.

‘Well Izzie is the most beautiful baby niece in the world. And here's your present.' It was wrapped in exquisite lilac-and-pink shimmery paper with copious bows. ‘I like being an aunt,' Flora said.

Poppy carefully unwrapped it. She would save everything for her making things box. Inside was a Flower Fairies flower press, a flowery apron, and a large, glittery, white teddy with wings and a halo.

‘I thought you probably needed an extra teddy,' said Flora as Poppy hugged her. ‘Especially an angel one.'

‘She's beautiful. What's her name?'

‘Well that's up to you, isn't it?' said Flora.

‘It might be on her label. Animals come ready-named now. Oh yes. Here it is. Angelica Angelbear,' Posy announced.

‘Wow,' said Poppy. ‘Thanks, Aunty Flora.'

‘I'm so lucky to have all of these nieces and nephews. It's a real treat coming to your party. I'm sorry I haven't got a mermaid costume.'

‘That's all right,' said Poppy. ‘Nor's Mum.'

‘Now, Poppy. We have to get a move on, they'll be here soon. Either put on your new apron and help us with the party food, or go and change into your costume.'

‘Both,' said Poppy.

‘You have to see her costume,' said Posy. ‘It's a triumph, though I say it myself. When Izzie's a bit older I might go into business making them for girls and their dollies. I'm going to call it “Mermaid Tails”. Maybe I could have a whole mermaid and fairy-themed shop. Heaven.'

It was lovely to see Posy looking so happy, having a plan, being enthusiastic about something. Flora didn't say that if she wanted to make the business a success she'd have to hurry up before the mermaid bubble burst.

Two hours later, fifteen little mermaids and fairies were cavorting in the garden watched by Frank and Isobel. James and Tom were inside still eating. Posy hadn't expected the birthday tea to go so quickly; there was an unplanned-for pause before Stella's Puppets and Magic show was due to start. Stella arrived fourteen minutes before she was due to start.

‘Mrs Parouselli? Sorry I'm late. Football traffic,' she said to Flora who let her in. Flora glanced at her watch. An apology for one minute late. Impressive.

‘No, I'm the birthday girl's aunt, Flora. Would you like a hand with your stuff?'

‘I'm fine thanks. I'm sure you must have lots to do.' Also she had it so perfectly organised that she didn't like other people to have the opportunity to mess it up.

‘Mermaid cake? A cup of tea?'

‘That would be lovely. With lemon if possible.'

‘Very possible,' said Flora.

She soon returned with the tea in one of Posy's Cornish stoneware mugs and the cake on what she considered to be Posy's best plate, the prettiest of a set of four Cath Kidston ones that she had given her.

‘Beautiful plate,' said Stella. ‘I've seen them in one of my favourite shops. I was very tempted, and by some pink strawberry oilcloth, but I don't think Linus would stand for it. Too girlie.'

Flora watched enrapt whilst Stella unpacked the show. There were many pocketed canvas rolls full of tricks and puppets, boxes that turned into tables, the magic princess's hat container became a drum, and the rabbits travelled in style in a pink wooden crate with velvet and rope handles. She went back into the kitchen to report to Posy.

‘Nearly ready. I think we're kindred spirits.'

‘Well, her husband was really nice,' said Posy, tipping what was left of the Iced Gems into the bin.

‘The modern child has no qualms about just eating the tops. And they're now enriched with vitamins and iron. Iced Gems! Talk about decadent.'

‘Irrelevant if it's the biscuit bit they enrich. You should find out. There might be people relying on that for their children's nutrition.'

‘Serve them right,' said Frank, coming in from the garden. ‘I can't stand it out there any longer.'

‘You're meant to be supervising,' said Posy.

‘Ready when you are,' called Stella.

‘Phew!' said Posy. ‘I'll just line them all up for the loo.'

‘You missed your vocation. Should have been a teacher,' said Frank.

‘More likely a dinner lady.' Posy pictured herself dolloping out scoops of mashed potato to an endless line of upturned little faces. Large please, and extra gravy. ‘Oh I forgot to give them the ice cream. Well, they could eat it while they watched the show.'

‘Bad idea, Posy. There's bound to be lots of audience participation. They'd only spill it all over their costumes,' said Flora.

‘Never mind. We'll get through it,' said Frank, meaning the ice cream, not the show. ‘Why don't you two watch the show and I'll carry on out here?'

‘OK, fine, if you don't mind missing it.'

‘I don't.'

‘You'll have to let the parents in when they start arriving,' Posy warned him.

‘Maybe James can do that bit.'

Posy and Flora were entranced by the show. ‘I wish we'd had parties like this when we were little,' said Posy.

‘Stella's a stunner,' said Flora.

The birthday girl was called up to assist and Stella formed some of the more compliant-looking mermaids into a percussion band. The magic princess's hat was full of flowers and silk hankies, and finally doves and the rabbits.

The parents arrived as it all ended, and Flora helped Posy to give out the party bags. As soon as the children were all gone she hurried back to see if she could help Stella. Too late. Stella was packing her last box.

‘Lovely show,' said Flora. ‘That's quite a box you've got there.'

‘Speed and efficiency are all in the storage and packing. It's all organisation. I can fit in twice as many shows a day as some magicians because I've got this part down to a fine art.'

‘Very impressive,' said Flora. ‘I'm in the organisation business too, but a different kind of magical transformation.' She gave Stella one of her cards. ‘Not that you look as though you need any solutions.'

‘I might know someone who does,' said Stella.

‘I organise parties and events for people too. If you'd like to give me one of your cards, I'm sure I'll want you soon …'

Stella found one of the promotional postcards straight away, Linus one side, herself on the other.

‘Thank you,' said Flora. Posy came in with the money in an envelope.

‘Thank you. Poppy loved it, we all did. Hope we'll see you again soon.' ‘Me too,' said Stella. Flora helped her carry her things to the car.

Kate and her family were going to the Longleat Centre Parcs for half-term.

‘Huh,' said Frank when Posy told him. ‘What kind of a holiday would that be? You might as well go to the school playground at 3.15. What kind of getting away is that? Scoop them all up and take them in a giant dumper. I'd bloody hate it.'

‘It's not their holiday. They're going to France in August too. Anyway, it sounds nice,' said Posy feebly.

‘Huh. I hope the Lions of Longleat raid the place.'

‘There are acres of forest, and cycle paths,' said Posy who wasn't listening to him at all. ‘And a health spa. Kate's got all these treatments booked. Oh well, I don't suppose we'll ever be able to afford it.'

‘Posy, what's happened to you? How could you want to go there?'

‘I could stand it,' said Posy.

He put his head in his hands. ‘Posy, it isn't even a real place. How can you go on holiday to somewhere that isn't a real place?'

‘You wouldn't be so snobby about people going to Butlin's. Just 'cos we can't afford to go.'

‘Huh.'

‘At the age of thirty-seven,' Posy sang, ‘She realised she'd never ride to Centre Parcs/In a space wagon/With the air-conditioned air in her hair.'

‘It doesn't even scan,' said Frank. ‘And I thought you were thirty-five still.' What he really wanted to say was that he hated her singing; she was always off key, starting out soprano, finishing up as practically a bass. He couldn't believe that he had signed up to spend his whole life with someone who couldn't even carry a tune. They had nothing more to say for a while. Frank left for his shed, Posy carried on with the washing up. But they both were remembering the last time they'd been abroad, it was nearly ten years ago now, two weeks in Greece. That was the sort of holiday they should really be having now, all sparkling sea, honey, yoghurt and nectarines.

Posy remembered how they'd marvelled at the stars; no wonder the Ancient Greeks had hung their stories on them. It had been total bliss, well, apart from the walk to the beach past a pair of tethered farm dogs. The dogs had looked vicious, had barked and leapt at them every time. Once Posy and Frank had passed, the dogs turned their aggression on each other, throwing themselves again and again the length of their chains, but always finding each other out of reach. Posy expected that the dogs or their descendants were still there, chained, snarling and frustrated.

Posy and the children were spending half-term at the Bee Centre. Frank wasn't going with them. He waved them off, feeling waves of relief that he wasn't with them in that overloaded car, and worry that Posy might be so distracted by the squabbling that they'd all meet their doom somewhere on the A303. The forecast was for thundery showers. He could see Poppy and James starting to argue about who had the least space before Posy had even turned the corner. Her extra-long pause at the junction indicated that she was already reaching
for a story tape. If she was really lucky she'd manage it in less than five hours.

The sky was peculiar. There were anvil clouds over St Catherine's Hill. If this was Kansas, Flora thought, there would be a tornado; but it was Hampshire in June; Hampshire, where hurricanes hardly ever happened. The first big splashes of rain hit the windscreen as she turned off the motorway. The unmistakable lurching and thumping of a puncture began halfway down the hill outside St Cross. It was a stupid time and place for this. She was seeing a new client in forty-five minutes. She rang the AA to ask for assistance. When she finally got through she learnt that there were flash floods throughout the area, they'd be as quick as they could, but she might have a long wait. There was nothing for it but to change the tyre herself.

She stepped out of the car and into the ankle-deep torrent of rainwater. This was crazy but she'd never yet cancelled seeing a client, never. She had to get to Arlesford, on the other side of Winchester. She got her linen mac out of the boot. Putting it on to cover her grey dress seemed rather pointless, but she did anyway. Within moments she was soaked through. Cars sped by, each one sending another wave over her.

Flora knew what she was doing. She had the jack out and the car cranked up, now for the struggle with the bolts. Her fair hair, which that day she'd left loose, was turned dark and plastered to her head, water flowed down her neck and out of her sleeves, and oh, the state of her shoes! Her hands and the spanner were so wet that they kept slipping, but she knew that if she worked fast she'd have time to run in and change and only be a few moments late. The river was now up to her calves. A lesser mortal might have been swept away. She just couldn't get the last bolt off. A car pulled up behind her.