‘—wallet! I was going to say wallet!’ But her face says otherwise.
Charlotte starts laughing like a drain, swiftly followed by Victoria. God, my sister is so inappropriate at times.
She throws her arms around me. ‘Love you, sis. Happy birthday.’
As Charlie and Victoria turn it into a tight, group hug, my no-birthday resolve starts to crack. Maybe I don’t feel special enough to celebrate, but my family does. I feel physically squished but extremely lucky.
Charlie breaks her hold first and heads towards the food. I join her, pouncing on the mini samosas which smell incredible. Charlotte points out the items she’s responsible for making with her own two hands, while Faith points out the food that she’s responsible for buying from Waitrose. Victoria changes the god-awful birthday music to a playlist they’ve all collectively made consisting of songs that remind them of me.
‘“Islands in the Stream”? Who picked this?’
Faith, already dancing, raises her hand.
‘How on earth does this remind you of me?’
‘That time we drove to the spa at Gleneagles. You don’t remember?’ She turns to Charlotte, who’s currently making her way through the finger sandwich platter. ‘Your mum was pregnant with you at the time and had bought me spa vouchers for my seventeenth birthday, so I dragged her and herdesperately in need of a pedicurefeet, along with me.’
I smile as I remember that day; it seems like a hundred years ago now.
‘We had the most fun,’ Faith continues. ‘She was so excited to meet you, even though you’d been kicking the hell out of her for weeks. Anyway, I remember on the way home, watching your mum sing this song as she drove and thinking she was the absolute best person I knew and how lucky you were. I mean, she practically raised me, but you would get the honour of calling her Mum.’
Our eyes lock and my heart almost ruptures. Our own mother, Natasha, a very beautiful, half-Swedish interior designer, left the country when Faith was sixteen, but in reality, she’d been absent long before then. I was eight when Faith was born, ten when Dad died and twelve when I finally realised that Mum had no intention of doing any of this alone. Instead of taking care of us, her focus shifted to finding someone to take care of her. I lost count of the new ‘uncles’ we were introduced to, each one a little wealthier than the one before, until ‘Dubai Darren’ showed up and Mum found her older, overweight, egotistical millionaire in shining armour. He wooed my mother while I mothered my sister.
‘Who even sings this?’ Charlotte asks, her voice snapping me back to reality. ‘It’s so… ancient.’
‘Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers,’ I reply, ‘and the word you’re looking for istimeless. This song will still be around long after Calvin Harris or DJ Shithead or whoever else blares from your headphones constantly.’
‘There should be a DJ Shithead,’ Charlie agrees, ‘but I listen to Twenty-One Pilots. Nice try though.’
I used to know bands, I think to myself. Now I probably couldn’t identify one song in the top 40. Do they even still have a top 40?
The track changes and I watch Victoria pull Charlie towards the middle of the floor, where Faith is still dancing. I hear the opening bars to ‘Since U Been Gone’ by Kelly Clarkson.
‘And this one?’ I ask. ‘Who chose this?’
‘You always used to play this when I was a kid,’ Charlie replies, being spun around by Faith. ‘You haven’t in ages though, it’s a good song!’
‘It’s a brilliant song,’ I remark, nodding. I played this a lot after I broke up with Charlie’s dad, Stuart. I stopped playing it when I stopped caring. I think the way to truly know when you’re over someone is when love songs aren’t about them anymore. I brush the food crumbs from my hands and join in the dancing, kicking balloons as I go. Despite not wanting any of this, I’m having a really great time.
A few songs later, we all collapse on the couch and give my neighbours some respite from the ceiling thumping they’ve had to endure.
‘Aren’t we going to do the presents?’ Victoria asks. She bats a balloon towards Charlie who swats it away.
‘But we haven’t finished eating.’ Faith replies, throwing Victoria a look, which instantly arouses suspicion. She gets up and grabs the large tray from the table. ‘Sandwiches! Please, do eat. Waitrose do a lovely smoked—'
‘What’s going on?’ I ask. ‘Why are you being the weird sandwich lady?’
Faith looks at Victoria and then both look at Charlie, who stops mid-sandwich grab and smiles. Whatever this is, she’s in on it too. I narrow my eyes, until she cracks.
‘It was Aunt Faith’s idea!’
‘What was?’
Victoria lifts the gift bag from the side of the couch and places it on the coffee table. What the hell did they buy me? A blow-up boyfriend?
‘This one first?’ she says, handing me a small box wrapped in brown paper. It’s too small to contain anything that requires a foot pump. Thank God.
To Mum, love Charliex
