Chapter Two
There was nothing better than a Sunday lunch with my girls – apart from a birthdaySunday lunch with my girls. And today was a big one. We were celebrating Kat’s 30th birthday and her friends and family were meeting us at the pub to surprise her. Kat and Sara had rallied round to fill the Holly-shaped hole in my life when she moved abroad, and even though I’d only known them a couple of years, it felt like we’d been friends forever. The three of us had met at a local HIIT class, and it had been such a laugh that we’d managed to stick to it week after week, and were now so close, we pretty much shared a brain. I’d have been lost without them.
I arrived at the pub with three large helium balloons, a bouquet of roses and a massive rucksack full of party poppers, paper hats and table confetti. It would be easy enough to lay it all out once I got in the room, but I was feeling slightly panicked at the time ticking on. Sara was bringing Kat to the pub for 4 p.m. sharp and the other guests would be arriving any minute.
‘Hi! I’ve got the private dining room booked under Mason for 3.30 p.m.,’ I said, putting down my party paraphernalia and wrestling the balloons into line. The beer garden was rammed with groups of friends and happy couples enjoying sunny drinks. The bar staff busily running back and forth with trays of pints and jugs of Pimm’s, as a beardy man started strumming his guitar.
The waitress looked at her watch. ‘I’m not sure we’re quite ready for you yet...’ she said, then spotted the enormous bag on my back. ‘But looks like we might have to be.’
‘I wanted to decorate the room before people arrive. Any chance I can get in early?’ I pleaded. ‘If not, can I at least put these in there?’ I nodded at the balloons, bobbing overhead.
She eyed them with a smile.
‘Come on then,’ she whispered, glancing over her shoulder. ‘As long as the manager doesn’t catch me breaking the rules.’ We walked through the restaurant, where people were chatting happily over Caesar salads and salmon quiche, with large glasses of crisp, white wine, and she unlocked the door to the private dining room, where three large tables were beautifully laid. The sun streamed in from the patio doors, which opened out into the beer garden, and bunches of pink tulips smiled brightly from glass jugs. It was light and bright and airy. I dropped my bags on the floor and looked around in delight.
‘This is perfect, thank you so much!’ I said with a smile.
‘It’s a lovely room, isn’t it?’ she nodded, pleased. ‘I’ll send the others through at 3.30 p.m.’
‘The birthday girl is due at 4 p.m.’
‘Got it,’ she said, with a wink. ‘I’ll come and check you’re ready before I let her in.’
I dragged the balloons over to the middle chair on the middle table, the three of them boinging into each other as they floated across the room. A three and a zero in voluminous gold foil, with a third that said ‘Happy 30th Birthday’ in case it wasn’t entirely clear. I put the roses and my present next to them, beautifully wrapped in acid green tissue and silver ribbons. I’d spent hours designing a photobook stuffed full of our memories and it was so cute – I couldn’t wait for Kat to open it. The three of us having dinner at Exmouth Market, drinking cocktails on a Shoreditch rooftop, wearing matching dresses at Latitude Festival, and that fancy dress party where we’d gone as a rabbit and two carrots. I’d printed all our photos out, as well as a selection from her friends and family, and put a stack on each table. Thirty years of Kat. Then set out the paper hats and streamers, piled up the party poppers and sprinkled out the ‘Happy Birthday’ confetti. A super speedy set up.
A tall waiter with a tiny moustache popped his head in. ‘Everything OK in here? You’ve got some prosecco pre-ordered, haven’t you?’ he asked. ‘Is it a birthday?’
‘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 of Come 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 much all Abi – 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 exaggerated sorry at 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.
*
‘Espresso martinis and three baby Guinness?’ The waiter appeared with the drinks I’d ordered, thirty seconds after the last person left.
Kat looked up at him in wonder, and then across at me. ‘How are you always one step ahead?’
I smiled. ‘A little debrief cocktail, now that everyone has gone.’
‘Love it,’ Sara said, taking a mouthful of her martini, then coughing in shock. ‘It’s strong.’
‘Yes, we do need a debrief, don’t we? You first, Abi – how did your date with Stu go the other night?’ Kat asked.
‘Which one is Stu, again?’ Sara frowned. ‘I can’t keep up.’
‘The one I’ve been chatting to on Tinder for a couple of weeks,’ I replied. ‘It was fine. He looked like his photo, I know – absolute shocker – and for a bonus point, he was genuinely 6 ft tall.’ I pulled out my phone to show them both. Stu was a giant Labrador of a man. Tall, wide and blond, with freckly muscles and a posh, affable laugh. He’d given off strong farmer vibes, in his jeans and checked shirt, and looked like he’d know how to wrestle a sheep. ‘We went to Gordon’s Wine Bar, for a cheeky bottle of red. It was fun but he didn’t set my world on fire, you know? Maybe 7 out of 10. Your classic nice guy.’
‘Nothing wrong with a nice guy,’ Sara said. ‘Mark has been nice-guy-ing me into bed for the last three years.’ That was very true. Sara and Mark were two sides of the same coin with their matching red hair, freckled faces, and obsession with sailing. They’d met on a race around the Isle of Wight and been an instant match. So much so, that Mark had already consulted with me and Kat on engagement rings, and we were just waiting for him to pop the bloody question. It was constant torture keeping it a secret.
‘Mark is so much more than a nice guy. Stu just didn’t do it for me, I can’t put my finger on why.’
‘They never do though, Abs,’ Kat said, with a sympathetic look. ‘Are you going to go on a second date this century, do you think? Or at least get further than a goodbye kiss?’
‘Well… I have got some gossip to share, as it happens.’ Sara and Kat eyed each other, supping their martinis with glee. ‘You know I went on that spa day at The Langham?’
‘Don’t remind me, you lucky cow!’ Sara groaned.
‘Sounds like heaven,’ Kat chipped in.
‘I can’t lie – it was – and that was before this happened.’
They both leant forward.
‘I’d been pretty much on my own in there all day and it was home time, but I’d gone cold, so I stopped off in the sauna on my way back to the changing rooms. You know, to warm up.’
I had their full attention.
‘Yesss?’ Sara said, with an eyebrow.
‘And I met this guy in there called Pete.’
‘In the sauna?’ Kat asked, with two eyebrows.
‘Yes. He was staying at the hotel on business, and you know how these things can go sometimes.’
‘No. I have no idea how these things can go. Nothing has ever gone anywhere for me in a sauna,’ Sara said. ‘I can only manage about three minutes in one, with my asthma, let alone do anything else.’
‘Well, we ended up having a bit more than a sauna for a bit longer than three minutes and then a few drinks in the hotel bar.’
Kat and Sara’s eyes were shining as they clutched each other’s hands.
‘…and then I stayed with him overnight.’
They both screamed.
‘Whattt???’ Kat laughed.
‘Outrageous behaviour, Abi!’ Sara said, with a wicked smile.
I laughed. ‘It caught me off guard as well to be honest. I’m not really a one-night-stand type of girl, as you know, but he was so gorgeous, I couldn’t resist.’
‘Did you get a photo?’ Kat asked, her eyes on stalks, as I shook my head.
‘WhatsApp pic?’ Sara’s supersleuth skills kicking in.
‘It’s a beach shot. He’s from Arizona.’
‘Hmm, I hate it when they use landscapes and babies,’ she said, disappointed.
‘You’ll just have to trust me that he was HOT.’
‘I trust you. I might have to book myself in,’ Kat said, dreamily. ‘Sounds like an absolute treat.’
‘A hot man in the sauna. Was that your birthday wish?’
‘It wasn’t, but I could change it.’
‘What was it, then?’ Sara asked, leaning in.
‘She can’t tell us, or it won’t come true!’ I interjected, in horror.
‘Ah, I’m not superstitious. And anyway, I wished an impossible wish. To find a man as wonderful and kind, and funny, and thoughtful as my beautiful friends.’
‘No chance,’ I said. ‘Only friends offer that kind of winning combination.’
Sara nodded. ‘Sisters before misters, hoes before bros.’
‘Mates before dates, forever, amiright?’ Kat cheered.
‘One hundred per cent,’ I said, handing out the shots.
‘Cheers Kat! To your thirties!’ Sara said, holding up her glass.
‘Your best decade yet,’ I clinked.
‘Happy Birthday to me,’ Kat echoed, with a full heart and a happy smile. ‘Love you girls so much.’