Chapter 32
Arthur
My stomach growled as I scrolled through the menu displayed on my phone. It didn’t even have any pictures; I was literally salivating at the words Grilled Wiltshire Ham. Licking my lips, I checked my watch, 10:00am. Mum and dad would be here any minute. Well, at least I hoped they would, or there’d be a good chance of me sprinkling some salt on my arm and chewing down on that if my hunger was anything to go by. I actually couldn’t wait for today, which took me by surprise, considering usually, the concept of having a sit-down family meal, let alone one that included two of my friends, would send me into a catatonic state. I’m not even joking. I also might have failed to mention to Sam and Ember that although it was true that this meal was largely to do with my results, it was also for my birthday. I wasn’t big on birthday’s; I didn’t like all of the fuss that came with them. To me it was a day that all eyes were on you, you were visited by people that you hadn’t seen in years and you were expected to sit there and try your hardest to appear grateful and happy whilst their eyes eagerly bored into you in anticipation. It definitely caused more stress than pleasure, so I thought that keeping that little piece of information from Sam and Ember might do me a favour. I’d also rang mum to tell her about the scratch card, as you can probably imagine, she didn’t believe me at first. She presumed that I’d been scammed, but when I sent her a screenshot of the bank statement to show 1000 smackaroos dropped directly into my account, she squealed down the other end of the line. They’d already spoken about the meal prior to this, but I told them this time that I’d treat them, it was only fair. Mum point blank refused, but she won’t have much chance when I swoop over her and tap my card anyway. Everyone kept asking me what I planned to do with the money, but honestly, I just wanted to use it for my food shop and for treats like this. The fact they were coming up to spend time with me meant more to me than the money, they’d both even taken the day off to do so. I started my first day at Waterstones tomorrow too, so I knew I didn’t have to be too anal about the money today, because soon, I was finally going to have a frequent wage. Even though I didn’t want to make a huge deal of today, I still wanted to go somewhere special, somewhere that I’d usually walk past in awe because I knew I could never afford it. I knew exactly the place.
◆◆◆
“Fancy enough for you?,” Sam says smugly, parading down the corridor in a crisp white dress shirt, Black suit jacket, tailored black trousers and shoes so polished, you could see your reflection in them.
“You didn’t have to go full on James Bond you know,” I laughed. “Why do you even have a suit anyway?”
“Formal Philosophy dinner. I didn’t even know there was one coming up until Poppy mentioned it,” he joked, adjusting his sleeves. “She hinted at every suit shop we walked past the other day, ‘they’re nice aren’t they!,’ he mimicked in her Irish accent, “thought she was being casual about it, bless her.”
I couldn’t help but feel underdressed in my navy shirt and grey chinos, but to be honest, I took my hat off to him, suits were so uncomfortable. I don’t think I’d even put one on since prom in year 11. I remember itching to rip it off the whole night, the sweaty fabric clinging onto me so tightly, I looked like a ventriloquists dummy. Breaking my thoughts, my phone buzzed with a message from mum.
Mum:Just finding somewhere to park. Will be with you in about 5-10 minutes xx
“Alright Bond,” I say pointing a finger at the ginger gent still goofily parading up and down the corridor like he was on a catwalk, “mum’s just messaged to say they’re parking, let’s go.”
Miraculously, the bus was on time, so we didn’t have to risk running through Bath like formal-looking lunatics. It drops us off at the station and we slowly make our way to meet my parents.
“Am I going to have to have ‘the talk’ with your dad?,” Sam says deadpan, “you know, because it’s our first date and all?,” before letting out a hefty snort.
“Ha. Ha,” I say sarcastically. “You’ll be fine though. He’ll probably like you more than me to be honest. The son he never had and all that.” I laugh, but a part of me doesn’t actually refute that.
“There he is!,” I hear a familiar chirpy voice shout as Sam and I walk around the corner. As predicted, it’s my mum, dressed in a Red fur coat with heels to match, arms intertwined with my dad, who, I’m surprised to even say, is wearing a full-on Navy suit and tie.
“Looks like I’m not the only James Bond then,” Sam whispers into my ear through a chuckle. I’d clearly missed the memo, and I was the one who arranged this in the first place. As we walk closer, mum traps me in a bear hug and kisses me on the cheek. I wipe the residue, before saying, “Hey, thanks for coming. This is my flatmate Sam, by the way,” pointing next to me.
Sam smiles and holds out a hand to shake, putting on his best customer service voice. “Nice to finally meet you both.”
“Likewise,” dad says quietly, flashing us an awkward smile. I could sense his discomfort from a mile away.
Mum looks around frantically, “where’s Ember? Couldn’t she make it?” She’d messaged earlier to apologise, saying she was running late because she’d accidentally poked herself in the eye with her eyeliner, so she had to run out and get eyedrops and would meet us after. As much as I didn’t want her to be visually impaired, I couldn’t help but laugh because of all people, it had to be her.
Noticing my own smile at the mere thought of her, I immediately snap myself back into reality. “She’s running late, she said we can go in and she’ll meet us in there.”
Mum flashes me a concerned look, I can tell she feels bad for going in without her. “I told Libby I’d give her some feedback,” she then says, her concern instantly transforming into a grin.
I guffaw as I think of my little sister who I should have known would put mum up to something like that. She was just bitter that she couldn’t come because she had school. Either way, I step forward into the entrance and lead the way into the large Georgian building.
The Pump Rooms, were one of Bath’s biggest selling points. It was a huge restaurant, known for being pretentious and expensive, so naturally, I had to use my winnings to see what all the fuss was about. As we headed in, a petite red-head in a two-piece suit greeted us, “welcome to the Pump Rooms! What’s the name under the booking?”
Still taking in all of the surroundings, I practically whisper, “Arthur Kirby.” The woman happily clicks away, picks up a wad of menus and leads us to our table of five. Granted, the venue is definitely something to write home about. It was a gaping space, filled with intricate roman pillars, ancient portraits framed in Gold, beautiful archways, a huge crystal chandelier draping from the ceiling and an old-timely grand piano at the heart of the room with a pianist playing a gentle Jazz score, it felt as if we’d taken a step back in time.
“Isn’t it gorgeous?!,” mum bellows, echoing my thoughts, her eyes transfixed to the chandelier above us.
I’d booked the most expensive thing I could find, the afternoon tea. I’d seen a few photos on Instagram on those ‘food porn’ pages. Just looking at the photos made my stomach ache in hunger, so I couldn’t wait to actually get my hands on it. The same lady who greeted us at the door, walked over to the table, “would you like your afternoon tea now? I see one member of your party hasn’t arrived yet.” I look at the empty chair opposite me, where was she? Surely it didn’t take that long to buy some eyedrops. Before I have time to respond, mum thankfully butts in, “she’s running a bit late, so we’ll hold off and give her another 5 minutes if that’s okay. The lady nods kindly as she walks away.
“So, is my birthday boy enjoying his day so far?,” mum beams. Immediately, Sam’s face etches into one of confusion. Shit. So much for keeping it subtle mum.
“Wait- you didn’t tell me it was your birthday?,” he asks suspiciously.
I’m just about to explain myself when I’m distracted by the sound of commotion at the entrance.
“He’s literally over there!,” a voice shouts insistently to a tall male in a white tail suit at the door.
“No booking, no entrance. It’s our policy,” he says sharply.
“Gah- do you know what? I’ve had enough of today already, move out of my way-” , she starts pushing her way past the man, all 5”5 of her, marching towards our table like she’s on a mission.
“I will call security if you don’t leave this instant!,” the man shouts in her direction.
I put my hands up, “it’s okay, it’s okay! She’s with me. You know, the one who was running a bit late?,” I reassure, diverting my gaze towards the red-head who gives me a thumbs up.
“Oh,” the man mumbles. “Well, my sincerest apologies madame.”
“Well, consider your apology sincerely not accepted,” she says with a clipped tone that I can’t help but snort at. I swear, everywhere she goes, chaos follows. I can’t help but take a gulp as I watch her walk over to the table. She’s wearing a fitted Red dress with lipstick to match, her eyelids glistening with some sort of gold shimmer, and her mass of brunette curls are half-tied up in a fancy knot. She looks beautiful. I try my hardest to avoid gazing for too long in her direction, don’t want to give Sam or mum any more ammo.
She takes her seat opposite me, giving my parents the warmest of smiles, even in spite of their current faces of absolute horror after witnessing what just happened. “I’m Ember,” she says with a soft wave, “I’ve heard so much about you both.”
Giving her the world’s most limp handshake, mum says, “yes, you too.” You wouldn’t have thought it was the same woman who was practically bursting at the seams to meet her only moments earlier.
“So,” Sam says, breaking the tension with a grin, “Arthur’s mum was just telling us that it’s Arthur’s birthday today.” He could clearly tell that it made me uncomfortable.
Ember looked mortified, “oh my god Arthur, it’s your birthday? Why didn’t you say anything, I haven’t bought you a present!”
I shake my head, “no presents needed. I’m not really a birthday fan you know,” I say glaring at my mum.
“Well, I think if you haven’t allowed us to buy you presents, then we should at least get to give you something else instead?,” Sam says, sporting a knowing-smirk at Ember, as if he was communicating with her telepathically.
No. God no.
Sam inhales an almighty breath before singing at the top of his lungs and waving everyone in the restaurant to join in.
Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to Arthur. Happy Birthday to you!
You know when you’re a kid and you’re at Frankie and Bennies, and the lights suddenly dim before playing the most cringey instrumental version of happy birthday whilst the workers all congregate around your table to sing to you, looking like they’d rather die? I understand the workers pain now. The heat travels all the way to my cheeks, embarrassed is an understatement. Everyone sat on the tables around us, including the staff, are bellowing out the birthday song like there’s no tomorrow, all eyes on me. Sam and Ember look like they’re enjoying this a little too much, shedding tears of laughter as they sing louder.
Thankfully, the singing comes to a stop, but I feel like I need to down at least a litre bottle of water to cool this heat. The red-headed lady from before comes back to our table, but this time, baring two three-tiered cake stands. My mouth immediately begins to water as I spot the assortment of grilled ham and cheese and cucumber sandwiches cut into small triangles, pastel blue and purple macaroons, slices of Victoria sponge, seeping with fluffy cream and strawberry jam, and some flaky pastries of some kind that I don’t know the names of, but will certainly become well acquainted with in a minute. Almost as quickly as she leaves, she re-emerges with a large bottle of champagne, surrounded by crushed ice in a cooler. The champagne itself cost well over ￡100, but when in Rome right? The lady twists and pops the cork, the carbonated bubbles seeping over the top as she quickly but gently pours the liquid into each of our glasses.
“Well cheers to my special boy on his special day!,” my mum chimes as everyone holds out their glasses. My cheeks are still very much heated, but I can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm.
“Speaking of,” dad coughs, I can tell he’s finding it slightly awkward. “We both wanted to just say how proud we are of you for uh- you know, getting firsts and for getting the job.” He looks more at the table, that at me, but the sentiment was still there. He suddenly reaches for my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze before saying, “well done son.” I don’t know what had changed, but I wasn’t complaining. I had to frantically swallow down the emotion crawling up my throat and threatening to pool out of my eyes at any moment. Hearing him say that, especially after so many years of feeling inadequate, meant everything. For once, I didn’t feel like a burden, I felt like I mattered, that I was appreciated. I wasn’t even embarrassed at the gesture being in front of my friends, it was something I needed, and they knew that.
“Thanks dad,” I say with a smile. I take a sip out of my glass, letting the tartness of the champagne warm my throat and as I take in my surroundings, and the family and friends currently sat supporting me, for once, I feel like life might just be all right.