The Birthday That Changed Everything

by Debbie Johnson

  ‘I’d recommend giving up now,’ I said, coldly. ‘I can’t imagine a situation where I could allow myself to come back to you.’

  ‘Because of Simon?’

  ‘No. Because of me.’

  Chapter 49

  ‘What are you reading, Lucy?’ asked Simon at breakfast. He was making an effort to be civil with her. He had a lot to learn.

  Lucy was angry this morning. I could tell, because she was awake. She carried on reading, and answered in a dull monotone while still staring at the page.

  ‘It’s the Kama Sutra, Father,’ she said. ‘I’m going through all the sexual positions that I’ve tried and giving them marks out of ten.’

  He spluttered his coffee out of his mouth in a brown jet, choking as she continued: ‘Mmm…up the arse…only a six for that, I think…’

  I put a calming hand on his arm.

  ‘Ignore her. She’s just winding you up,’ I said. At least I thought she was.

  Simon wiped the dripping coffee from his chin and looked at Lucy warily. Maybe considering a DNA test.

  ‘And what are you up to today, Ollie?’ I asked, changing the subject. Ollie was listening to his iPod and reading Jilly Cooper’s Riders, underlining important sections in pencil. I waved my fingers in front of his face and he looked up, pulling the earpieces out and smiling at me.

  ‘I said, what are you up to today?’

  ‘Oh. Well, today I’m going to pull Tabitha. I’ve laid the groundwork. She’s already interested, I just have to throw the final hook. I’ve been basing my lines on Rupert Campbell-Black out of this book. He’s a handsome cad with a sex appeal no woman can resist. Shouldn’t be too hard to pull off.’

  He shoved his too-long hair behind his ears, folded his too-long body forward over the table, and knocked his glasses back on his nose. I remembered devouring Riders as a teenager. Rupert Campbell-Black was the kind of man who made you wriggle on the seam of your jeans while you read about him. I couldn’t quite see Ollie in the same way. But then again, I was his mother, and that was probably a good thing.

  ‘Here she comes,’ I whispered, spotting Tabitha, Queen of Cool, approaching with her disciples. She was wearing a pink sarong that only just covered her bottom, and a barely there bikini top over her Page-Three-girl boobs. Her hair was a black sheet shimmering down her back, and close up she had dimples, and big, round brown eyes. I noticed Simon do a surreptitious double take and kicked his ankle under the table.

  She walked past us, slowing down her pace. She was looking at Ollie’s chestnut head, which was still bent over his book. He was deliberately ignoring her.

  ‘Hi, Ollie,’ she said quietly as she stopped in front of us. ‘Do you want to eat breakfast with us?’

  He still didn’t look at her, and only acknowledged her presence by holding his palm up in a ‘not just now’ gesture. Her cheeks flushed pink and I thought she might cry. The little shit – he was turning into his father’s son. Eventually he folded the corner of his page over, closed his book, and raised his head.

  ‘Sorry, Tab – I had to finish that chapter. What were you saying?’

  He sounded bored beyond belief. Like he was being forced to talk to his ninety-year-old grandmother about her haemorrhoids. His eyes were flicking back to his book, as though he was desperate for her to bugger off and leave him to it.

  ‘Erm…nothing. It doesn’t matter. I was going to ask if you wanted to join us for breakfast.’

  He glanced at her friends, sitting around a table chattering and laughing and flicking bits of toast at each other’s heads.

  ‘Don’t think so, Tab. Doesn’t look like my scene. I’m not a group person. I might have an hour or so free later, if you want to do something then.’

  Her face lit up, and for a second I thought she might actually jump into the air and clap her hands like a very happy, very busty fairy.

  ‘Okay! That sounds great! I’ll come and find you, shall I?’

  ‘Yeah, if you like,’ said Ollie, already back to his book, ‘I’ll try and remember. Chill if I’m not around, though. I get busy.’

  Tabitha smiled at us all, waved with her fingers, and bounced off to her pals, looking like she’d just won a EuroMillions rollover.

  ‘See,’ said Ollie, ‘she’s mine. Easy. Now I’m off back to the room to try on all my clothes and see what looks best for later. Dad, can I borrow some of your aftershave? Not that I need to shave, but the chicks love it.’

  And off he shambled, Ollie Campbell-Black – an irresistible cad in flip-flops.

  ‘Aw, look, Mommy,’ said Lucy, smirking, ‘our baby’s finally located his balls. And it’s really quite disgusting.’

  Simon was gazing after him in amazement. He looked over at Tabitha, the very definition of jailbait, then back at Ollie’s skinny figure, playing air guitar and tripping over his own feet as he went.

  ‘That was interesting,’ he said, ‘and I don’t think I could be prouder.’

  Lucy threw her fork on the table, clattering it deliberately against her juice glass, then leaned back in a huff, arms folded in front of her chest. She stared at Simon.

  ‘Well, isn’t that fucking typical?’ she said, in her quiet-but-deadly tone. ‘You’ve ignored him for the last sixteen years because he’s shit at rugby, but now suddenly you’re proud?’ The last word went up a few decibels, and I noticed Adnan standing by with a dustpan and brush. He’d seen all this before, and knew it often ended with the smashing of crockery.

  ‘That is so fucking typical of you,’ she screeched. ‘You’ve treated him like he has special needs his whole life, but as soon as he starts getting led round by his dick, you’re proud? You frigging loser – it says it all!’

  She lobbed her toast at him, stuck her fingers up at us both, one hand for each, and made her exit. The people who knew Lucy were smiling into their cups. The people who didn’t were looking terrified and probably wondering if they could get a refund on the price of their holiday.

  Simon looked at me. The toast had stuck, buttered side down, to his forehead.

  I sipped my coffee.

  ‘Harsh but fair,’ I said, suppressing a smile.

  Chapter 50

  We were up bright and early the next day for a trip to the ancient city of Ephesus. I’d wanted to go there in previous years, but was always too busy falling off surfboards, or having sex, or getting my heart smashed up into tiny pieces. This year, as I was doing none of the above, I’d booked the trip.

  Ollie was staying behind to play hard to get with Tabitha, who had now succumbed completely to his charms. He’d obviously not mentioned his Pokémon card collection.

  Lucy and Max were coming with us, despite initial objections.

  ‘Why do you want to go all the way there?’ she said when I first asked. ‘If you want to see an ancient ruin, just look in the mirror.’

  She went on to complain for the entire journey about the coach being too hot, too small and too smelly, then shut her trap for about two minutes once we walked into the site. I knew she wanted to claim it was boring, but she couldn’t, because it was jaw-droppingly beautiful.

  It would have been a wonderful day out – if I’d been on my own. Unfortunately I was surrounded by a pack of feral circus clowns all going for cheap laughs at each other’s expense. Mainly Simon and Lucy, but even Max was infected by it, and called her a ‘bitchy bell-end’ at one point.

  ‘Did you know that this was the second city of the Roman Empire,’ said Lucy, reading from the guidebook as we stumbled along, ‘and St Paul and St John both visited here?’

  ‘Yes we do, Lucy,’ said Simon, ‘because some of us paid attention at school.’

  ‘Oh fuck off, fathead,’ she answered, perfectly mimicking his pompous tone. ‘Some of us didn’t go to school during the Boer War. Just think, your mater and pater wasted all that money educating you in how to be a condescending prick – when you didn’t need lessons at all.’

  I sighed and wandered off on my own.
/>   Max joined me, fleeing the snipe-fest.

  ‘That’s brilliant, isn’t it, Sally?’ he asked, gazing at the reconstructed ruins. ‘This must have been awesome back in the day.’

  ‘Yeah. It’s fantastic. And it’d be even more fantastic if we could dump Dumb and Dumber back there and see it all on our own.’

  He grinned at me, and nodded. I really hoped he still visited me when Lucy was off at Liverpool. It was, to use a popular catchphrase, what Allie would have wanted.

  ‘Yeah. Let’s do it. Lucy’ll kill me later, but I’m sick of listening to the two of them. I know he’s upset her, but he’s her dad, and I wish she’d appreciate him while he’s still around.’

  I linked his arm and we headed off around the corner without Simon and Lucy, too fast for them to notice.

  The rest of the day was much nicer. We visited the House of the Virgin Mary, and the hillside homes of the ancient Ephesians. As I looked at the mosaics and friezes and the way their central heating worked, I wondered if women then had the same problems as women now. Like annoying kids and man troubles. And getting hold of an Ancient plumber to fix the Ancient heating when it broke.

  Near the end of the day, we stopped by the souvenir shop and waited for them. Lucy sat down next to us, and Simon stood in front, fanning his face with the tour guide and looking as if his head had been dipped in a pot of boiling water. His naturally fair complexion didn’t take too well to all this heat.

  ‘Your daughter,’ he said – of course, she was my daughter now – ‘is a foul-mouthed harridan. It’s got to be down to your side of the family – nobody in mine behaves like this.’

  I was saved the trouble of thinking of a suitable retort as Lucy jumped back up, bashing me on the head with her bobbing rucksack, and getting right up into his lobster-red face.

  ‘That’s because your side of the family froze in time in the frigging 1930s. All they do is eat cucumber sandwiches on the lawn and call for Jeeves to wipe their arses. How did they react to you shacking up with a nineteen-year-old prostitute, by the way?’

  ‘She wasn’t a prostitute!’ he blurted out, almost screaming with frustration. Every English-speaker within a two-mile radius turned to stare at us. I felt all the peace and calm of the last few hours drain out of me, replaced by a nerve-racking tension that made my bones shake.

  I stood up, dusted myself down, and gave Max a kiss on the cheek.

  ‘I’ve had enough of you two,’ I said to Simon and Lucy. ‘I’ll see you back on the coach later. Feel free to sit on different seats. Or entirely different vehicles.’

  I made my way through the milling crowds to the coach park, waved at the driver till he buzzed open the doors for me, and climbed on.

  I sank down into the soft back of the seat, flicking on the air-conditioning and closing my eyes. I was hot, dirty, and sick of my entire life. Everything was a mess. I wanted to move to a small island in the Outer Hebrides where my nearest neighbours were a ferry ride away. I could weave my own clothes and make friends with sheep.

  I let myself slowly relax, planning to sleep all the way home – or at least pretend to so I didn’t have to speak to anyone.

  As soon as the coach arrived back at the hotel, I shuddered awake, and looked around me. Sadly they were all there: Max snoozing gently on Lucy’s shoulder, Lucy and Simon still glaring at each other. The journey took more than two hours – they’d displayed amazing stamina.

  I wasn’t ready to face up to them again. Or to James. Or to the mess that my entire life had become. So I sneaked off the bus, shouted something vague about going to buy some apples, and legged it – all the way into the nearby village, where I found myself a nice, comfy spot in a bar, and got merrily shitfaced.

  It was almost three in the morning when they finally kicked me out. The English owners poured me into a taxi, and then probably retired to Tuscany on the night’s takings.

  It had been so long since I’d done that. On my own, away from my alleged ‘loved ones’. And I bloody well enjoyed it.

  I enjoyed it so much, in fact, that when the cabbie pulled up at the hotel and kindly helped me out (I was feeling a tad wobbly by then), I snogged him as a thank-you. A proper, full-on snog, with a middle-aged man with a handlebar moustache. What can I say? I’ve always been a generous tipper.

  I staggered towards the lobby, slightly confused as to where my room was. What I wanted to do was walk to reception and get Tarkan to help me. He was a very nice man who always stayed up late studying his university textbooks. He was also quite handsome and I thought I might snog him too. In fact, I thought I might snog every man I came across on the way back to my room. Possibly some of the women as well.

  Unfortunately, as I headed in what I thought was the right direction, a lemon tree in a huge terracotta pot appeared from nowhere and jumped right out in front of me. I tumbled over it like a blind rag doll and fell with a bang on my side. Luckily I was very drunk and very relaxed and landed as smoothly as an SAS paratrooper out on manoeuvres.

  I turned over on to my back and looked up at the stars. They were so beautiful. It was still so warm. Why would I want to move from here anyway? I didn’t want to go back to my room; it was full of Simon’s farts and fumblings and he’d have peed on the floor round the toilet again. I could spend the night here, then I’d be handily placed for breakfast. I shoved my bag behind my head as a pillow and closed my eyes.

  I was settling in for my alfresco night when cruel hands reached down, taking hold of mine and pulling me up. I flew into the sky a few inches before landing shakily back on to my feet. James. Looking very pissed off.

  I snatched my hands away from him. A bit too quickly, as it turned out. I wobbled for a good ten seconds before almost keeling over again, then leaned on him to keep myself upright.

  ‘I can do just fine without you, you know,’ I said.

  ‘Yes. I can see that,’ he replied, holding me steady. ‘Everyone’s been worried about you. Simon’s going demented, calling hospitals. Then you roll up, pissed, and snogging a stranger.’

  He stared straight ahead and shoved his hands in his pockets, like he was stowing them there to stop himself from strangling me. Mr Mad, Bad and Dangerous to Know.

  ‘Oh. You saw that. Well, you and Simon can both bugger off. I’m technically still single, thanks to you two and your roaming penises. Or penii. Whatever. I can snog whoever I like. It’s about time I did more of it. You’re not the only two men in the world. And a lot of people happen to think I’m a very attractive woman!’

  Speech safely delivered, I pulled free of James’s arm, and vomited straight into the lemon-tree pot.

  Chapter 51

  I felt like microwaved dog poo the next morning. My mouth was furry, my tongue was swollen and my stomach was churning. I rolled over, falling out of the bed and on to the ground with a thud. Ow. My knees were broken. I crawled into the bathroom, and rooted round in my toilet bag for painkillers. I chugged a couple down without water, then sat very still next to the loo, in case anything untoward happened.

  When I felt confident enough to move, I did a Bionic Man-style slow-motion walk back into the bedroom, holding on to the walls as I went. I looked in the fridge, the light stinging my eyes as I opened the door. Simon had taken the last bottle of water. Bloody typical. I needed coffee. Diet Coke. A bacon butty. And possibly a head transplant.

  I dressed very, very slowly, then splashed my face with cold water. I made my way down the steps and into the restaurant, hoping the others had already eaten and buggered off.

  James passed me by as I went, dressed in his tennis whites, giving me nothing but a frosty nod. There was a little flutter down below as I watched his rear strut proudly across to the gardens. I must still be drunk.

  Lucy was still in the restaurant, holding Ollie in a headlock, battering his skull with a rolled-up newspaper. Simon was screaming ineffectually at them to stop.

  ‘Kids! Pack it in!’ I said as I reached the table. I grabbed the newspaper
out of Lucy’s hand mid-flight and gave them both a whack with it. Lucy let Ollie go and he sat up, rubbing his head and glaring at her. Simon breathed a sigh of relief and poured me a coffee.

  ‘Lucy’s been unbearable,’ he said, straight away.

  ‘No I haven’t,’ she snapped. ‘I’ve been my usual charming self. Sitting with you two Neanderthals drove me to it, talking about Tabitha like she’s a fucking Barbie doll. I hate you both. You’d be much nicer if you had your balls amputated.’

  She turned to look at me, taking in the shaky hands and bloodshot eyes and hair that had been touched by neither comb nor man.

  ‘I believe you were a naughty little girl last night, Mother. Daddy darling was most distressed.’

  Bugger.

  I looked up apologetically at Simon, who wouldn’t meet my eyes. Lucy carried on regardless.

  ‘And as for James, he’s been walking round like someone stole his back copies of Playboy all morning. So, well done, I say.’

  Simon slammed his cup down so hard coffee spilled over the edge. We are a very messy family at mealtimes. We should have a specially reserved table coated in plastic, standing on a tarpaulin.

  ‘Simon, it was nothing,’ I said. ‘I was just drunk and acting like I was at a school disco. I’m sorry if I upset you.’

  He nodded, tersely. Lucy pretended she hadn’t noticed, but she was taking sly peeks at him from under her lashes to see how high she was scoring on the wind-up-ometer. Abruptly, she changed the subject, asking Simon if he’d bought me a birthday present. I felt my hackles rise – something bad was coming.

  ‘James’s birthday is in November, you know,’ she added, all innocence. That was true, but we’d never been around him for it. At least I hadn’t wasted money as well as time on the bastard.