The Birthday Party: The spell-binding new summer read from the Number One bestselling author

by Meaney, Roisin

  At one stage she turned on the TV. Ten minutes later she turned it off again, nothing grabbing her attention from the pathetic handful of channels available on Roone. In the kitchen she ate a leftover slice of birthday cake without appetite, and made tea but didn’t drink it, just cradled the mug and stared disconsolately into the steam.

  Twenty to nine. She rose abruptly to her feet. She couldn’t stand this. She’d go to the party and find him, and tell him she was sorry. She’d put up with the way things were – it was better than losing him, wasn’t it? Anything was better than losing him.

  She poured the tea down the sink and left the mug on the draining board. Upstairs she changed quickly into her blue dress, and did her face and pinned her hair up as best she could. Laura made it look so easy when she did it for her.

  She began to feel slightly better, more hopeful of not having made a mess of things. Laura was right: everyone rowed. It was perfectly normal. She and Andy would laugh about this tomorrow – and who knew? He might, he just might, take on board what she’d said. He might even organise a surprise farewell dinner for her last night, a table for two in the hotel. And next summer might be very different.

  She hurried downstairs. She took one of Laura’s scarves from the hallstand, a wispy grey one that she liked, and left the house. As she scurried down the road towards the hotel, she could feel her spirits rising with every step. It would be OK – of course it would. This was just their first proper row.

  She thought of telling their children about it in years to come. It was in an ice-cream van, she’d say. Your father was working there for the summer, and I was helping out. There was a big party that evening, but I was too mad to go with him. I went along later when I’d cooled down, and we made up.

  She smiled at her foolishness as she drew level with an elderly man. She glanced his way and he returned her smile – ‘Signorina’ – lifting his straw hat an inch upwards. ‘You were at dinner last night,’ she said, falling into step with him. ‘I’m Laura’s sister, Tilly.’ They hadn’t spoken much, at opposite ends of the table.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ he agreed, his smile broadening. ‘It was a very good night.’

  ‘I’m going as far as the hotel,’ she told him. ‘There’s a big party on there.’ The pace was slower than she’d have liked, but they didn’t have far to go.

  ‘Another party,’ he said. ‘You are young, you can do this. Me, one party is enough. Tomorrow I go ’ome,’ he added. ‘Today my last day in Ireland.’

  ‘I leave on Saturday, one day after you.’ She felt a small tightness in her gut at the thought of leaving.

  ‘You live … in Australia?’

  ‘Yes, but soon I’ll be moving to Ireland.’ She could tell him anything: when would they meet again? ‘My boyfriend lives here,’ she said. ‘We’re getting married next year.’

  ‘Ah – congratulation.’

  ‘Thank you. I’m going to join him now, at the party.’ They were approaching the hotel. Another minute or so and she’d see him.

  Her companion inclined his head. ‘I think you will ’ave dancing at this party,’ he said.

  ‘Oh yes, I should think so.’

  ‘And much food.’

  She laughed again. ‘Yes, probably.’ They reached the hotel gates and she put out her hand. ‘It was nice to meet you again. Have a safe trip home tomorrow.’

  They shook hands: he swept off his hat and dipped his head and shoulders. ‘Incantata, signorina. Enjoy the party.’

  She hurried up the driveway, making for the tent. People were coming and going from it; others stood about in the landscaped gardens. Music played faintly; the bunting bobbed in a light breeze. There was laughter, and darting children, and an air of general festivity. It looked like pretty much the entire island population had shown up.

  Tilly entered the tent, which was hot and noisy and crowded, and beautifully lit with what looked like millions of tiny white lights on strings that criss-crossed high above and trailed down the sides of the tent, like shooting stars. She was offered a glass of wine by a waitress who held a tray at the entrance; she accepted it and sipped.

  She wove her way through the crowd, nodding at those she recognised but too shy to stop. Wafts of perfume and aftershave merged with savoury food scents. Hotel staff in black and white moved among the gathering with food offerings. Tilly took a little tartlet and tasted cheese and herbs, and chopped olives. The wine went down easily: she found another waitress, with another tray.

  She did another round of the tent but there was no sign of Andy or any of his mates, and no Laura or her gang either: they must all be outside. She retraced her steps, fighting a dimming of her earlier optimism. What was the worst that could happen? He wasn’t going to ignore her – he’d never do that. He might be a bit cool for a while, but he’d get over it. It would be fine.

  ‘Tilly.’

  Nell and James stood at the tent entrance, their sleepy little daughter in her father’s arms. ‘I didn’t think you were coming,’ Nell said. ‘Andy told us you had a headache. You’ve just missed Laura and her lot. They left five minutes ago.’

  Tilly decided she might as well be honest. ‘Actually, Andy and I had a bit of a row and I got mad, but I’ve cooled down now.’ Her fingers felt sticky; she wished she had a napkin. She was conscious of a small and not unpleasant buzz from the hastily drunk wine. ‘Have you seen him?’

  Nell gestured towards the rear garden. ‘We were just with him. We’re about to leave too, but we’re waiting for our little man – he wasn’t keen on going home, so we said he could have five more minutes with Andy.’ She turned to James. ‘I’ll go back for him. See you at the car. Come with me, Tilly.’

  They walked past knots of people, most of whom greeted Nell and smiled at Tilly. She knew faces but few names, and maybe they were unsure of hers too. Maybe they recognised her as Andy’s Australian girlfriend, or Laura’s sister. Hard to remember someone who only showed up once a year for a few weeks.

  Further on they encountered the party host, flushed and splendid in a formal black dinner suit, with an emerald-green cummerbund and matching bow-tie. He greeted Tilly warmly, saying he was delighted to see her, but not once using her name. Another person who knew her, but didn’t really. She wished him a happy birthday: he thanked her graciously.

  ‘I hope you’re not leaving already,’ he said to Nell.

  ‘I’m afraid so, Henry – I have one very tired little girl, and a boy who needs his bed too, even if he doesn’t realise it. I’m just chasing after him now.’

  Beneath the babble of conversation Tilly heard again the music she’d caught on her arrival – and there they were, a quartet of women in black dresses and artfully arranged hair seated on wrought-iron chairs in the middle of the lawn, music stands before them, playing an assortment of stringed instruments. She wasn’t particularly into classical music, but it seemed to suit the surroundings.

  Where was Andy, though? She searched among the crowd and couldn’t see him. She was half nervous, half eager at the prospect of meeting him, and willed the hotel owner to move on.

  ‘There he is, the monkey!’ Nell exclaimed. Tilly swung around and saw Tommy, careening towards them.

  Nell caught him and swooped him up. ‘What do you say to Mr Manning for the lovely party?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You’re very welcome, young man.’

  Nell scanned the crowd. ‘Now where – oh yes, look, Andy’s over there, to the left of that couple by the gazebo.’

  Tilly looked, and finally spotted him. He stood, arms folded, in conversation with some girl, whose back was to Tilly. One of the waitresses, it looked like. Black dress, the white ties of an apron, an empty silver tray tucked underneath her arm. Red hair caught up in a tight bun.

  Red hair.

  Eve.

  In the fading light Andy’s expression was hard to fathom, but he didn’t appear to be smiling. Were they arguing? Tilly couldn’t hear them above the music.

>   And then, with a flourish, it stopped.

  And in the silence that followed, Eve said clearly, loudly, ‘I’m pregnant, and it’s yours, Andy Baker.’

  And everyone heard it.

  Eve

  NINE O’CLOCK, STILL HOURS TO GO. WHY ON EARTH had she agreed to work this evening? She should have said no when her boss had asked if she was interested. She should have seen beyond the double-time money he was offering for the shift, and said no.

  The older people weren’t the problem. They smiled and called her dear when she approached them with her tray, and thanked her when they took what she was offering. And the parents she knew from the crèche were friendly too, asking how she was enjoying the summer, treating her like just another party guest. No, the problem was the teenagers, the fifteen- and sixteen-and seventeen-year-olds who sniggered behind her back, and snatched glasses of champagne from her tray, and dared her with their eyes to stop them, and never, ever said thank you. She tried to avoid them but they kept finding her, kept ambushing her with their silent mockery.

  To add to her misery, her feet, in the only pair of heels she possessed, were killing her. She’d been in them since five, and she hadn’t sat down once. The black dress she’d been given to wear for the evening pulled uncomfortably across her front, and she’d been too embarrassed to ask for a larger size. The black tights – she hated tights – made her legs feel horribly hot, and she detested her hair tied up in a bun, but she’d had no choice.

  Before everyone arrived they’d set up trestle tables and covered them with cloths, and polished what felt like a thousand glasses. They’d folded napkins and chopped strawberries and filled jugs with lemonade and water and hung balloons and put jellies and toys into party bags while the hotel owner had flapped around like a hen on acid, and kept reminding them to smile and look happy when the guests showed up, which was the last thing Eve had felt like doing.

  Andy had arrived some time ago with Bugs and Frog and a few more, but without Tilly. Eve had kept them in her sights, and had managed to stay out of their orbit. The last thing she needed tonight was them looking pityingly at her – or worse, seeing her and pretending they hadn’t, in a clumsy attempt not to embarrass her. Eventually, to her relief, she’d spotted them leaving the tent – and then, not five minutes later, Laura and Gavin and their children had shown up, and she’d been forced to give them a wide berth too.

  She was still wondering how Laura could have guessed the truth. The memory of their last encounter, when she’d been pretty much ordered out of the B&B, made her cross – after she’d juggled her hotel shift to help them out too. Talk about gratitude.

  And what if she was wrong about Laura not revealing what she knew? Every day she waited for someone – Nell, James, Tilly – to come to the crèche and bang on the door. Mad at her, even though Andy was every bit as guilty. All the blame would attach to her. She was certain of it.

  And what of Imelda? They hadn’t met, hadn’t spoken, in three weeks. Eve was torn about her, feelings of guilt and anger churning around in her head – but she didn’t want Imelda to hear, not from Laura, not from anyone. Not until Eve was ready to tell her.

  ‘Come along, dear – there are guests waiting for food.’

  The hotel owner stood before her, pink in the face, looking pointedly at her empty tray.

  ‘Sorry,’ she muttered, moving towards the trestle tables, wincing inwardly at every step. Think of the money, she told herself.

  ‘Do a few rounds outside, would you?’ he called after her, so she loaded up her tray and left the marquee, where at least it was a bit cooler. She’d get rid of the food and then find a quiet corner where she could take her shoes off for a bit.

  She made her way through the crowds, keeping an eye out for Andy and Laura. She spotted Bugs and Frog with a couple of girls, but Andy wasn’t with them. Had he left already? And where was Tilly? Why wasn’t she here? Could the perfect couple have actually fallen out?

  He hadn’t left. A few minutes later, her tray empty again, Eve caught sight of him by the gazebo with Nell and James, and their two small children. She held back, shifting slightly so she was screened from them. James and Nell, she saw, were on the point of leaving – their little girl, in her father’s arms, was drooping with sleep – but Tommy appeared to be protesting. She saw Nell make some remark to Andy, who bent to lift Tommy into his arms. She watched the others walking off, and Andy saying something to his little brother, who shook his head vehemently.

  Tommy had been born while Eve was still with Andy. She’d loved seeing them together, seeing how gentle Andy was with his tiny new sibling. Now Tommy was four and must be due for school in September, a sturdy, quiet little boy who clearly adored his big brother. He hadn’t attended the crèche, and there was no sign of the little girl’s name on the new intake list.

  She leant against a nearby wall, tray tucked under her arm. She wriggled her toes, trying to ease the ache in the balls of her feet – how did some women wear heels all day long, every day? A man brushed by her and murmured an apology; she didn’t move. She was aware of music playing, but wasn’t interested enough to look around and find its source.

  She pushed off from the wall to walk towards them. She’d say hello to Tommy: nobody could object to that. Andy watched her thoughtfully as she approached. Remembering the day on the beach, she supposed. The last time they’d spoken, when she’d been a bit mischievous.

  ‘Hey,’ she said.

  ‘Hey yourself.’ She saw him taking in the black dress.

  ‘Are you enjoying the party?’

  ‘It’s OK. I forgot you were working here.’

  ‘Just for the summer, make a few extra bucks. Where’s Tilly tonight?’

  ‘She’s got a headache,’ he replied, which might well be the truth.

  She turned to Tommy. ‘Hello,’ she said, smiling brightly. ‘Remember me?’ She often saw him around the place, but they didn’t engage, and he showed no sign of recognition now.

  ‘I’m Eve,’ she said. ‘I was Andy’s special friend when you were a tiny baby.’

  Still nothing. She gave up on him and turned back to Andy.

  ‘Are you mad at me?’ she asked, tipping her head to one side. Keeping her tone light for Tommy, who continued to study her impassively.

  Andy gave a small smile. ‘Sometimes you can be a bit much.’

  ‘Because I brought up the party in front of Tilly? Wasn’t planned, honest. It just came out.’

  The smile was still playing on his lips. ‘I wonder,’ he said.

  ‘Anyway, I only told the truth. I was grateful to you for …’ She stopped. ‘I had a good time,’ she said, locking eyes with him. ‘Didn’t you?’

  ‘Mum!’ Tommy shouted suddenly, raising his hands. Andy turned.

  ‘Let him off,’ Eve said quickly. ‘He wants to go.’ This conversation wasn’t over. The last thing she wanted was Nell descending on them.

  He lowered his little brother to the ground, and off he scooted.

  ‘Come on, Andy,’ she said, ‘it’s me. It’s Eve.’ The music was beginning to get on her nerves: she wished she could shut it off. ‘We’re pals, remember? We have a history. Have you forgotten that?’

  He sighed. He shoved hands into pockets. ‘You were the one who put an end to it, Eve.’

  ‘I know. It was—’ She broke off, not knowing what she wanted to say.

  ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’m not trying to – I hope you didn’t get the wrong idea.’

  ‘The wrong idea?’

  ‘I just wanted to make sure you got home safely, that was all.’

  She stared at him. No, glared at him. She felt the simmering starting up again, felt her fingers tighten around her tray.

  He gave a little puzzled tilt of his head. ‘What? What’s up?’

  ‘What’s up? How can you even ask me that?’

  ‘Eve, I don’t know—’

  ‘That wasn’t all, was it? You didn’t just get me home safely, did you?’ H
er voice rising along with her anger.

  ‘What are you saying?’ His face full of frowning innocence. Letting on he hadn’t a clue. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘In case you’ve forgotten,’ she said tightly, ‘you slept with me, the night of the party. In case you decided to wipe that little detail from your memory.’

  His eyes widened. His mouth dropped open. ‘What?’

  ‘You slept with me,’ she repeated, louder. ‘I’m pregnant, and it’s yours, Andy Baker.’

  And in the dead silence that followed, she realised that, somewhere along the way, the music had stopped.

  Susan

  ‘I GOT A JOB,’ SHE SAID. ‘I STARTED TODAY.’

  ‘A job? Doing what?’

  ‘… I’m in retail.’

  Pause. ‘You mean a shop?’

  ‘Well, it’s more a department store. I’m in the china section.’

  Her mother’s sigh floated clearly into Susan’s ear. Her mother had perfected the art of the sigh while Susan was still at school. ‘So you’re a shop assistant now.’

  ‘I’m earning a salary,’ Susan said steadily. ‘The work is pleasant and the money is fine. I’m perfectly happy with it.’

  All of which was rather untrue. In due course the work might become pleasant, but today it had been somewhat of a trial, with Susan forbidden to conduct sales but commanded instead to observe Carol, her fellow worker, all eyelashes and nails and stilettos, and a good fifteen years younger than Susan.

  Three times, while Carol was busy with a sale, Susan had been approached by customers asking about specific china brands that meant nothing to her, forcing her to apologise and explain that she was new, and hover foolishly by Carol’s side, waiting to pass on the enquiry.