Mini Shopaholic

As we head up the long avenue of trees I can see all the guests peering curiously out of the coach windows and I furiously make a finger-to-lips gesture. Not that Luke would guess, probably. He’s only been to Suze’s new house once.

I say ‘house’. What I mean is, ‘stately home with parkland’.

It was such a last-minute decision to come here. We’d planned to hire a venue, and Elinor was poised to bribe some other event to move (she’s totally ruthless, like a trained assassin), when Suze suddenly said, ‘Wait! What about Letherby Hall?’

I think sometimes Suze actually forgets how many houses she and Tarquin possess. She certainly had no idea how many bedrooms it’s got.

Anyway. Once we’d made that decision, everything fell into place. Or at least, was shoved very quickly into place. And it’s the perfect, dreamiest, most romantic setting for a party. I can hear people oohing and aahing behind me as they catch sight of the house, with its two grand wings and central dome and Doric pilasters all over the place. (I know they’re Doric pilasters because Tarkie told me. In fact, I’m quite hoping someone asks me about them.)

There’s a breeze in the air as we all pile out of the coaches and crunch forward over the gravel. The front entrance is open and lit up and I usher everyone in silently, still guiding Luke. We cross the ancient stone floor and soon we’re all assembled, standing in front of the grand double doors to the Great Hall.

I can hear the whispers and giggles and ‘sssh!’s going on behind me. I can feel the anticipation now. I almost feel frightened. This is it. This is the moment.

‘OK.’ My voice shakes a little as I untie his blindfold. ‘Luke … happy birthday.’

As I open the double doors, the gasp behind Luke is like hearing the rush of water. But I’m only looking at his face. It’s ashen.

If I wanted blown away and speechless … then I’ve got it.

He takes a step forward, wonderingly. Then another … then another.

The whole of the Great Hall has been transformed into the stage of that vintage toy theatre he bought for Minnie; the toy theatre of his childhood. All the Midsummer Night’s Dream sets have been painstakingly reproduced. There are the same bushes and trees and castle spires, there’s a brook and moss. Little tables and chairs are nestled amongst the foliage. A band is playing low, magical music. Set here and there in the trees, like big flowers, are more of my pom-poms. I can’t help feeling proud. They do look good.

‘This is …’ Luke swallows hard. ‘It’s exactly the same as …’

‘I know.’ I grip his hand tight.

This was always my idea. But I could never have done it as spectacularly as this if it weren’t for Elinor.

‘Daddeeeee!’ Minnie comes running out from behind a tree, dressed in the most beautiful, gossamer fairy dress with wings that Danny made for her. ‘Happy! Happy Daddy!’

‘Minnie!’ Luke looks overwhelmed as he scoops her up. ‘Where did you … How did you … Suze! Jane! Graham! Danny!’ He’s turning his head in bewilderment as they all pop out from their hiding places.

‘Happy birthday!’

‘Surprise!’

‘Say something, Luke, love! Give us a little speech!’ I can’t believe Mum’s pointing a camcorder at Luke’s face. She knows we’ve hired a professional cameraman.

‘Bonnie?’ Luke looks even more shellshocked as Bonnie emerges from behind the waterfall in a spectacular aquamarine dress, an abashed smile on her face. ‘Please don’t tell me you were in on all of this.’

‘Just a little.’

‘This is just … unreal.’ He shakes his head and looks around the magical room again. ‘Who else knows it’s my birthday?’

‘Who else? Um …’ I meet Bonnie’s eyes and want to laugh. ‘Quite a few people. Most of the City.’

‘The readership of the Daily World,’ adds Bonnie. ‘And the Standard City Diary, and the Mail just ran a little piece.’

‘You’ve got messages from three members of the Royal Family,’ puts in Suze brightly.

‘Don’t forget YouTube!’ puts in Dad. ‘Hundred thousand hits at the latest count!’

Luke looks as though we all must have gone mad. ‘You’re joking,’ he says and we all shake our heads.

‘Wait till you see the tributes!’ says Mum. ‘And you’ve got your own Happy Birthday website!’

‘But … this is crazy.’ Luke puts a hand to his head. ‘I never celebrate my birthday. Who on earth …’ ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">