“There you are.” He puts his arms round me and kisses me, pulling me under the stairs, which we’ve discovered is quite a convenient hiding place. “Mmm. I’ve missed you.”
“Nathaniel—” I protest, but his grip around me only gets tighter. After a few moments I manage to wriggle free.
“Nathaniel, I’ve got pastry to make. I’m already behind schedule, and apparently I’ve got to serve drinks to some people—”
“Wait.” Nathaniel tugs me back, glancing at his watch. “One more minute. Then we can go.”
I peer at him uncertainly.
“Nathaniel, what are you talking about?”
“Samantha …” He shakes his head in amusement. “Did you really think you could fool us? Sweetheart, your secret’s out. We know.”
I feel a plunging dread. They know? What do they know?
“What exactly—” I begin, but Nathaniel puts a finger to my lips.
“No, no, no. You’re going to get your surprise.”
“Surprise?” I falter.
“Now come out. They’re waiting for you. Close your eyes …” He puts one arm around my waist and the other hand over my eyes. “Come this way … I’ll lead you.…”
As I walk forward in darkness, guided only by Nathaniel’s arm, I feel almost sick with fear. My mind is ranging wildly about, trying to work out what might have been going on behind my back. Who’s waiting for me out there?
Please, please, don’t say they’ve tried to fix my life up. Please don’t say they’ve arranged some kind of reunion. I have a sudden image of Ketterman standing on the lawn, his steel glasses glinting in the sunlight. Or Arnold. Or my mother.
“Here she is!” Nathaniel guides me out of the French doors and down the steps into the garden. I can feel sun on my face and hear some kind of flapping sound and … jazz? “All right! Open your eyes!”
I can’t open my eyes. Whatever it is, I don’t want to know.
“It’s OK!” Nathaniel’s laughing. “No one’s going to eat you! Open them!”
I open my eyes and blink several times, wondering if I’m dreaming.
What … what’s going on?
An enormous banner reading happy birthday, samantha! is tied between two trees. That’s what’s making the flapping noise. The garden table is laid with a white tablecloth, a bouquet of flowers, several bottles of champagne, and a bowl of strawberries. A bunch of shiny helium balloons reading Samantha is tethered to a chair. Eddie and Trish are standing on the grass, together with Iris, Eamonn, and Melissa—and they’re all beaming at me, apart from Melissa, who’s pouting.
I feel as though I’ve lurched into some parallel universe.
“Surprise!” they all cry out in unison. “Happy birthday!”
I open my mouth but no sound comes out. I’m too poleaxed to speak. Why do the Geigers think it’s my birthday?
“Look at her,” says Trish. “She’s stunned! Aren’t you, Samantha?”
“Um … yes,” I stutter.
“She had no idea,” confirms Nathaniel with a grin.
“Happy birthday, sweetie.” Iris comes over, clasps me tightly, and gives me a kiss.
“Eddie, open the champagne!” I can hear Trish exclaiming impatiently behind me. “Come on!”
What do I do? What do I say? How do you break it to the people who have organized your surprise birthday party that actually … it’s not your birthday?
Why would they think it’s my birthday? Did I give them some made-up date of birth at the interview? But I don’t remember doing that—
“Champagne for the birthday girl!” Eddie pops open a bottle and the champagne froths into a glass.
“Many happy returns!” Eamonn proffers the bowl of strawberries. “Ah, you should have seen your face just now!”
“Priceless!” agrees Trish. “Now, let’s have a toast!”
I can’t let this go on any longer.
“Um … Mr. and Mrs. Geiger … everyone … this is lovely, and I’m really touched.” I swallow hard, screwing myself up to say it. “But … it’s not my birthday.”
Everyone bursts into laughter.
“I told you this would happen!” Trish says in delight. “She said you’d deny it!”
“It’s not that bad, getting a year older,” teases Nathaniel. “Now, face it, we know. So have your champagne and enjoy yourself.”
I’m totally confused. “Who said I’d deny it?”