‘So.’ Dad puts the tray down. ‘What a to-do! Are you going to rearrange the christening?’
‘We’ll have to, I suppose.’ I nod, and look around the room. ‘When’s everyone free?’
‘The rest of January’s not great.’ Danny takes out his BlackBerry and squints at it. ‘Although January next year is totally clear,’ he adds brightly.
‘We’ve got so many shooting parties …’ Suze fishes for her tiny Smythson diary.
‘And remember our trip to the Lake District,’ Dad chimes in.
God, everyone’s so busy. In the end I get everyone to write down when they’re available in the next few months. Jess draws a grid and crosses off all the days and works it all out.
‘There are three possibles,’ she says at last. ‘The eighteenth of February, the eleventh of March or the seventh of April, which is a Friday.’
‘The seventh of April?’ I look up. ‘That’s Luke’s birthday.’
‘I never knew that,’ says Suze curiously. ‘I’ve never even known Luke to have a birthday.’
‘He’s not really into birthdays,’ I explain. ‘Every time I organize any celebration for him, he cancels it because of some work thing.’
It’s one of the things about Luke I least understand. He doesn’t get over-excited about his presents; he doesn’t drop little hints about what kind of treat he’d like; he doesn’t do a countdown on the wall calendar. One year he’d actually forgotten it was his birthday when I clattered in with a breakfast tray. How can you forget your own birthday?
I glance at the TV screen again. There he is, stepping out of the Bank of England again, his forehead furrowed even more deeply than usual. I feel a rush of fondness for him. He’s had such a shitty year, he deserves a treat. I should throw him a party. Even if he doesn’t want it. Even if he’ll try and cancel it.
And all at once the idea hits me.
‘Hey! What about if I throw Luke a surprise party?’ I look around in excitement. ‘He’ll think we’re just having Minnie’s christening, reorganized … but actually, it’s his birthday party too!’
I have a sudden vision of Luke walking into a darkened room and a whole crowd yelling ‘Happy birthday!’ And Luke’s jaw dropping, and him being absolutely speechless with surprise …
Oh God. I have to do this. I have to.
‘Good one, Bex!’ Suze’s eyes light up.
‘Awesome idea.’ Danny looks up from his texting. ‘What theme?’
‘I dunno. But something really cool. Something Luke would like.’
I’ve never thrown a surprise party before, but it can’t be that hard, can it? I mean, it’s just like a normal party except you keep it secret. Easy.
‘Becky, are you sure it’s a good time to be throwing a party?’ says Jess with a frown. ‘I mean, what if what they say is true?’ She gestures at the TV, which is still on the Bank of London story. ‘What if we’re at the beginning of a financial catastrophe?’
Trust Jess. Trust her to bring ‘financial catastrophe’ into a nice talk about a party.
‘Well, then everyone will need cheering up, won’t they?’ I say defiantly. ‘All the better.’
Jess doesn’t flicker. ‘All I’m saying is, you have to be prudent, especially at a time like this. Do you have the money to hold a party?’
Honestly. What is this, ‘Who Wants To Be A Nosy Elder Sister?’
‘Maybe I do.’ I shrug carelessly. ‘Maybe I’ve been saving up a special fund for just such an event.’
There’s silence in the room, apart from a little snort from Danny. Tom is smirking, and I glower back at him. Have I ever smirked at any of his projects? Did I smirk when he built his ridiculous two-storey summerhouse in Janice’s garden? (Well, actually, maybe I did. But that’s not the point. Summerhouses and parties are completely different.)
Worst of all, even Suze is looking a bit pained, as if she doesn’t want to laugh, but won’t be able to help it. She sees me looking at her and flushes guiltily.
‘The thing is, it doesn’t have to be an expensive party, does it?’ she says hurriedly. ‘You could throw a restrained party, Bex. A thrifty party!’
‘That’s true.’ Jess nods. ‘Tom can make home-made peach wine. It’s not bad at all. And I’m happy to cook.’
Home-made –peach wine?
‘And you could have music off an iPod …’ suggests Tom.
‘I’m in charge of the iPod,’ chips in Danny.
‘We could make paper chains …’
I’m staring at them all in horror. One tiny little bank goes bust and suddenly we’re having to act like it’s the war and make Spam fritters and stain our legs because we can’t afford stockings?
‘I don’t want to throw Luke some crappy party with homemade peach wine and an iPod!’ I exclaim. ‘I want a fabulous party! I want a marquee and a band, and caterers, and amazing lights everywhere … and entertainment! Jugglers and fire-eaters and stuff.’
‘But you can throw a nice party without fire-eaters—’ begins Suze.
‘I don’t want something “nice”,’ I say disparagingly. ‘If I throw Luke a surprise party, I want it to blow him away. I want to knock his socks off. I want him to walk in and be utterly speechless for … a whole minute. At least.’
All my friends are exchanging looks.