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  We had a private snigger. There was a present from Auntie Avril, the first Mrs Cookson. She always liked Mum because she thought she’d taken Dad away from the second Mrs Cookson, Auntie Alysha. Auntie Avril hated Auntie Alysha. They couldn’t even be in the same room together without starting a screaming match, but Auntie Avril and Mum were quite matey.

  Auntie Avril sent very good birthday presents. This time she’d given me a large tin of fifty felt-tip pens, special Swiss ones with fine points, all the colours of the rainbow. Dad frowned when he saw them.

  ‘You watch what you’re doing with them crayons,’ he said, but mercifully he didn’t confiscate them.

  The present that made me smile the most was one wrapped in blue paper with a white rabbit pattern. The label was carefully printed TO BEAUTY, LOVE FROM SAM AND LILY.

  ‘Oh my goodness!’ said Mum. ‘Fancy Sam and Lily knowing it’s your birthday!’

  ‘Who on earth are Sam and Lily?’ said Dad.

  ‘They’re special friends of Beauty’s,’ said Mum.

  Mum was my special friend. I knew her writing, even though she’d tried to disguise it. I ripped off the paper – and there was a DVD compilation of all the best Rabbit Hutch shows.

  ‘Oh how lovely,’ I said.

  ‘Looks very babyish to me,’ said Dad, glancing at it. He stood up, patting me on the head. ‘Glad your birthday’s got off to a good start, Beauty. What’s your favourite present, eh?’

  I didn’t have any choice.

  ‘The toy rabbit,’ I said.

  Dad chuckled triumphantly, rolling his eyes. He looked alarmingly like the rabbit himself.

  ‘Now, girls, I’ve just got to dash to the office to meet up with this guy who’s going to sort everything out for me.’

  ‘But it’s Beauty’s birthday, Gerry! The children are coming at twelve!’

  ‘Don’t worry, don’t worry, I’ll be back long before then, fusspot. You two girls get the living room in spit-spot shape. The caterers are arriving at eleven. OK, my darlings. Ready to show off our Happy Home?’

  Dad went off whistling his silly song. Mum and I rushed round dusting and vacuuming. The house already seemed spotless but Dad winced at the tiniest scuff or smear. When it was all utterly perfect Mum sent me off to sit on her bed and watch Sam and Lily on her DVD player.

  ‘While you’re watching could you bear to write some labels for me?’ said Mum. ‘You made such a lovely job of the party invitations. It would be great if you’d write this out for me, eighteen times over.’

  She put the message in front of me, scribbled on her shopping-list pad:

  ‘Is that OK?’ she asked anxiously.

  I wasn’t going to tell her but she saw my eyes flicker. ‘What is it? Have I got it wrong?’

  ‘I think “here’s” is maybe spelled differently, Mum,’ I said gently.

  ‘Oh lordy! Good job you’re my little brainbox. Spell it properly for me then, sweetie, while I go and sort out all the cookies.’

  I wrote out the eighteen labels with Auntie Avril’s felt-tip pens while Sam and Lily chatted to me. They kept getting distracted from each little programme to wish me a happy birthday. Sam even sang the birthday song for me, making Lily’s ears sway in time to the music.

  ‘Are you having a lovely birthday, Beauty?’ Sam asked.

  ‘I think so,’ I said. ‘I’m scared it’ll all go wrong when all the girls come. You know how they all tease me. It would be OK if Skye and Arabella and Emily weren’t coming. Do you think they’ll laugh at my new party dress? It’s not a bit like the sort of stuff they wear.’

  ‘It’s much much nicer,’ said Sam. ‘We think you look stunning in your dress and pinafore and special boots. Your mum’s chosen a wonderful outfit for you. We’re not so sure about your dad’s present though. You’re a bit frightened of that great big pink rabbit, aren’t you, Lily?’

  Lily snuffled, nodding her head.

  ‘I was frightened just at first,’ I said. ‘It’s hideous, isn’t it?’

  We have a private chuckle together and then Sam and Lily went through their paces for their ten programmes, pottering in the garden, clearing out the rabbit hutch, coping with a cold, smelling the spring flowers, getting wet in the rain. I especially loved that episode because Sam made Lily her own little sou’wester to keep her ears dry.

  I finished off the labels and ran down to give them to Mum. She had eighteen special transparent gift bags lined up on the kitchen table. I stuck a label on each one and then Mum brought out four huge tins.

  ‘These are the oatmeal-and-raisin cookies,’ said Mum, pointing. ‘And these are the plain, but I’ve iced them with lemon frosting and stuck those little silver balls on top so they look quite pretty, don’t they? Then these are cherry cookies and these are chocolate chip.’

  ‘You’re so clever, Mum! They look wonderful.’

  ‘They do, don’t they!’ Mum agreed happily. ‘We’ll give each girl three of each kind, OK? You get filling and I’ll tie the tops with ribbon.’

  Mum had brought beautiful thin satin ribbon, all different colours. When each bag was neatly tied up Mum washed her hands and then tied one lock of my hair into a tiny plait and secured it with the last of the green ribbon.

  ‘There, it matches your eyes!’ said Mum. ‘You’d better go and get into your party finery now, the caterers will be here any minute.’

  I went upstairs and put on my grey dress and pinafore and my lovely boots. I looked at myself in the Venetian glass and then I went to check in the long mirror in Mum’s bedroom. Sam and Lily were still talking on the television. They stopped and looked at me.

  ‘Oh, Beauty, you look lovely!’ said Sam, and Lily’s eyes shone as she stared at me.

  I blew them both a big kiss and then switched them off. I imagined them snuggled up together asleep in the dark of the Rabbit Hutch, waiting until I wanted to wake them up again.

  Mum came running in to change into her party outfit – a cream dress that showed off a lot of her own creamy skin. Mum squinted sideways at herself in the mirror.

  ‘Do you think I ought to wear a little camisole under this dress, sweetie?’ she asked.

  I lowered my voice, doing my best gruff Dad imitation. ‘If you’ve got it, babe, flaunt it,’ I said.

  Mum cracked up laughing. ‘You are a card, Beauty.’ She cupped my face with her hands. ‘You’re going to have the happiest birthday ever, just you wait and see.’

  The caterers arrived and started setting up the buffet on the dining-room table. Mum and I hovered, worried about getting in the way, but when they put the extraordinary profiterole tower in pride of place in the middle of the table Mum spoke up.

  ‘Can we leave room for a plate of my home-made cookies, please?’ she said.

  She’d arranged all the left-over cookies from the tins on her best green-leaf plate. She laid them in circles, lemon iced cookies in the middle, then the cherry, then the chocolate chip, with the darker oatmeal round the edge. They looked like a beautiful biscuit flower. To make the plate even prettier Mum had scattered little white and purple freesia heads across the cookies.

  ‘They look lovely, madam,’ said the head caterer – and Mum flushed with pride.

  Then we heard the front door bang and Dad came stomping into the dining room. He didn’t pause to take off his shoes. It was immediately obvious he was furious about something. Mum took my hand and squeezed it.

  ‘Hello, Gerry, darling,’ she said. ‘Look, doesn’t Beauty’s birthday buffet look wonderful?’

  Dad barely glanced at it. He nodded curtly at the caterers, stretching his mouth into a grimace.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Mum murmured. ‘Is the super-stretch limo still coming? The theatre has reserved the seats?’

  ‘Oh, everything’s fine and hunky-dory for Beauty’s birthday,’ said Dad, ruffling my hair and pulling my ribbon out of place. ‘I’ve fixed that all right. I’m just stuffed when it comes to the Water Meadows development.’

&nbs