Queenie Read online

  ‘No, this is Birthday Land – no one gets hurts. Hey, guess what? All my little people have stopped singing now. They’re rushing helter-skelter through the trees. Where are they going? We have to follow . . .We run behind them, crying, “Wait for us!” and then glimpse a beautiful garden with roses.’

  ‘Pink roses?’ said Martin.

  ‘No, these are all different colours of the rainbow – red and yellow, but also bright emerald-green roses, and deep purple ones, and roses as blue as the sky. But never mind the roses – in the middle of the garden there’s a long table spread with the most wonderful party food. There are great wobbly jellies and enormous blancmanges – pink blancmanges because they’re raspberry flavour – and there are trifles with cream and cherries on the top, and ice cream all different flavours – vanilla and strawberry and chocolate – and there are cakes too – big fat sponges with cream and jam, and chocolate cake with chocolate buttercream – and lemon meringue pie with the meringue whipped into peaks, and fruit tarts – peach and cherry, with little rosettes of cream . . .And wait till you see the birthday cake right in the centre! It’s huge, like a fairy castle covered in snow – that’s the icing – and there are windows and doors made of marzipan, and little tiny sweetie figures too, and they’re us – me and Gillian and Martin and Angus and Michael and Rita and Maureen and Babette. We pop them in our mouths, and they’re like the best fruit gums you’ve ever tasted.’

  ‘Does the birthday cake have candles?’ asked Gillian, as absorbed as the others.

  ‘Yes, the top of the icing castle roof has all these ridgy things, up and down—’

  ‘Battlements!’ said Martin.

  ‘Yes, that’s it, and there are candles all along the battlements, and we line up together and the little people sing us the birthday song, and when it’s over they go “Blow! Blow out your candles!” in their little high-pitched voices, and so we all blow.’

  They all blew obediently.

  ‘And now we have to cut the cake and make a birthday wish!’ I said.

  ‘Oh please, let me do it and get the wish,’ said Rita.

  ‘One of the little people has one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight silver knives on a polished silver platter. One for each of us. The cake’s enormous, so we all line up, and when another little man blows on a silver flute, we cut the cake together,’ I said triumphantly. ‘Then we all have a wish.’

  ‘Oh, oh – what do we wish for?’ said Rita.

  ‘You wish privately or it doesn’t come true,’ I said. ‘Shut your eyes and wish.’

  I closed my eyes and wished so hard I thought I might burst.

  I wish Nan would get better and I wish I could get better and we could live together again!

  I wanted to keep on wishing it, over and over, but the others started clamouring to know what was going to happen next.

  ‘We eat all the birthday tea, you sillies,’ I said. ‘We gorge ourselves on jelly and blancmange and trifle and ice cream and every kind of cake.’ We were eating for England, though we’d all had our Spam sandwiches and tinned mandarins for hospital supper.

  It didn’t stop us playing party games. I let each child choose a game to keep them interested. Martin chose Murder in the Dark and insisted on being the murderer each time. Gillian played Kiss Chase and insisted that Bill Haley was playing too. Rita dithered because I insisted she choose a game of her own, and eventually said she wanted to play skipping. It wasn’t a proper party game, but I let her have her way and gave an extra length of rope to Martin – ‘To practise your lassoing – don’t you go round hanging anyone,’ I said sternly.

  Angus chose Musical Bumps, and we all leaped up and down to the music. Michael opted for Hunt the Thimble and we let him find the thimble every single time. Babette and Maureen conferred and chose Squeak Piggy Squeak and then gave continuous little piggy squeaks in between fits of giggles.

  ‘Shut up, you lot. You’re being daft,’ said Gillian. ‘What game are you going to play, Elsie?’

  ‘I think I shall play Pass the Parcel,’ I said. ‘Oh my goodness, the little people are bringing us the parcel, and it’s huge. When we form a circle and the music starts, we have to roll it round the ring.’

  ‘That’s not right for Pass the Parcel. We played it at my last party and Mummy gave us just a little parcel,’ said Rita.

  ‘Yes, and what did you do with it?’ I asked.

  ‘Well, we unwrapped it. First there was brown paper, and then newspaper, and then wrapping paper, and eventually we got right down to this tiny little pink plastic doll. It was my party, so I should have got it, but this other girl snatched the parcel off of me and she got the doll, and when Mummy went back to Woolworths to get me another one, they’d sold out,’ said Rita.

  ‘Do shut up, Rita, or I’ll lasso you and tie you to a tree,’ said Martin. His arms were attached to his brace in such a way that he couldn’t move them freely, but he made swishing noises with his tongue.

  ‘Yes, shush, Rita. You’ll see why I need such a big parcel. Come on – we’re rolling it round while the little people tootle and drum, and then they all stop. It’s your turn to unwrap it, Martin – quick, scrabble with the paper, tear off the string. Whoops, what’s this falling out? It’s a present!’

  ‘You don’t get the present already,’ said Rita.

  ‘In my version you do – that’s why the parcel’s so big. It’s got lots and lots of presents – and Martin finds a gun. A toy gun with caps.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Martin. ‘And I seize it and shoot at everyone – bang bang bang, and my caps go pop pop pop and make that lovely fireworks smell.’

  ‘And now the band starts up and we roll the parcel round again, and now it’s . . .Maureen who has the parcel when the music stops. Tear at the paper, Maureen. I’ll help you because your hands aren’t very strong. Oh, your present’s quite big!’

  ‘Is it a big gun? I don’t really like guns,’ Maureen said anxiously. ‘I don’t like it when they go bang.’

  ‘No, it’s not a gun – it’s far too big and bulky for a gun. It’s like a big solid rectangle, but there are lots of funny round things chinking inside the parcel too.’

  ‘What is it? What is it?’ Maureen squealed.

  ‘It’s a toy stove, with a little door that really opens and a dish you can put inside, and there’s a whole set of silver saucepans, and all sorts of other cooking things, even a little wooden rolling pin, so you can make lots of dinners for all your dollies.’

  ‘Oh, how lovely. I’ve wanted one of them for ages,’ said Maureen.

  ‘Now, let’s get the parcel rolling again. It’s a little bit lighter now – and hey, the music stops already. You’ve got the parcel now, Babette. Unwrap it quick before the music starts again,’ I said.

  ‘Do I have a present too? Is it a cooking stove like Maureen’s?’ Babette asked.

  ‘Well, take a look, silly. Off with the paper . . .Here, I’ll help – and what’s this tumbling out? I don’t think it can be a cooking stove, it’s too small and soft. Pull the paper away. What’s that? It’s an ear – a long blue ear, and there’s another one! It’s a bunny, Babette. A blue toy bunny with a pink nose, and he’s got a dark blue knitted jumper and bright red trousers with a little hole at the back for his fluffy tail to poke through. Do you like him?’

  ‘Yes, I absolutely love him. I’ll call him Bobs Bunny and give him carrots to eat.’

  ‘Maureen can cook the carrots for him on her stove,’ I said. ‘Oh, the music’s starting! Pass the parcel quick! It’s still pretty bulky, but roll it round carefully – we don’t want to break anything.’

  ‘Is it my turn now?’ asked Rita. ‘The music’s stopped and I’ve got the parcel—’

  ‘No, they’re still playing – can’t you hear them?’ I said firmly. ‘You mustn’t cheat, Rita. Pass the parcel to Gillian – OK, now it’s stopped!’

  ‘I’m a bit old for toys,’ said Gillian.

  ‘I don’t think this is a toy.