The Birthday Weekend - Lesley Sanderson Page 0,1

safe topics, nothing of consequence, as we all avoided the subject that was really bothering us. Daisy and Kat made their excuses before we’d even got around to coffee. Undeterred, Amy suggested we make it an annual reunion, but somehow it never happened: one of us was always busy, another away, so many excuses on offer.

Amy is like a spider at the centre of her web, keeping us all linked together, although the threads have loosened and split over the years. She keeps us updated with each other’s news, so we’re kind of in the loop together. Five years ago, Kat moved to London, so the two of us have seen each other quite a lot lately, recent events bringing us closer together.

My voice falters on Daisy’s name, a bubble of complicated feelings rising inside me. We’ve had more contact over the last couple of years, since Amy’s diagnosis, but a blush comes to my cheeks whenever I recall the last time we saw each other, well over a year ago now. Loyalty in friendship is a trait I pride myself on; any knots in my relationships have to be unpicked, no matter how long it takes. Daisy’s knot is proving hard to unravel, but she, out of the four of us, should know how loyal I can be.

It’s obvious what Amy is doing. Her illness has caused her to re-evaluate everything in her life, and one thing she hates more than anything is disharmony. She knows me too well – springing this invitation on me without forewarning means I’ll have to attend. Not to do so would be betraying my best friend. To think I almost lost her this year. I swallow that unpleasant thought away, give myself a shake and turn back to the invitation.

You are invited to a fun weekend to celebrate Amy Barnes’s thirty-fifth birthday and her recent inheritance

Venue: Thistle Cottage, Blackwood Lane, Bucks.

Date: Thursday 18–Sunday 21 April

Partners invited overnight on Saturday for The Birthday evening!

A link to a map indicates the location of the cottage, which strikes me as a bit unnecessary, given that we shared a hall of residence situated further along Blackwood Lane, backing onto the edge of the forest. Blackwood Forest. As if we could ever forget that name. An involuntary shudder catches me unawares, as it does whenever the forest comes to mind, and I’m relieved when I hear Theo’s key in the door and the thud of his bag as he drops it on the hall floor and appears in the doorway.

‘Hi,’ he says as I move to greet him. ‘I won’t get too close; I worked up a bit of a sweat walking home.’

‘I can tell.’ I sit back down, wrinkling my nose in exaggeration to hide my disappointment. It’s only a small thing, but he always used to kiss me when he came in. But that was before. We’ll make this work. His face glows with a healthy sheen, one of the benefits of being able to train outdoors. He’s wearing Nike pants and sweatshirt, his sweaty kit left in his gym bag ready for the wash.

Theo is the most fastidious man I have ever met, and I’d bet he’s the cleanest personal trainer around. Another good reason for us to stay together. I can’t get out of the habit of listing the pros and cons of our relationship since the week we spent apart to decide our future. For me, the pros outnumber the cons. For him, I’m still not convinced, despite his assurances.

‘Good day?’

‘Yeah, it was, actually. Two new clients, both referrals from other clients. One wants twice-weekly meetings, the other has booked a trial session, so happy days. How about you?’

‘Nothing out of the ordinary. Did a bit of lesson planning after school, then went straight to netball.’

‘How many goals this time?’

‘Three, but it was only a practice game. Our next proper match isn’t for a while.’ I close the laptop and stretch out my arms. ‘I’ve put a lasagne in the oven.’

‘Great, I’m starving. I’ll just have a quick shower.’

‘OK. Oh, and I’ve heard from Amy, she’s finally organised her birthday do. I’ll tell you over dinner.’

I prepare a salad and serve up the lasagne along with two glasses of sparkling water. Theo is the first partner I’ve had who doesn’t drink, and since our decision to start a family, it’s having a good effect on me. I can’t remember the last time I opened a bottle of wine at home. The boiler whooshes