Gilbert's Birthday. Part four: 10th by Emma Harding

“You look really pretty, Mummy.”

    Mummy gives me a big squeeze. “Well, thank you darling,” she says. “I wanted to look nice for your birthday.” She leans back and smiles at me. “How does it feel to be ten?”

    I think about this for a bit. To be honest I don’t really feel any different to how I felt yesterday but I know that I am, somehow. “I feel very grown-up, I think.”

    Mummy laughs. “My little man,” she says. “It’s good to know I have you to look after me.”

    “Just while Daddy’s away,” I say. She stops laughing and looks at me for a long time.

    “Yes, dear,” she says after a bit. “Just while Daddy’s away.”
 
    “Tell me what he’s doing again.”

    “Oh Gilly, I’ve told you so many times.” She turns away from me.

    “But Mummy, it’s my birthday and I want to hear about Daddy.”

    Without looking at me, she says, “Ok then, just this one time and no more ok?”

    “Ok,” I say, bringing my knees up under my chin. I love this story. Mummy starts, as always, by telling me about how Daddy went off to fight in the war when I was four. I don’t remember much about him apart from his shiny black shoes and how he smelt of barley sugar. Because Daddy was so brave, Mummy says, he was recruited by the British Government to be a spy. Right now, he’s on a secret mission far away. No one except the Prime Minister knows where he is. One day though he’ll come home and everything will be different.

    “Different how, Mummy?” I ask, as I always do.

    She sighs. “We’ll live in a big house with an outhouse that doesn’t leak when it rains. I’ll have a different dress for every day of the week and you’ll have new shoes. We’ll have a roast chicken every Sunday and fresh eggs every morning …”

    “What’s roast chicken like, Mummy?” I say, but she’s still talking, her voice getting louder and faster.
   
    “… We’ll live somewhere where the neighbours aren’t all nosey buggers with nothing better to do than gossip. Somewhere where we’ll get a bit of respect. Somewhere decent. Somewhere where I wouldn’t have to …” She stops.

    “Where you wouldn’t have to what, Mummy?” She looks at me as if she’d forgotten I was there.

    “Nothing, darling. Come on now, or you’ll be late for school.”

    “Awww.” I say. I hate school. “Why do I have to go to school on my birthday? It’s not fair.”

    Mummy looks tired. “You’re right Gilly, it’s not fair. Nothing in this life is fair. The sooner you learn that the better off you’ll be. Now get yourself to school.”

****

Loud voices are coming from the kitchen when I come home. Perhaps it’s a party for me. I push open the kitchen door, excitement rising inside me like bubbles in a bottle of pop, but it’s only Mummy and Uncle Bob. I’d forgotten it was a Wednesday. Uncle Bob’s always here on a Wednesday.

    “Alright there, Gilly lad?” he says, ruffling my hair with his big rough hands. Mummy watches us, frowning. She’s wearing her housecoat now and her hair is down. She doesn’t look as pretty as she did this morning.

    “It’s my birthday today,” I tell him.

    “Is it now?” he says. “Well ain’t that somethin’? Happy birthday lad.” He looks at Mummy.

    “You’d better go now, Bob,” she says and turns away, reaching up to put the money tin on the highest shelf in the cupboard. From there, she takes out a bottle of yellowish-brown liquid and pours some into a glass.

    “Whatever you say, Aud,” Uncle Bob says, letting himself out of the back door. “You’re the boss. See you next week, Gilly.” As he crosses the yard he waves his hand at me, then pulls his cap hard onto his head, pulls his shoulders up and disappears through the gate.

    “Can I have some?” I ask, pointing at Mummy’s drink.

    She laughs. “No dear, it’s just for grown-ups. You wouldn’t like the taste.” She looks at her glass, swirling the liquid around. “Besides it’s too precious to waste - you have no idea what I had to do to get this.”

    She sounds sad. She’s about to say more but then there’s a tap-ta-ta-tap on the door and Mrs Williams from down the road steps into the kitchen.

    “Happy birthday, Gilly,” she says smiling like the cat in the Alice in Wonderland story. She hands me a small brown paper parcel, “something for your collection.” She picks up the kettle. “How about a nice cup of tea, Audrey?” she says.

    Mummy drops into a chair as if she was a ragdoll. Mrs Williams looks at me. “Why don’t you go and play in the other room, dear?” she says.

    I take my present into the front parlour. I hope it’s what I think it is. Yes! A racing car. Brilliant! In good condition too. I settle down on the rug - let’s see how fast you can go.

    Then I hear Mummy shouting. “No! I can’t tell him, Vy, he’d hate me. It’d screw him up for life.” Then she says, “I know, I know. But I’ve been lying for so long - how can I tell him now?” Then she yells even louder. “You interfering old bat! How dare you? What dirty minds you and all your cronies have. Like I’d ever do anything so, so demeaning!” There’s the sound of the door slamming shut and then it all goes quiet. I go into the kitchen. Mummy’s at the kitchen table, her head on her arms.

    “Mummy?” I say.

    “Go away, Gilly,” she says, her voice muffled.

    “But, Mummy.”

    “Now, Gilly!”

    Why is she shouting at me? I run from the room and pound up the stairs to my bedroom. Bloody Mummy. She’s always cross. I try to be good but she gets mad anyway.

    Later, she comes into my room with a glass of warm milk and some toast and dripping on a tray. She’s all dressed up again. “I’m sorry, Gilly,” she says. “I’m just worn out.” She’s got another glass of that golden drink. She kneels beside me. “What a rotten birthday you’ve had,” she says, brushing my hair out of my eyes. “Why don’t you put your pyjamas on, get into bed and I’ll read you a story.”
As I change, she picks up my milk and tips some of her drink into mine. “A grown-up drink for a grown-up little man,” she says, handing it to me.

    I take a sip. It tastes mostly of milk but there’s something else which catches on the back of my throat and makes me cough. It’s nice.

    “Tomorrow,” she says quietly as I snuggle into bed, “I’m going to tell you the truth about something. Something I should have told you a long time ago.”

    “OK, Mummy,” I say, sleepily. There’s a warm glow in my tummy. Nothing can hurt me. Mummy and I will look after each other and Daddy will be home soon.