“Muuuuum,” he bellows. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping if I can’t see him, I won’t be able to hear him, either. It doesn’t work.
“Please don’t shout, Marls, and did you just kiss me, right on the lips?”
“Fuck off, Porge, you must’ve banged your head. You’re hallucinating babe. Muuum, I think George needs to go to the hospital.”
Mum, Dad and Jimmie come rushing through the archway of my parents’ front room, just as I force my eyes back open.
“Where did you lot all come from?” I ask, totally confused. How long have I been out for? My mum comes and kneels next to Marley, taking my hands in hers.
“You fainted, George. Your dad carried you in here just as Marley pulled up. We only just laid you down and were gonna call for the doctor when Jimmie arrived and you woke up. You’ve only been out a few minutes.”
I look at each of their worried faces. “Did someone kiss me? While I was out, did someone kiss me, right on my mouth?”
“Told ya, she must’ve banged her head. She needs to go to the hospital,” Doctor Marley repeats his diagnosis.
“Shut up, Marley.” My mum slaps his arm as she speaks.
“You didn’t hit your head, George. You barely went out. You started to go and I caught you then Dad was there and carried you in here. You weren’t out long at all and nobody kissed you, babe.”
My hand unconsciously moves to my lips and I brush over them with my fingertips as I look at Marley again. “Don’t fuckin’ look at me like that; I ain’t some fuckin’ weirdo who kisses his sister when she’s out cold.”
“That’s debatable,” Jimmie says from where she’s standing behind him. I smile as I look up at her.
“Fuck off, Jim,” Marley says as he stands up.
“Language, Marley Layton,” my mum reprimands him.
“Ha, rock star, you got told,” Jimmie jokes with him. He flips his middle finger at her, behind my mum’s back, of course, and I grin at the pair of them and shake my head. My big brother the Rock God really gets put in his place around here.
My dad passes me a glass of water and kisses the top of my head.
“Happy birthday, princess.” I smile up at him.
“Thank you, Daddy.” I take a sip of my water and sit up. My head feels fuzzy, but at least the pounding has stopped.
I spend the next few minutes being wished a happy birthday while my mum makes a cup of tea. Jim’s sitting on the sofa next to me and Marley is back in the arm chair. Jimmie takes my hand.
“What happened, babe?” I raise my eyebrows and shake my head.
“It was just the flowers. Did you see them? It’s the exact bouquet Sean always sent, the same flowers, the same colour, the same piece of lace tied around them.” I shake my head as I realise I still don’t know who they’re from.
My mum comes in carrying a tray full of cups of tea, my dad behind her with a plateful of bacon rolls. They are a proper little team nowadays, since my dad doesn’t work anymore. Well, he sometimes goes to meetings, but he is home most days; he plays golf a lot and he goes shooting. Other than that, he and my mum are inseparable, and it gives me a nice, warm feeling inside.
Marley reaches for a roll before my dad sets the plate and side plates down on the coffee table. My mum swipes his arm away and slaps him again as she glares at him. “Manners, Marley; you weren’t raised to be rude.”
Marley stands with his hands on his hips and opens and closes his mouth a few times before saying, “I’m not five. Will you stop slapping me and telling me what do?” My dad turns his head slightly and gives him ‘the look’; the look that would instil fear into the hardest of men, the look that has had my brothers and me knowing we had best be quiet now, for most of our lives.
“Sorry,” Marley mumbles and slumps back down in the armchair. I can’t help but giggle.
“What’s that noise, did you all hear that?” Everyone looks at my brother as if he’s gone mad.
“What noise?” Mum asks as she puts bacon rolls on side plates and passes them around to each of us.
“Don’t matter, it’s stopped now.” He winks at me.
We all sit, eat, and drink our tea, chatting about nothing in particular. After answering four phone calls on his shitty phone, Marley eventually heads off, telling me he will see me here for dinner tonight. My dad goes off to play golf, with a promise he won’t be late home, and I go for a shower and pull on some non-coffee-stained clothes. My mum booked us in for a pamper day at a spa somewhere so I make myself look presentable. As I come back into the kitchen, she’s putting my flowers into a vase while she chats to Jimmie. “Was there a card with them?” I ask her.
“No, just the letter. Are you going to read it?” I pick it up from the kitchen bench top just as Ash comes through the front door with Sam. “Happy birthday, slag bag.” Ash pulls me in for birthday cuddles as I hear my mother gasp at her greeting.
“Thanks, slutster; you look good.” She lets go as Sam takes her place.
“Happy birthday, George.”