The birthday cake finally sealed the evening.
Victoria Whitmore gently smoothed the trembling napkin beneath the vase of lilies and glanced once more at the clock. Less than an hour remained until the guests arrived, yet she could not quiet the flutter in her chest. A sixtieth birthday in a modest terraced house felt like a turning of the great wheel, and she wanted everything to be flawless.
Emily, youre almost ready? she called toward the kitchen, where the clatter of plates rose like distant bells.
Yes, Mum, just finishing the salads! her daughter replied. Youd better check on Charles; he said hed pop out for some sparkling water.
Victoria sighed, padded into the spare bedroom where her soninlaw lingered. Ten years under the same roof, and she still could not adjust to his leisurely pace. Everything for him was in a minute or right away. Now Charles sat at the computer, eyes fixed on some scrolling screen.
Charles, you promised to go to the shop, Victoria said, softening her tone but unable to hide a sting of irritation.
Right, right, Mother, Im about to step out, he answered without turning, his fingers still clicking the mouse.
The guests will be here any second now.
Ill be back, dont worry, he replied.
She left the room, grinding her teeth. The same old script played on repeat. If it werent for Emily, she would have sent Charles out the door long ago. Ten years together and still no progress. He always promised to save for their own flat, yet the finish line never appeared. At least there was a bright spot: their granddaughter, twelveyearold Rosie, the sole sparkle in Victorias later years.
Gran, is the cake coming? the girl asked, as if reading her thoughts.
It will, love. Your dad is to pick it up from the bakery.
Rosie furrowed her brow. Will he remember? He missed my swimming lesson yesterday even though he promised to give me a lift.
Victoria brushed Rosies hair aside. Dont worry, Ill remind him. Now put on that lovely dress we bought together last week.
When Rosie disappeared upstairs, Victoria returned to Charles.
Dont forget the cake. I ordered it from The Sweet Corner on High Street.
I remember, I remember, he waved off. First the sparkling water, then the cake. Everything will be perfect.
Fifteen minutes later, Charles finally stood, threw on his coat, and headed for the door.
Charles, did you take the money for the cake? Victoria called.
Isnt it already paid? he paused at the threshold.
No, I only paid a deposit. The balance is due on delivery.
Emily peered from the kitchen, towel in hand. Mum, I left my card on the table. Grab it, will you? Charles is always short on cash, she said with a guilty smile.
Charless finances were perpetually tight, but Victoria kept silent; a quarrel would sour the celebration. She pulled the appropriate amount of pounds from her purse and handed it to him.
Dont be late, and dont forget the sparkling water, she warned.
When Charles shut the door behind him, Victoria returned to arranging the dining table. Today she would host not only relatives but also former colleagues from the school where she had taught English and literature for thirtyfive years. Retired five years ago, she still cherished the respect she had earned.
Dont worry, Mum, Emily said, hugging her. Everything will be lovely.
Im not worried, Victoria lied. I just want it to be proper.
Emily nodded, eyes soft. It will be, Mum. Youre the best hostess I know.
A knock sounded. First to appear were her brother Nigel and his wife Tamara.
Congratulations, Victoria! Tamara kissed her cheeks and handed over a large gift bag. You look radiant! Sixty is the new forty!
Thank you, dears, Victoria replied, her voice trembling slightly. Come in, make yourselves at home.
Soon other guests filtered in: two former teachers, neighbour Mrs. Harper with her husband, a distant cousin from the suburbs. The flat filled with chatter, laughter, and congratulatory toasts, yet Charles was still missing.
Emily, call your husband, Victoria whispered as the guests settled around the table. Hes dragging his feet.
Emily slipped away, phone in hand, then returned with a strained smile. Hes on his way, Mum. Said there was a queue at the shop.
Victoria only shook her head. She knew those queues welllikely a deadend conversation with friends or a screen that held him captive.
Lets not wait any longer, she announced, trying to sound buoyant. Lets begin the feast!
The banquet spread before them like a painters palette: a classic potato and beet salad, jellyglazed fish, a slice of beef Wellington, pickled mushrooms, stuffed peppersevery familiar comfort.
Time drifted, and Charles remained absent. Emily ventured out a few times to call, each return bringing tighter lines to her face. Victoria watched her daughters worry and tried to distract the guests with conversation.
Do you remember the holidays we spent in Bognor? Tamara mused. Back when the union sent us seaside trips?
How could I forget! Wasnt that the year you flirted with the swimming instructor?
Shh! Tamara laughed, nudging Nigel. Hes still jealous!
Laughter bubbled, and for a moment Victorias anxiety faded. Then a muffled knock echoed through the hallway.
Finally! Emily shouted, hurrying to open the door.
From the corridor came a palefaced figure, a man clutching a large box.
Good evening, Im from The Sweet Corner. Did you order a cake? he asked.
Yes, Victoria answered, bewildered. Hasnt Charles collected it?
No, were closing soon and the cake is still here. I thought Id bring it myself since I have the address. A celebration deserves a cake.
A lump rose in Victorias throat. Where was Charles? What had become of him?
Thank you ever so much, she said, fumbling for her wallet. How much do I owe?
After settling the bill and setting the cake on the kitchen counter, Victoria turned to Emily.
Emily, wheres your husband?
I dont know, Mum, her daughter whispered, tears glistening. His phone has been silent for half an hour.
Victoria steadied herself. Go mingle with the guests; Ill sort the cake.
When Emily drifted away, Victoria sank onto a stool, the weight of a decade of Charless empty promises crushing her. She had endured his unreliability for ten years, silent for the sake of Emily and Rosie. Tonight, the final boundary was crossed.
Summoning her strength, she lifted the cakea pristine sponge masterpiece crowned with cream roses and the words Happy Birthday!and placed it on a large serving platter. At that moment, Rosie peered into the kitchen.
Gran, wheres Daddy?
I dont know, love, Victoria replied honestly. But look at this beautiful cake!
Rosies eyes lit up. May I carry it to the sittingroom?
Only if youre careful, Victoria said.
Rosie cradled the platter, her tongue poking out in concentration, and glided into the living room. Victoria followed, ready to catch the treasure if it faltered. The girl delivered the cake safely onto the table, earning delighted applause from the assembled guests.
Now, dear Victoria, the neighbours husband intoned, raising his glass, allow me to toast you on this splendid milestone and wish
A sudden slam of the front door cut him off. Charles staggered in, reeking of stale ale.
Here I am! he announced cheerily. Happy birthday to everyone!
A heavy silence settled. Victoria felt a chill as she read the look in Emilys eyespain, resignation, an unspoken verdict.
Charles, Emily whispered, where have you been?
Whats the big fuss? he shrugged, heading for the table. Met a mate, had a few pints and look, the cakes already on the table! See? I delivered!
The cake was delivered by the bakery, Victoria said, her voice icecold. Because you didnt pick it up.
Whatever, Charles flopped into an empty chair. Now Im here! Fill my glass!
The guests exchanged uneasy glances. The festive atmosphere cracked irreparably. One of the former teachers cleared his throat delicately, Tamara gathered her handbag, eyes hinting at departure.
Thank you all for coming, Victoria announced loudly, climbing from her seat. I have something important to say.
Everyone fell mute, even Charles paused his reach for the bottle.
For ten years, my daughter and soninlaw have lived under my roof, and I have never interfered in their marriage, she began, each word a labor. I have endured disrespect, unreliability, and lazinessall for Emily and Rosie. But today is my birthday, and I am making a gift to myself.
She turned toward Charles. Charles, from tomorrow you are no longer welcome here. You have twentyfour hours to collect your things and find another place.
What? he sputtered. You have no right!
I do, Victoria replied calmly. This is my home, and I decide who stays.
Emily! Charles shouted, turning to his wife. Say something to your mother!
Emily lowered her gaze, her fingers whiteknuckled around the napkin.
Mum, she whispered finally, are you sure?
Absolutely, Victoria affirmed. Its decided.
Off with you all! Charles banged his fist on the table, making the china tinkle. Ill leave, my foot wont tread this floor again!
He rose, nearly toppling his chair, and shuffled toward the door. Something crashed in the hallway, then the front door slammed shut.
Silence held until little Rosie piped up, Can I have a slice of cake now?
Everyone laughed nervously, the tension easing a fraction. Victoria began to slice the cake, hiding the tremor in her hands. She didnt know if she had done the right thing, but felt there was no other way. This birthday cake truly marked the end of an era with her soninlaw.
Gradually the guests drifted away, understanding the night was over. Soon only Victoria, Emily, and Rosie remained in the flat.
Mum, Emily said, leaning close, I need to tell you something
No need to say anything, dear. I understand everything.
You dont, Emily shook her head. Ive wanted a divorce for ages but feared youd oppose it. What would you sayjust endure, as you always have, for the sake of the child
Victoria embraced her. Silly girl. I see your pain. Rosie sees it too. She needs a happy mother, not a pretend family.
But what now? Emily whispered, clinging as she once did in childhood.
Now everything will be fine, Victoria assured. Well manage together.
By nightfall Charles returned, sober and withdrawn. He packed his belongings in silence, casting pleading glances at Emily. She was unmoved; a decade of broken promises had hardened her heart.
Could you at least give me the TV? he muttered, zipping his suitcase. I bought it.
On my account, Emily replied evenly. Just go, Charles. Just go.
When the door closed behind him, Victoria wrapped her arms around Emilys shoulders.
You know, Ive saved a little, she said. Enough for a deposit on a flat for you and Rosie. The rest you can mortgage; youre now head of a department, the bank will approve.
Emilys eyes widened. Are you serious? I thought wed keep living together
Well stay until you have your own place, Victoria smiled. Then Ill visit and help with Rosie, whenever you need. Maybe even with someone else
Mum!
Its never too late, at thirtyfive, to think of a brother or sister for Rosie. Just choose a partner wisely this time.
Emily laughed through tears. Youre impossible!
I just want you both happy, Victoria said earnestly. And you know, this birthday turned out better than I imagined because it opened a new chapter.
They stood in the kitchen, hugged, while outside the sun set on the old life. On the table, the untouched birthday cake with its cream roses and bold lettering stared like a mute witness to the change.
Six months later Emily and Rosie moved into a cosy twobedroom flat in a new development. Victoria visited often, helping with repairs and offering décor tips. A year after that, a new neighbour, Sergei Ivanov, a physics teacher from her former school, knocked on her door with a bouquet of daisies and theatre tickets.
Folks say you love Chekhov, he said shyly. The theatre is showing The Cherry Orchard tonight
Victoria smiled, inviting him in. Come in, Sergei. I was just about to have tea with my cake. Join us.
