“We werent expecting you,” said the daughter, opening the door on my birthday.
“Why do you always pry into my life?” Marinas voice was sharp with indignation. “Im thirty-seven, Mum, a grown woman!”
“Am I prying?” Nina spread her hands helplessly. “I just asked why you and Tim split up. Im your motherits my job to worry!”
“Exactlyyoure my mother, not a detective,” Marina turned to the window. “I have my own life. And my own reasons for my choices.”
Nina sighed, carefully folding the half-finished scarf into her bag. Another strained conversation with her daughter. It was like a wall between them, growing taller every year.
“Alright, I wont ask again,” she said, conciliatory. “I just thought you two got on so well…”
“Mum!” Marina spun around. “Lets drop it, okay? Dont ruin our first family dinner in a month.”
Nina nodded and fell silent. She visited less and lessMarina was always busy with work, friends, the gym, some new course. There was hardly any time left for a mother.
Leaving her daughters flat that evening, Nina felt lonelier than ever. Her sixtieth birthday was in a week, and there was no one to celebrate with. Her husband had passed three years ago, her friends had scattered, and her daughter was wrapped up in her own world. Maybe it wasnt worth making a fuss.
But back home, flipping through old photos, she stumbled upon one of little Marina blowing out candles on a cake, eyes shining, cheeks flushed with excitement. Nina had been an accountant back then, barely making ends meet, but shed always made sure her daughter had a proper birthdaycake, presents, friends.
“My birthdays next week,” she thought, “and even my own daughter forgot. Maybe I should remind her?”
She reached for the phone, then hesitated. Noshe wouldnt beg for attention. If Marina forgot, so be it. What was the difference between fifty-nine and sixty, really? Just another day on the calendar.
But the thought nagged at her. A few days later, she finally called.
“Hi, Mum,” Marinas voice was distracted, as if she were multitasking. “Everything alright?”
“Oh, yes, nothings wrong,” Nina faltered. “I just wanted to mentionmy birthdays on Saturday. The big six-oh.”
“Oh, really?” A flicker of surprise. “Completely slipped my mind. Works been mad…”
“Its fine,” Nina said quickly. “Just thought Id remind you.”
“Sorry, Mum,” Marinas tone softened. “Ill try to pop roundaround five, okay?”
“Of course, love,” Nina brightened. “Ill bake your favourite cherry pie.”
“Perfect. Got to dashwell chat later.”
Hanging up, Nina felt a rush of energy. She hadnt been forgotten after all. Maybe there was hope for them yet.
Saturday was unseasonably sunny for April. Nina woke early, tidied the flat, baked the pie, even squeezed in a hairdressers appointment. She bought a nice bottle of wine, Marinas favourite cheese, some fruit. She wanted the evening to feel specialwarm, maybe even a chance to bridge the gap between them.
But by five, Marina hadnt arrived. Nor by six. Nina called, but her daughters phone was switched off.
“Probably stuck at work,” she thought, glancing at the clock. “Or caught in traffic. The city centres a nightmare these days.”
By seven, she tried againstill no answer. Now properly worried, her mind raced with worst-case scenarios: an accident, a robbery, sudden illness…
Finally, she called a taxi and headed to Marinas. Maybe her daughter had simply forgotten. Or mixed up the days. With her hectic schedule, it wouldnt be surprising.
Pulling up to the building, Nina spotted several cars outsideone looked like Marinas. So she was home. Nothing terrible had happened. Just… forgotten? Or decided not to come and didnt bother to call?
Heart heavy, Nina climbed to the fifth floor and rang the bell. No answer at first, then footsteps, and the door swung open.
Marina stood theredressed up, hair done, makeup perfect. Behind her, shadows moved, laughter floated out.
“Mum?” Marina blinked in confusion. “We werent expecting you…”
Nina froze, clutching the bouquet shed bought herselfa small consolation for a lonely celebration.
“II got worried,” she stammered. “You didnt come, didnt answer your phone…”
A man appeared behind Marinatall, neatly bearded, in a shirt and jeans.
“Marina, whosoh!” He spotted Nina. “Hello there!”
“This is my mum,” Marina turned to him, then back. “Mum, this is Andrew. Were… seeing each other.”
“Lovely to meet you,” Nina said automatically, offering her hand.
Andrew shook it warmly. “Pleasure! Marinas told me all about you.”
From inside, a womans voice called, “Marina, hurry up! The pastas going cold!”
“Coming!” Marina shouted, then winced at her mother. “Weve got a little get-together. I completely forgot about our plansIm so sorry.”
Nina felt a lump rise in her throat. On her birthday, her daughter was hosting a party, having forgotten her entirely.
“Dont worry,” she forced a smile. “Ill go. I dont want to intrude.”
“Dont be silly,” Marina frowned. “Since youre here, come in. Ill introduce you to everyone.”
Nina stepped inside uncertainly. The flat buzzed with noisevoices, laughter, clinking cutlery from the kitchen.
“Were sort of rehearsing,” Marina explained, helping her with her coat. “Planning a surprise for Lucys birthday next week.”
“You forgot mine,” Nina almost said, but bit her tongue. No point spoiling her daughters evening. She had her own life.
The kitchen was a whirl of activitytwo women around Marinas age, another man, papers strewn about, boxes of decorations.
“Everyone, this is my mum,” Marina announced. “Mum, this is Katie, Sarah, and Dan.”
“Hello!” came the chorus.
Nina nodded, feeling out of place. She didnt belong here, a relic among youth.
“Mum, are you hungry?” Marina asked. “Weve got seafood pasta and salad. Andrew cookedhe fancies himself a chef.”
“No, no, Ive eaten,” Nina stepped back. “I should go. I dont want to disrupt things.”
“Disrupt?” Andrew laughed. “Stay, really. We were just about to have dessert.”
Nina spotted the cakechocolate-glazed, elegant. No sixty candles, of course. Not for her.
“Thank you, but Id better head off,” she turned to Marina. “Could I have a quick word?”
They stepped into the hall. Nina pulled an envelope from her bag.
“Here. For that new coat you wanted.”
“Mum, you dont have to”
“Take it,” Nina insisted. “A mothers gift.”
Marina pocketed it reluctantly. “Thanks. But really, you shouldnt.”
“Right, Ill be off,” Nina forced a smile. “Have fun.”
“Wait,” Marina frowned. “Why did you come? Is something wrong?”
Nina hesitated. Did she truly forget? Or was this an act?
“Its my birthday, love,” she said softly. “Sixty today. You said youd come at five.”
Marina went very still. Her face cycled through shock, realisation, horror.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Mum, Im so sorry! With Lucys party planning, it completely slipped my mind!”
Nina shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Its just a birthday. Doesnt matter.”
“It does!” Marina grabbed her hands. “A milestone! And IIm such an idiot!”
She dashed to the kitchen, leaving Nina alone. Muffled voices, an exclamation, then Marina returned, trailed by the others.
“Nina,” Andrew said solemnly, “wed like to invite you to an impromptu birthday dinner in your honour!”
“Yes!” Katie chimed in. “Well rearrange everything!”
“You dont have to”
“We insist,” Marina cut in. “Mum, stay. Were celebrating your birthday!”
Before Nina could protest, she was seated at the table, handed champagne, toasted by near-strangers.
“Weve got cake,” Sarah said. “CandlesMarina, didnt you have those tealights?”
“Found them!” Marina produced a box. “Well make do!”
Andrew stood, raising his glass. “Nina, Ive known you all of half an hour, but I can already see what an incredible woman you are. No wonder Marinas so wonderful. Happy birthdayhealth, joy, and many more years!”
“And may your daughter remember next time,” Dan added, earning an elbow from Marina.
The evening transformedwarm, lively, unexpectedly lovely. The “kids” asked about her life, pored over old photos, laughed at Marinas childhood antics.
“Remember this?” Marina showed a seaside snapshot. “First time I saw the ocean! I cried when we had to leave!”
“Afraid itd vanish overnight,” Nina smiled.
“You were a peculiar child,” Andrew teased.
“Just imaginative,” Nina defended.
Andrew drove her home late, Marina in tow.
“Mum, can I stay over?” she asked at the door. “Talk properly?”
“Another time, love,” Nina said. “Im tired. Go back to your friends.”
“Theyve probably left,” Marina waved it off. “I want to be with you. Ive missed so much…”
They sat at Ninas kitchen table, eating cherry pie, talking until dawn. Marina confessed why she and Tim broke up (he wasnt ready to commit), how she met Andrew (reaching for the same book in a shop), her dreams of starting a design studio.
Nina listened, advised, marvelled at how easily they slipped back into old rhythmslike when Marina was a teenager, sharing secrets over tea.
Three days later, Marina returned with flowers, a proper cake, and a real gifta holiday voucher.
“Remember our seaside trips when I was little?” she said as Nina gaped at it. “Were going again. My treat this time.”
“You dont have to”
“I want to,” Marina said firmly. “Youve done so much for me. Now its my turn.”
Over tea and cake, they made plans. And Nina thought: sometimes, you have to show up uninvited to remind people you exist. And even if they werent expecting youit doesnt mean they arent glad you came.
