Lottie’s Big Birthday Surprise!

‘It was such a wonderful day. The sun was shining; the birds were singing and…’

‘That’s enough of that soppy crap!’

Lottie Entwistle leaned out of bed and switched off the radio. She glanced at the time. It was already 9 o’clock and she was still in bed. A low rumble forced her to throw back the covers and stretch.

‘Come on, Lottie, it is just a day like any other day!’ Another rumble. ‘Okay, okay, I hear you!’

She put a hand on her stomach and patted it. Washed, dressed and looking smarter than usual, Lottie studied her reflection.

‘Not bad for 93!’

She read the local Daily News while drinking her morning cuppa and munching thickly sliced buttered toast and homemade marmalade. Lottie’s marmalade had a twist. A generous slug of brandy!

‘Keeps the germs at bay!’ She would tell you if you were lucky enough to be gifted a jar.

Lottie liked reading the gossip columns and announcements. She liked to know who had died mostly. Just in case she knew them and had to buy a new hat! The rest was old news as far as she was concerned.

A rattle at the door told her the post had arrived. She sighed as she got up. On a day like today, you never knew what would come through the door. Because today, it was her birthday! On the hall mat was a pile of cards. It looked a lot more than the usual batch. Lottie picked them up and took them back to the table.

As usual, the annoying reminders that she was getting old and was going to go blind and deaf, lose her mind, need a care home, have her loft insulated and needed to renew all her windows! Lottie was not amused. She dropped them into the bin and glanced at the residue. She opened a buff envelope with scrawly blue handwriting on the front.

‘That’s Jeanette’s writing!’ 

Lottie pulled out a card with a picture of a thatched cottage surrounded by roses and white picket fencing. Inside the message read, ‘Have a wonderful birthday mum. Hope to see you soon!’ Underneath her son Timothy and his wife Jeanette had signed their names with lots of X’s.

Lottie spotted one of those cards that really wound her up. An online drafted photo card from one of those nameless companies where everything was synthetic. She hated it when people couldn’t be bothered to even write out and send a card. She opened it, then promptly binned it. It was a photo of someone’s dog running along the beach with the caption, ‘Life’s a Beach! Happy 95th Birthday!’

‘Bloody cheek, I’m 93!’ She grumbled.

A red envelope stood out from the pile.

 ‘It had better not be another “Are You Feeling Lonely?’ flyer disguised to look like something exciting!’ she thought as she opened it.

It was a handwritten letter. She read it twice, just to make sure. It was from a ghost. An old friend she had almost forgotten about. She had shut it away at the back of her mind a long time ago. Long before she had married two-timing Harry! Lottie put the letter back in its envelope and popped it behind the clock on the mantelpiece.

‘You never forgot my birthday, did you, Gerald? But why write now, after so many years?’

She opened the others, standing them on the mantelpiece either side of the clock, and the red envelope.

Timothy was picking her up at midday to take her out for lunch. Just the two of them, as his wife would be at work, something to do with banking. Lottie never really listened to her daughter-in-law’s repertoire. She would rabbit on and on about the latest technology and this, that, and the other. Her voice had a whiny drone to it that made her teeth itch, so she blocked her out. Her grandchildren were adults now with children of their own, but they would all be at work or college as well.

Lottie didn’t mind; she always saw them at Christmas when they called by for their gifts. The telephone ringing in the hall stopped her thoughts. Before she could speak, she heard her son’s voice.

‘Hello, Mum, happy birthday,’ he said.

‘Thank you, Timothy. I am so looking forward to our lunch outing at midday.’

‘Erm, sorry mum, that is why I’m calling you. Something has come up!’

‘What do you mean? Are you not coming over today then?’

‘Look, I am sorry, but Jeanette has fallen down some steps at work. She needs a lift to the hospital. She may have broken something.’

‘Not to worry. Hope she’s okay.’ Lottie tried to sound concerned rather than disappointed.

‘Thanks mum. Make sure you don’t eat too much cake today though. You know sugary treats are not good for your health. I will check in on you later to make sure that you are okay, and I’ll give Jeanette your love!’

‘I wouldn’t go that far.’ Lottie mumbled under her breath.

‘What was that?’

‘I said, I’ll let you go get the car,’ Lottie lied.

Timothy hung up. She stood with the earpiece still against her ear, listening to the disconnected tone. Sometimes she would pick it up just to see if there was anybody on the other end. There never was. Lottie would imagine that someone was desperate to get her attention. Picking it up and interrogating the long tone that greeted her as if it were one of those nuisance calls. Just for a laugh of course.

Lottie sighed, surprising herself at how loud it was.

‘This is no good, Lottie! You need to do something on your birthday. It is a special day. It could also be your last one!’ she thought ruefully.

Lottie picked up the red envelope from the mantelpiece and opened it again. She carefully dialed the phone number written in the bottom left-hand corner.

‘Gerald?’ she said hesitantly.

‘Who wants to know?’ A gruff voice asked.

‘It’s me, Lottie Entwistle.’

‘Well, I’ll be damned. Happy birthday, old girl!’ he said light-heartedly.

‘Enough of the old, Gerald.’ ‘You are bleeding older than I am!’

‘I’m above ground and vertical!’ He laughed, adding, ‘What are you up to today?’

‘I was going to lunch with my son, but he’s just cancelled on me!’

‘Would you like to meet up, or shall I come over?’ he asked, expecting a rebuff.

Lottie thought for a few seconds. She hadn’t seen Gerald for years. What would he think of her wrinkles and white hair?

‘Okay,’ she blurted. ‘Come over, I’ll make us some sandwiches if you like?’

‘Lovely jubbly. I will be over in an hour!’

As Lottie put the phone down, she wondered if she had just made a huge mistake.

 ‘Lovely jubbly, what the hell was that all about? Did he think he was Del Boy, for goodness’ sake?’

It was too late to back out now. She would just have to suck it up and see what happens.

Lottie made several rounds of sandwiches: cheese and cucumber, ham and pickle, and tuna, spring onion, and mayonnaise. She cut them into triangles and arranged them neatly on a plate with their pointed ends sticking up. She decorated the plate with cherry tomatoes and put some crisps in a bowl. Lottie found a box of jam tarts in the pantry and put them on a doily on a small plate. As a nod to the past, Lottie put cocktail sticks into little cubes of pineapple and cheese, arranging them neatly.

‘Done!’ she thought to herself. In fact, she was quite pleased with how her little birthday spread looked, and at such short notice too. Lottie caught sight of herself in the hall mirror. She was still wearing the sensible outfit Timothy and Jeanette had bought her. She looked like she was going for a job interview. She quickly went upstairs and looked through her wardrobe. She pulled out a little black dress. It was her favourite funeral one.

‘No, something a little livelier maybe?’

Lottie saw a peep of red between two coats. It was a mid length jersey dress with a reddy, pink pattern that she had forgotten about. It still clung to her slim figure in all the right places. It was very flattering and a little slinky too. An inner voice reminded her that she was, 93. 

‘Oh well, I’m never going to get any younger, am I?’ She grinned.   

A loud rap on the door made her jump. Lottie suddenly felt extremely nervous.

‘What if he didn’t like what he saw?’ What if she didn’t like what she saw?’ ‘Supposing they were both disappointed?’

Her chest felt as if hundreds of butterflies had invaded it.

‘Don’t be such an idiot!’ she scolded herself. ‘If the worst happens, you can just feign a migraine or have one of those ‘old people’ funny turns. That will make him leave!’

Gerald beamed at her as she opened the door. He looked exactly as she thought he would. His hair, what he had left, was luminous white and, although he seemed shorter than she remembered, those eyes! They were as bright and as blue and twinkly as they had always been. Her mum had called them ‘come-to-bed eyes’ and warned her to be careful! As far as Lottie could recall, they had worked.

‘You look absolutely beautiful my dear Lottie!’ Gerald was looking her up and down as if he were about to devour her.

Lottie opened her mouth to say something and a squeak came out.

‘Thank you, Gerald,’ she cleared her throat. ‘Come through. You look very well yourself too,’

She tried to keep her voice level, but it was all over the place.

‘What is the matter with you, Lottie Entwistle? Pull yourself together!’

Lottie had arranged her birthday spread on the little dining table in her lounge. She switched the kettle on and showed Gerald to his seat.

‘Tea or coffee?’ she asked.

‘Nothing stronger on the menu for your special day then?’ He asked expectantly.

Lottie looked confused for a moment.

‘Oh, you mean alcohol, I have some white wine somewhere and a small bottle of brandy…’ she began.

Gerald was already pulling a bottle out of a carrier bag.

‘Champagne, old girl?’ He laughed at her expression. ‘Come on, Lottie, it is your birthday and we haven’t seen each other for years!’

‘If I didn’t know better, Gerald Breakwater, I would think you were trying to get me tiddled!’ Lottie almost smiled as she answered.

‘Would that be such a bad thing?’ he replied.

Four and something hours later...

Lottie could hear loud banging. At first, she thought it was in her head. Several glasses of Champers in the afternoon would do that to her, she thought. It was a few minutes before she realised that someone was banging on her front door. She gingerly made her way downstairs and opened the door. Her son Timothy stood there looking furious.

‘For Pete’s sake mum, I’ve been knocking for bloody ages!’

‘I was having a little lie down,’ Lottie said, her face a little flushed.

‘What in the afternoon? Do you feel ill? Is that why you’re wearing that oversized shirt?’

‘S’not mine, and I feel perfectly fine thank you very much!’ Her voice was a little wobbly.

Timothy looked aggrieved. ‘I’ve come all this way to see you on your birthday and you haven’t even invited me in yet!’ He sniffed the air. ‘Have you been drinking?’

He spoke to her as if she were a delinquent teenager he had just caught with their hand in his wine rack.

Lottie ignored her son’s last question.

‘Well, you should have called first. I might have been busy,’ she said, her voice getting louder.

Timothy laughed scornfully. ‘What would you be doing, anyway, but watching one of your stupid “home renovating” programs?’ He made quotation marks in the air with his fingers as he spoke. Lottie was about to lose her patience.

A gruff voice suddenly said, ‘Me. She was doing me!’

Timothy looked as if he were about to explode as a semi-naked Gerald appeared at the door by Lottie’s side.

‘Who the?…What the?’ Timothy’s voice trailed away as Lottie shut the door on him.

‘Sorry about that Gerald,’ she said. ‘Where were we?’