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‘Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Laurie… Happy birthday to you.’

Everyone was there. They were singing and actually celebrating her birthday. Like a dog begging for emotional scraps, Laurie forgot how they normally treated her and her heart swelled. She smiled as Nathan brought forward a large, rectangular cake. It was a mountain of pink and white frosting, with the word ‘CONGRATULATIONS’ piped on top. Despite how grotesque it looked, her mouth watered. Please let it be chocolate.

‘Happy birthday, Laurie,’ said Nathan, handing her a knife. ‘Want to cut it?’

She beamed down at his pink perspiring face. ‘Thank you, Nathan, and thank you, everyone. This is really lovely.’

There was silence as she held the knife over the frosting. What should she wish for? Her hand hovered. It needed to be right.

‘Come on, Laurie,’ urged Nathan, jigging up and down next to her impatiently.

She closed her eyes and plunged the knife down. I want more out of my life.

The knife was taken from her hand, as she was jostled out of the way.

‘Right, everyone, who wants a piece?’ asked Nathan. He magnanimously handed her the first slice. Red velvet. Stacie’s favourite. Had she ordered it? Nathan carefully cut one of the corners and presented it to Stacie who squealed with excitement. Okay, so not her then. Laurie looked around the room, but no one had a smug look that said ‘look at me, I did this.’ She shrugged and ate her slice. Just be grateful they remembered.

A high-pitched shriek rent the air and Laurie looked up in panic. Stacie was holding a glob of chewed cake in her palm. Had she lost a tooth? She rushed to her friend. ‘You okay, Stace?’

‘Laurie, get out of the way.’ Nathan shoved her aside and she stumbled into a desk, cake dropping out of her grasp onto her skirt. Stacie was now crying, and Nathan was on one knee. ‘Stacie Tanner,’ he declared loudly.

‘Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!’ screamed Stacie, as all the other women in the office bar Laurie started squealing with excitement.

Nathan bellowed over the racket, ‘Will you marry me?’

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2

Laurie may not have known their destination for the evening, but she knew without asking that she would be the designated driver. She didn’t have anything against drinking; in fact, she loved anything fizzy and alcoholic. But at her first office party at Somerset Snax, she knew within ten minutes if someone didn’t stay sober, it was only a matter of time before Nathan and Stacie broke the photocopier trying to have sex on it, and the forklifts were drag racing through Downhead. After taking on the role of parent, health and safety enforcer, and police liaison officer, her colleagues had assumed she didn’t drink. They subsequently took advantage of her outside work hours as well, and she often wondered if the only reason she had a social life at all was because she provided a free taxi service. She could have indulged at home, in the flat she once shared with Scott. However, drinking by herself seemed like the first step towards owning twenty cats, feeding pigeons at the park, and muttering to herself at the bus stop.

Her first pickup, Denise, bustled out of her house in a cloud of curse words and chemicals. Her hair was an immaculate helmet of lacquer and her make-up artfully applied. A miasma of perfume clung to her clothes. She was dressed to take on Friday night and win.

‘Boring fucking bastard,’ she exhaled, as she flumped herself into the passenger seat. ‘I spent the best years of my life supporting him, raising the kids, and now I want to live a little.’ She leaned forward to flick on the radio, tuning it to Kiss FM. ‘It’s like he’s given up on life already.’ She swivelled to look at Laurie. ‘You look lush, love. New top?’

Laurie smiled and nodded. She’d found a gold sequinned top online, with a daring V front that emphasised her cleavage. She paired it with a tight black pencil skirt, gold hooped earrings and gold eyeshadow. For the first in a long time she felt confident.

‘Well, it’ll be slim pickings tonight, but we’ll see what we can scrape up for you.’

‘I’m not after anyone, you know that.’

‘Not even a birthday kiss? Snog a stranger?’

Laurie raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s not my style.’

‘Hmmph. Sometimes you’re too hoity-toity for your own good, Laurie.’

Laurie couldn’t help a snort of laughter from escaping. ‘I’m from Liverpool, Den. I don’t think any of us have ever been described as hoity-toity.’

‘Well, there’s obviously a posh part somewhere up in Scouse land, and you’re from it.’

Denise cranked the volume on the radio and sang along to the nineties club tunes, every word on point even if the pitch wasn’t. Laurie drove through the dark country roads, enjoying the moment. Ten minutes later they picked up Shelley, who had squeezed into a leopard print dress and was glowing from at least one drink and newly applied fake tan.

She threw herself into the back seat and leaned forward, thrusting a can at Denise. ‘Pink G and T.’ She turned to Laurie. ‘Happy birthday, love. You look gorge.’ She took a can out of her bag for herself and clunked it against Denise’s.

‘Do not spill any of that in my car, ladies,’ said Laurie sternly. ‘And, Shelley, put your seatbelt on.’

‘Yes, Miss,’ they replied simultaneously before dissolving into giggles.