Hotel Ambrose

Chapter 15: The Birthday Present

Some people plan growing up. They have it all mapped out, like one of those orienteering courses, with flags and a compass and directions and everything, and they buy boots, and thermal underwear, and a raincoat made out of titanium, and those little freeze-dried packets of food that astronauts eat in space.

I'm not one of those people. I didn't ever want to grow up, to be honest. I preferred to hang out with Fred. Now that I think about it, it must have been great having a dad who appreciated the finer things in life, like melting action figures over a good hot fire, and burping Christmas carols. If growing up means not being allowed to do stuff like that it's probably overrated anyway.

Sophie couldn't wait to grow up. She was desperate for boobs, for example. And pretty soon she got them. Hallelujah. It cheered her up like you wouldn't believe, and made me realise what a thorn in her side it had been. She still dressed like a boy – she just stopped looking like one. She preferred to wear jeans and t-shirts than skirts and things. And I think she kept her hair short because that was the fashion. At least, it was how all the women in her magazines wore it. She didn't tell me this – I knew because I looked at her magazines sometimes. The pictures mostly, if you know what I mean.

One day she told me she was going into the city to get a few things.

"We don't need anything," I said.

"Yes we do."

"Easter eggs!" cried Fred.

"Fred, it's June," I said.

"Easter eggs!"

"Fucking hell."

"I'll see you later Ben."

"Wait! What are you getting?"

"Just some stuff," she said, avoiding my eyes.

Something was going on.

"What's going on?" I said.

"Nothing. I'll see you later."

And she went. Me and Fred stood in the kitchen, watching the doorway like a couple of abandoned dogs.

"The hell was that about?" I said to nobody in particular.

"Easter eggs?" Fred said.

"Oh," I said then. I'd just remembered it was my birthday. I was turning fourteen and Sophie hadn't given me my birthday present yet. She hadn't even wished me happy birthday. That was unusual. Sophie never forgot birthdays. She was the one who knew whose birthday was coming up, who could tell you exactly how many years we'd been at Ambrose, and anything numbery like that. Birthdays were important to Sophie. They were like the markers on a racing track that tell you how far the horses have run. To Sophie it was all about getting to the finish line.

Anyway, I figured out pretty quickly that this was what she'd gone to get. My birthday present.

"Fred?"

"What?"

"You dad's a nincompoop."

"Ninkapoo!" he shrieked, and laughed like crazy. When you're five everything's funny.

"Come on, let's water the garden."

We went outside. I filled up the watering can for Fred and watched him water the garden. The original flowers we'd put in were long dead of course, but Fred had hassled me into buying more seeds for him, and twice a year we planted it out. We had vegetables in there at the moment – carrots and things. Everything grew well at Ambrose. We ate carrots every night. Fred was big enough now to carry the watering can, but he still wasn't tall enough to get the water from the pool. I think it annoyed him that he could do everything except this. It must have made him feel like a real second-rate gardener.

Sophie had gone out at lunchtime. By four o'clock she still wasn't back, and I was starting to get worried. Fred was tired so I put him to bed, then I wandered around the hotel, picking things up and putting them down, my stomach squirming. I went in and checked the TV, but nobody was there. So I went out and sat on the front doorstep to wait for her.

It was getting dark when the little green door finally opened. But it wasn't Sophie. It was a strange woman.

I peered into the darkness as the woman closed the door behind them, looked left and right, then tottered towards the gate. She seemed to be having trouble walking, as if she was drunk. She kept her head down as she picked her way across the grounds. She was carrying a shopping bag in one hand. She was wearing a short black dress and high heels, and her arms were bare.  I stood up so I could see her better.

It was only when she came around the gate that she looked up at me.

It was Sophie.

She hobbled up to me. At the top of the stairs she almost keeled over, and had to grab my arm to steady herself.

"Fucking things," she said.

"Why don't you take them off?"

"Okay," she said, and reached down to loosen the straps on the back of them and kicked them off. It was like she'd been waiting for permission.

"Did you walk all the way back like that?"

"No. I put them on in the Lane."

I went to ask her why she'd done that, but she'd already picked the shoes up and gone inside. Halfway down the hall she turned around. "You coming?"

I was still standing on the doorstep staring at her.

I caught up with her at the stairs. We went up them together. I glanced over at her, but she didn't look at me. At the top of the stairs she said, "Where's Fred?"

"I put him to bed."

She nodded, and moved off down the hall. She turned into her bedroom. I stopped outside it. I watched her put her shoes and the shopping bag down at the end of the bed. Then she turned around. "Come in and close the door."

I came in and closed the door. She sat down on the edge of the bed. I sat down next to her. She clearly had something serious to tell me.

"Your hair," I said.

"Do you like it?"

"It's black."

"Dark brown actually."

I began to notice other things about her. Her toenails and fingernails had been painted, and her face looked different: her eyes were darker somehow, her eyelashes long and black, and there was more colour in her cheeks. Her lips looked glossy. No wonder I'd mistaken her for a woman. She looked like one.

"You look -" I said.

"What?" She was smiling.

"Um... pretty," I said, and felt my face grow hot.

Of course, if someone had told me she was pretty before I would've agreed. That's what you're meant to do right? And it's not as if she had a blotchy face, or teeth like a horse, or eyes that went in different directions. I'd never really thought of her as pretty though. She was just Sophie.

She leaned in towards me. I smelled something flowery.

"Happy birthday Ben," she said, and kissed me on the mouth.