The Girl Who Was Buried In Her Ball Gown

Chapter six: Birthday

I should be turning fourteen this day, but I'm not sure anymore. Mum and Nikki had been working on my cake, a yummy banana cake, my favourite, they also decorated it. Nikki had taken charge of the design; she was such a sweet sister and did a great job. Mum cooked my favourite meal too. There was corned beef, new potatoes, mustard, peas, honey–glazed carrots and also a jug of gravy. I tried to imagine how I once relished it upon my palate; mmm! It was lovely. It looked nice anyway but I couldn't taste it, not anymore.

For dessert, Nikki had made a fruit salad and pavlova, Mum baked a cheesecake too. All this for me, how wonderful.

I sat next to Nikki and Tim sat across the table from me; Mum, at one end and Dad at the other. Tim wanted to say grace tonight and so he did.

"Dear Jesus, thank you for this yummy dinner and cake and dessert and our party. Thank you that you are watching over us and Emma. Mum, is Emma coming to the party?"

"Yes dear, I'm sure she wouldn't miss it, only we can't see her anymore."

"Yeah, that's right. She's in heaven now, isn't she? She's just coming into our heads and our hearts."

"Yes Tim. And into our memories too." I was tearing up again. Dad didn't look particularly cheery; Nikki was composed and Mum was serene. Well, she looked it anyway, but I knew better.

"Dear Jesus, bless the food and hands that cooked it and the yummy dessert. In Jesus's name, amen."

"Amen. Good boy Tim, you are a very clever boy, aren't you?"

"Yep, the best." That made everyone chuckle. Oh Tim, you are so cute. I miss you.

They dished up and ate in silence, my plate was left empty. Dad had a dark look about him. He suddenly stood, bolt upright from his seat.

"Twenty–two months! Twenty–two bloody months, Joy. Ludicrous!" I could see his eyes were bloodshot. Had he been drinking again?

"Now Max, don't start. Please just sit down and eat." Dad sat down again and remained silent for the rest of the meal, drinking a few beers, while the rest of my family made small talk. "Okay, time for the cake. Max, can you please light the candles." Dad stood stiffly and went to the pantry for the matches and lit the candles. He carried the cake, aflame to the table and Tim started to sing and everyone joined in.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you..." I saw the sad faces and tearful eyes; I heard their crackling voices, "Happy birthday dear... Emma." Then I saw Dad throw the cake on the table then storm out, whacking the fruit bowl off the bench with his strong sweeping arm, resulting in a clutter of apples and bananas in the kitchen, "Happy birthday to you." Mum got up quickly and went to him as he leaned against the wall in a rage, shaking violently.

"Max, Max it's okay, we're here too. We need you to keep calm."

"Twenty–two bloody months! Patrick bloody Winton gets twenty–two months and I have a dead daughter!" I had never seen Dad so upset, as he pounded his huge fist up against the wall.

"Max, it was not murder! It was just a stupid mistake that any teenager could have made. He regrets it, but he can't change it. You can't change the past either. We have to forgive him Max."

"Oh I see, just forgive him. And will that bring Emma back?"

"Of course not, nothing will bring her back. Max please sit down. Please." Dad spun around quickly and stomped to the table and sat down in his chair, brooding. I wanted to do something, I wanted to appear, but I wasn't sure if I should. I didn't know what to do. Dad resumed his meal while Nikki and Tim blew out my candles. Nikki cut the cake.