The Surprise Party. Sue Welfare

      ‘No, no, of course I’m not, what I’m saying is that we want to make them think we’re taking them somewhere really special just in case they come up with a better idea.’

      ‘They don’t usually make a lot of fuss about their anniversary,’ Suzie pointed out.

      ‘Well, it’s high time they did,’ said Liz. ‘Forty years has got to be worth celebrating. Right, so, now guests . . .’ she said. ‘Have you got a piece of paper there? What do you think, a hundred? Hundred and fifty?’

      Suzie shrugged.

      ‘Let’s say a hundred and fifty to be on the safe side,’ Liz said, sliding the photo album she had been looking through over onto Suzie’s lap. ‘We could have their original wedding cake copied and those table settings don’t look like they’d take much and all this bunting. I mean, we’ve all got the photos, haven’t we? It wouldn’t be that hard to do. It would be lovely. Mum would love it.’

      Suzie turned the album pages and looked down at a picture of the bride and groom outside the church looking impossibly young and happy. Someone had glued a piece of paper to the front and written ‘Mr and Mrs Jack and Rose Bingham’ on it in a rounded, bubbly hand. The handwriting looked very much like her mum’s, bringing tears to Suzie’s eyes. All those years ago, all that joy and hope – a life crammed full of possibilities and plans, their gaze fixed on the future they had together.

      ‘We could easily do Mum’s bouquet. I mean, looking at these—’ Suzie said, infected by Liz’s enthusiasm. ‘Red roses and gypsophila, it’s not exactly rocket science.’

      Liz pulled a whatever face. ‘If you say so. Let’s face it, flowers are really your thing, not mine.’

      ‘Actually, if you want to be accurate, vegetables are my thing and Mum’s not going to be too chuffed if she ended up with a bouquet of radicchio and curly endive.’

      ‘Well, you know what I’m saying here,’ said Liz, waving the words away. ‘You can sort that out. You’re the family gardener.’

      ‘And you’re the family star?’ said Suzie, raising her eyebrows.

      ‘Well, if the cap fits . . .’ said Liz with a wry grin.

      Suzie struggled to bite her tongue. Five days of Liz’s ego, of her hogging the bathroom, taking all the hot water and constantly being on her phone even during dinner, had worn Suzie’s Christmas spirit right down to the canvas, particularly as Liz had invited herself. Her idea of mucking in was – in her own words – to stay out of the way when there was any sign of work, whether it was washing up or anything else that might risk chipping her nail polish. Her Christmas present to them all had been tickets to a show in London, which Suzie knew damn well Liz had been given as comps, and which would cost them a mint in train fares to actually use.

      ‘Play nicely, you two,’ Sam had said, mellowed by a couple of glasses of Christmas cheer. ‘And tell me again how come we didn’t throw a big party for Jack and Rose’s twenty-fifth?’ Up until the party plan had emerged, Sam had been sitting on the sidelines drinking margaritas and watching Wallace and Gromit.

      ‘I don’t know really,’ said Suzie. ‘Mum and Dad have really never made that much of a fuss about wedding anniversaries. You know what they’re like – no fuss, no frills – and for their twenty-fifth we were probably too young to organise anything.’

      ‘Or to care, come to that,’ said Lizzie. ‘I must have been at uni and you two were all loved up and getting married.’

      ‘For their thirtieth they went to Rome, I think,’ said Suzie, flicking back through the album. ‘And our girls were little then and it was Mum’s fiftieth the same year. I think their anniversary just got forgotten in the rush. So actually you’re right, a big party is well overdue. The only downside if we really do want to recreate their wedding reception from scratch is that the church hall where they held it burnt down years ago.’

      ‘Don’t worry about that. It’s the spirit of it that counts. I was thinking maybe we could hire a marquee,’ said Liz. ‘Stick it up in the garden behind their cottage. There’s plenty of room on the lawn.’

      Suzie raised her eyebrows. ‘Have you got any idea how much those things cost?’

      ‘No, but it’ll be my treat, instead of picking up the tab at Rocco’s,’ said Liz.

      ‘Probably work out about the same if you pair have a dessert there,’ Sam had said wryly.

      And so here they were, six months, many phone calls, a lot of Googling and a complete logistical nightmare later.

      Suzie took another look at her watch. ‘I’ve told the guests to be here by 5:45 p.m. at the latest.

      ‘And they’re all going to hide in the cottage?’ asked Liz incredulously.

      ‘No, we’ve asked everyone to go round the back into the marquee so we can keep them in one place. I’ve also asked people to park down on the recreation ground so we don’t give the game away.’

      Liz nodded. ‘Right, in that case I’m just going to go upstairs and grab the bathroom before everyone else arrives. Grant will probably be getting here at around six. I know he’s just dying to meet you all and I’m sure you’ll love him. Anyway, I really need to go and get ready. I don’t want him to think that I’ve let myself go just because we’re out in the sticks,’ she said cheerily.

      ‘Lizzie, wait—’ Suzie began, but too late, her little sister was already heading for the house. ‘You’ve only just arrived and you’ve been on the bloody phone ever since you got here,’ she mumbled.

      ‘Where the hell’s she going now?’ said Sam in exasperation as he rounded the corner on his way back from the marquee with a chair trolley.

      ‘Apparently she’s just going to get ready,’ said Suzie as casually as she could manage. ‘I’m sure she won’t be long.’

      Sam stared at her. ‘Well, that’ll be a first. Just bloody great, isn’t it? Why on earth did you let her go? There are loads of things still to do and we could really do with another pair of hands. Oh, and while I’m on the subject of helping hands, I can’t find either of our dear daughters either,’ he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. ‘The band have rung up to say they can’t find us, the caterers can’t find anywhere to plug in their equipment without blowing all the fuses, Liz’s fancy photographer just texted to say he’s running late and the fireworks have only just shown up. And you know what? I’m getting fed up of being the one who is supposed to have all the answers. We never agreed that we’d do all this on our own, Suzie, and so far it looks to me like we’ve done the lion’s share. I thought madam there said she’d arrive early and give us a hand?’

      ‘I know, you’re right – and we have, but Lizzie has paid for a lot of it,’ said Suzie, caught in the badlands between agreeing with Sam (which she secretly did) and defending Liz (which she felt some irrational instinctive urge to do), all the while thinking that being caught in the middle was no place to be.

      ‘I know, but that still doesn’t mean she can just swan off when we need her. We’re not the hired help here, you know – and she was the one who offered, nobody twisted her arm, although I’m sure Lady Bountiful isn’t going to let us forget who signed the cheques in a hurry.’

      ‘Please don’t be so snappy, Sam, it’s not like you. She said she needed to get ready, what could I say?’ Suzie said lamely.

      ‘Oh, come off it. Liz always looks like she’s just stepped off the front cover of a magazine,’ said Sam. ‘Never a hair out of place . . .’

      He didn’t add, ‘unlike you,’ although Suzie suspected she could hear it in his voice. She glanced down at her outfit – faded, world-weary jeans and an equally faded long sleeve tee-shirt worn with a pair of cowboy boots that had seen far better days. Suzie knew without looking in a mirror that her hair was a bird’s