Silversong (The Fable Series, Book 3)

Chapter 14

"Happy Birthday to you

Happy Birthday to you

Happy Birthday dear Felix

Happy Birthday to you!"

The final notes of the song fade away as we huddle together, sitting on the floor in a group around the smashed-up birthday cake placed upon the low coffee table, our faces lit up in the golden glow of the flickering candles. Despite Kitty having dropped the cake when she arrived, the cake box remained intact with its precious cargo still inside it, so it's still technically edible despite its appearance.

Kitty arrived with the cake over two hours ago, and we're all a little bit tipsy by now - the champagne arrived soon after Kitty, and the boys got stuck into the fully-stocked minibar fridge too. I hadn't even noticed the inconspicuous stash earlier, but the boys (and Kitty) can sniff out alcohol like a pig hunting truffles.

Kitty has turned the lights down low, and after popping a few candles into the shapeless fudgey chocolate sponge, gooey buttercream and strawberry puree mess in the box, she wrangled us all into singing Happy Birthday to Felix, much to his irritation.

"Make a wish, little brother," Kitty tells Felix, her voice ever-so-slightly slurred from the evening of drinking.

Felix looks thoughtful, glancing over to me before taking in a deep breath in preparation to blow out the candles, but Alastaire beats him to it.

He swoops in and puffs out the candles in an instant.

"Ooops," Alastaire says, as the smoke from eighteen extinguished candles drifts up into the air. "My bad."

He's swaying slightly as he speaks, having polished off almost two whole bottles of champagne already.

Felix's mouth drops open in utter indignation, and for one tense moment I wonder if Felix and Alastaire will pick up their fight where it left off before Kitty arrived.

"Al, you blonde sausage," Lyall says, quickly defusing the situation. "Yer totally sloshed. Why you gotta be so daft, eh, blowin' out Fee's candles like that? You better not've sprayed any spit on this lovely cake, you drunkard."

"Yes, I don't want to catch herpes," Felix says, rolling his eyes as he passes around the gold-leaf embossed paper plates and bamboo mini cake forks that Kitty bought along with her, each emblazoned with the logo of the upmarket bakery which baked the once-magnificent cake.

Disposable mini cake forks and gold-leaf paper plates. That's a new level of rich-people-craziness.

Kitty ladles out the smooshed-up cake onto our plates with a large dessert spoon, and despite its chaotic appearance, it's absolutely divine - all rich dark chocolate and sweet strawberry buttercream.

"Let's do a toast," Kitty says, refilling everyone's champagne glasses for the hundredth time that night.

I've been feeling more and more buzzy as the evening progresses, constantly promising myself I'll slow down after the next drink, I'll do the responsible thing and refuse the next refill - but it's easier said than done.

I look around at the group - Kitty slurring her words, Lyall with his cheeks and the tip of his nose flushed a tell-tale bright pink, Alastaire's bright blue eyes slightly bleary and unfocused - and I realise that Felix and Ben are the only ones not visibly drunk right now.

We should probably all stop drinking before the night gets messy and turns into a puke-fest. At the rate Alastaire's downing bottles of champagne, it's got to all come back up sometime soon.

"I'll start," Lyall says, raising his glass high up in the air. "Fee... I've known yer for..." he pauses to think, before continuing "more than ten years and countin'. You've been the best friend a lad could ask for. Here's to ten more years o' crazy shenanigans, music and mayhem."