Birthdays

Chapter 3: Birthdays

1986

Meredith and Annie walked hand in hand down the road toward the bridge that would lead them into town. A cold mist fell on the pair of them, huddled underneath a broad umbrella as they moved briskly in order to keep as warm and dry as possible.

"So, my Annie.... What are you wishing for on your birthday this year?" her Gran asked her with a warm smile.

Her granddaughter was fairly bouncing with excitement. "I really, really want a bike this year, Gran," she cried earnestly, an excited light glowing in her eyes.

"A bicycle? Good heavens!" Meredith exclaimed with false surprise. Annie had been hinting for weeks now, practically since Christmas, that she had wanted a bicycle. No, more than wanted it – needed it, more like, if she was ever to go on living.

"Oh, yes! I could ride it to school, you know, every day. Even in the rain. And run errands for you, as well, Gran."

"What a clever girl! You've given this some thought, I see," she answered, barely hiding her amusement. "And where do you suppose we could find such a dead useful thing?"

"Renaker's has them, right in the window!" Annie exclaimed, beaming with a gap-toothed smile.

"Renaker's, you say? Right here in Ottery? Well, now, isn't that convenient?"

Annie nodded rapidly, grinning ear to ear. She was so excited that she skipped ahead of her Gran, completely disregarding the foul weather.

Her cheeks were rosy with the exertion once they finally arrived at the premises of the general store in Ottery, which carried a bit of everything just as promised. Annie's face was pressed up against the glass as she stood on her tiptoes to peer inside. Three different bicycles stood in the window.

Meredith caught up to her granddaughter a few moments later and ushered her inside, out of the cold damp. They stood together in front of the display, examining the different models.

"D'you like the yellow one, then, Annie?" she asked. It was the girls' model, with streamers dangling from the curved handlebars and a basket in the front. The bell sounded dainty when Meredith rang it.

Annie looked at her grandmother in shocked distaste, shaking her head vigorously. "Oh, no – not that one. I want this one, Gran," she explained as she reached out and reverently touched what Meredith had assumed was the boys' model.

It was painted red and black, with straight-across handlebars and thick knobby tires. There were two solid-looking tubes that extended out a short distance on either side from the rear tire axle. Meredith had no idea what purpose they served. But one look at Annie's rapturous face made it impossible for her to say no.

"All right, then. The red one, if you please, sir," she directed the young man attending them.

The store clerk lifted the bicycle out of the window display for them as Meredith paid the cashier. The bike looked terribly large now that Annie was standing right next to it. She hoped it wasn't so big that Annie couldn't manage it. What a disappointment that would prove to be, if it had to sit and wait in the shed while Annie grew big enough to ride.

Meredith soon discovered her fears had been unfounded. Annie deftly scrambled up onto the seat and began pedaling as soon as they were out the door. She was a bit wobbly at first, until she found her proper balance, but soon was riding circles around her Gran as they walked back toward home.

Annie quickly gobbled her lunch down once they got home, in order to head back outside on the bike. At least the rain has stopped, thought Meredith, hoping Annie wouldn't catch cold. She was making Annie's favorite – chicken noodle soup – for tonight and had planned to bake a batch of her favorite biscuits as well this afternoon as a surprise.

"Be back for suppertime, Annie," Meredith called out. She was answered by the back door banging shut.

Annie rode her bike along the road this time instead of running directly across the field toward the woods. There was a small path that led from the road into the forest – she figured would be easier to navigate the bike on the trail than the grassy field. Then she'd probably have to walk it the rest of the way through the undergrowth to the fort.

Her excitement was rapidly building along the way, for her secret friends had told her to meet them today after lunch. On any other day, this would be perfectly usual. But over the course of the past couple of days, she had intercepted several meaningful looks between the two of them when they thought she wasn't looking.

They were plotting something, of that she was sure. But what it could be, she hadn't had the foggiest idea. Sure, she might be on the receiving end of something unpleasant – it was most likely an ambush of sorts. But even so, their pranks were usually pretty funny, if not hilarious. The entertainment value alone was worth a little discomfort or embarrassment on her part.

Adding to the anticipation, she had her new bike to show them today. She had been talking about wanting one for weeks now, trying to describe it to them but never quite conveying it adequately, she reckoned. She had been only slightly surprised that they had never heard of or seen one before. After all, who would need a bicycle when you can fly on a broom? Still, it would be a riot of fun, she was sure of that: sharing it with them and teaching them to ride it around this afternoon.

As she reached the fort, she could hear them already inside. She leaned her bicycle against a nearby tree and stood at the foot of the willow, gazing up.

"Hang on a sec, Annie. We're almost ready," called Fred, acting as lookout and bending down to poke his head out of the trapdoor in the floor.

Annie's eyes narrowed. "What are you lot up to?" she asked suspiciously.

"You'll see!" Fred turned his head behind him to direct his brother. "Hurry up already, George!"

"Okay... done," she heard George's disembodied voice reply.

"Come on up, then, Annie," Fred invited her, stepping away from the trapdoor.

Annie hesitated for a moment, unsure if it was wise to trust them. But her curiosity quickly got the better of her, and she clambered up the willow tree.

"Surprise!" they both cried as her head cleared the trapdoor.

Annie's mouth dropped open at the sight that greeted her inside the fort. About fifty twinkling fairies were fluttering inside the dim space near the roof. The boys had hung a hand-painted paper banner across the far end of the fort that read "Happy 2nd Birthday Annie!" She smiled at that – they had gotten such a kick out of the idea that strictly speaking, since this was only the second time Leap Day had come around since Annie's birth, she was two instead of eight.

Fred and George sang "She's a Jolly Good Fellow" as she pulled herself wholly into the tree fort, beaming with pleasure. She had had no idea that they had been planning this: a surprise birthday party. Her very first party of any kind, in fact.

She cheered as they finished the song and cried, "Well done!"

Fred then ceremoniously placed a small package into her hands. It was wrapped in red paper and tied with a small piece of string. "Happy birthday, Annie. It's from both of us," Fred explained proudly.

She was stunned. They had gotten her a gift?

In all her life, no one but her Gran had ever acknowledged her birthday. No schoolmates or teachers or neighbors had ever spoken of it, much less made any effort to celebrate. And certainly no other relatives had ever marked the day – if she even had any of those anywhere, anymore.

Slowly, she untied the bow and pulled back the paper to reveal a thick stack of Famous Wizard cards. Annie slowly shuffled through the stack of nearly sixty magically animated cards decorated with witches, wizards, and the like. Each one was inscribed with fantastical information that no one else she knew would ever believe. She had never imagined anything could rival the gift of her bicycle, but what she now held in her hands nearly eclipsed it: her very own magic.

"They're our extras, see. It's nearly a half a full set, I reckon," George said.

"We promise to help you complete it, if you want," Fred added.

Annie was at a loss for words for several moments. "These are brilliant! Thanks," she finally mumbled in a whisper.

"No trouble, really," mumbled George uncomfortably, swatting at a fairy that had flown at his nose.

Annie laughed, breaking the quiet seriousness that had momentarily fallen upon them.

Fred poked his head out the trapdoor once more, looking toward the ground. "What's this thing you brought?" he asked.

"My bicycle! Gran bought it for me just this morning. Come on, I'll show you," she cried, hopping to her feet.

They spent the next several hours entertaining themselves with Annie's new bicycle. They found a reasonably level, clear spot within the forest where Annie proceeded to teach each of them how to ride. The boys picked the skill up quickly, and they were soon taking turns pedaling while one child sat on the handlebars in front and the other stood on the footrests behind. Even though Annie's legs were unusually strong for her size, she was barely able to keep the bike moving with both boys riding, so she took point on the handlebars most often.

As they took shelter in the treehouse from the mist that had begun to fall again, Fred and George continued lavishing praise on Annie's birthday gift.

"We have got to get bicycles of our own, George!" Fred exclaimed.

"That would be brilliant! We could ride them all over together!" Annie cried, imagining fantastic adventures awaiting them.

George shrugged. "How?"

Fred pondered this for a while. "What if we asked for them for our birthday, like Annie did?"

"How on earth would Mum and Dad get them? Not likely to find them in Diagon Alley now, are they?" George argued.

"Dunno," Fred admitted, momentarily defeated. "Hang on.... You know how Dad loves tinkerin' around in the shed on that bleedin' car.... Maybe he could make them!"

George raised his eyebrows as he considered this idea. "Maybe.... D'you think he's heard of bicycles before?"

"If anyone has, he will," Fred chuckled.

"And if he hasn't?"

"You could show him mine! He could copy it!" Annie offered, jumping up and down with enthusiasm.

"You would let us borrow it?" George asked, incredulously.

"Nah. Won't work. Dad would get suspicious.... Where would you and I get ahold of one? Think about it, George," Fred warned.

"Blast! Thanks, Annie, but Fred's right. It would stir up too much curiosity, if you know what I mean."

Annie nodded. She understood that while the boys had never been specifically forbidden by their parents to play with Muggles, in general the practice of magical and non-magical children mixing together was not encouraged. It was why they didn't go to school with her in the village, after all.

As a Muggle, she wasn't supposed to know that magic was real. But they trusted her: that she would never reveal their secret to anyone else. Gran didn't count of course – she'd never keep secrets from her Gran. And Annie was beginning to suspect her grandmother didn't quite believe all of it anyway.

"What about a picture? Could we draw it carefully enough so that your dad could make a copy from the picture?" she suggested.

George began to nod with more enthusiasm the longer he considered the idea. "That could work, Fred! It really could!"

"We could say we saw one on the road from the forest," Fred added with growing eagerness.

"And he'd never suspect the truth...."

*

Meredith tapped her finger on the table as she took a sip from the teacup. I should have put a stop to this, she ruminated, before it had gone so far. She gazed out the window at the overcast yet dry April morning. April first, of all days, she thought, sighing with the irony of it.

All morning long, Annie had toiled over the two small cakes: her 'birthday gifts' for her imaginary friends. She had spent her own allowance to purchase the gumdrops she used to decorate them. Meredith didn't begrudge her the cakes – she had a hunch Annie herself would consume a good portion of them. It was the running conversation all morning long that had disturbed her the most.

Certainly her granddaughter had mentioned the two imaginary boys previously, but Meredith had had no idea the depths to which this fantasy had penetrated before now. This morning, Annie had rambled for hours about the boys' large family, the many siblings, the parents, the preposterous house they all lived in. How they all did magic.

Meredith could understand where most of it came from. As an only child, Annie would of course be curious about what it would be like to have brothers and sisters. And there was no mystery why she imagined them having two parents living at home – what orphan wouldn't fantasize about that? And the magic.... Well, all children believed in magic, didn't they?

Annie used to talk mainly about imaginary creatures, so outlandish that even she would smile and shake her head in disbelief. Meredith had been impressed with her granddaughter's imagination – even gone so far as to encourage it by asking her each night over dinner what amazing thing she had encountered that day. Perhaps that had been unwise, in retrospect.

Meredith drained the last of the tea from the cup. Tonight, she decided, she would have to have a serious talk with her granddaughter.

Annie carefully walked across the field toward the tree fort. Her arms were held out from her body, fingers looped into the strings that held each box closed. She was very proud of this morning's work and hoped her friends would enjoy the fruits of her labor.

The boys called out a welcome to her from where they were already perched up in the fort as she approached. She paused to consider how she would be able to climb up herself with her hands full. Not possible, she concluded, and she ordered them to come down and collect their presents. Annie was heartened by how quickly they climbed down from the tree, how excited they looked upon seeing the boxes.

"Happy birthday, Fred!" she announced as she placed the one intended for him in his hands.

He immediately began pulling the string loose.

"Wait a sec. You have to open them at the same time," she commanded. "Here you go, George."

The boys untied the strings and lifted the lids. Identical looks of surprise crossed their faces at the same time.

"I know your mum made you one cake already, but I thought maybe you might each like a cake of your very own, you know. With just your own name on it. What do you think?"

"That's a good point, Fred," exclaimed George, looking at his brother. "Everyone else in the family gets their own. Why not us?"

"Did you make it yourself, then?" asked Fred, sounding impressed.

"With a Muggle cooker?" added George eagerly.

Annie nodded and beamed with pride. "And bought the gumdrops, as well." She dug two forks out of her pocket and distributed them to each boy.

"What about you? Don't you want any?" asked George, confused why there were only two utensils.

She shook her head. "They're for you. Your presents."

Fred's eyes narrowed. "Hang on.... This feels like a setup. Did you put something disgusting in them?"

"Of course not!" Annie cried. "It's your birthday present!"

George smiled while trying to look suspicious. "I'm not taking a bite until you do," he chuckled.

"Oh, for heaven's sake! There's nothing wrong with them! I'll prove it!" She snatched the fork out of George's hand and roughly dug a bite out of the cake, shoving it in her mouth.

George's grin grew wider as she chewed and swallowed. "You didn't have to take such a big bite, for crying out loud! That's half my present gone!" he complained loudly.

Annie reached out with the fork toward Fred's cake.

"Not so fast, greedy git," he said, yanking the box out of her reach. "I thought this was my cake, to share or not as I see fit."

Annie growled in exasperation, but smiled as well. She tossed the fork back at George, who caught it easily. She was pleased as they each dug hungrily into their cakes.

"Fis is 'ood," mumbled George around a large mouthful.

Fred was nodding silently in agreement, his cheeks bulging.

"Don't sound so surprised!" Annie teased in an offended voice. "And don't choke on it, you idiot!" She snatched a gumdrop from Fred's cake, licked off the frosting, and popped in into her mouth.

Annie lay quietly in her bed that night with a contented smile on her face. The day had been a wonderful celebration, and her friends had truly enjoyed her efforts. An unqualified success, she thought proudly.

And the best news: their bikes were well on their way to being built. The twins' father had been thrilled by the plan they had concocted to construct the strange Muggle objects, and as of yet had no inkling of the real inspiration. Two more weeks at most, Fred had assured her, and they would be ready.

She looked up when she heard Gran in the doorway. Her happy anticipation of bicycle-mounted adventures with her friends began to dissipate as she saw her grandmother's grave face. What have I done now? she wondered. There hadn't been a fight at school in almost a month. She hadn't even gotten all that dirty today.

Gran came to sit on the edge of her bed and stroked her hair. Annie was confused by the look of concern on her face.

"Annie, love, we need to talk about something. Something important. I'm worried about you, you see. Worried if you're all right," she said.

Annie could hear the concern in her voice. But this was coming from out of the blue. What was Gran talking about? "I'm fine, Gran. Never better."

"Are you sure? Is there something you're not telling me? Something that bothers you.... Maybe even hurts you?"

"No." It was only a small lie. Lately, her heartaches had been few and far between. Most of her difficulties originated at school – as a result of being teased by a few bullies – but she could endure anything as long as she had her time in the forest to look forward to.

Stymied for a moment, Meredith tried another tack. "An imagination is a wonderful thing, love. And you have a prodigious one, to be sure. But as wonderful as it is, you mustn't let it take over, you see. It's a fine thing, and very useful, in its proper place. Yet you must always keep both feet on the ground, as they say. Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?"

Annie couldn't answer for sure. She was still too confused and didn't want to say the wrong thing, possibly upsetting her Gran even further.

"Perhaps... perhaps you're spending too much time alone in the woods, Annie."

"NO! Please, Gran, please let me go!" Annie begged her grandmother. Anything but that!

"Annie, you must rein in this fantasy world of yours. I want you to spend time with real children, not imaginary playmates."

"Real children?" Suddenly, understanding clicked into place. Annie's suspicions had been right. Only it went further than she had realized: Gran had never believed her, not any of it, all this time. Every night when she'd asked Annie how she spent her day, and Annie would tell her about her friends and their adventures, that odd smile on her Gran's face had been her way of humoring Annie, rather than shared amusement, after all.

"I'm not lying!" she cried. How could Gran think so about me?

"No, not lying, Annie. I don't believe you are deliberately trying to mislead me, darling girl. I just worry that... well... you seem to believe these daydreams yourself. And I'm afraid that could be... dangerous... if we let it go on too long."

Annie's mind was working quickly, trying to understand how best to handle the situation. She couldn't – wouldn't – stop seeing her friends in the forest, no matter what. Gran wasn't being fair.

"So, you think I should play with the kids in Ottery, instead?" Annie shuddered to consider it. Gran had no idea what she was asking her to do, the sacrifice she was asking for.

"Yes, Annie. I do," she said gently but firmly.

Annie recognized the tone of voice that indicated her grandmother would not be swayed on this point. "But I love the forest, Gran!" she whined.

Perhaps her Gran would accept a compromise? "What if I went to the park... maybe once a week? Then could I still go to the woods?" Annie bargained with her.

"That seems fair, dear," her Gran replied. "And I'm sure that once you make friends in town, you'll want to spend your time there instead. You must make an effort, Annie, to make friends. Surely there are some children from school that you could play with?"

Annie doubted it, but if it meant she could preserve her time with Fred and George, she would do any penance called for, meet whatever horrible arbitrary conditions her Gran saw fit to impose. "Fine, Gran. I'll go to the park tomorrow afternoon, if you like," she said sadly.

"That's all I'm asking for, Annie. Just try. Make an effort. Keep yourself grounded," her Gran said, stroking Annie's hair away from her face.

"Okay, Gran. I promise."

Annie lay in the dark that night, unable to sleep. Tears rolled down her face and wet her pillow. Her Gran didn't believe her. More than that – apparently thought she was mental. Wanted her to spend her time with those beastly morons at school, who knew nothing about magic or garden gnomes or flying brooms. They only knew about cruelty, swear words, and pecking order. And her mother – they knew all about that, unfortunately.

No matter. If the playground once a week was what she had to endure, then endure it she would. But she couldn't help thinking her Gran had it all backwards. Her schoolmates were the imaginary friends. And she would keep her real adventures with her true friends to herself, from now on.