Doris told her son, Simon, that she would enjoy a surprise party for her sixty-fifth birthday.
Then she handed him a four-page checklist.
“Nothing elaborate. Just something unexpected.”
Simon looked at the seating instructions.
Aunt May must not sit near the heater. Uncle Bert must not sit near anyone who mentioned parking. The cake must contain neither raisins nor surprises.
“What exactly is supposed to be unexpected?”
“The occasion.”
He agreed to organise it.
Doris called the next morning to check the guest list.
Simon said he could not discuss it.
“Why?”
“You wrote ‘Make sure Mum knows nothing.’”
“That means do not tell me the party is happening.”
“It is happening. You commissioned it.”
Doris said he was being deliberately difficult.
Simon called it following instructions.
She telephoned her daughter, Rachel.
Rachel also refused to disclose details.
Doris tried asking whether she should wear her blue dress on Saturday.
Rachel said any comfortable outfit would do.
“Comfortable for what?”
“For your birthday.”
Doris disliked that answer.
On Wednesday, she met Aunt May outside the bakery.
May carried a large flat box.
Doris asked what was inside.
“Shoes.”
“From the bakery?”
“They are expanding.”
Doris looked at the ribbon.
May hurried toward her car.
Doris wrote MAY — UNRELIABLE WITNESS in her diary.
On Thursday, Uncle Bert asked whether her side gate would be open.
“Why do you need it?”
“No reason.”
“Then use the front.”
He said the front was less convenient for something he was not bringing.
Doris phoned Simon again.
He told her to stop interrogating the guests.
“I am ensuring nobody spoils the surprise.”
“You have asked six people where they will be at seven o’clock.”
“Consistency matters.”
On Friday, Simon arrived with a basket.
It contained a novel, bath salts, and her favourite biscuits.
He asked her to spend Saturday afternoon relaxing.
Doris asked who would organise the house.
“I will.”
“Do you know where the tablecloth is?”
“Yes.”
“And the good plates?”
“Yes.”
“And which drawer has—”
“Yes.”
Doris opened the basket.
“This is a distraction.”
“A very well-specified one.”
At three on Saturday, Rachel took her to a café.
Doris kept watching the time.
Rachel said there was no hurry.
“There is always hurry before guests.”
“You are not expecting any guests.”
“That is technically correct and socially useless.”
At six thirty, they returned home.
The side gate was open.
Doris noticed bunting through the sitting-room window.
She adjusted her face into a surprised expression before entering.
Everyone shouted.
Doris thanked them, then immediately checked whether Aunt May was beside the heater.
She wasn’t.
Bert was discussing trains with a man who had arrived on foot.
The cake contained no raisins.
The tablecloth was correct.
Doris asked where Simon had put the serving spoons.
He handed her a glass.
“No need.”
She asked whether drinks needed topping up.
Rachel was doing it.
She offered to clear plates.
May stopped her.
Doris stood in the centre of the room holding a perfectly adequate glass and no responsibility.
This had not been on her checklist.
Simon brought her a place card.
It said DORIS.
Underneath was one word.
GUEST.
She sat down slowly.
Simon asked whether she had been surprised.
“Completely.”
“By the party?”
“No. You found the serving spoons.”
He grinned.
“Next year, can we skip the checklist?”
Doris considered the tidy table, happy relatives, and her empty hands.
“One instruction.”
“What?”
“Keep me uninformed.”