The Birthday Cake

THE BIRTHDAY CAKE



Joanne was looking forward to seeing her father after all these years. It would be his birthday soon. She had moved away from home to work up north, after her pretty younger sister Annabelle had died so unexpectedly at seventeen. Their mother June had died ten years earlier after a long and courageous battle with cancer and Joanne had virtually brought Annabelle up single-handedly. Their father had started drinking heavily after June died and family life deteriorated rapidly.

Joanne had been twenty-one at the time of Annabelle’s death.

Her father was the only close relative she had now and she couldn’t wait to make up for lost time. She gazed at an old snapshot of him in the family photo album. He had been a good looking young man and she could see herself in him, with his dark curly hair and charismatic smile. She took after her mother, nature-wise and had inherited her strong character and determined nature. Joanne made a promise to herself that she would find her father one day. She knew it was what her mum and sister would have wanted. She had to put things right; she owed it to them - and to him.

Joanne would be forty-one next year. She’d never married and had worked as a pharmacy assistant for many years at the local hospital. Despite having to miss many school lessons when she was younger, due to the family situation, she had studied hard at college and had done well in her exams. Her father had not been around to see how well she had recovered from all the trauma. He would be nearly seventy-three now, Joanne thought and she wondered how much he had changed.

Would he even remember her? She so wanted him to remember, or would he still be a hopeless drunk, his brain now addled from years of abuse?

She’d found out he was living in a bed-sit in Luton, thanks to the Salvation Army’s help and had decided to go and visit him. She was feeling very apprehensive and wondered what she could take as a sort of ice-breaker, so she made a large chocolate sponge for his imminent seventy-third birthday. She clearly remembered from all those years ago, that it was her dad’s favourite, when he hadn’t been too drunk to bother with eating!. The cake turned out as light as a feather with all the special and expensive ingredients she’d used.

When Joanne arrived at the address she’ d been given, she was surprised, as she had expected the building to be in a state of disrepair and quite dilapidated. The tastefully renovated building was situated in a quiet road, surrounded by elegant gardens and had a spacious car park.. Her father’s bed-sit was on the ground floor. After parking her car, she rang the bell and the smart double-glazed door was opened almost immediately, as if he had been expecting her.

“Hello Dad” she said, beaming at him warmly “Long time no see!”

“Is that really you Joanne?” he gasped “ I can hardly believe my eyes girl, come on in, won’t you”

Joanne struggled to swallow, her throat started to feel very dry, making it difficult to speak and she felt overwhelmed with emotion at seeing him again. She stepped nervously over the threshold into a small hall, off which was a large well kept bed-sit area.


“ Thanks, I’ve made you a chocolate cake for your birthday, your favourite, I think”

“It most certainly is love” he replied “I’ll make us a nice cup of tea to wash it down with” and he disappeared into the small kitchenette, humming contentedly to himself.

Joanne sat down on one of the two comfortable arm-chairs and unwrapped the huge and very inviting looking sponge cake. She looked around for any signs of alcohol abuse, but there was nothing to indicate that he was still drinking heavily.

He came back shortly with two teas in bright china mugs and a couple of plates, complete with white serviettes. She watched him closely as he handed her a mug of steaming tea. His hair was still as curly as she remembered, though silvery grey now and slightly thin on top. She recalled sadly how much she’d loved him when she was a little girl.

She quickly observed how the strong hands that had mauled her young body so many times, all those years ago, were a little shaky now. She also recalled how she had said nothing and learned to live with the abuse, as he had gone no further, and she had felt so confused, with all the conflicting emotions and loyalties of a child. Then it all suddenly stopped.

But years later when she’d found Annabelle’s note, after finding her dead from a massive overdose that awful day, she knew that she herself had got off lightly.
Annabelle was not such a strong character and keeping the secret had driven her to despair. She felt she couldn’t tell anyone, even Joanne as she didn’t think she would be believed. It was all in the note.

Though Joanne was sick with grief and felt such personal guilt, the shame of it all coming out was too much to bear. How could she not have suspected what Annabelle was going through? Joanne destroyed the note and a verdict of “suicide whilst the balance of her mind was disturbed” was recorded. Pressures of college work, boyfriend trouble - everyone assumed those were the reasons.



He noticed Joanne’s penetrating look, disguised by the sweet, but false smile.

“Just a touch of Parkinson’s dear - and my ticker’s a bit dodgy too, but I saw the doc only yesterday and he says I’m doing Ok for a man of my age” he said, cheerfully.

They chatted for a while, just small talk about his health, his rehabilitation, her pharmacy job, her flat and her life in general - until Joanne could stand the pretence no longer.

“When did you get out of prison Dad?” she asked abruptly.

“About fifteen years ago and I’ve never touched a drop since, in case you‘re wondering” he said, rather too smugly, as he reached for a second slice of the delicious cake.

He had killed a young lad through drink driving, shortly after selling the family home when Joanne left. He had disappeared into oblivion after being released from prison He doesn’t seem that remorseful, thought Joanne, but then he’d never said sorry to anyone. Perhaps he thinks he has paid his debts to society. She knew better.



“Have another slice of cake Dad, it’ll only go stale” she said “I can’t have it anyway, as I’m diabetic - and I did make it specially for you”

He didn’t really need any encouragement and helped himself to another huge slice - and then another.

“God help my arteries!” he joked to Joanne. “All this cholesterol!”

She smiled broadly at him and laughed “Don’t worry about that Dad, that’s the least of your worries - I hope you rot in hell, you bastard!”

“What was that you said love, didn’t quite catch that last bit?” He had started to feel a little bit woozy now and slightly nauseous. Everything, including Joanne seemed hazy and far away.


The cake had been delicious, topped with chocolate fondant icing and hundreds and thousands, in fact just how he liked it and extremely sweet; well - perhaps just a little bit too sweet, he thought…

as he slowly drifted into unconsciousness.


Joanne was pleased - her boring, underpaid and slightly repetitive job in the pharmacy department had proved useful and she didn't care about herself now. The debt she owed her sister had been paid.

Two days later she made the call and waited for a knock on her door.