The fireworks almost sent Parvati into hysterics- she had to resist the urge to shield Ivy from the explosions. But she managed to grin at the two men in the doorway. "Happy birthday!" She called, and her daughter ran to give her papa and her uncle a cake her tiny hands helped vigorously to decorate.
âCor, look at you!â Georgeâs face broke into a grin and he dropped onto his haunches to receive the cake as Ivy jogged up to him, beaming. âIsnât this gorgeous? You and Mummy went and bought it, yeah? Clearly done by a professional.â There were fingerprints in the icing and Ivy had batter in her hair, but there was no sarcasm in his tone, just pride.Â
âNope! I made it all by myself,â Ivy announced, which was nearly as untrue.
âGood show, Ive.â Fred one-handedly relieved his brother of the cake so George could hoist his daughter up into his arms and carry her to the table. It was a wonder sheâd ever learnt to walk at all, with all the time she spent being ferried about by her father. âWe deserve nothing less, having accomplished the remarkable feat of turning twenty-five for the eleventh time in a row.â
