don’t think so!” shouted a voice from outside the room. It was Ruby’s. “Actually, the nearest planet capable of sustaining life is four light years away!”
“How far is that?” said Sam. “In miles?”
There was a silence. But only for a few seconds. “Two hundred and thirty-five billion billion. Give or take the odd mile.”
“Um … OK …” said Charlie. “But we don’t know how fast their spacecrafts travel, do we?”
“Well, anyway,” said Vicky, looking out of the window at the night sky above the city, “I just have a feeling that there is life out there somewhere.”
Charlie smiled: he knew that his wife had a lot of faith in her feelings. He loved that about her, even if he didn’t have so much faith in her feelings.
“Is that like the feeling,” he said, putting his arm round her, “you had yesterday, about how I shouldn’t walk under that ladder – and so I didn’t, and fell in that huge puddle instead?”
She pushed him away, but smiled as she did it.
“It didn’t cost too much, did it?” asked Sam, going over to the telescope.
Sam’s dad was a manager at HomeFront, a big building supplies store, and his mum worked at home, buying and selling stuff on the internet, so they weren’t exactly rich – though it did also mean that Dad had been able to get a staff discount on the tool kit, something Sam had really wanted, as he loved making and fixing things.
“Don’t worry about that!” said Vicky. “It’s your birthday!” She looked over at the telescope. “Are the stars out? If you see a shooting one, you can wish on it! You should wish on it!”
“Really?” said Sam. “Does that actually, y’know … work?”
“Yes!” said Vicky confidently.
Charlie looked at her, and raised an eyebrow.
“Well. No one really knows. Do they?” she said defiantly.
“Um …” said Charlie, bending down and checking the telescope lens. “Well. What I would say is that tonight is too cloudy to see the stars anyway.”
“Never mind,” said Sam. “We’ll look through it tomorrow!”
He climbed up the little ladder and got into bed. It was a bunk bed, and sometimes Sam would show how good he was at balancing on that ladder by walking up without using his hands, although tonight he was too tired for that.
“Oh! And I liked it when the grans and grandpas came round for lunch,” he said. “They didn’t even fight!”
“I know,” said Vicky, clearly surprised herself. “They were on their best behaviour.”
“Yes …” said Sam, settling his head on the pillow. “Grandpa Sam didn’t even swear at Grandpa Mike. And Grandpa Mike didn’t even punch him or threaten to get his boys on him or anything. And Grandma Glenda and Grandma Poppy even smiled at each other.”
“I think that might have been a snarl …” said his dad.
“Shush, Charlie. Anyway … you should go to sleep now, Sammy,” said Sam’s mum. “I imagine you’re exhausted …”
“Specially,” said his dad, “having got up at the dot of six in the morning!”
“Was that the time?” said Sam.
“Well. It was one minute past six when you were knocking on our bedroom door, demanding presents. I’m sure of that …”
“But that was my favourite bit!” said Sam.
“Of what?”
“Of my birthday! I love how exciting it is to wake up on your birthday! And realise that it is your birthday! This day you’ve been waiting for, for so long, it’s finally here!”
“Yes,” said Vicky. “That is very exciting.”
“Not quite as exciting when you get to forty-three, though,” said Charlie, and Vicky laughed at his joke in a grown-ups-laughing-at-grown-ups’-stuff kind of way.
“Isn’t it?” said Sam.
“Pardon?” said Charlie.
“Exciting. Isn’t it exciting any more, your birthday?”
His mum and dad looked at each other.
“Well,” said Vicky, looking back at Sam kindly, and pulling his duvet back across him. “It’s always nice, yes. But maybe not quite as nice as it was when you’re ten … or when that of course turns into eleven.”
Sam nodded, but then shook his head.
“I’d like it to be my birthday every day!” he said.
His parents smiled, and then both of them got on the bed with him – climbed up the ladder and everything – and put their arms round him, something that in this family was referred to as a bundle-hug.
“Wait for me!” said Ruby as she hurried back into the room. She climbed up and joined the bundle-hug. She was holding a big science textbook, which made it a bit uncomfortable.
Then, after that, Vicky said:
“I’m glad the day went so well. Ruby, back to your room. Sam, time to go to sleep …”
And Sam smiled at her, and shut his eyes.
Normally, Sam had no problem sleeping. Normally, he was out as soon as his head hit the pillow. And his parents were right: he should have been more ready for sleep than ever, given how early he’d been up that morning.
But his birthday had been so great, and he was still so excited, that Sam just couldn’t sleep. He found himself tossing and turning in his bed, thinking of how much he just wanted to stay up and play with all his presents.
Also, he thought, looking at the numbers on the clock by his bedside – 10.24 – it’s still my birthday! For another hour and thirty-six minutes! What am I thinking of, going to sleep?
No – he also thought – I should be up, doing birthday stuff!
So Sam got out of bed. And tried on his trainers. And ran on the spot with them for a little while. Then he stood on his skateboard, which was great: his parents had splashed out on it – it was exactly the one he wanted,
