Angel and the Assassin: Be Brave

Kael‟s waist. “Happy birthday,
    Daddy. Why didn‟t you tell me? I had to find out from Freddie.”
    Freddie slapped him on the back. “He made me get you out of the house so he
    could prepare the party.”
    Overcome with emotion, Kael kissed Angel lightly on the lips. He had loved his
    birthdays when he was a kid; his mum had always done something special, even
    when they were broke, but as an adult, he had ignored them. Many a time over the
    years he had been on a hit on the actual day. It hadn‟t even occurred to him to tell

    Angel and the Assassin: Be Brave

    69

    Angel, not even when he had got his present in the post from his mum. “I‟m not big
    on fuss. You know me.” Carrying Angel, he walked over to the table they never used
    ordinarily. It looked beautiful. A small flower arrangement of roses sat in the
    middle. The silverware and glittering white plates caught the light from the
    candles. Tall wineglasses gleamed at each plate.
    There were six places and only four of them. Fear clutched suddenly at Kael‟s
    belly. He looked at Angel and whispered, “Please tell me those little girls aren‟t
    here.”
    “Uncle Kael!”
    Angel jumped down as the two little girls, one blonde, the other dark-haired,
    ran into the room, their curly hair tied up in ribbons, screaming, “Happy birthday,
    Uncle Kael.” Kael went rigid as they grabbed a leg each and hugged it tight. He
    looked down at them in horror. His fear of Penelope Chalmers paled in comparison.
    “Get them off,” he said desperately.
    What they all found so funny was beyond him, but Angel and Adam removed
    the children, allowing him to move. He made his way to the couch without further
    assault and sat down with Freddie while Angel and Adam began to put out the food
    and got the girls involved by giving them small things to carry from the kitchen.
    Every time they passed through the living room to the dining room area, they felt
    compelled to draw his attention.
    “Uncle Kael. Look what I‟m bringing.” Kael glanced at them and then
    shrugged at Freddie.
    “They want you to say „well done‟ or „aren‟t you strong,‟ something like that,”
    Freddie told him.
    “Well done,” he called, grateful that they were busy. “What are their names? I
    forget.”
    Freddie laughed. “Zoe and Amelia. Zoe just turned five, and Amelia will be
    four in May.”
    “Why do they like me?” He was genuinely perplexed.
    “Kids are like cats,” Freddie said. “They always go to the people who are either
    scared of them or just don‟t like them.” They looked at each other and laughed.
    Angel invited them to the table, and Kael sat at the head with Adam and
    Freddie to his right and left. To his immense relief, Angel had seated the girls on
    the other side of their fathers so they were well away from him. Angel sat at the
    other end so he could help with the girls.
    They began to pass the dishes around and serve the food. “Everything looks
    great,” Kael said.
    “Daddy, I made the chicken and the quiche, but Adam cooked everything else.”
    “He needed a bit of help, that‟s all. He‟s turning into a great cook,” Adam said.
    “Are you going to make a toast, Angel?” Freddie asked, picking up his glass.

    70
    Fyn Alexander

    Angel‟s cheeks were already flushed from excitement. He looked at Kael, then
    Freddie, and got a bit tongue-tied. “You do it.”
    Everyone picked up a glass. Kael glanced at the girls, relieved that they had
    plastic cups with lids and spouts.
    “Kael, my old chum.” Freddie beamed at him. “It is such a pleasure to see you
    settled down with this lovely boy”—he nodded at Angel—“and happy at last. Here‟s
    to the next thirty-three years.” They raised their glasses and drank. Solemnly the
    girls copied, raising their sippy cups.
    “Thank you,” Kael said. “Let‟s eat.” The meal was wonderful, but he couldn‟t
    take his eyes off the girls, who knelt up on the beautiful leather-seated oak chairs.
    They had already stood up on them in their shoes. Amelia struggled to her feet, yet
    again demanding that Kael admire her dress. “Uncle Kael, look!” She spread her
    arms, teetering dangerously. “My dress is velvet.”
    “She‟s going to fall,” he said in a panicked voice. Adam reached out a hand to
    steady her, but he did not suggest she sit.
    “My dress is velvet too.” Zoe jumped up to display her own attire, which was
    clearly not velvet. Within seconds, they were screaming at each