Read Chapter 14: — THE BIRTHDAY NOODLES

Daniel’s thirty-third birthday arrived without his remembering it.

Maggie remembered.

At six in the morning his phone filled with messages, childhood photographs and an aggressive number of cake emojis.

Toby discovered the date and announced it to the entire team.

By lunch Daniel had been forced to wear a paper crown made from a safety briefing sheet.

Maya brought a small cake from the city.

Graham said nothing.

That evening, after the shift, the chef called Daniel into the canteen and placed a bowl of long noodles in front of him.

“Mr Bennett’s instructions,” he admitted when pressed. “Said they were traditional where he worked years ago. Long life.”

Daniel stared at the bowl.

His mother had made long noodles for him when he was a child, though she always claimed the habit came from “someone who believed birthdays should be practical.”

He phoned her.

“Mum, did Dad used to like birthday noodles?”

There was a pause.

Daniel’s father, according to the story he had grown up with, had died when Daniel was very young. Maggie rarely spoke about him.

“Why are you asking?”

“Just something at work.”

“No particular reason.”

Her answer was too quick.

Daniel looked across the canteen.

Graham sat alone with his enamel mug, reading.

For the first time Daniel allowed himself to look properly.

The shape of the brow.

The deep line beside the mouth.

The way the left eye narrowed first when annoyed.

A ridiculous thought arrived.

He pushed it away.

People resembled one another.

Habits spread between colleagues.

Coincidences existed.

He ate the noodles.

They tasted like home.