“Alfie’s…” I repeat, and then I blanch. Tomorrow is September 7th, his seventeenth birthday. Though he’s in the same year level at school as me, his birthday falls right after the cutoff, so he’s the oldest in his year. How could I have forgotten?

“Don’t panic.” William chuckles. From his jacket pocket he whips out a velvet box and hands it to me. “Your father organized something for you to give him. Just pretend you were building the suspense. He’ll never know. But then, for god’s sake, socialize with the guests, Rose. Do you want me to lose my job?”

Father has never once bought somebody else a present on my behalf. But I’m so grateful, I don’t pause to wonder why on earth Father was so aware of Alfie’s upcoming birthday, or why he didn’t simply remind me to organize a gift myself.

I find Alfie taking a glass of champagne from a table—no one’s chiding him for drinking the alcoholic version, of course—and, sidling up beside him, I hand over the box.

“By the way, Alfie,” I say, “happy birthday.”

Please, let it be something nice. I don’t want to have to explain away a pack of cigars or a pair of cheap cuff links.

When he lifts the lid and reveals the box’s contents we wear matching expressions of disbelief. Inside, on a bed of silk, lays a pristine Vacheron Constantin watch.

Well. It certainly isn’t a pair of cheap cuff links.

Open-mouthed and wide-eyed, Alfie searches for words. “Wow,” he says. “This is … I mean, it’s gorgeous.”

Yes, it is. It’s also outrageously expensive. It’s not something I would have bought for him in a million years. Why on earth did Father? What was he thinking? Is it possible this is a re-gift, and he somehow didn’t notice its value? That must be what’s happened here, though I can’t imagine how. That, or he’s got a concussion I’m not aware of.

This isn’t a platonic gift. It would be too much for even an anniversary present. It’s all but an engagement ring.

“Will you help me put it on?” Alfie asks.

Words failing me, I work the clasp until I manage to attach the thing to his wrist. In my peripheral vision, I discover that Mum and Father are standing with the Paget-Harringtons, and all four adults are watching us with approval.

Was this an accident?

Alfie notices his parents’ attention, and he holds his wrist up to them, beaming. They beckon him over to take a closer look, and as he passes, nearby guests curiously crane their necks to get a better look at the new trinket on his wrist.