 Three Wishes by Leanne Moriarty. Narrated by Heather Wilds. Prologue It happens sometimes that you accidentally star in a little public performance of your very own, comedy, tragedy or melodrama. You're running for your morning bus, briefcase swinging jauntily when you trip and tumble playground style to the footpath. You're trapped in a heavy breathing silence of a crowded elevator when your lover says something infuriating. What did you just say? Or your child asks a rather delicate question. Or your mother calls on your mobile to shriek dire warnings. You're shuffling past a row of knees in the cinema caught in the spotlight of the previews when you tip your popcorn into a stranger's lap. You're having one of those days of accumulating misery when you argue violently with someone in a position of power, a bank teller, a dry cleaner, a three-year-old. You either ignore your silently grinning spectators, glower at them or shrug humorously. If you're a flamboyant type you might even give a little bow. It doesn't really matter much what you do, because you have no control over your role in the amusing little anecdotes they're already busy composing. If it suits them they will rob you of even more dignity. It happened to three women one cold June night in Sydney. Actually, it had been happening to them all their lives, but this time their performance was especially spectacular. The setting was a busy seafood restaurant endorsed as full of surprises by Sydney's Good Food Guide, and their audience excluded only those suffering from excessive good manners. Everyone else witnessed the entire show, with complete bar guide enjoyment. Within hours this little incident was being described and re-enacted for the pleasure of babysitters, roommates and partners waiting at home. By early the next day at least a dozen versions of the story were doing the rounds of office cubicles and coffee shops, pubs and preschools. Some were funny, others disapproving, many were censored, a few were spiced up, of course no two were the same. The birthday brawl. Last night. Eventful. No mate, not that sort of eventful. The blind date was a disaster. It wasn't too soon after Sarah. I told you I'm ready to get back out there. The problem was her voice. It's like trying to hear someone on a bad line. I'm not being picky. I can't hear the woman. There's a limit to how many times you can ask someone to repeat themselves before it gets bloody awkward. All night I was leaning halfway across the table, squinting my ears, making wild guesses of what she was whispering. At one point I chuckled appreciatively at what I thought was a punchline and the poor girl looked horrified. She could be really nice. She just needs someone with better ears, preferably bionic ones. But forget about the date. I'm sure she has. Actually, I'm sure she hasn't because, as I say, it was... eventful. The restaurant was jam-packed and we had a table right next to three women. At first I didn't even register them because I was busy perfecting my lip-reading skills. The first time I even looked over was when one girl got her handbag strapped, tangled around her chair. Yep. Nice looking, although I did have a preference for... but I'm getting ahead of myself. So, at first these three girls were having a great time, roaring with laughter, getting louder and louder. Each time they laughed, my date and I smiled sadly at each other. About eleven o'clock we cheered up because the end was in sight. We got the dessert menu and she used sign language to suggest we share the blueberry cheesecake. Obviously I didn't completely ruin her night by mentioning my missing sweet tooth. What is it with women and sharing desserts? I make some so happy. But we never got to order because that's when the action started. The lights in the restaurant went off and three waitresses appeared, each of them lugging these three huge, bloody birthday cakes, if you don't mind. And I said to Thomas, well, for heaven's sakes, three cakes, one for each girl, all ablaze with those noisy sparklers, which I personally think are a fire hazard. So then they... Sample complete. Ready to continue?