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…The National Theatre.

“We know you’re a walking Wikipedia page about this place, and you’ve been dying to visit, so we figured, why wait until we score tickets?” said Lucy, increasing her speed to match Alex’s sprint along Theatre Avenue.

Alex gazed at the massive concrete building on her right, biting down on her smile. “Someone pinch me.” Her eyes lit up when the statue of Sir Laurence Olivier popped into view near the front entrance. “All the acting legends that have tread the boards here.”

“The building’s a bit…ugly though, isn’t it?” said Freddie.

“I think she’s beautiful,” said Alex.

The early evening breeze from the Thames whispered across the forecourt, tickling the leaves in the trees and propelling soapy bubbles from a street performer high into the pink and orange sky. Blissful pedestrians strolled in bunches, their laughter lending a sweet, magical soundtrack to this birthday surprise.

Alex bounced on her tiptoes, toying with the strap of her bag. “Can we go in?”

Freddie waved her forward. “Of course.”

The sliding glass doors whisked open, welcoming them into the stark yet expansive lobby of monolithic cement pillars, and soft circular benches. They passed the busy box office counter on the right and stopped just short of the bookshop, its shelves happily offering play texts and souvenirs to the bustling pre-theatre crowd.

“We wanted to give you a taste of the place,” said Lucy. “We’ll definitely come back and see a play here. Fancy a drink on the balcony overlooking the Thames?”

Alex laughed. “What kind of a question is that?”

They rushed up the stairs, dodging theatregoers up one level, then another. Lucy queued at the bar while Freddie and Alex went outside onto a wide cement balcony, its railing ill-equipped to contain the birthday girl’s overflowing enthusiasm.

She leaned forward, her eyes spoilt for choice. The sleepy sun glinted on the dome of St. Paul’s, creating a hazy fireball across the river. On the ground below, a guitar-toting duo rocked a makeshift stage surrounded by red National Theatre deck chairs, a scattering of round tables, and red, yellow, and blue throw cushions. Revellers gleefully sipped wine or nibbled on appetizers from the National’s Understudy pub in between bursts of applause and animated conversation.

Alex turned to smile at Freddie, but caught a glimpse of a double-decker bus zooming across Waterloo Bridge under the watchful gaze of the London Eye.

“Thanks for bringing me here. I so needed this.”

Freddie hugged her as Lucy reappeared, a tray aloft with three glasses of white wine. A wooden bench provided the perfect platform for a birthday toast.

“Me first.” Lucy raised her glass.

“Lex, running into you was the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. I know I may snap at you sometimes when your perfectionist tendencies go off the charts, and I’ll never understand how you can pack away so much sugar without bursting out of your jeans. But your friendship means everything—and I love you. And now that I’ve found you again, well—I’m never letting you go, and that’s all there is to it! Happy Birthday, babe.”

A burning tickle teased Alex’s nose. She set her wine down on the bench and fanned at her eyes, fluttering her eyelashes. Do not blub on your birthday…

Freddie raised his glass. “Happy Birthday, sweetie. You’re brave, kind hearted, and despite your affection for Lady Gaga, a top friend. Oh—and don’t forget—when you turn our story into a glittering West End production, I insist that you have gorgeous Eddie Redmayne play me.”

The girls laughed.

“Only if Chloe Grace Moretz portrays me. And Lucy gets Freema Agyeman.”

“Martha, playing me? She’d be great,” said Lucy.

“Perfect casting!” Alex clasped their hands. “Thanks for the fun birthday. It’s the best one I’ve had since…well, I can’t remember!”

“Think we’re done? Nope.” Freddie dug around in the left pocket of his blazer. “Just a little something I thought you’d like…” He handed Alex a tissue wrapped bundle about the size of a ten pence coin. She chipped at it with her short fingernails.

“Freddie’s bad gift wrapping strikes again. Too much tape. Let me have a go.” Lucy pulled it out of Alex’s hand and snagged a corner.

Alex tore at the hole in the tissue. A small round brown button with ‘Stage Door’ in white lettering emerged.

It found a new home on her bag. “It’s super cute. Thanks, Freddie.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I’m now officially part of your stage door/red carpet/comic con squad.”

“Wait. There’s more.” He pulled out a blind boxed Doctor Who Titan from his other pocket. “I didn’t wrap it in case the tape stuck to the box’s artwork.”

“Did you pick this one out specially, Freddie?” A crooked smile lit up Lucy’s face. “Prepare yourself, Alex. I fear you’re about to be plagued with…”