That bloody cactus. It squatted malevolently on Inés's desk pedantically being force fed tap water by pipette. Max and Miranda could swear that it had a squint. They didn't get the point of the thing.

Inés strode into her office and slapped down the files. Shepherding Max and Miranda was almost a fulltime job. They were a liability. A flash of pink caught her eye. A tiny balloon was tethered to the top spines. Inés narrowed her eyes and looked suspiciously at it. It shrieked happy birthday in comic sans. Hardly classy. Next to it though was a mini bottle of Rioja. And a dog toy. She sighed. This setup was clearly the work of the foreign clowns in the office.

She picked the bottle up and examined it. A good year. They at least knew her well. She wondered when she'd told them that she had a dog. Shrugged. She put the presents in her bag, left the balloon where it was. It was vulgar but if you couldn't be a little vulgar on your birthday, when could you be?

Sometimes a cactus had its uses.