Page 69 of The Start of Something Wonderful

My nostrils quiver as the unmistakable whiff of Brut driftsdisconcertingly by, evoking memories of Christmases past.

‘Well, hello!’ says Giles in his customary, Leslie Phillips-ding-dong way, waving his beer glass unsteadily with one hand, whilst trying unsuccessfully to pinch my bottom with the other. ‘Great to see you, old girl! Been on the telly yet? One of these days, eh? Better get your autograph now before you’re rich and famous, what?’ He guffaws,spraying my face withSan Miguel. ‘Well, go on, what do you think of my gorgeous lady? Isn’t she something?’

‘Yes, she’s quite …’

He leans towards me, voice lowering to a confiding whisper. ‘And you won’t mind me telling you that the sex is …’

‘Breaded sprout anyone?’ I say, beating a hasty retreat with the veggie platter.

‘Thanks,’ says Chantelle, attempting to scoop up a sproutbetween her bejewelled, acrylic talons.

‘Here, let me help you.’ I smile, passing her one in a napkin. ‘I’m Emily, by the way.’

‘Oh, yeah, Giles told me about you,’ she says, ejecting bits of almond through her Botoxed lips. ‘You’re trying to be an actress, right?’

‘I …’

‘Emily’s got a leading role in a West End show, haven’t you, poppet?’ says Mum in a loud voice, butting in.‘That’s why she has to fly off so soon.’

‘Really? How exciting,’ says Lydia. ‘Congratulations. We should organise a London Theatre Break, shouldn’t we, Brenda?’ Lydia turns to look at Mum.

‘Oh, it’s a very short run,’ I say, swallowing hard.

‘We’d better get booked then. Do you hear that girls? We’re organising a weekend in London in the New Year to see Emily in herWest Endshow.I’ll collect names later.’

‘Excuse me, I just need to pop upstairs,’ I say, breaking into a cold sweat.

‘Get yourself out of this one,’ I say to my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I splash my face with cold water, sit on the laundry basket, shut my eyes, and take a few deep breaths. My mind wanders across the Mediterranean Sea to Naples, to Francesco, sitting around the family table.Who is his family?

There’s a knock at the door. ‘Just coming!’ I say and head back down.

‘Chantelle was just telling me Giles bought hertwoChristmas presents, the lucky girl,’ shouts Lydia tipsily as I descend the stairs. ‘But she hasn’t told me yet what they are.’

‘Well … you’re lookin’ at ’em,’ says Chantelle, proudly sticking out her DDs. ‘I’d wanted a boob job for ages but couldn’tafford it, and Giles said he’d be happy to pay for the op.’ (I bet he was, love.Ding-dong!) ‘He’s a real diamond.’

‘How very …sweet,’ guffaws Lydia, pulling at her string of pearls, which snaps and sends the beads scattering all over the floor. ‘Oops! IadoreJulio Iglesias, don’t you?’

* * *

‘Come on, you two,’ I say, collecting the last of the glasses. ‘It’s gone midnight and youboth look exhausted. Why don’t you go to bed and I’ll finish clearing up?’

My parents exchange a knowing glance.

‘Sit down, love,’ says Dad tentatively. ‘We need to have a little chat.’

‘What is it?’ I say, panic rising. ‘You’re not ill again, are you?’

‘No, no, love. Nothing like that. It’s just …’ He shuffles awkwardly in his chair.

‘Your father and I are worried about yourfuture,’ interjects Mum.

‘Why?’

‘Why? Because you may be over forty, but you’re still our little girl, our one and only, and we want you to be happy.’

‘But Iamhappy.’

‘You can’t live like this at your age. I mean, I know you’ve got this job to go back to, but what happens after that? It’s all right when you’re young, living from hand to mouth, but not now … especially now that…’