May Contain Nuts by John O'Farrell Page B

wait for that first. ‘I guided her towards it,’ said David to William. As if my husband’s humiliation was not already sufficient, his youngest son chose this moment to wander down from his playroom modelling a Disney fairy dress, his high heels clacking noisily and attracting attention. ‘Oh, that’s a pretty dress, Alfie – who are you?’ asked Ffion.
    â€˜Tinkerbell!’
    â€˜Oh yes, the fairy …’
    I told myself it was sweet that Alfie enjoyed dressing up so much, it was just David who struggled with the fact that his four-year-old son was a transvestite.
    â€˜Ooh, why don’t you go and see what else you have got in your dressing-up box, Alfie?’ said his father. ‘There’s that Bob the Builder outfit, isn’t there? And your cowboy costume? Why don’t you put one of those on?’
    â€˜My Esmerelda dress!’ he announced excitedly.
    â€˜Er, I think Molly’ s old Esmerelda costume is getting a bit worn out now, isn’t it? What about that soldier’s helmet I bought you?’
    â€˜Sleeping Beauty!’ he announced, and ran off to get changed.
    â€˜Sweet. So have you thought about what you are going to do if Molly doesn’t get into Chelsea?’ probed Ffion.
    â€˜Oh, I’m pretty confident that she’ll pass the exam,’ I said casually.
    Ffion’s silent smile seemed to suggest otherwise. ‘Might be worth having one or two options up your sleeve though,’ she continued. ‘I mean, Chelsea College is a very academic school, it may not be the right place for a girl like Molly. That’s not a criticism – she’s a very cheerful, funny girl, and when it comes to music lessons I’m sure she’ll really excel.’
    David’s glare implored me not to be provoked into saying too much.
    â€˜Actually, Ffion, Chelsea College is the only school we’re going for. I’ve been doing quite a bit of work, I mean with Molly, obviously, and I’m pretty confident she’ll get in …’
    Out of the corner of my eye I noticed David placing a cookery book on a pile of Letts’ secondary selection practice papers, which were filled with my handwriting.
    â€˜Goodness, well, that’s very, umm … brave. I’m sure you’re right, it was probably just a one-off that she came bottom in the league table.’
    I went quiet for a moment and then steeled myself to say something. ‘Yes, well, you can’t make a league table from just one result. I mean, what about all the other things that should be taken into account? I mean, I could do a league table based on how good the children were at violin and Molly would come top, or what about playing Top Trumps or PlayStation Dancemat scores, or who was the first to finish Harry Potter and the whatever the big fat fourth book was – you can’t do a league table on just one thing, it’s not fair.’
    â€˜What about a league table on who can remember the most things that their parents told them about The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe ?’ suggested William unhelpfully.
    â€˜I guided her towards it …’
    Sarah sensed that it might be time to change the subject. ‘What about Bronwyn – have you got any back-ups in mind for her?’
    â€˜Well, we’ve got her down for a few other schools just in case. So she’ll be sitting the exams for Alleyn’s, JAG’s, City of London, St Paul’s, Streatham Hill and Clapham High, Godolphin and Latimer, Emanuel, Putney High, Francis Holland, oh and there’s a boarding school in Massachusetts we’re looking into …’
    I was still seething inside, though part of me was wondering whether I should be writing all these names down to make sure I had twenty-seven reserve options for my own daughter.
    â€˜But her personal tutors are all pretty sure she’ll get into Chelsea, aren’t they,