Starting Over by Tony Parsons

some girl who will think they’re a moron by the time you get them to repeat it a third time. Or you can use a bog-standard comeback: “Listen, if you keep telling me how to do my job, I’ll cometo your workplace tomorrow and start abusing you just as you’re saying, Do you want fries with that?”’
    Rufus and I looked at each other and laughed.
    ‘That’s pretty good,’ I said.
    ‘Yeah,’ Rufus said happily. ‘I could use that one.’
    There was a pen and notebook by the side of his bed. He picked them up and scribbled something down.
    ‘Never panic,’ Eamon said. ‘Never get angry. Never feel fear. Never lose control. Never show weakness. Never show nerves. Visualise success at all times. Anticipate glory. Expect laughter – mad, uncontrollable laughter in your adoring audience. And if you get a hater – and you will – then remember that they have entered your world, and all you have to decide is their moment of total annihilation.’ He nodded. ‘Stand up,’ he said to Rufus, and when they were facing each other, Eamon placed his hands on my son’s shoulders and looked into his eyes. ‘They are not as funny as you. They are not as smart as you. They are not as brave as you – remember that most of all. There are no cowards on a stage, only in an audience. And promise me one thing…’
    ‘Anything,’ Rufus said quietly.
    Their faces were very close now. Eamon was gripping his shoulders, demanding that he take this in. And I wished that my son would look at me that way sometimes. And I wished I could talk to him like that. And I wished I could hold him like that.
    ‘Promise me that you will never burst into tears,’ Eamon said. And then he smiled. ‘The audience may perceive it as a sign of weakness.’
    They both laughed, and Eamon said, ‘Ah, come here, you big lunk,’ and they embraced each other like friends, like brothers, like father and son. And the feeling I had grewstronger – that feeling of being grateful and jealous all at once.
    And then Eamon’s face got deadly serious.
    ‘But above all there is one thing you must always remember,’ he said. ‘Everything will unravel if you forget this one thing. It is the key, it is the secret, it is the final piece of the puzzle. Forget this one thing and you place everything in danger. And it is this ,’ Eamon said, just as there was a polite little knock-knock on the door and Lara came in with a tray of tea and Jaffa Cakes, smiling happily, and saying, ‘Is everything all right? I heard some shouting.’
    Eamon’s pocket began to vibrate and he took out his phone. ‘Got to go,’ he said. He shook Rufus’ hand and wished him luck and thanked Lara for the offer of tea and Jaffa Cakes, and said to me, ‘It’s been a real pleasure being abducted by you, and I would love to stay chained to your radiator for a while longer, but there’s a car waiting outside.’
    It was true. From the bedroom window I could see a big silver Mercedes idling at the kerb, the driver waiting on the pavement sneaking a cigarette as he waited for his semifamous passenger to emerge.
    ‘But what’s the one thing?’ I was saying. ‘The one thing that, if you forget, puts it all in danger?’
    But by then Rufus was thanking him and Ruby was there and Eamon was turning on the charm as a means of escape. So the one really important thing – the key, the secret, the final part of the puzzle – got forgotten among the thank yous and goodnights.
    And my family looked at our guest with affection as he took his leave, waving to him as he slid into the silver Mercedes, all smiles, all three of them, as if there was nothing waiting out there on the other side of luck.

nine
    They clapped me when I went back to work. All of them. The canteen cowboys and the ones with medals. The gangbusters and the pen pushers. I walked into the morning parade and they stood as one and put their hands together. The young and the old, the uniforms and the suits. The lean, hard and