promptly goes to the wardrobe to help herself to my shoes.
‘Mummy is going to Buckingham Palace tonight,’ I tell her as I bounce round the room giving full reign to my excitement.
Her raised eyebrow indicates a modicum of interest. She clacks about in my heels.
‘Will you meet the Queen?’
‘I don’t think so, but I might meet a Prince.’
‘Will you kiss him?’
‘I do hope not.’ Has she seen Prince Charles?
My daughter looks disappointed by this turn of events and wonder exactly what I’d have to do to impress her.
I pull out a vintage Audrey Hepburn-esque dress – black, sleeveless, full twirly skirt – and I can’t even think when it last came out of the wardrobe. I hold it up against me and pose. The perfect accompaniment for a Fish & Chips handbag.
‘Nice, Mummy. Can I come to the Palace too?’
That brings me down to earth with a bump. I sit down on the bed and pull my daughter into my arms and kiss her hair. ‘No, sweet pea,’ I say. ‘It’s just for grown-ups.’
‘ Everything’s for grown-ups,’ Petal complains.
‘Before you and I know it, you will be a grown-up too.’
‘I hope you’re not telling me a fib,’ she warns, ‘or your nose will drop off.’
‘I’m not,’ I promise. ‘One minute you’ll be a little girl and the next you’ll be a big lady with a life of your own.’
‘So what will Daddy and me do while you’re with the Prince?’
‘I don’t know, sweet pea.’ But I’ll have to sort something out pretty soon.
Chapter 24
‘Of course, I’m pleased for you,’ Olly shouts.
I’m fresh out of the shower and in the bedroom getting ready for my posh night out. ‘You don’t seem it,’ I shout back.
Rubbing the towel over me briskly, I squirt myself liberally with Chanel No 5 – a very welcome Christmas present from my dear Dad every year, which I usually manage to eke out to last me the full twelve months. I’m hoping it will hide any residual chip aroma. I want to make a big impression tonight and I don’t want to do it with a lingering scent of haddock.
‘It would just have been handy to have had more notice.’
‘That’s the way the cookie crumbles,’ I point out. ‘The reception is tonight. Tod asked me to go this morning. What am I supposed to do?’
‘More importantly, Nell, what am I supposed to do?’ He lowers his voice, but the anger is still there. ‘What am I going to do with Petal?’
‘I don’t know,’ I admit. ‘I tried everyone I could think of. No one was free to babysit.’
‘Then maybe you should have said no to Tod .’ He uses the whiny voice he does whenever he says Tod.
‘Tod’ – no whining – ‘told me it was very important for me to be there. I happen to agree. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.’
The straighteners get a cursory tug through my hair before I twist it up into a chignon. I add a big black bow to the back. I can’t ever remember seeing Olly so cross with me before and I don’t understand what the issue is. I have to do this. Does he not see that?
‘Phone in sick,’ I say. ‘It’s the only thing to do.’
‘How can I?’ Olly asks. ‘I’m hanging on there by a thread after being late the other week. I don’t want to lose this gig and I can’t let other people down at the last minute. It may not be the O2 arena, but a lot of people turn up on punk night.’
‘This is Buckingham Palace , Olly. The Prince’s Trust. If I get some funding from them, maybe you won’t have to spend your evenings doing punk discos. Ever think of that?’
‘I don’t think punk and disco go in the same sentence, Nell,’ he retorts before he continues with his rant. ‘You just can’t dump everything at the drop of a hat. Not when you have a family to consider.’
‘It’s the first time I’ve ever had to do this. Don’t give me a hard time about it.’ Goodness only knows I feel bad enough already. But this is business. Can you see entrepreneur Karren Brady or Ultimo
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