As we stand waiting at the Tube station, I look online to see if Suzy and Art are preparing, but they are giving nothing away. I look at people I know they know and might be there, but nothing. No clues. I should be a lot better at waiting, since I spend so much of my time doing it.

I take the crook of my mother’s arm as we get on the Tube. Walking with her is like steering a full shopping trolley. We sit down. She says: ‘The last time I took the Tube these PHENOMENAL ACROBATS got on.’

‘Shh,’ I say. ‘You’re being too loud. No one talks loudly on here.’

‘Oh, no one gives a monkey’s what I’m saying, least of all you.’

‘Shhh!’

A man next to us laughs. Seeing this as active encouragement, my mother gets louder.

‘Not everyone is interested in our conversation and lives!’

‘He is!’ I hiss. ‘He just laughed.’

The man straightens his face and gets out his phone.

Another man gets on at the next stop and walks past us and down the carriage. He has no top on. His chest hair gleams. His nipples look like baked beans. I look away. The man next to us looks away. ‘Well,’ my mother says, ‘the things you see when you’ve not got your gun.’

The man next to us guffaws.

My mother leans towards me. ‘I’m trying to make you laugh,’ she says.

‘Why?’

‘Because I can hear your nerves jangling.’

‘That’s just my bracelets.’

‘My proud girl. I’m proud of you.’

‘Don’t say things like that now, for god’s sake!’

‘Sorry, darling.’

We sit in silence the rest of the way.

At Embankment we get out and walk towards the bridge. Two women dressed as hot nuns walk past. It strikes me that I haven’t seen a nun in ages. It’s like even God’s been avoiding me.

DRAFTS

Subject: A request

Dear God, or whoever picks these up,

Please let my death be comical. Please let it be the sideways spring off the trampoline into the unsuspecting mouth of the yawning hippopotamus. Please let people be applauding before they realise there’s been a terrible accident.

Thanks,

Jenny McLaine (CHRISTENED)

GOOD FAMOUS PEOPLE