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Chapters (63)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise for All About Us
  3. About the Author
  4. Note to Readers
  5. Dedication
  6. Prologue
  7. Chapter One
  8. Chapter Two
  9. Chapter Three
  10. Chapter Four
  11. Chapter Five
  12. Chapter Six
  13. Chapter Seven
  14. Chapter Eight
  15. Chapter Nine
  16. Chapter Ten
  17. Chapter Eleven
  18. Chapter Twelve
  19. Chapter Thirteen
  20. Chapter Fourteen
  21. Chapter Fifteen
  22. Chapter Sixteen
  23. Chapter Seventeen
  24. Chapter Eighteen
  25. Chapter Nineteen
  26. Chapter Twenty
  27. Chapter Twenty-One
  28. Chapter Twenty-Two
  29. Chapter Twenty-Three
  30. Chapter Twenty-Four
  31. Chapter Twenty-Five
  32. Chapter Twenty-Six
  33. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  34. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  35. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  36. Chapter Thirty
  37. Chapter Thirty-One
  38. Chapter Thirty-Two
  39. Chapter Thirty-Three
  40. Chapter Thirty-Four
  41. Chapter Thirty-Five
  42. Chapter Thirty-Six
  43. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  44. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  45. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  46. Chapter Forty
  47. Chapter Forty-One
  48. Chapter Forty-Two
  49. Chapter Forty-Three
  50. Chapter Forty-Four
  51. Chapter Forty-Five
  52. Chapter Forty-Six
  53. Chapter Forty-Seven
  54. Chapter Forty-Eight
  55. Chapter Forty-Nine
  56. Chapter Fifty
  57. Epilogue
  58. Acknowledgements
  59. Author Q&A with Tom Ellen
  60. Extract
  61. Will
  62. Will
  63. About the Publisher

‘Dad used to take us every year when we were little,’ Daff says, passing me the chocolates and taking a sip of her beer. ‘Family tradition.’

‘Since when is Widow Twankey Aladdin’s mum?’ I ask.

She rolls her eyes. ‘Since forever.’

‘They don’t even look alike. Plus, Twankey doesn’t sound like a particularly Arabic surname.’

‘You know, Ben,’ she deadpans, ‘I’m not sure that realism was at the forefront of the production team’s mind here.’ With perfect timing, a former Big Brother runner-up covered entirely in blue paint emerges from a giant smoking lamp in front of us.

‘If only your colleagues could see you now,’ I say, smiling. ‘The great Rising Star, eating Revels and watching Ian Beale run around in a pair of MC Hammer trousers.’

She elbows me in the ribs. ‘Oi! I love panto. Best thing about Christmas. Just because something’s considered lowbrow doesn’t mean it can’t also be brilliant and fun and entertaining.’ She laughs. ‘Hey, d’you remember, I had pretty much this exact argument with Marek on the night we met?’

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘I do, vividly.’ We join the audience in collectively alerting Ian Beale to the fact that someone is behind him.

Daff is giving the stage her full attention now, but her mention of the night we met – the night I’ve only just relived – makes me want to double-check what the watch-seller told me. ‘Hey, so you recall that night,’ I say. ‘The play at uni?’ She nods, her eyes still fixed on the stage. ‘Do you remember when I forgot my lines? And you had to go and find me a script?’

She turns to me. ‘No I didn’t. Did I?’

‘Yeah … And I totally fluffed it when I was on stage? Forgot to shoot Marek?’

She’s looking at me like I’ve gone mad. ‘No … I’m pretty sure that’s not what happened, Ben.’

‘Oh, OK. Doesn’t matter. Maybe I’ve remembered it wrong.’

She turns her attention back to the panto, still frowning slightly. So it’s definitely true, then. Nothing I do here has any knock-on effect whatsoever.

I try to work out how all of this makes me feel, but before I can come to any definite conclusion, Daff nudges me gently in the ribs. ‘Benjamin. Too cool for audience participation?’

I snap out of it, and smile at her. And then I’m yelling, ‘Oh yes you have!’ along with everyone else.

Chapter Twenty-Three

It’s pitch dark and freezing by the time we troop out of the theatre.