Naidoo.’ Venetia had the sort of face on that meant she expected us to be impressed. I obviously didn’t get my eyes open wide enough.
‘I don’t think I know who she is.’
‘Of course you do. She’s written all those books about racism and prejudice in South Africa. You must know Journey to Jo’burg, No Turning Back,’ Venetia said. ‘It’s terribly important for our children to understand other cultures.’
‘I don’t think I’ve come across her.’
Venetia looked as though she thought I might be having her on. She battled on. ‘Of course, he likes fantasy stories as well. Anthony Horowitz, David Almond and Harry Potter.’
‘He’s read Harry Potter?’ Harley was reading Diary of a Wimpy Kid and that was a struggle.
Again, Venetia looked at me as though I was speaking a foreign language. ‘He’d read most of them by the time he was eight.’ She had that ‘hasn’t everybody?’ tone going on. ‘Not so keen on the last one, I think he was finding it a bit easy.’
That morning I’d got really stressed over Harley’s spellings because he still hadn’t cottoned on to the fact that some words had silent letters, still writing ‘nife’, ‘nome’ and ‘restling’ while Bronte sat there rolling her eyes. Nothing compared to how bloody stressed I was feeling now. Weren’t any of the other boys reading Top Gear and Doctor Who annuals?
Venetia patted my arm. ‘Perhaps he’s more into science?’
I didn’t tell her that so far we’d only managed to do one of the science homeworks because we needed to use the internet and the one crappy computer at the library had been out of order. I did a half-shrug and said, ‘We’ll see.’
Venetia ploughed on. ‘I’ve got the number of a terrific science tutor. Even if he doesn’t want to do science at university, it might help him get in if there’s a struggle for places. We get Theo tutored twice a week in science and he’s just started Mandarin as well. My husband is very keen for him to get into Oxford. Languages seem to be terribly important for the best universities.’
‘How old is he?’ I said.
‘Rising eleven, he’s in Mr Rickson’s class with your son. It’s vital to start early. Have you thought about universities yet?’
‘No, not yet.’ Though I did make an effort not to look as though the idea had never occurred to me.
‘I haven’t given it a second thought,’ Clover said. ‘I’m not bothered whether the kids go or not. Some of the thickest, dullest people I know went to university. Never saw the need myself. I don’t care if my kids spend their lives breeding tropical fish as long as they’re passionate about it.’ She licked the chocolate off her fingers.
‘My husband doesn’t see it that way. We both went to Oxford and he’d like to see Theo carry on the family tradition.’ Venetia looked like a cat whose fur had been stroked the wrong way. I wasn’t in the ‘Mandarin by intravenous drip’ camp but I did hope that Stirling Hall would encourage the kids to do something a bit more highbrow than get a few Black Mollies in the family way. God, I was still hoping that it wasn’t too late for me, let alone the kids. Even though I couldn’t afford Open University, I was working my way through the classics at the library. I’d got most of the A’s and B’s covered now so as long as people stuck with Jane Austen or the Brontës I had half a chance of sounding a teeny bit educated.
‘Where did you study, Maia?’ Venetia said.
‘I didn’t stay on at school.’
Venetia looked as though she was going to need smelling salts at the thought of being in the same air space as someone who didn’t even have A-levels, let alone a degree. I didn’t find her response of ‘Oh’ very articulate for someone who’d been to Oxford.
Clover took my arm. ‘Would you excuse us for a second, Venetia? I promised to introduce Maia to our celebrity mum.’ She pointed to a dark-haired woman in the corner. ‘Do you recognise her? Her name’s Frederica Rinton. She’s been in Holby City and Casualty and I think she was in some American soap thing. Can’t remember the name.’
I looked over. I’d been watching her in a hospital drama the night before. She was a lot slimmer in real life. I wanted to rush over and tell her that I thought she should have won the outstanding drama performance category at the National Telly Awards. She probably wouldn’t want reminding of that. I couldn’t wait to tell my neighbour, Sandy, that I’d met and actually nibbled chocolate brownies in the company of Frederica. Sandy devoured Hello! and Heat magazines, talking about TV presenters as though they were her mates. In the meantime, I tried to look like I hobnobbed with celebs all the time.
Clover headed over, weaving her big bum through the chrome stools. ‘Long time no see, Freddie. I see more of you on the telly than hanging around school. How is the glitzy world of TV? Should we be honoured that you’ve found time to come to our humble coffee morning?’
Clover introduced me and filled in the gaps for ‘Freddie’. Harley was in the same class as her son, Marlon. I stood there, nodding along to discussions about after-school rugby, the upcoming play, the shocking standard of school lunches. I was trying to remember not to say school dinners. All the time Frederica was talking, I was waiting for her to do something starry, drop some names, names I had only seen in film and TV credits, bitch about her co-stars – yes, deliver me a big fat nugget of showbiz gossip that I could share with Sandy over a Malibu and Coke. I didn’t say much, just inspected her face for signs of Botox to report back and wondered how to get her autograph in a cool way. There was no cool way. I eyed the serviette she’d been holding her chocolate brownie on. Sandy would love that. I’d try and snaffle it later.
‘I saw you in that costume drama thingy. You lucky bugger, getting to snog Colin Firth; I get to pick up horse shit all day. Life just ain’t fair. Tell me he was a dreadful kisser at least?’ Clover said.
‘I’m going to have to disappoint you: he was the god of kissing. Found it quite difficult to kiss my husband afterwards. But don’t tell him that,’ Frederica said.
I was trying to remember every detail of the conversation for full dramatic recount effect, when Jen1 came twitching over with a list in her hand. ‘Frederica, as you know, Stirling Hall Fete Day is just around the corner and I’ve volunteered to coordinate all the stalls. Have you been approached to open the fete? You do such a great job. I know people love to see you there.’
‘Yeah, like our own Stirling Hall royalty. Frederica is a fantastic queen’s name. We’ll try and get a red carpet for you this year,’ Clover said. Jen1 tutted and frowned at her list. Frederica giggled and told Jen1 she’d be happy to do it.
‘Right. We need to allocate stalls. If I could just have everyone’s attention,’ Jen1 said, picking up a spoon and dinging it on a glass.
‘First off, homemade cake stall. If everyone is in agreement, I’d like to run that one. Everyone needs to contribute at least one cake. I’ll be sending home paper plates in the school bags, so look out for them. Last year lots of people donated shop bought cakes, but let’s see if this year we can get you all in the kitchen doing your bit. Come on, how difficult can it be? Get cooking with your children, remember, quality time, quality time. Don’t forget absolutely no nuts and please list all the ingredients on the label.
‘Who
