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watch for the hundredth time, was well aware.
    ‘Where the hell is Patrick?’ she said. ‘He’s so unreliable. I wish he wouldn’t work so late.’
    ‘Actually, Shiv, Patrick’s incredibly reliable,’ pointed out Julia. ‘He’s always working late.’
    ‘Oh yeah,’ said Siobhan. ‘Christ. He can’t even be annoying in an interesting way.’
    Siobhan had been Arthur’s landlady at college, when they’d taken it in turns to argue about furniture and have immaculacy competitions. No-one liked to go round there too often, particularly not Ellie, who had a bit of a conflict going on between her love for red wine and her red wine’s love for other people’s carpets.
    ‘What I’d really like,’ said Ellie, ‘is for something really dramatic to happen. An earthquake or something. Hmm, no, a non fatal earthquake. Oh God, I don’t know. Just something .’
    ‘How about you fall out with your boyfriend in public at your own birthday party have a yelling match with him then lock yourself in the bathroom?’ said Arthur. ‘Oh, no, hang on …’
    Ellie’s mobile rang.
    ‘Oh my God,’ she said. ‘Maybe this is it. Maybe somebody’s seen me in the street and wants me to go to Hollywood and become a movie star!’
    ‘I bet that’s who it is,’ said Siobhan. ‘Or maybe it’s Prince William telling you he’s in love with you.’
    ‘Could be anything,’ said Ellie, peering at the phone. ‘Oh. It’s my dad. Oh no! I take it all back! I don’t want anything to happen at all.’
    Ellie’s dad lived alone. Ever since Ellie’s mother had left he drank rather too much whisky and relied on seeing his only child often, otherwise he tended to live in string vests and eat cold beans straight out of the tin.
    ‘Hey?’ she said tentatively, then listened patiently as he described his extremely bad heartburn.
    ‘And how many sausages? Uh huh. You know, Dad, I think nine sausages is probably too much for dinner.’
    She listened some more. ‘Okay, no, they’re on thetop shelf of the cabinet. Well, look again. No, I did get some. Listen to me … Oh, for God’s sake.’
    She put the phone down. ‘Sorry everyone but I think I’ve got to go and burp my father.’
    ‘But it’s C!’ said Arthur. ‘Your favourite round: Cosmopolitans.’
    ‘I know . But I’d better go.’
    She shouldered her bag, downed the dregs of her Bloody Mary and headed out of the door, face set against the rain.
    ‘This isn’t fair,’ she thought to herself, walking down the darkened suburban street in search of a taxi, as the wind blew gusts of rain across her face. Anyone passing her would have thought they were looking at a very upset four-year-old. Her lower lip stuck out tremulously. A bus crashed along the road, spraying her skirt with water, and ploughed on. Ellie stopped in the middle of the street.
    ‘I’m not happy, okay!’ she yelled at the open sky. ‘I don’t know why, but I’m NOT! And I don’t know who I’m talking to, because my generation doesn’t even believe in GOD anymore!’
    ‘How are you today, my favourite Hedgepig?’
    She gave herself up for a hug inside the gloomy house. An old terrace, it was musty and undecorated, and her father had a thing about putting onthe central heating and very rarely did, preferring to stomp about in several layers of faintly grubby pyjamas.
    ‘Hey Dad. Little bit grumpy. What’s the matter with you?’
    ‘I think I had a bad sausage.’
    ‘I told you before: you eat too many sausages.’ She poked him in the belly. ‘Why don’t you have something healthy?’
    She went into the bathroom and dug out the bottle of milk of magnesia; as predicted it was on the top shelf.
    ‘They make healthy sausages?’
    ‘Not exactly.’ Ellie checked the grill was off – he’d already had a minor fire – made him take the medicine and made them both a cup of tea.
    ‘How could you not find this? It was right on the shelf.’
    Her dad squirmed and tried to look as if he