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support her.
    We look forward to hearing from you.
    Kind regards,
    Stella
    P.S. Do tell Elektra that Charlie was so impressed by her ringtone that she too has downloaded her very own animal alert (a cow)! I confess to mixed feelings
about this!

‘I’m just normal. Acting is a hobby between my A levels.’
    Nicholas Hoult
    ‘It’s official. Mum sent back the
signed
contract today. I’m in business. I am “Under New Management”.’ Which I know made me sound a
bit like a restaurant, but I just liked the idea of being under any kind of (non-parental) ‘management’.
    Eulalie made a strange Frenchy (to be fair she was French), yelpy sort of sound that I took to mean that she was almost as excited as I was. ‘We must make some shopping.’
    I loved Eulalie (and not just because she loved shopping). Years ago – before I was even born – she’d rescued Mum’s lovely (now dead) father from the clutches of her
awful (and still living) mother, Granny Gwen. She was my favourite ‘grandmother’ (and, genetics aside, definitely the one I had the most in common with).
    ‘
Chérie
, you need beautiful clothes for going to see all the famous directors. Nothing from that horrible Large Shop.’ She helped herself to most of the salad (which I
appreciated because there was less left for me).
    ‘You mean Top Shop . . . I don’t think it will be quite like that. I mean, I’m not sure I’ll be meeting famous directors.’
    ‘But of course,
bien sûr
. How else are you going to act for them?’
    It was a fair point, but still sort of unimaginable.
    ‘We’ll go to Harrods.’ (Just assume that every ‘h’ is silent and every ‘r’ is rolled – the longer Eulalie lived in London, the stronger her French
accent seemed to get.)
    ‘You spoil Elektra.’ Mum brought over extra salad just for me which was pretty passive-aggressive parenting.
    ‘I enjoy spoiling her,’ said Eulalie without the slightest shame. Her spoiling me is something we both get a lot out of.
    ‘Eulalie doesn’t believe that gifts, guilt and Oxfam goats have to go together
every time
like Granny Gwen does,’ said Dad who adored Eulalie.
    Everyone
adored Eulalie, even Mum who really should have been a bit more conflicted.
    ‘Boats?’ asked Eulalie, looking bewildered. ‘Yachts?’
    ‘Goats,’ repeated Dad.
    ‘Gots?’
    ‘What’s the French for goats, Elektra? Chevrons? Or is that cheese?’
    ‘Don’t ask me. Mum, what’s the French for goats?’
    My mother’s shrug at least was pretty Gallic.
    Apparently, languages wouldn’t be on my parents’ ‘Skills’ sections either. Also ‘goat’ is surprisingly difficult to mime. Eulalie decided that she might as
well talk about yachts (I’m pretty sure she knew a lot more about them anyway). Not just yachts but partying on yachts with actors. Typically, it was a bit inappropriate. In her world,
excessive amounts of champagne and non-stop parties and affairs were just a bit of harmless fun.
    ‘Honestly, Eulalie, I can’t quite believe that ******* [I won’t use the name of the actress because I’d be sued] would have done
that
with ****** [high-profile
actor, same problem].’
    My mother did that
tssk
thing (it’s actually quite hard to do, but she’s good at it).
    ‘I promise you, Julia, it’s true,’ said Eulalie. She paused for impact. ‘I was there.’
    No question that if Eulalie had actually been there when ******* did what she said she’d done to ****** then it was an even more scandalous story. I knew (we all knew) that Eulalie was a
little bit truth challenged, but it wasn’t completely impossible.
    ‘Everybody is knowing that he is the father of at least two of her children,’ Eulalie went on.
    ‘Well, I know that’s not true.’ Mum sounded very sure.
    ‘Were you there too?’ I asked her. She didn’t answer, just punished me with more vegetables.
    ‘She was having the new bosoms after the third baby and the new face after the third