– off. There’s your reason why they’re so competitive. They make tat. See? Can’t have it all in this life. Not without picking up a nasty fungal infection, anyway, eh, Mike?’
‘Pass me the condiments, please, Julia,’ Dad said to Julia.
Hugo and I caught each other’s eye and for one moment we were alone in a roomful of waxworks.
‘My Datsun,’ Mum offered some braised celery to Aunt Alice who made a no thanks gesture, ‘passed its MOT with flying colours last week.’
‘Don’t tell me,’ Uncle Brain sniffed, ‘you got it MOT-ed at the very same place that sold you your mobile pagoda in the first place?’
‘Why ever shouldn’t I?’
‘Ah, Helena.’ Uncle Brian shook his head.
‘I’m not quite seeing your point, Brian.’
‘Helena, Helena, Helena.’
Hugo asked for ‘just a sliver’ of Baked Alaska, so Mum cut him a wodge as big as Dad’s. ‘You’re a growing lad, for heaven’s sakes!’ (I filed the tactic away for future use.) ‘Dig in, everyone, before the ice cream melts.’
After the first spoonful, Aunt Alice said, ‘Out of this world!’
Dad said, ‘Very nice, Helena.’
‘Mike,’ Uncle Brian said, ‘you’re not going to let this bottle languish here half drunk now, are you?’ He tipped a fat glug into Dad’s glass, then his own, then raised his glass to my sister. ‘“Here’s looking at you, kid!” But I’m still at a loss to understand why a young lady of your obvious talents shouldn’t be aiming for the Big Two. At Richmond Prep, I jest not, it’s Oxford this and Cambridge that, morning, noon and night, isn’t it, Alex?’
Alex raised his head ten degrees for a quarter-second to say yes.
‘Morning, noon and night,’ said Hugo, dead seriously.
‘Our careers adviser,’ Julia spooned a dribble of ice cream before it got to the tablecloth, ‘Mr Williams, has a friend in the radical bar in London, who says that if I want to specialize in environmental law then Edinburgh or Durham are really the places to—’
‘Then I’m sorry,’ Uncle Brian judo-chopped the air, ‘sorry, sorry, sorry, but Mr Williams – a closet Welshman, doubtless – Mr Williams should be tarred, feathered, tied to a mule and sent back to Haverfordwest! It’s not what you learn at university, it’s’ Uncle Brian was steamy red now ‘it’s who you network with! Only at Oxbridge can you network with tomorrow’s elite! I jest not, with the right college tie I’d’ve got made partner ten years ago! Mike…Helena! Surely you’re not going to stand idly by while your first-born squanders herself at the University of Nowhereshire?’
Annoyance darkened Julia’s face.
(I usually retreat to somewhere safe at this point.)
Mum said, ‘Edinburgh and Durham have good reputations.’
‘Doubtless, doubtless, but what you’ve got to remember is,’ Uncle Brian was now almost shrieking, ‘“Are they the best on the market?” and the answer is “Are they heck!” Blimey O’Riley, this, this, is precisely the problem with comprehensive schools. Fabulous for little Jack and Jill Mediocrity, but do they push the brightest and ablest? Do they heck! For those teaching unions, “brighter” and “abler” are dirty words.’
Aunt Alice put her hand on Brian’s arm. ‘Brian, I think—’
‘I refuse to be “Brianned” when our only niece’s future is at stake! If my concern makes me a snob, then bugger it and ’scuse my French, I’ll be the bloodiest snob I know and wear that badge with pride! Why anyone with the brains for Oxbridge would set their sights on Jockland is simply beyond my understanding.’ Uncle Brian emptied his glass in one urgent swallow. ‘Unless perhaps—’ My uncle’s face turned from outraged to pervy in three seconds. ‘Ah, yes – unless there’s a young Scottish stallion with a hairy sporran you’re not confessing to anyone about, Julia, eh? Eh, Mike, eh? Eh, Helena? Thought of that, eh?’
‘Brian—’
‘Don’t worry, Aunt Alice.’ Julia smiled. ‘Uncle Brian knows I’d rather be involved in a multiple car crash than discuss my private life with him. I intend to study law in Edinburgh, and all the Brian Lambs of tomorrow will have to do their networking without me.’
I’d’ve never got away with saying that, ever.
Hugo raised his glass to her. ‘Well said, Julia!’
‘Ah,’ Uncle Brian did a sort of punctured laugh, ‘you’ll probably go far in the legal game, young lady, even if you do insist on a second-class university. You’ve got the art of the non-secateur off pat.’
‘Fabulous to earn your stamp of approval, Uncle Brian.’
A cow of an awkward pause mooed.
‘Hurrah!’ Uncle Brian scoffed. ‘She insists on the last word.’