nab the last Minstrel, but I’m not sure it’s a robust defence. ‘I’ll need to breathalyse you, but first of all let’s get a name and address.’
‘Is that really necessary?’
‘Take a guess.’
His smart-aleck antagonism’s starting to really get on my wick, but I know I need to keep chowing down on the humble pie. ‘Louise Abigail… I mean, Alice Hannah Godwin.’ He’s staring intently now, clearly sensing a potential scalp. Cold panic spreads through my body, freezing my brain. What the hell is our new address? ‘Um, address wise, I think it’s 16 Culforth Mews, Islington, N1, N1… I only moved there today. I can call my sister and get the whole postcode.’ Don’t mention a sister! Even Nancy Drew would’ve most likely deduced that I’m an imposter by now, let alone this shark-eyed law enforcement officer.
‘Let’s get the test over first. I’d like you to breathe into this bag.’
I’m practically hyperventilating, struggling to pant my panicky breath into the plastic contraption he’s holding out for me. I can’t believe I’m about to hurl Alice’s clean driving licence down the toilet.
‘Amber: you’re very lucky it’s not red.’
I breathe a huge sigh of relief, leaning back against the van for support. ‘You see! I’m fine,’ I announce smugly. He gives me a long look.
‘So you won’t mind performing a simple agility test then?’
‘An agility test? Please don’t. I promise you I’m not drunk, but I’m ever so uncoordinated. If we’d gone to school together, there’s no way you would ever have picked me for rounders.’
‘It’s nothing complicated, just hopping to that postbox.’ It’s a good hundred yards away. I stare at him in mute horror, before hoiking up my right leg unsteadily. I’m poised for lift-off when I suddenly hear him sniggering.
‘Scrub that. I’m just going to ask you to walk towards it in as straight a line as you can manage.’ Bastard! I’m sure I could have him up on some kind of humiliation charge. I set off down the pavement, unsure how slow and how straight my walk is meant to be. I feel horribly self-conscious, like I’m walking down some peculiar catwalk.
‘OK, you can come back now!’ he finally shouts.
‘Very decent of you,’ I snap, unable to hold down my irritation. ‘Are you sure you’ve followed proper procedure?’
‘Feel free to report me for – what was it you were thinking of reporting me for exactly? It’s PC Alistair Patten.’
I pause, feeling like a total idiot. ‘Hopping,’ I mutter.
‘Feel free to report me for hopping. As far as I know, neither of us did any hopping, but perhaps I missed something. I just need to see your licence before you carry on menacing the road.’
‘Yes, of course,’ I say meekly, retrieving it from my purse. What was I thinking, getting hoity-toity with him when I’m on such a sticky wicket? He peers long and hard, making some scary-looking notes in his pocket book. Finally he looks up, holding my gaze. Is that a ghost of a smile playing around his lips?
‘Thank you kindly, Alice. You’re free to go, but I hope you’ll take the Highway Code more seriously in future.’
‘Oh, absolutely,’ I tell him. ‘I’ll make it my bible.’
‘Little bit of bible-bashing sounds ideal,’ he counters, giving me a wave.
And with that I steer off into the cold January night hoping that this particularly stressful Sunday isn’t a stark warning of what’s to come. I find myself muttering a brief plea to Mum, just in case she really is sitting on a cloud looking down on us, to cut us some slack. Something tells me that this is a year when I’m going to need all the help I can get…
Chapter Two
Alice is a teacher, which means that, although she doesn’t make mega bucks, she does get the longest holidays in human history. I, meanwhile, work the kind of hours that Siberian salt-mine owners would baulk at meting out. Or at least I do once filming kicks in. Right now we’re in preproduction, which can occasionally be a bit of a doss for me as Zelda’s such a control freak. Not this time. I spend the beginning of the week furiously sketching and poring over books on Victorian costume, trying to work out how I’m going to conjure up anything vaguely presentable. Of all the jobs for Zelda to fall ill on, this has to be the worst. And I can tell that she’s far sicker than she’s letting on by the sheer lack of contact. It’s so hard