“It’s Tom from work.” “Tell him I’m on vacation,” Francesca shouted back, coming out of the bedroom in a charge. The sight froze the eyes ...n my skull. My aunt was clad in a pair of baggy gym shorts with a bath towel loosely turbaned around her damp hair. And that was it; shorts, that towel and nothing else—nothing else. She snatched the receiver from my grasp and mouthed the word “sorry” as she drew her forearm across her bare breasts. “Tom?” she said, her tone instantly professional, pausing a. She herself was sat on an old mattress staring at the two of them with something akin to disbelief. She did not think it was possible for girls to be that bothered about a ball. Granted it was meant to be THE event of the university calendar year, but for Pete’s sake, it was only a ball. She said as much and nearly got mowed down with the sharp verbal attacks from Viola and Lorna. ‘Only a ball? Are you starkers? This is the ball of the year. Our first ball as uni students. Our first adult. More

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