Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?. Claudia Carroll

Or, even more unthinkable, if it did. Oh God, just the thought of what that would involve instantly makes me break out in a cold, shivery sweat.

      But Jules is already gone off on a tangent.

      ‘Well anyway, lucky for you, though, Annie, there’s no need to feel guilty, because as it happens, I do have an ace up my sleeve. You know how Dan’s been on at me lately about cutting my allowance unless he sees me at least out looking for some kind of work? Well, I had a brainwave last night. While watching a repeat of Britain’s Got Talent, when I get all my best inspiration.’

      ‘Ehh…let me guess. You’ve decided to become a pop star and you’re going to go and audition for Simon Cowell and Amanda Holden? Isn’t it a prerequisite that you have to at least be able to sing first?’

      ‘No, I’m going to use my own talent, you gobshite. I’m going to become an author. I’ve even got the title for my first book all worked out. It’s a loosely autobiographical story, based on the life of a stunningly beautiful, gifted nineteen-year-old girl, who’s just dropped out of college and is forced through cruel economic circumstances into living with her nut job of a mother in a tiny little backwater, in the back arse of nowhere. It’s called I Love You, But Please Die. So whaddya think?’

      ‘I honestly don’t know which of us is worse. You for dreaming up this crap, or me for listening to you. Although I will say this: if you did turn to writing, it would certainly put that over-active imagination of yours to good use.’

      That’s another thing about Jules – she’s famous in the family for being the greatest exaggerator this side of Heather Mills. When she was a kid, she was forever getting into trouble for telling tall tales. Famously, on her first day in primary school she told her entire class that her parents were circus performers; that her mum was an acrobat and her dad could tame lions. When the truth came out, that her father was actually the local vet and her mum was a housewife, she never batted an eyelid, just said that her dad used to be a lion tamer but now looked after sick animals, while her mother was forced to abandon her acrobatic career through injury. Psychologists say that most kids tend to grow out of this carry on by the age of six, but Jules is now nineteen and still hasn’t.

      ‘Well, missy,’ she says, glaring at me, ‘if you’re going to disappear off for…how long? Couple of months I’m guessing? Then the pressure will all be on me to find work. So if you think about it, it’s all your fault, abe. Feck you anyway for getting a smell of a job. Now I’ll have to run out and get my debut novel published or everyone will think I’m a complete and utter loser. How long will your show run for anyway?’

      I don’t answer. Instead, I busy myself tidying up the little picnic Jules has littered around the TV room floor and try my best to tune out her question. Like I say, until I talk to Dan, it’s just not fair to confide in his family first.

      But Jules smells something and is straight onto me.

      ‘Annie? Why won’t you answer me?’

      Again, I ignore her and focus on picking up loose kernels of popcorn strewn all around the armchair where she’s sitting.

      ‘Are you aware that right now your face is flushing like a forest fire?’ she insists tenaciously, like a dog that’s just picked up the faintest scent of blood.

      ‘You know, as a little treat for us, I went to Marks & Spencer when I was up in Dublin and bought some of the gorgeous beef in a black bean sauce they do. Do you fancy some for dinner?’

      ‘Hello? Earth to Annie? Can we stick to the subject at hand please? Is there something you’re not telling me? Something about your play?’

      She even lowers down the volume on the TV, so there’s no avoiding her question. Then suddenly, she clamps her hand over her mouth and gasps, horrified.

      ‘Christ Alive, don’t tell me there’s full frontal nudity in the show and you’re too mortified to let on!’

      ‘No, there is absolutely, categorically no nudity whatsoever. Now would you just go back to doing what you do best – watching daytime TV and let me get dinner started?’

      ‘Annie…’ she says threateningly.

      ‘Or if you don’t fancy the beef, I’ve the makings of a nice chicken casserole. What do you say? I know a day isn’t over for you unless you’ve eaten an entire alphabet full of additives, but do you fancy eating something with an actual vitamin in it for a change? Instead of just another bag of tortilla chips, that is.’

      ‘Piss off, I’m stress eating.’

      ‘You? Stressed? You never gave a shite about anything in your life.’

      ‘Stop changing the subject. I know right well when I’m being fobbed off…’

      ‘…and maybe you’d like a healthy fresh salad with dinner? Maybe?’

      ‘Bitch! You tell me the truth this minute or I’ll break your nose with my bare forehead…’

      ‘Lovely talk. Where’d you pick that up, living with your mother?’

      ‘Annie! You know I’ll wheedle it out of you sooner or later, so you may as well tell me now, while you have my undivided attention. Now, quick, before Home and Away starts.’

      I sigh so deeply it feels like it’s coming from my bone marrow, knowing right well that the game’s up.

      ‘You’re just not going to let this go, are you?’

      ‘Not a snowball’s chance in hell.’

      Right then. I slump back down onto the sofa beside her. I hadn’t wanted to tell anyone ahead of Dan, but then I figure…knowing him, it could be a full twenty-four hours before I actually manage to nail him down. Plus I honestly feel like I’m carrying around the third Secret of Fatima – it’ll be a relief to get it off my chest. Not to mention a good dress rehearsal for what’s to come.

      So I tell Jules the truth. The whole truth and nothing but.

      There’s silence.

      I didn’t expect silence.

      Suddenly it’s like all the life and energy has been completely sucked out of the room. I look at her expectantly and she looks at me and I honestly think I’ll fling one of Audrey’s revolting china shepherdess figurines into the fireplace if she doesn’t say something.

      Eventually she speaks.

      ‘Right. That settles it then. I’m getting wine.’

      In a single hop, she’s up and over to the drinks cabinet and pouring us out two oversized glasses of Merlot. I don’t argue. I need the drink just as much as she does. If not more.

      ‘OK,’ she says, handing me the wine and simultaneously taking the mug of tea away from me, like it’s suddenly become poisonous. ‘So I may not like what you’ve just told me, but feck it, you’re like the only normal person in my daily orbit and if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll find some way to help you deal with this. So, let me just tap into my amazing powers of insight here.’

      ‘Ehh…sorry, did you say your amazing powers of insight?’

      ‘Yeah, that’s right. I’d use them on myself only it just so happens that I don’t have any problems.’

      I fling a cushion at her which she neatly catches, then uses to balance her tortilla chips on.

      ‘Right then,’ she says assertively, sounding more adult-like than I think I’ve ever heard her. ‘Let’s start by doing pros and cons, will we? OK, I just thought of one. Pro: you’ll probably be dead in like, another fifty years, so chances are it won’t even matter.’

      ‘That’s your idea of a pro? Jaysus, I’m really looking forward to hearing the cons.’

      ‘Con: you have to tell Dan. And good luck with that, love.’

      ‘I tried telling him this morning, but then