Page 115 of The Naughty List

“I’ll send this Carly a thank you card. She deserves it. Just so long as you’re ok, sweetheart. Please tell us you’re ok.” She scopes out my twinkling tiara, and the sparkles on the neckline of my dress. And at the party worthy makeup still on my face, and the wave of curls still in my hair. “You look ok, actually. You look great.” She pauses. “Ella, what’s been happening over there? You look… different.”

“Thanks,” I say, and then I can’t hold it back anymore. I blink and the tears coming flowing now. Hard. The weeks and weeks of avoiding my parents finally burst the dam and storm free. But they aren’t sad tears, I’m grinning at them both the whole way through, trying to find the words.

“What?” Dad asks. “Ella, what is it? Talk to us.”

I’m choking on the joy when I answer him. I’m blubbing so hard I’m not sure I’ll be understandable.

“I’m flying over to see you, in three days’ time. I’m spending Christmas with you. I’m coming to Australia! I’ve been trying to keep it a surprise, but I can’t anymore. I mean it. I’m coming to Australia!”

“You’re coming to–” Mum’s words trail off as she clasps her hands over her face. “You’re flying over? To us? Are you serious?”

“Yes! In three days. I’m getting the flight from Gatwick on Tuesday. I was going to tell you tomorrow, I promise. I wanted to keep it as close to Christmas as I could. To make it a surprise.”

They stare at me in silence, open mouthed as I blub away. I wipe the tears from my eyes as I giggle. The relief flows through me like liquid gold.

I figured they’d be ecstatic, but I didn’t think my mum would start crying along with me. She starts blubbing as hard as I am, and Dad wraps his arm around her shoulder. He’s never been very emotional, all stiff upper lip and all that, but this time his stiff upper lip falls short. His bottom lip shakes, and thenhebreaks, all three of us buckling with emotion as the truth finally comes out.

“We’ve missed you so much,” Mum says. “We were trying to save up to come to you. Dad’s got a part-time job, so we could get the money together.”

I shake my head. “You don’t need to. I’m coming to you. And I’ve got a great job now, I can come whenever I want. Dad doesn’t need to work to save up.” I know I’m rambling, but I can’t stop. “Dad can quit his job right now. I’ll be able to fly you over, and after Christmas I’m going to get a bigger place, my own place. A place with a guestroom.”

“But how?” she asks. “What job have you got?”

Oh boy. I hope this description works…

“I work in PR, in the entertainment industry. I get assigned clients and work through proposals with them. It’s great. Fantastic money.”

“You’re in PR? In London?”

“Yeah. I got referred to an agency, through a friend of mine, and they took me on. I got the job! And I’m doing well. I’m one of their top performers already, after just a few weeks.”

“I just can’t believe this,” she says, still wiping her tears away. “I’ve been waking up in the night, I’ve been missing you so much. We’ve even talked about moving back home, just to be with you again. We’ve been so worried.”

“Moving back here and giving up your life in the sun?” I shake my head, so proud of myself. “You don’t need to now. I promise. I’ll be able to visit you loads. So much you’ll probably be sick of me.”

They both laugh at that.

“No chance,” Dad says. “You can be a little pain in the ass all you like, we won’t get sick of you. You can stay here for ever if you like.”

But I can’t do that… I can’t stay in Australia for ever. I realise that from the flood of pure energy that swallows me up. I have a life here now. I life of my own. Plans of my own. Dreams of my own. And none of them involve the dickhead with garage flowers and half-assed apologies. It’s all for me.

“You’re flying on Tuesday?” Mum asks, and I send her over the flight details.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got a cab booked straight over to yours.”

“No need for that,” Dad says. “We’ll be waiting at arrivals, don’t you worry.Dad’s cabwill always be ready for you, Ells.”

I’m so overwhelmed that I touch the screen. I’ll be so happy to see them that a fresh pang sets the tears off again.

“I love you both so much.” My voice is practically a sob.

“And we love you, too,” Dad says, Mum too choked up to speak.

Fuck the fact it’s gone seven in the morning. We talk about Christmas plans, and what we’ll have for dinner, and how they’re going to show me the sights, and take me to the beach with them. I’m crying happy through all of it, the joy churning me up. And then Mum says the inevitable words…tell us about your new job in PR…

Um, well. I’ll need to think on that one. That’s a job description that will take some working out…

“PR, for clients,” I repeat. “It’ll be another surprise for you. I’ll tell you all about it when I get there.”

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