I’m sad to leave Jack when I hug him before heading off for our flight the following afternoon. It’s been worth coming back just to see him again.
As our plane soars into the skies, the stewardess offers us a drink. Carol looks at her watch.
‘I do believe it’s happy hour,’ she exclaims.
‘Carol, it’s only two o’clock.’
‘Well, I’m happy and two o’clock is as good an hour as any. Two gin and tonics, please,’ she replies. Who am I to argue? I’m too busy being delighted that I’ve got a buddy to share this trip with.
Callum meets us at JFK Airport, the result of a frantic call before we left Shanghai. This was turning into a regular family and friends outing. He smuggles us into his room at the Plaza.
‘I see you’re slumming it then,’ Carol observes.
We bring him up to date with the latest instalments, then crash out on one of the two queen-size beds and sleep for the rest of the day. At seven o’clock, he wakes us.
‘I’ve got to go to a premiere tonight of the new Tom Cruise movie. Do you want to come?’
The fact that we’re up, showered, made-up and dressed in five and a half minutes gives him his answer.
Downstairs, a limousine the size of Newcastle is waiting for us.
‘Sorry about this, ladies,’ he actually looks embarrassed. ‘I know it’s naff, but my agent insists on it. It’s all part of the image thing.’
Naff? Doesn’t he realise that Carol and I do naff in a big way? I think we invented it.
Flashbulbs pop like fireworks as we walk along the red carpet and into the cinema. Fame at last. I just wish I’d lost ten pounds and had my nails done.
There are so many stars here, I can hardly watch the movie. Sylvester’s in the front row with Jennifer. Arnie’s sitting just behind him with Maria. Jack and his harem are in the row in front of us. Sitting at the back are Tom and Nicole.
Carol nudges me. ‘Don’t suppose we can get popcorn and a hot dog, I’m starving.’
Someone who looks very like Richard Gere turns around and chides us for giggling.
The after-show party is at the Four Seasons, which makes the hotel in St Andrews look like a Travel Inn.
‘What do we do now?’ I whisper to Callum.
‘Mingle. Be a social butterfly,’ he jokes. ‘Smile and nod a lot.’
A woman who is clearly no stranger to a plastic surgeon corners him. ‘Callum, dahling, such a delight to see you.’ Her air kisses are laughably wide from each side of his face. ‘And who are your lovely companions?’
Callum introduces us.
‘This is Delphine Di Angelo, agent to New York’s finest.’
‘Divine dress, dahling,’ she tells me. ‘Is it Dior?’
‘Debenhams,’ I reply.
Callum and Carol choke on their drinks, but Delphine is undaunted. She obviously thinks it’s a fahbulous new designer that she hasn’t discovered yet. She whisks Callum away.
‘Don’t worry, dahlings, I’ll bring him back to you undamaged,’ she reassures us, slipping her arm around Callum’s shoulders.
He looks back at us and rolls his eyes. I’m so proud of him. I still can’t believe that’s my little brother over there. And he was so ugly as a child.
I turn to speak to Carol, but her eyes are following Callum. Oh, no. I’ve seen that look before, usually in the presence of a chequebook and an American Express card.
‘Carol, I know what you’re thinking. Stop it right now before I send you home to bed without any dinner.’
‘It’s your fault. You set the criteria for my next man.’
‘But I didn’t mean my brother. Carol, he’s not equipped to deal with women like us.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. He looks pretty well equipped from where I’m standing.’
Her voice has gone all that husky, sexy way, so I slap her with a celery stick, but she continues.
‘Look, Carly, he is under forty.’
‘Mmmm.’
‘And he’s not really rich, not in the same league as my usual type.’
‘Granted.’
‘And he’s so gorgeous that he doesn’t need a trophy girlfriend.’
‘True.’
‘And I’ve known him all my life and I’ve always loved him to bits.’
‘Okay.’
‘And now I’m getting a stirring in my loins every time he looks at me. I first noticed it a couple of months ago in Kate’s kitchen.’
‘ENOUGH. Don’t you dare give me a mental image of my gorgeous little brother having sex. You’ll put me off my Bloody Mary.’
The more I think about it, though, the more it makes sense. They’d be great together. They are both in the same line of work, so they’d understand each other’s schedules and pressures. They do know each other better than anyone, excluding family, and they’re from identical backgrounds.
But then there are the potential down sides. If they lived together, they’d have to have separate bathrooms with huge mirrors, otherwise they’d never get out of the house in the mornings. They’d end up in the bankruptcy courts, having spent all their money in Harvey Nicks. And if they split up, I wouldn’t know whose side to take.
How could I agree with, ‘He’s a complete bastard and he’s ruined my life’, when the subject was someone from the same womb? I can feel a crisis coming on. At least, for once, it doesn’t involve my sex life.
I’m still deliberating on the dilemma when it’s time to leave. We go to a late-night coffee house for decaf and toast. Within an hour, Carol and Callum are trying desperately not to gaze longingly into each other’s eyes. I put my head in my hands. Both their lives will be ruined and it’s all my fault.
We finally crash into bed at 2 a.m. – Carol and I in one bed and Callum in the other. I’m still wide awake, so I read the guest services manual cover to cover.
Carol is on the side nearest Callum and as I reach up to switch the light off, I see that they’re holding hands across the space in the middle. I’m about to demand a change of positions, when I
