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She nibbled some more at her piece of poppadom and said, ‘That sounds very grand.’
‘What do you mean?’ George grabbed the other part of the poppadom and bit into it.
‘Like you are celebrities.’
‘My mum was. Once upon a time. She used to sing in the clubs and bars. She was very good.’
‘What sort of thing did she sing.’
‘Jazz mostly, some blues.’
‘Can you sing?’
George choked on his poppadom. ‘No!’ He wiped his mouth and grinned. ‘I sound like a strangled tom cat when I try singing, or so my dad says.’
‘That’s not very kind.’
He isn’t very kind,George thought. Quickly changing the subject, he asked. ‘What about your family? Are they all back in Scotland?’
‘Mum and Dad are. They live near to Edinburgh, on the coast. My brother emigrated to New Zealand a year ago.’
‘What does he do?’
‘He’s a doctor.’
‘And your mum and dad, are they retired?’
‘No!’ Millie seemed shocked at the very idea. ‘Dad’s a partner in a big firm of solicitors, and mum’s a schoolteacher.’
George felt his heart sinking. Millie was obviously his social superior, even if she was currently working in his local pub. Her job had to be a stopgap or steppingstone to something better.
‘What do you do for a job, George?’
‘Nothing, I’m a student. On summer holiday right now. What about you? Why are you working behind a bar?’ he turned the question back before she could ask about his parents.
‘I’m a student too. Studying journalism. The bar work helps my student loan money go further.’
‘Your parents don’t help you?’
‘Aye, of course they do. But they like their children to be independent too.’
George nodded, trying not to imagine Millie’s solicitor father and teacher mother and what they would make of him and his stay-at-home mum and criminal dad.
‘What makes you want to go in for journalism?’ he asked.
‘I was good at English at school. My mother teaches the subject, so I suppose I had a head start, and I’m interested in almost everything. My mum says I’m just plain nosy because I’m always asking questions and have a knack of finding out about people and their secrets. So, I thought maybe I had the right skills and personality to be a journalist.’
‘Seems like,’ George agreed, looking admiringly at Millie, trying to imagine her as the new Kate Adie or Anna Ford, reporting news on the television. He was sure she could do it. He’d watch her.
Millie went on, ‘And you, George, what are you studying?’
‘Medieval history.’
‘Oh, my!’ Millie sat back, looking impressed. He didn’t have the heart to tell her he was struggling, that he was well behind with his reading list, and it looked like he’d be lucky to scrape by with a second-class degree.
Their food arrived and Mr Patel fussed over them until he was sure all was to George’s satisfaction.
‘You must be an important local family.’ Millie said.
