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Ladies and gentlemen. Mr Elton John! Gavin Jukes, in huge pipe-cleaner spectacles and a duck costume, strode out to deafening cheers. Well, strode out as well you can in canary yellow foam feet: a jaunty waddle. He sat down at the keyboard with some difficulty due to the padded tail and started bashing noiselessly at a keyboard, carolling along with Are You Ready For Love. Standing in the stage wings, Aureliana adjusted the sash on her 1970s peach polyester maternity gown with knife-pleat skirt, and touched a hand to her hair-sprayed bouffant. She took a deep, shaky breath, inhaling that school sports hall odour of tennis shoe rubber, Impulse body spray and ripe adolescent hormones. The leavers Mock Rock was a simple but wildly successful formula: dress up as a pop star, the sillier the outfit the better, and mime along to an old hit. And thank God, the crowd loved Gavin. According to all witless graffiti that tackled the topic of Gavin Jukes, he was a massive gayer. And yet hed fearlessly chosen to impersonate a flamboyant homosexual singer, to this rapturous reception?

Perhaps Aureliana Alessi, the weirdo who ate whiffy lasagne in Tupperware for lunch instead of Mighty White sandwiches, might also finally be laughed with, rather than at. It was as if school had been a pantomime, with everyone merely playing roles, and villains and heroes alike came on to take their bows together at the end. Even Lindsay and Cara, Aurelianas most committed antagonists, dressed in minis and platform boots as Agnetha and Anni-Frid from ABBA, had studiously left her alone today. Their coven members were swigging contraband Minkoff brand vodka from bottles of Happy Shopper cola and watching her with their heavily Rimmeled eyes, but keeping their distance. Aureliana wouldnt have minded a nip of something herself. Maybe the Mock Rock magic came from the fact that popular older kids were already like rock stars to the younger. Apart from James Fraser. He was like a rock star to everyone. Aureliana glanced over at him and told herself again that this would be fine because shed be on stage with James Fraser. James Fraser. The mere music of saying his name made her stomach lining dissolve. Shed been skiving P.E. in the library a week ago, re-reading a Sweet Valley High book, when hed approached her. Hi Aureliana. Arent you meant to be in P.E.? It was the most extraordinary moment.
[SPACE BREAK]

1) James Fraser, God of Rise Park, was for the first time speaking to her. To her. 2) He knew her name. Not just the Italian Galleon or Pavagrotty ones. 3) He knew her timetable.
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[SPACE BREAK]

He smiled a lazy smile. Aureliana had never seen him this close up before. It was like meeting your idol all those hours spent obsessing over their every detail and suddenly confronted with them in the walking, talking flesh. And what flesh. That incredible white lit-from-within skin, like a church candle flame burning low and glowing through the wax. The oil-spill shiny black hair and the purple-blue eyes. Shed actually tried to draw him in her Forever Friends diary once, using felt tips. It didnt work, he ended up a ringer for Shakin Stevens. She reverted back to the usual hearts and flowers doodles, and the legend AA 4 JF 4EVA. Dont blame you. P.Es such crap. Aureliana made a sort of disbelieving honk noise and nodded vigorously. Sporty James secretly hated P.E. too?! This was proof. They were meant to be. I was wondering, the Mock Rock. I thought doing Freddie Mercury and the opera singer could be funny? A duet, me and you? Fancy it? Aureliana nodded. Hed used the phrase me and you. Fantasies had become reality. Right then he couldve said Im planning on jumping out of that window. Doesnt look a long way down, me and you, fancy it? and shed have followed. It was only in the days after that she pondered the wisdom of going on stage as one of Rise Parks most fat, foreign and bullied, next to its sex god pin-up. What if all the worst bitches crucified her for it? But, shed reasoned shed never see any of them again after today, and they wouldnt wreck James Frasers big moment.

She thought James might want to rehearse but hed never suggested it, and she didnt want to look pushy. He knew what he was doing, he always did. Perhaps they shouldve conferred on wardrobe though. Aureliana thought the deal was that they went all out. Shed backcombed her hair into something approximating a sopranos coif and plastered her face with pan stick. James, from what she could see, had only drawn on a cads pencil moustache. But then she didnt know what she expected he was unlikely to do a frontless leotard and stick-on chest wig. Gavin was taking his bows. Oh, God. This was it. Here goes. James ambled over to her side and shed never felt more important or special. The Mock Rocks MC, Mr Towers, cued the music. Dry ice gushed out with a soft hiss, and the opening bars of the Barcelona track swelled. They walked onto the stage to deafening cheers and applause. Aureliana gazed at the gallery of delighted faces, getting an exhilarating glimpse into what it was like to be James Fraser. To feel that much excitement and goodwill reflected back at the very sight of you. She turned to him, to exchange a nervous grin of solidarity before the singing started, but James was giving her a funny smirk and backing away into the wings again. It was a green Praline Triangle that got her first, glancing off her cheek and arcing onto the stage floor. She felt a small pain in her stomach as another missile hit its target, like a rubber band being snapped against her body. A purple one with the hazelnut sailed past her head and she ducked out of the way, only to catch a toffee penny on the chin. And then came a hurricane of Quality Street, as the air filled with a blizzard of shiny, multi-coloured shrapnel. Mr Towers turned the music off and started shouting to try to restore order, but all in vain.
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Aureliana looked over in desperation at James. He was bent nearly double with laughter. His friend Laurence had one arm slung round his best mates head, the other arm busy with a fist-pumping triumphal gesture. Lindsay and Cara had tears of mirth streaming down their maquillaged faces, holding onto each other for support. It took a moment for Aureliana to accept what was happening. That this had been planned from the start. That someone had gone to the trouble of buying dozens of those big tins of sweets and handed them round the audience. That they had been given a cue to start lobbing them, and for everyone else, this was the extra helping of mock in the grand finale. Slowly, it dawned on her that her crush might not have been as secret as she thought. This she found even more humiliating than being at the centre of the confectionery tornado. She could see Gavin trying to remonstrate with them all from underneath his duck bill hat. James Fraser was clapping and he uttered a three-syllable, single word, as he looked at her, enunciating clearly. Elephant. Aureliana had long ago steeled herself not to cry under pressure. Not only did she not want to give her tormentors the satisfaction, shed figured out the less reaction you gave bullies, the faster they lost interest. She saw no reason to break that rule now and start weeping in front of a vast and hostile audience. Unfortunately, at that moment of dignified resolve, she was hit with a Coconut clair in the left eye, and they both started streaming anyway.

Anna stepped out of the stark autumn chill and squeezed into the steamy warmth of the restaurant. It was buzzing with conversations and pounding music, set at the weekend has started pitch. Table for two please! Anna bellowed, feeling that flutter of nerves and anticipation, tinged with scepticism. When it came to crap dates, she had her proficiency badge. Thanks to practice, Anna knew to choose lively and not-overtlyromantic venues to take the pressure off. And the trend for sharer plates that arrived at different times was a gift. With the traditional three courses, there was nothing worse than a date going badly, and knowing you were locked in the deadening back-and-forth of really and where are you from originally until the just an espresso for me, please. Of course, you could simply go for a drink and cut out the dining. However, Anna vetoed alcohol and no food since an incident where she woke up at the end of the Central Line with only a patchy memory of how she got there, holding a plastic pineapple ice-bucket and a phone bearing eleven texts of increasing incoherence and pornography. The intimidatingly young and cool waitress took her name and ushered her down into the dark basement.
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Anna stood in the three-deep crush at the bar among the mouthy straight-from-work suits, wondering if tonight would be the night. By the night, she meant the one she fantasised would be mentioned in the best mans speech in the splendour of The Old Rectory, as he stood in a shaft of sunshine splintered through mullioned windows. For those of you that dont know, Neil met Anna on an internet date. Im told he was attracted to her sparkling sense of humour and the fact shed got him a drink without being asked (pause for weak laughter) She eventually part-screeched and part-semaphored an order for herself and her date, and found a corner to loiter in. Honestly, she remonstrated with herself, an internet date is basically an interview for a shag. Isnt that pressure enough without mentally spooling forward to imaginary nuptials? Anna wasnt at all obsessed with getting married, per se; she was simply keen to find the person who mattered. She was thirty-two and the bastard was taking his time. So much so that she suspected hed got lost en route and accidentally married someone else. She scanned the throng for a ghostly echo of the face shed seen in the pictures. Not only was it dark, but Anna was used to a disconnect between the profile photographs and reality. In her online profile, shed tried to balance out a few flattering snaps against a realistic sample to avoid the horrific prospect of her dates face dropping when she arrived. Men, she guessed, thought more pragmatically: once they had you in the room, their charisma could take over. Hello, are you Anna? She managed to turn ninety degrees to see a cheerful, inoffensive8

looking man with thinning brown hair grinning at her delightedly in the murk. He was wearing a Berghaus jacket. Fell-walking wear on someone who wasnt fell walking. Hmmm. On first impressions, Anna wasnt too sure about Neils dress sense. Im pleased to say she chose his outfit today, or hed probably have said his vows in Gore-Tex He looked approachable and trustworthy, however, smiling his gap-toothed smile. Not a problem for her; Anna was not the slightest bit fussed about pretty boys. In fact, she was positively suspicious of them. Im Neil, he said, shaking her hand and going for a peck on the cheek. Anna proffered the spare Negroni she was holding. Whats that? Neil said. Its gin and Campari. A favourite drink from my homeland. Im a beer man, Im afraid. Oh, Anna withdrew it and felt foolish. Chrissake, wouldnt you drink it to be polite? She thought. Then: maybe this is something well laugh about eventually. Apparently Anna was shocked to discover Neil didnt drink cocktails and he made a great first impression by disappearing off in pursuit of a beer. Start as you mean to go on eh, Neil? (pause for more weak laughter) Anna knocked back her Negroni and quickly made inroads with the second. At that moment, as '80s Madonna hammered in her ears, she was Singlehood In London, distilled. It was all too familiar a feeling for her, experiencing intense loneliness in a room so crowded it must be nearing a fire regulation risk, feeling as if life was happening elsewhere. Right when
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she was supposedly in the beating heart at the centre of everything. No! Positive thinking. Anna repeated the mantra shed rehearsed a thousand times: how many happy couples trot out a dinner party origins tale about how they didnt fancy each other at first? Or even like each other? She didnt want to be that woman bearing a checklist, always finding that suitors fell short in some respect or another. As if you were measuring space for a new fridge and moaning about the compromise in the dimensions of the ice-box. Plus, it hadnt taken her many internet dates to realise that the There You Are thunderbolt shed so craved simply didnt exist. As her mum always said, you have to rub the sticks to get the spark. Sorry, a few of those and Id be out for the count. Falling down-juice, Neil said, returning with his Birra Moretti. Anna wanted him to be nice and this to be fun with every fibre of her being. Yes, Ill probably wish Id followed your example tomorrow, Anna shouted, over the music, and Neil smiled, making Anna feel she could make this work through sheer force of will. Neil was a writer for a business and technology magazine and seemed, as per their previous communications, the kind of decent, personable and reliable sort who youd fully expect to have a wife, kids and a shed. Theyd spoken only briefly online. Anna had banned the prolonged woo-by-electronic-billet-doux since the hugely painful disappointment of Scottish Tom the author, whose wit, charm and literary allusions she fell hard for, over a course of months. Shed started to live for the ping of the new message alert. She was halfway to in love by the time they finally planned to meet up, when he apologetically disclosed a) a spell in Rampton
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Secure Hospital and b) a sort of wife. After that, Anna changed her sort of Gmail address. As the alcohol took effect, she found herself laughing at Neils tales about the rubber chicken speaker circuit and shyster make-a-million industry gurus. By the time they got to the table and over-ordered soak-up-thebooze-mattresses like meatballs, calamari and pizza, Anna was telling herself that maybe Neil was exactly the kind of solidly plausible candidate she needed to take a chance on. Anna isnt a very Italian name? Neil asked, as they both prodded battered hoops of squid and dragged them through a small pot of aioli. Its short for Aureliana. I changed it after school. Too flowery, I suppose, she said, cupping a hand underneath her fork as the squid made a late bid to get back to the sea. Im not very flowery really. Hah no. I can see that, Neil said, which seemed a trifle presumptuous. Her free hand involuntarily moved to her hair, which was in the usual messy knot. Perhaps she shouldve done more with it. And added make-up beyond reddish tinted lip balm, applied in haste while on the Tube. Start as you mean to go on, she always reasoned. No point pretending to be a dollybird type and disappointing him later. The pork and fennel meatballs are the best variety, by the way, Anna said. Ive tried them all and can confirm. Have you been here a lot? Neil said mildly, and Anna squirmed a little. A fair amount. With friends as well as dates. Its OK. Were in our thirties. You dont need to pretend to be the blushing ingnue with me, he said, and Anna found something rather
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dislikeable in his pointing out her discomfort. Although maybe it was merely a slightly inept attempt to put her at ease. Conversation stalled amid a loud Prince track, one of the ones where he went squeaky and frantic about wanting to filth a lady. Im actually poly, Neil said. Hes actually Polly?! Sorry? Anna leaned in sharply against the noise, fork in mid-air. As in polygamous. Multiple partners who all know about each other, he added. Ah yes. I see! 'Is that a problem?' Of course not! Anna said, perhaps too enthusiastically, fussing with what was left on her plate, thinking: I dont know. I dont believe monogamy is our natural state but I realise thats what a lot of people are looking for. Im willing to give it a try for the right person though, he smiled. Ah. Good of you. And perhaps I should say that Im into mild sub and dom. All hetero, but Im not vanilla. Anna gave a grimace-smile and debated whether to say: Im sorry, I dont speak kink. What was she supposed to do with this information? Blind dating fast-tracked the personal stuff, that was for sure. I mean, Im not that out there in the scene, Neil continued. Ive tried figging. But were not in the realms of the Shaved Gorilla though, hahaha. He was invoking shaving and animals in the boudoir. And figs, if that was what figging involved. Anna wasnt disappointed anymore. Disappointment was a motorway junction ago. She was passing through
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into severe bewilderment and at this rate she was likely to take the next exit into a Welcome Break. You? Neil said. What? Anything your thing? Anna opened her mouth to reply and faltered. Shed usually go with none of your business, but they were on a date and it putatively was his business. Uh ... uhm. Usual sex. Usual sex. Oh God. She was underprepared and over-refreshed. This was like that temp job in a cinema one summer where, during the fun selection process, shed been asked: If your personality was a sandwich filling, which would it be? She got brain-blankness and said: Cheese. Just cheese? Just cheese. Because ? Its normal. Normal cheese and usual sex. She shouldn't even be on the internet. Neil surveyed her over the rim of his water glass. Oh. OK. From your profile I thought you presented as heteronormative but might be genderqueer, for some reason. Anna didnt want to admit she didnt know what the key parts of that sentence meant. Sorry if this is quite confronting, Neil continued. Im a big believer in honesty. I think most relationships fail because of lying and hypocrisy and pretending to be something youre not. Much better to say This Is Who I Am and be completely open than for you to say on our fourth date, woah. Neil held his hands up and beamed reassuringly, You like piss play? So ladies and gentlemen, I ask you to charge your glasses and raise a toast to the happy couple, Neil and Anna. And to the blushing bride, bottoms-up. Youll want a full bladder for later. (applause)
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