On the way home from your first night, the three of us were screeching with excitement, laughing at nothing, ecstatic. You had done so well, overcome so much. You had the whole theatre in the palm of your hand and I was so proud. In the van, you imitated Emily to perfection. Your auntie and I were helpless. We weren’t cruel about it – well, maybe we were, a bit – but Emily really is a funny one, isn’t she? And besides, I didn’t know her then. And I had no intention of getting to know her – nor of letting you sign up with a total stranger. But I didn’t tell you that there in the van, because, well, because I didn’t want to burst your bubble.

‘Oh my God, Mum,’ you said when we got home. You could barely get your arms into your PJs for excitement. ‘I can’t believe, like, a proper agent wants to sign me! I could end up being on telly or in the West End or something!’ Your eyes twinkled.

‘Let’s talk about it in the morning, eh?’ I said, pulling back your duvet. I hoped that if we waited until you’d had a full night’s sleep, you would have calmed down. I hoped you’d be able to see sense.

‘Can’t we just have a peek at her website?’

‘Absolutely not.’ I stroked your hair, kissed your forehead, gave you a last congratulatory cuddle. ‘Now lights out and get your rest. You’ve got to do the whole thing again tomorrow.’

‘Night.’

‘Night.’

‘Mum?’

‘What?’

‘This has been the best night of my life.’

---

Your auntie Bridget was in the kitchen. I thought she might be out on the patio, having a cheeky cigarette, but she wasn’t. Your auntie has the odd roll-up, you know. Don’t tell her I told you.

‘What a night,’ I said.

‘She was something, wasn’t she?’

‘She absolutely smashed it.’

Bridget had brought out her best whisky. ‘A small nightcap to celebrate, methinks. I was just sitting here trying to figure out if I recognised Emily from Central.’ She eyed me in the way she does, then poured out two small measures into the Edinburgh-crystal glasses that someone, I can’t remember who now, gave me and your dad for a wedding present. ‘Good confidence boost for Rosie though.’

‘“The whole package”,’ I said. Scoffed, actually. ‘Honestly. She’s a person, not a designer sandwich. And who talks like that? She sounded like one of those people from Radio 4.’

‘That’s drama school. Projection, darling.’

I did understand that Emily had been talking commercially, honestly I did. It’s just that, well, a) I didn’t trust her, and b) I hate all the pressure on kids these days: to be half supermodel, half athlete; to be perfect; to be a beautiful person living a beautiful life – it’s why I limit your phone time, why you’re not allowed Instagram, and why I’ve never pressured you into any after-school clubs or anything. It was your auntie Bridget who suggested the theatre group. And the taekwondo for that matter.

‘An actor is a product just like any kind of talent,’ your auntie Bridge said. She was scrolling through her phone.

‘I know that,’ I said. ‘But some of your auditions have been brutal, haven’t they? And what about that director that came on to you that time?’

She shrugged, still looking at her phone. ‘She did that to everyone. You get used to it when you’re as hot as me. Ah, here she is. Emily Wood. Yes, Central. Two years before me. Yep. The Bill, Casualty, An Inspector Calls at the Almeida, View from the Bridge at the Old Vic, Taming of the Shrew… bloody hell, she’s done a shitload of theatre.’

Your auntie Bridget’s a clever one, Rosie. She was pretending to check for herself, but she was checking for my benefit. She was trying to reassure me that Emily was genuine. Legit, as you would say. Your auntie knew that if I felt reassured, there was perhaps a tiny chance of me letting Emily represent you. Crafty, you see? Except that Bridge and I know each other better than we know ourselves. She can’t fool me, and she knows she can’t. She will have known that I could see right through her. It’s a dance we do.

And she will have known that there was no way I was letting you get an agent. Not at fifteen.

‘If she’s only just starting up,’ your auntie was saying, ‘she won’t have much of a name yet, so it could take her ages to get Rosie anything. Might be nothing more than something on the old CV.’

‘CV?’ I took a sip of the whisky, felt the burn in my throat. ‘She’s a child.’

‘Yeah, but kids start young now, don’t they?’

‘I suppose they do, but that doesn’t mean Rosie has to.’

Bridget drained her glass and placed it on the table. ‘Did she say anything just now when you said goodnight? Was she excited?’

I sighed. ‘Yes. She was in heaven.’

---

Stay calm. That’s what your daddy would say if he were here. There’s nothing else to do but wait, so I suppose I’ll just have to carry on chatting to myself. I remember I did this when I was in hospital after the accident. I had my own little radio station here in my head, broadcasting my life to me like a world-record-breaking episode of The Archers. I can’t face reading. The newspapers are grim, and the magazines in the waiting room are years old; I didn’t realise half of them were still in circulation. So I’ll just rattle on as if we were in the kitchen together, you setting the table, choosing tunes off your laptop, telling me about your day. It’s the only way I can sit here without going out of my mind. It’s the only way to feel less alone.

I suppose your auntie Bridge may even have crashed out after everything she’s been through in the last few hours. She’ll need trauma counselling, absolutely no doubt about that. I did tell her to grab some sleep, but I doubt she will. I wonder if she’s told Emily – she might even have gone to pick her up in the van. If anyone can cheer you up, it’s those two.

Talking like this, even here in my head, is helping me. It helps me to run through how we got to this point. One day, I’ll make sense of it. When you come round, I hope you’ll be able to tell me your side of things. I hope to God you’ve not been… that he didn’t… I hope you’re still… I can’t say it. Bridget reckons he didn’t touch you, and you tell her everything, don’t you? But then you’ve not spoken since… Anyway, your auntie Bridget will be here soon. She will know what to do.

Wake up, Rosie. Wake up and just… be you. That’s all I need. You.