The Men in her Life

actors of her generation, their once-beautiful faces sagging with age? She was trying to imagine Neil Pearson and John Hannah with thickening bodies and thinning grey hair when her phone rang and she picked it up straightaway, relieved to be distracted from the increasingly alarming train of thought.
    ‘There’s a Virginia Prospect here, says she hasn’t got an appointment but she’d like to see you.’
    The receptionist made it sound as if the person in reception had been making a nuisance of herself.
    ‘I don’t know any Virginia Prospect,’ Holly said.
    ‘She says try Ginger,’ the receptionist said, wearily, as if this were a ruse she’d heard many times.
    ‘Oh yes, of course,’ said Holly, ‘send her down.’
    She waited outside her office as Ginger pushed a twin buggy the length of the corridor.
    ‘What a lovely surprise!’ Holly said, ‘haven’t they grown!’
    Guy and Rose Prospect Prince were both asleep.
    ‘We walked all the way here,’ Ginger told her, ‘and they finally conked. I’m just about conking too.’
    She collapsed into a chair.
    ‘I’m so pleased you’re here,’ said Ginger, ‘I kind of knew you would be, and if you weren’t, it was going to be a sign...’
    ‘You almost missed me,’ Holly told her, ‘I was just about to go and get myself made-over. I’m getting married tomorrow.’
    ‘Married? Oh, I’m so pleased. When you left after dinner I said to Charlie we must find someone for Holly, but of course, you didn’t need my help...’
    For a moment Holly was about to say no, go ahead, find someone for me. She was certain that if anyone could find a suitable man for her, it would be Ginger. But she didn’t need that any more, she reminded herself, she was marrying Simon.
    ‘Sign of what?’ Holly jerked herself back to the conversation.
    ‘I’ve written that screenplay we talked about...’ Ginger pulled a large manila envelope out of a string bag that was slung across the back of the buggy.
    ‘What screenplay?’
    ‘About the two sisters, born on the same day, you know...’
    ‘Bloody hell!’
    ‘You didn’t mind, did you?’ Ginger asked, her little elfin face puckering with anxiety.
    ‘No, no, of course not. I thought it was a joke, that’s all...’
    ‘Well, here you are. I’ve called it Jane and Mabel .’
    ‘Jane and Mabel?’ Holly repeated, pulling the script out of the envelope.
    ‘You don’t get it. Oh dear. That’s another tenner I owe Charlie. He said nobody would,’ Ginger looked downcast.
    ‘What do you mean?’ Holly asked.
    ‘Well, it’s Cain and Abel, isn’t it, the female version... except they don’t kill each other...’
    Holly burst out laughing, read the first page aloud.
    ‘Scene One: One candle on a perfectly iced cake in a Harrods box. Two shadowy adults in the background sing Happy Birthday unconvincingly. Baby stares at candle about to cry... ’
    ‘I thought of Rose in the starring role,’ Ginger said, anxiously waiting for Holly to make some comment. Holly read on.
    ‘Scene Two: One candle on an obviously cheap bought cake. Mother and baby giggle together then mother sings Happy Birthday with gusto and they blow it out together..
    ‘VOICE-OVER
    ‘Once upon a time there were two little girls.
    ‘One lived with her mother in a tower in the middle of a big city where the lifts did not work and the garden was made of concrete. Every day, after school, she would climb one hundred and eighty-two steps to their flat, and let herself in with her key. She would throw down her satchel and gaze out at the chimneys and rooftops below and the great grey river that shone in the sun like a trail of silver, dreaming of being rich and famous ...’
    ‘You would see a child doing all that on screen too,’ Ginger interrupted, ‘except I didn’t know how to put that in the directions. I know I could have asked Charlie, but I didn’t want him to read it, you see.’
    ‘So, I’m the first person to read it?’ Holly asked. ‘Yes, ’cept for Pic, of course, but she’s not the most unbiased critic in the whole world...’
    ‘How is Pic?’
    ‘Fine. She’s going out with a particle physicist, whatever that is. He’s very clever but a bit old for her...’ Holly looked back at the script.
    ‘... The other lived with her parents in a big white house that looked like a castle. Every afternoon she would lie on her bed in her smart school uniform listening to the rustle of the leaves in the tall trees that lined the