Charley gazed at the wine bottle with real longing, but it was behind her shoulder and he knew better than to try to make a grab for it.

“Hil, for Christ’s sake. You’re getting all wound up about nothing. Let’s just get our coats and go, all right? Have a nice me—”

“I’m not going anywhere with her looking like that!” She was talking to him, but she was looking at me. “Am I making myself clear, Little Miss Babe Power? You can have cheese on toast for your birthday dinner for all I care.”

My teeth were clenched so tight I thought they might chip.

“That’s fine with me!” I shrieked back. “The only place I’d go with you is your funeral, you miserable old cow.”

That was when she hit me. Slap with her palm, right on the cheek.

“Don’t you talk to me like that.” She was shaking with rage. “I’m your mother.”

I put my face right into hers. “Well, I bloody well wish you weren’t. Do you hear me? I’d rather have Cruella De Vil as my mother!”

“The way you’re going, you may get your wish!” shrieked the Wicked Witch.

And I ran out of the room and out of the flat as fast as a person on six-inch heels could.

Happy Birthday to Me

If I’d had somewhere to go, I’d’ve gone there.

But I didn’t. We never saw my dad again after he left, so he was out. My half-sisters, Charlene and Dara, both lived south of the river, and my nan lived in Hastings, so they were out, too. So was Shanee, because even though she lived just down the road she’d gone away for the weekend.

I marched through the boring streets of northwest London on automatic.

I was back on the Titanic, pushing through the hysterical mobs, looking for Jack. I was wearing the bomber jacket he’d put around me. I was still soaked from the icy waves that broke across the ship as she sunk deeper and deeper into the endless water, but my soul was on fire. I would not die without seeing him one more time. “Jack!” screamed my heart. “Jack! Jack! Jack!”