Free Welcome to the Real World by Carole Matthews

to work. I think there's a piano in every room in the place, though I haven't checked it out that thoroughly. To be honest, I'm too frightened to move from my desk.

    Now, accompanied by Anton on the piano, his wonderful voice is filling the apartment through the crack of the open door. I have no idea what the song isperhaps I should start reading the reviews of operas in the daily newspaper to gen up a bitbut I've got goosepimples in places you wouldn't believe. On the one hand, this is cheering me up immensely but, on the other, it's very dispiriting as I realise that I'll never be anywhere near as good. Still, the wintry sun is shining through the windows and warming my cold toesthe heating is on the blink again in my flatand I'm trying to look busy while drifting away with the soaring music. My tired soul is in seventh heaven, letting the melody wash over me. My body is also dog-tired because it took me ages to drag my drunken, ranting dad home last night and pin him down to the sofa. I've never heard language like itat least not from my parents. I thought I was going to have to club him over the head with one of my shoes to get him to go to sleep. If my true and faithful friend, Carl, hadn't come along to help me, then I don't know what I would have done. Between us we managed to wrestle some of Dad's clothes from him and cover him with a blanket. Which is lucky, because I was considering putting a pillow over his face.

    Evan starts to run through some exercises. His voice rises and falls, giving his tonsils a great workout, I'm sure. I start to hum along with him and surprise myself with some of the notes I can hit. Our voices sound good in harmony together. Another surprise. I stand up and throw my head back, imagining that I'm on the stage at the King's Head, giving my regular punters the shock of their lives. I'm getting quite into my stride, when suddenly the door swings wide, reverberating on its hinges, and Evan stamps in.

    'Where's that noise coming from?' he demands to know.

    'I...er...I...er...'

    'Is there a radio on? I thought I heard singing.' His forehead is creased in an unhappy frown.

    'I...er...I...er...' I have nowhere to hide.

    'It's not a radio, is it?' He looks at me with something approaching horror. 'Was it you?'

    I can feel myself blanching and flushing both at once. My goodness. I had no idea that he'd be able to hear me, but I was clearly getting more carried away than I thought. How much did he hear?

    'Was it you?' he demands to know again.

    I can see where he gets his reputation for being difficult from. This is my first glimpse of Il Divo. But no wonder he's furious. Fancy his assistant having the audacity to join in with his vocal exercises. I could curl up and die. Why will the floor never conveniently open up and swallow you when you want it to? Anton comes to stand in the doorway, too. He's also regarding me with a dark frown. I feel like a trapped animal. Maybe a lickle-ickle fluffy fox with a pack of nasty, snarling hounds bearing down on me. Die, I say to myself. Just die, it would be so much easier. 'Er...'

    And then my mobile phone rings. We all look at each other in a startled way. Never has the sound of that irritating Crazy Frog mad motorbike ring tone been so welcome. I owe the universe one.

    'Hello,' I say with a voice that has a lurking tremor.

    I glance over and though Anton has made himself scarce, Evan is now waiting, arms folded, one eyebrow raised in question. Obviously, he's not going to let this lie.

    'Is that Ms Fern Kendal?' the voice on the other end of the phone asks.

    'Yes,' I say. 'This is Fern Kendal.'

    'This is Doctor Parry,' he tells me.

    'Oh, hello.' Doctor Parry has been our family GP since time began. He has seen me without my clothes on more times than I care to rememberand not in a sexy way. In a way that involves rubber gloves and saying, 'Just relax'. I wonder if I'm overdue a smear test. Why else would he be calling me?

    'I'm phoning about