Free Playing with the Grown-ups by Sophie Dahl

bread piled thick
     with Nora's mammy's gooseberry jam. Kitty discovered that in New York you could order food from a million different countries,
     and it would show up on the doorstep within fifteen minutes.
    'Mum, what's eggplant parmigiana?'
    Her mother lay on the sofa in a lavender slip, slick with heat.
    'Uh. Don't speak to me of food. It's so hot the thought of it makes me feel sick. Eggplant parmigiana is something that will
     make you fat. It's deep-fried aubergines covered in cheese.'
    Kitty thought it sounded delicious.
    Her mother turned her head and looked at Kitty.
    'I meant to tell you before, Kit-kat. You've grown a little chubby this past term. It would be good to lose it before school
     starts in September.' Her eyes wound around Kitty's body.
    'I don't think I have,' Kitty said, her voice echoing in the furnitureless room. 'I didn't mean to. I think it's this dress.'
    'No, it's not the dress, it's definitely you, Magpie. Don't worry, we can lose weight together. I need to lose seven pounds.'
     Marina poked at her washboard stomach critically.
    In England they didn't have staff. They had Nora, who was family, and Mrs M from the village, who 'did' the cottage once a
     week after she'd 'done' Hay House. In New York Vladimir, the silent Russian trainer, came every morning to define her mother,
     as MTV blared in the background. Kitty put on a tracksuit and watched as he stretched and moved her mother like putty.
    'You won't join?' he said, casting his melancholy black eyes at her.
    'No, I'm going for a run actually,' Kitty said.
    She hated running. She walked up and down Lexington Avenue, and bought Tasti D-Lite, the fat-free frozen yoghurt that was
     everywhere in Manhattan, and sat on a step savouring each creamy mouthful.
    Fat was to be avoided. Anything fat-free was acceptable. She read it in Mirabella. She counted calories voraciously. Her mother, at Vladimir's insistence, had bought a treadmill, and it had a built-in calorie
     counter. As you ran, it told you how many calories you burned. Kitty loved to watch the numbers go up, so definite and sure.
     One hundred, that was the bagel she had for breakfast; fifty, the apple she had for lunch. When you finished, it gave the
     final calculation, with a red CONGRATULATIONS! that ran across the screen like a banner.
    In the morning, Precious would come to clean the house, and bring her mother fruit on a tray. Precious was from Jamaica and
     she thought her mother was really funny.
    Kitty asked her questions, just so she could hear her speak, her words spilling over each other like a poem on speed.
    'Why are you called Precious?'
    'Because mi mammy tink it a beautiful name.'
    'Where did she get it?'
    'Oh you got chat, Kitty! From a perfume bottle, dat's where. Now move you skinny bum girl, you in my way.'
    'Have I really got a skinny bum?'
    'Too skinny. No Jamaican man ever want you with a bum like that. Someone tell you you fat?'
    'My mum.'
    'Your mum CRAZY. YOU not fat.'
    By the end of the summer she weighed one hundred and five pounds. Twenty-five pounds less than her mother, and she was only
     two inches taller. She was also fourteen pounds less than Jackie Kennedy when she lived in the White House, and Jackie, Kitty
     noted with satisfaction, was renowned for being a sylph.
    Her summer job was to reorganise her mother's Filofax. This was an arduous task, because her mother knew so many people. Kitty
     had to ring them all to check that their phone numbers and addresses were current. This inevitably led to chat she did not
     welcome.
    'Kitty! How is Marina? Are you having the most glamorous time in New York? Is Marina still seeing the funny Indian man with
     the turban? You must come and stay, darling, you're always welcome. Send Mummy our love.'
    She simpered, 'Yes thank you, well, thank you, yes, it's great, really great.' Like a good child would, she thought, displeased
     with herself. She started to pretend to be a French secretary to eradicate the