It Felt Like a Kiss

Ari had discovered a contraband Barbie bangle in her weekend case and had gone on an hour’s rant that contained words like ‘body fascism’ and ‘third-wave feminism’, then made Ellie write out fifty times, ‘Barbie is a toxic plastic tool of a patriarchal culture.

She settled for snatching up the apple strudel still warm in its tinfoil shroud and throwing it at him. ‘I’ll give you darkness, you sanctimonious fucker!

Vaughn folded his arms. ‘The reason why you’ve lasted longer than most of your erstwhile colleagues is because you don’t do drama. I don’t like drama. I get enough drama at home. My wife could teach the RSC a few things about drama.' For someone who claimed that he didn’t do drama, Vaughn was one of the biggest drama queens she knew.

Why are you talking? Who gave you permission to talk?’ Vaughn demanded. ‘In circumstances like this, we close ranks. Never complain, never explain, right?

She heard Piers give an excited little cry and someone gave an excited little cry in return, and Grace Vaughn appeared in the open doorway, laden down with garment bags. For one fleeting moment, Ellie saw both husband and wife’s faces light up before they resembled their usual expressions – a scowl and a pout respectively.

But please eat at the table and use a coaster.

The only people who spoke to her were Jimmy Vaughn, who was sweet when he wasn’t wasted, though he was wasted all the time...

Nora Ephron quote: ‘Be the heroine of your own life, not the victim.

[She] had occasionally glimpsed a series of interchangeable well-groomed blondes accompanying him to work events, then Grace had rocked up with her funny-coloured hair and her funny-coloured tights, and Vaughn had been smitten. Well, as smitten as Vaughn could be.