“I’ve got some dinner ready” I say. For once I’ve been a good mummy.
“S’ok. I’m not hungry. I had a posh lunch, in a restaurant. It was someone’s birthday.”“Where did you go?”
“Rocca. It was yummy. And the waiters are buff.” She stops, looks dreamy and sighs “Some people are so lucky. The rich kids go out to restaurants for lunch.”
“To proper restaurants?”“Yeah. One kid goes to Carluccio’s every day.”
The teen expands “Some kids get pizza for a pound, some go to ‘Raisin d’etre’, a posh sandwich place. The poor kids go to Tescos. The really poor kids take packed lunches.”
“A. spends £900 a month on tutors. He gets three hours a week”