Pink Champagne and Apple Juice is a rollicking roller-coaster of a ride from the moment we first encounter Angie, legging it along Platform One, her mother in hot pursuit. She just makes it onto the train to the big city, leaving her mum "either gesticulating or waving" on the platform. "`There, I've done it,' she said to herself. `I've finally left home.' It was only then she realized she'd forgotten to pack any knickers."
The knickers turn up again - in fact knickers both actual and metaphorical pop up (and down) fairly frequently before the end of the story. All the ingredients needed for a few hours escape from mundanity are here: there's John, Angie's transvestite uncle, concealing more than his sexuality beneath the paint and feathers; a gorgeous French waiter called Phillippe; Heinrich, an intimidating German chef and the colourful staff and clientele of The Den Nightclub, as well as Angie herself, trying her wings for size and creating chaos in the process. But nothing and nobody in this novel, except possibly Angie herself, are quite what they seem. There are lessons to be learned, family secrets to be uncovered and a way to be made in the big wide world that's so different from the quiet Essex village she's abandoned.
The writing carried me along at a cracking pace, and I laughed aloud more than once. Anne Brooke makes it look so easy. An enjoyable and light-hearted read and the perfect holiday novel or pick-me-up for a grey day. I couldn't put it down and finished it in a single sitting. Pure escapism!