Dream a Little Dream (15 page)

The week ticks by with little inspiration for exciting new programmes for Red Brick Productions to produce – largely because Jonathan’s kept me so busy with the Christmas party and personal tasks for his wife and daughter (I managed to bagsie the Beyoncé tickets through one of our directors who knows someone who owns a box at the O2, however clearing his wife of her M6 driving points is still an on-going saga with the DVLA), but mostly because I’m scared that anything I come up with is going to be crap and laughed at by people who actually know what they’re doing. I’m not exactly keen on making myself look like an idiot, even if I am quite good at it.

So, instead of making loads of plans for the weekend, I decide to have a quiet one staying indoors and brainstorming. Above everything else, it gives me an excuse not to accept the invite over to Mum and Dad’s for the weekend. Not that they minded – they were pretty impressed when I said I had to stay in and work.

On Saturday I sit staring at the blank pages of my book, willing and waiting for an idea to jump out and fill them. It’s a tedious day that ends with me wanting to pull my eyeballs out and flush them down the loo so that I never have to see a piece of paper again (or see the look of disappointment on Damian’s face when I go in on Monday morning and admit I have nothing to offer – and the look
of satisfaction on Poutmouth’s face when I confirm that I am indeed useless and probably only sent there as a spy – and the look of horror on my mum’s face when I tell her I’ve been sacked for having little to no imagination). I believe this is what’s known as ‘development hell’ – when the ideas just won’t come and even thinking becomes an impossible mission. I’ve heard the expression bashed around the office a few times in the past and assumed it was just a term Louisa and Dominique made up for days when they’d been out the night before – but it turns out it’s an actual, annoying, hellish, thing. At seven o’clock I decide to give up and join Carly and Natalia (she’s here more weekends than she’s not) on the sofa for a girlie night in of fab TV –
Strictly
,
The X Factor
, even a bit of
I’m A Celebrity … Get Me Out of Here
. It might not be particularly productive, but at least I’m not staring at a blank page debating pulling my eyes out.

Sunday morning is pretty much the same as the day before, with me sat on my bed thinking about thinking. So when Carly and Natalia knock on my bedroom door with a coffee, sausage rolls, some pickled onion monster munch and three Freddo frog chocolate bars, I welcome the distraction.

‘
Four in a Bed
starts in a sec,’ Carly winks, picking up the remote control and jumping into the middle of the bed, while Natalia pops the tray of goodies on the bed and scrambles in next to her.

The TV goes on and we watch as two of the four sets of B&B owners bicker over a used condom found in the rubbish bin at one of the properties. It’s pretty disgusting. And riveting.

‘Well, it was wrapped up,’ shouts Carly, getting angry.

‘Who goes through bins anyway?’ I ask, shaking my head at the thought of it.

‘Plus, he didn’t need to sit there and unravel the whole flipping thing, did he? He must’ve known he wasn’t going to find anything nice in there. I bet he planted it!’ Natalia gasps.

I’m about to say something but the B&B owners are really going for each other and I don’t want to miss a second of it – we sit in silence for the duration of the row and the rest of the show. Needless to say the team with the offending condom did not win – something Natalia’s pretty miffed about.

‘What happened to us?’ Carly asks, once the end credits are rolling and Natalia’s calmed down from the injustice the rubber johnny has delivered.

‘What do you mean?’ I ask.

‘My life used to be full of adventure,’ she moans, puffing out her cheeks.

‘Erm, you’ve been having sneaky sex with Josh for the last year or so,’ I laugh.

‘Yeah, I think your life is still full of adventure,’ Natalia says, eyeing up her tummy to further make our point.

The two of us cackle hysterically.

‘Oh I know – a brand new adventure, blah blah blah,’ Carly says, rolling her eyes at the pair of us. ‘But gone are the days where I get high and dance the night away on beaches in Thailand without a care in the world. We’ve become grannies before our time.’

My head whips around to look at her as an idea starts to formulate in my brain.

‘What? Why are you looking at me like that, you loon?’

‘Out,’ I shoo, getting up from the bed and brushing their legs away with my fingertips. ‘Out, out, out!’

‘You’ve got an idea?’ asks Natalia, excitedly sliding off the bed and gathering up the mess our lunch has made.

‘Yes, now OUT!’ I yelp.

‘Was it something I said?’ asks Carly, taking her sweet arse time to move anywhere.

‘Yes,’ I nod.

‘Oooooh!’ she coos. ‘Do I get a cut?’

‘You can have my Freddo Frog,’ I say, placing it in her hand and escorting her to the door.

‘Good deal,’ she nods as I shut her out of my room.

I pick up my gorgeous notebook and start to write out my plan.

On a warm summer’s evening in Spain, I walk into an outdoor restaurant and speedily make my way across to the toilet – desperate for a pee. On arrival at the ladies I find that the cubicle walls are all made of mirrors. It’s strange, as the rest of the place has an organic outdoorsy feel about it, echoing its position by the sea with wooden furniture, shells scattered everywhere and low candlelight, but I don’t have time to think. I’m busting. I’ll piss my pants if I don’t go now.

I dash in, pull down my jeans and knickers and let out a huge groan of relief as the wee escapes. I didn’t think I’d make it – it was touch and go for a minute.

Sitting there, on the toilet, I look out to the other people eating and drinking close by and notice they’re glancing at me over their beer bottles and sniggering.

But how can they be?

I’m in a cubicle surrounded by walls …

Surely they can’t see me …

But they can.

The walls are see-through.

Horrified, I glance up once more and see Dan’s Uncle Andy at the bar talking to his Aunty Sally, both looking at me in disgust – their nostrils flaring and their lips curling.

I look at them with my jaw swung open, equally as surprised.

A motion to my left catches my eye – it’s Natalia and Carly skipping past in matching pink chiffon floor-length gowns, looking like they belong in a mythical Shakespeare play with flowery garlands
pinned into their hair. Following them, Josh and Alastair, each carrying hula-hoops and lit scented candles, grin as they cheer and holler through the crowd.

I can’t hear exactly what they’re saying but it sounds like a speech with jokes being set up and laughed at by the gathered crowd.

It’s Dan and Lexie’s wedding day, I realize with alarm.

And I’ve got my fanny out.

The people who aren’t enthralled with what the boys are saying are actually just staring at me sat on the bog with my knickers around my ankles.

I shimmy around, trying not to flash my bits as I pull my clothes back up, but can hear laughter from my audience outside.

With my bum still out, my head whips back to the guests.

‘Here she is, ladies and gents,’ Alastair calls happily, his voice booming through the crowd. ‘Our best friend, Sarah. This wouldn’t be a celebration without her.’

I look at him aghast, trying to scream at him that now’s not the time to draw attention to me, but he continues regardless.

‘You might think it’s strange that Dan’s ex is here – but it would be stranger if she wasn’t.’

‘Hear hear,’ echoes the crowd.

I pull a bizarre-looking smile at the faces in front of me in response, relieved when he continues talking to the crowd whilst walking off elsewhere and I can properly rearrange my clothes so that they’re covering me up.

I stand upright and step out of the cubicle and spot James Corden sat on a bench talking to some of Dan’s mates.

‘Did you see what just happened?’ I ask, unable to get over the humiliation.

He shrugs and raises his pint at me, before turning back to the conversation his friends are having.

I walk off in a huff and find myself wandering up some steps, where I stumble upon David Beckham and Justin Bieber chilling in a hot tub, staring out at the gorgeous view of the sea.

I literally shrug off my woes and clothes before climbing in to join them, closing my eyes and enjoying the warmth of the water.

Everything is still.

I’m engulfed with calm.

David and Justin leave.

I am alone.

Suddenly someone’s lips are on mine, kissing me passionately. Hands are sliding over my body under the water, stroking and caressing.

I open my eyes to find Dream Brett’s hazelnut eyes gazing at me lustfully as his perfectly white teeth nibble on my bottom lip.

I’m instantly on fire as a hot sensation of desire flushes through my body, wakening every last cell – making my whole body alert and ready.

I dive on him, pushing him back so that he’s sitting on the other side of the tub, my hands running through his hair and pulling it slightly, making him moan.

I want him so much I feel dangerous. Powerful.

My lips find his.

My tongue finds his.

My body finds his – the desire mounting as we collide and slip with the water between us.

I kneel over him, straddling either side of his muscular legs, my hands working quickly to find him and slide him inside me.

I groan, my breathing erratic and loud thanks to the movement between my thighs …

I gasp as the well-known guitar riff wakes me up and pulls me away from my fun in the hot tub. Then I go as red as
my crimson bedsheets as I realize I’ve had another naughty dream about my sort-of-work-colleague. Well, about Dream Brett. Although it’s nice to know that Dream Brett hasn’t wandered off into someone else’s dreams (God knows I’ve missed him), I’ve now woken up desperately horny and deeply unsatisfied … and am about to walk into a meeting with a guy that looks just like the one I’ve had sex in a hot tub with.

Oh life, how can you be so cruel?

I decide on a little skirt, tights and ankle boot combo – my dream tempting me to wear something sexier than normal. Plus, now that I’m in the Development meetings I really should be making more of an effort anyway, I reason.

‘So my working title for this idea is
Grannies Go Gap,
’ I say, kicking off my pitch in front of Damian, Louisa and Real Brett a few hours later – although trying my hardest to forget that the latter is even there.

‘
Grannies?’ scoffs Louisa, adding in a little eye roll before looking at Damian as though the world’s gone mad. ‘Old people?’

‘Yes,’ I mumble.

‘As in pensioners?’

‘Shall we listen?’ cuts in Real Brett – I must say, he’s particularly good at shutting down her stroppy behaviour, even though he’s new. He doesn’t seem to be shy about it either – I guess that’s down to having a good take on right and wrong and possessing a strong moral compass. Interesting to know he has that … just like Dream Brett.

I wonder if he’s good in bed like Dream Brett.

Focus, Sarah, focus!

Damian exhales loudly, bringing me back into the room.

Oh fuck.

‘Erm, would you rather something else instead?’ I flap. ‘Maybe it would be best if I talked about..… ’

I flick through my notes frantically, feeling like a first-class tit – knowing that I have absolutely nothing else worth mentioning.

‘I want to hear the Granny idea,’ encourages Brett – his green eyes wide and keen as he nods enthusiastically.

Damian says nothing but looks at me expectantly – his eyebrows tilting upwards just a fraction.

Louisa looks like she’s already bored. If Real Brett weren’t here I imagine she’d be fake yawning to further her stance on the pitch I haven’t even pitched yet.

‘All right …’ I exhale, calming the nerves that have exploded from my gut thanks to her input. ‘So,
Grannies Go Gap
is different from any other show we’ve done where we’re helping the elderly find some beautiful house on a remote island off the coast of Greece. Instead, we’d send them out to all the top spots for Gap Year students and young travellers. They’ll basically become backpackers and travel the world – although we’d probably have to look into whether the bags actually have anything in them, we don’t want anyone collapsing or worse – dying on us,’ I stop myself knowing that I’ve gone off on a tangent and hit a bad note before I’ve really begun.

‘Carry on,’ says Damian, looking as though he wants to hear more – I take that as a good sign and plough on.

‘We’ve all seen the stories in the papers of grandparents frequently feeling out of the loop when it comes to things like technology – it’s a serious issue that was thrown into
the limelight last year when an eighty-nine-year-old woman decided to end her life because she couldn’t get to grips with how the world had changed so dramatically in recent years – she felt left behind in a world that had advanced beyond recognition. We know there are going to be loads of shows popping up about making things like the internet more accessible to the elderly – but what about making the world more accessible instead. I don’t know about you guys, but my nan and granddad on my dad’s side have only ever been to two countries – England and, on one occasion, France. When they were younger holidays were spent in Blackpool or on the Isle of Wight – they never travelled further than a few hours’ drive from their home, let alone get on a plane and fly halfway around the world to walk up The Blue Mountains in Australia, dance in the streets of Rio de Janeiro or to elephant trek in Thailand. The younger generation has the world at their feet, and that’s a fact that’s largely taken for granted.

‘I want
Grannies Go Gap
to be more than just showing a gran how to do her internet banking or open a Facebook account – it’ll be about showing her a world that has only ever existed on the little black box in the corner of her living room.’

I pause for a moment and take a deep breath – astounded that the three of them have remained so quiet and interested, even Louisa.

‘Too many people give up and think they’re too old to go out there and grab whatever they want – but maybe this’ll give other elderly folk some encouragement – maybe not to go to New Zealand and skydive, but at least to go off on holidays or do things out of their comfort zone.

‘… And this shouldn’t be a piss-take or like we’re taking advantage of them in any way like some shows do. We would be genuinely giving them the chance to do some amazing things. I don’t want people feeling sorry for them – although I’m guessing there’ll be highly emotional moments within the programme. Maybe we could even find elderly folk who’ve had lifelong dreams to go to certain places and then take them there, rather than whisking them off for a whole year. We could have a play around and see what works best – a whole big adventure where our granny sees a few places, or individual trips to one spot where they see or do something specific … imagine waiting your whole lifetime to see the Niagara Falls and then marvelling over its beauty as you feel its spray lightly decorating your face … Anyway,’ I breathe, glad to get my pitch out there in a coherent manner. ‘That’s where I’m at with the idea … Although, I’m happy to tweak and develop it. Obviously.’

Damian’s eyebrows rocket up to his hairline as he expels a lungful of air whilst blowing a raspberry – I’m not sure he even caught a breath during my whole spiel. ‘Well, I’ll be honest, Sarah. I really wasn’t expecting that.’

‘In a good way?’ I ask, because they’re all looking at me really strangely now I’ve finished – Louisa doesn’t look quite so Poutmouthy or bitchy and Real Brett is looking at me weirdly too – but then anything from him is weird when I’m used to gauging Dream Brett’s reactions, not his.

‘A very good way,’ Damian nods, side-glancing at Louisa and Real Brett. ‘I’d like you to develop this a little further – find case studies of old people who’ve never set foot outside of the UK. At some point Research can get involved when
we’re looking at locations and things, but for now find the old folk, find the popular Gap Year destinations and get a proper package of info together so that we can present it to Jonathan. Louisa and Brett can help you on this. Right, I’ve got a lunch meeting that I’ve got to get to, but this is great. Well done guys.’

‘But I haven’t told you my ideas yet,’ says Louisa with a bewildered frown.

‘Next time,’ Damian offers, before walking out of the room.

Louisa throws a confused look at us before skulking after him.

‘That was brilliant,’ says Real Brett, winking at me. ‘I’ve heard he can be a tough nut to crack, but you just smashed that.’

‘Thank you,’ I laugh, thoroughly pleased with myself.

My heart is still beating at a ridiculously fast pace, but the whole thing really couldn’t have gone any better and was totally worth the week of sleepless nights and the mounting anxiety.

‘Want to go grab a coffee later to celebrate?’ Real Brett asks with a shy grin.

My eyes widen in response.

I’m stumped and in total shock – I wasn’t expecting him to ask that at all.

Does he mean coffee like coffee-coffee on a date coffee, or just a coffee? Do I want a date coffee if that’s what he means? Or is that weird when I’ve been dreaming of a different version of him entirely and this morning woke up from having jacuzzi sex with him?

I take too long answering and the air between us gets
uncomfortable – especially as I’ve had my mouth open as though I’m about to give a reply for the last thirty seconds, but with no sound coming out.

It’s awful.

‘Sorry – bad manners on my part,’ he says, shaking his head as though he hasn’t a clue what he was thinking by asking such a thing. ‘Second week here and I’m already hitting on people. Terrible. You probably have a boyfriend. I shouldn’t have … you know … assumed you didn’t … Not that you look like you wouldn’t have one. Oh crap. Sorry. I’ll just …’ and with that he shuffles through the door like a nervous and embarrassed little boy.