Famous (34 page)

‘I think someone may have spiked my drink.’

‘You should be so lucky,’ said Mands. ‘Self-inflicted dolls.’

We spent the rest of the day lying on the lumpy couch and a sea of duvets, complaining about our sore heads, eating chocolate biscuits and reading magazines, while Mands and Lizzie attempted to summon enough energy for their drive back home.

‘It’s now or never,’ said Mands, peeling herself from the couch at four o’clock.

Once we had rounded up all their possessions, which lay across every surface and in every corner of the cabin, and forced Louie into the car, it was time for them to go. You’d think they’d been there a month judging by their depth of spread, not a weekend.

‘Bye sweets,’ said Lizzie, giving me a big hug. ‘Thanks for a lovely weekend.’

‘Oh, don’t cry,’ said Mands, noticing the tears which had welled up in my eyes. ‘We’ll be back before you know it.’

‘And you’ll be back before you know it,’ added Lizzie.

They both gathered me into a hug cocoon.

‘I hope so,’ I replied.

I was really going to miss them. Again. The weekend had felt just like the good old days (despite the primitive surroundings of course). Waving madly they drove off, Louie staring forlornly out the back window. They had left me with the cases of champagne and wine, which I was unable to make eye contact with for a good few days.

11

‘How about you come round and have dinner with me and Bob one night?’ asked Elsie the next morning, as I sat in the café having my date scone. ‘In fact, how about tomorrow night?’

‘Sure,’ I replied. ‘I’d love to.’

God himself knew I didn’t have anything else to do. It was slightly strange to be asked for dinner at someone’s house I’d only known for a few weeks, but nice all the same. Plus, I doubted that Elsie and her husband were the type to chain you up in their basement and feed you dog roll, before whipping your naked body with a fly swat.

I arrived at seven o’clock sharp the next night with a bottle of wine in tow.

‘You remember Bob, don’t you love?’ asked Elsie, as she bustled me inside and gave me a hug hello.

‘Yes. Hi,’ I said, smiling.

‘Hello love,’ said Bob, who got up from the dining table and gave me a kiss on the cheek. ‘Come and have a seat.’

‘Now,’ said Elsie. ‘We’re going to have a lamb roast. I hope that’s okay with you?’

Not exactly, I thought to myself, being that I didn’t eat red meat.

Should I tell her? I wondered. The only other option was to sit there and eat it. And I hadn’t eaten red meat for over five years. But I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. Here she was kindly inviting me for dinner and cooking away.

No, I’d just have to grin and bear it. Somehow.

‘Sounds yummy,’ I lied. ‘Can I help?’

‘Only if you want to ducky. You can come and talk to me though. Bob’s just reading the paper anywho.’

Bob looked up from the paper and gave me a smile.

‘Brandy and soda or a glass of wine, luvie?’ asked Elsie.

‘Brandy’s my poison.’

‘Oh, wine please,’ I replied.

‘You can top and tail the beans if you really want to,’ she said, handing me a glass of wine.

‘Sure,’ I replied.

I had no idea what she was talking about.

‘Don’t they have beans in the city?’ asked Elsie, noting my confusion.

‘Yes. But I’ve only ever seen them on a dinner plate, being carried to me by a waiter.’

She and Bob laughed. Which made me laugh.

‘Just like this love,’ she said, showing me how to cut the ends from the beans. ‘It’s very easy.’

And it was too. Even I could manage it.

‘Cutting off a mule’s ears doesn’t make it a horse,’ laughed Elsie, who was replying to a question from Bob.

Again, I had no idea what she was talking about.

Then turning to me, she whispered, ‘Don’t throw the baby out with the bath water, luvie.’

It appeared I was chopping a bit too much bean from the ends.

Once the roast vegetables and lamb were ready and the beans were cooked (by me), Bob set the table and we sat down to eat. Elsie put the enormous leg of roast lamb down onto the table and Bob began to carve it. I tried to look anywhere else.

Don’t think about it,’ I told myself. Just don’t think about it.

‘How much would you like, love?’ asked Bob, who appeared to be dishing up my plate first.

‘Oh, just a little,’ I replied. ‘I’m more of a veggie girl.’

Just cut it, put it into your mouth, chew it, and swallow, I told myself. Cut. Put. Chew. Swallow.

I did as I was told and contrary to gagging, as I seriously hoped I wouldn’t but anticipated I would, I was pleasantly surprised by the taste. In fact, I liked it. It was warm, juicy and tender. And, well, delicious. In fact it tasted so good I had another helping.

What on earth are you doing? I asked myself. You don’t eat red meat remember?

I know, but it tastes good, myself answered. Really good.

‘Delicious beans,’ said Bob.

‘Thos’re Jane’s beans those are,’ said Elsie, giving me a wink.

I smiled back.

‘Great beans Jane,’ Bob said, smiling.

‘Thank you,’ I replied; even though I’d only top and tailed and steamed them, I was relatively proud.

After dinner, I did my best to field questions about why I was living in Floodgate, without either giving anything away or sounding rude.

‘Just taking a break from the city for a while,’ I explained.

‘Getting some country air.’

Elsie and Bob remembered Sten and I explained he was my friend’s uncle, hence I was staying in his cabin. I asked them all about Floodgate and how long they had been living here, which was forever, apparently. They were both lovely and friendly and it felt just like having a normal family dinner with your parents. Providing your mother wasn’t a ball-crushing feminist and your father wasn’t a housewife of course. And it was nice not to be eating dinner on my own for once.

The next morning I had a call from the post-office-slash-bank-slash-stationery shop. They had a parcel for me to collect. High excitement. How on earth a parcel had managed to find its way to this Lilliputian village in the middle of nowhere I had no idea. But I was itching for some social contact so off I went.

‘Your lucky day love,’ said the man behind the counter, who also happened to be Elsie’s husband, Bob.

How exciting, I thought to myself, driving back to the cabin, placing the box onto the kitchen table and tearing into it.

It was glaringly obvious that my views as to what constituted exciting had shifted dramatically in the past few weeks. It was from either Mands or Lizzie, judging by the handwriting.

Dear God, here’s hoping it isn’t more wine, I prayed. I’d enough to sink a ship.

I opened it up and was immediately overwhelmingly glad I had waited until I was back in the confines of the cabin to do so.

Sitting inside the box was an enormous black vibrator, a set of Ben Wa balls, two hot-pink vibrating nipple clamps, several copies of
Playgirl
magazine, and two purple fluffy things (purpose unknown). And a card…

Dear Sammy, enclosed are a couple of city implements to stem your country boredom. Have fun & don’t do anything we wouldn’t.

Lots of Love,

M & L x
x

I had to laugh. Here I was in a hut in the middle of nowhere and my two best friends had sent me a box of sex toys. Clearly, post visit, they were worried about the state of talent in the vicinity. And with good reason. I put everything back into the box and put it down on the floor, beside the kitchen table.

The following day I had another burst of high excitement, a surprise visit. It appeared I was rapidly turning into some sort of lonely rural pensioner whose week was defined by surprise visits and the like. Nothing was a surprise in the city. A butt-naked three-legged pierced-all-over Hare Krishna could turn up on your doorstep and it’d be just another day in the big smoke.

There were two surprise visitors, both wearing police uniforms.

Oh God! I thought to myself. Now the girls have gone and sent me a couple of strippers. This really was taking it too far. Although surely they could have organised some better-looking ones? And possibly a bit younger?

‘Hiya love,’ said the silver haired one. ‘My name’s Constable McRae. You can call me Les. And this here is Constable Grant.’

‘Denny,’ said the younger one with the moustache, holding out his hand for me to shake.

‘Hi,’ I replied. ‘Jane.’ I wondered when they were going to stop the formalities and start stripping.

‘Elsie said you were living in Stens’ cabin,’ said Les. ‘We were just driving past and thought we’d pop in and make sure everything was okay. There’s been a couple of squatters found living here in the past, so we just wanted to check that you hadn’t had any unwanted visitors.’

‘No,’ I replied, ‘I haven’t.’

Who in God’s name would want to squat in this hellhole? I wondered.

‘Good, good,’ said Les.

‘Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?’ I asked.

I’d never had two police officers turn up unannounced on my doorstep before but I gathered, now it was clear there’d be no discarding of kits, that offering them liquids was part of the protocol. Grandma Atkins, had she been alive, would have been very proud of me.

‘That’d be grand,’ replied Les.

‘Sure would!’ agreed Denny.

‘Have a seat,’ I said. ‘I’ll just put the kettle on.’

Oh Lord! I thought in dread. I had just uttered those never-to-be-spoken words;
I’ll just put the kettle on.
I had officially morphed into a 1950s housewife. The only thing missing was a husband.

The officers followed me inside. I noted the row of empty champagne and wine bottles sitting on the kitchen bench and cringed. I had yet to clear up the remnants of the girls’ weekend visit. Recycling wasn’t quite so straightforward in the country. My eyes flicked to the full case of champers sitting beside the kitchen table, just in time to see Les peering at it too. Hell! The place had lush written all over it.

Oh well, perhaps they’ll just think I’m a hoarder, I hoped, quickly making us a pot of tea.

They sat down at the table and I brought the tea over. I even had some of Elsie’s chocolate afghans at the ready.

‘So, what are you doing living in these parts, Jane?’ asked Denny.

‘Oh, just taking a bit of time out,’ I replied. ‘You know…getting away from the hustle and bustle of the city for a while.’

‘Too right!’ said Les. ‘I don’t know how city folk cope with all of that noise and pollution. It can’t be good for the soul.’

‘Well…yes.’ I replied. ‘It does get a bit much after a while.’

What I wouldn’t give to be back in that noise and pollution right now, I thought to myself. He was making me homesick.

I glanced across at the box of champagne, willing it to miraculously disappear. And it was then that I saw it. On the other side of the table, right beside Denny’s left foot, sat the box of sex toys. Wide open. Oh dear God, no! No!

All he had to do was glance inside the box and there’d be a huge black vibrator staring straight back at him.

Please no! I prayed, my skin suddenly prickling with nerves. Don’t look down!

I couldn’t lunge for the box. That would only make him look at what I was reaching for. I drank my hot tea so fast I was left with third-degree burns on my bottom lip. Then I started ferociously glancing at my watch.

‘Well…’ said Les, noticing my overwhelming desire to wind it up. ‘…I guess we’d better be getting on the road then. C’mon Denny.’

‘Righto,’ said Denny,’ standing up. ‘Thanks for the cuppa Jane.’

‘You’re welcome,’ I blurted, jumping out of my seat. Denny put his chair back in and edged around the side of the table.

Please don’t look down! I prayed. Anywhere but down!

He didn’t look down. But this was the catch-22. Because, by not looking down, Denny subsequently managed to trip over the box of sex toys at his feet and send them scattering out across the wooden floor. Vibrator, Ben Wa balls, nipple clamps, purple fluffy things,
Playgirls
, the lot.

‘Whoopsie,’ said Denny, stopping in his tracks and turning around. ‘What a clumsy bugger.’ He suddenly noticed what items were now scattered across the floor and promptly began to go bright red in the face. But nowhere near as beet as I suddenly found myself turning.

‘S-s-s-s-sorry,’ he aplogised, reaching down.

‘It’s okay, I’ll get…’ I said. But it was too late.

Denny was now standing with a large black vibrator in one hand and two hot pink nipple clamps in the other.

‘Wh-wh-wh-wh-wh…’ he stuttered.

Obviously he only stuttered when he was embarrassed. I guessed that standing with an enormous vibrator in one hand and two nipple clamps in the other qualified as embarrassing.

‘Fa-fa-fa-fa-fa…’ he continued, as I stood rooted to the spot in anguish.

‘Just pop them back in here, shall I?’ said Les, taking the vibrator and nipple clamps out of Denny’s hands and placing them back in the box.

‘That’d be great,’ I replied. ‘Thank you.’ As Les also picked up the purple fluffy things, examined them closely, and put them into the box.