Miss Wrong and Mr Right

by Robert Bryndza

  ‘You look amazing,’ I said.

  ‘Thank you darlink,’ she said pulling down my top a little. I pulled it back up.

  ‘He vill be looking at you, not me,’ she protested.

  ‘He doesn’t need to see that much of me,’ I said tartly. ‘And besides I’m his boss, kind of.’

  The lift opened to the underground garage, and she took my arm as we made our way over to my little Ford Fiesta. She grimaced, limping badly.

  ‘Those shoes look three sizes too small,’ I said noticing her feet crammed painfully into the black patent heels.

  ‘I’ll be fine. I took nine painkillers,’ she said stopping for a moment and leaning on her stick.

  ‘Gran!’

  ‘Oh be quiet. I’d rather have liver failure than be seen in flat shoes by a man who has von GQ’s Sexiest Man of the Year three years in a row.’

  ‘You have been busy on the goggle,’ I said.

  ‘Now stop fussing and let’s go and get him,’ she said. I tidied up the car and helped Gran into the back seat (she wanted Ryan to go in the front so he could talk to me). We drove out of the underground garage and made our way to the Langham Hotel.

  It was quite difficult to navigate the winding streets and one-way system to reach the rear entrance of the hotel, and I wondered if Ryan was going to bail on us at the last minute. Would he want to get up so early? And there was a strong chance he could get a far better offer, but as I pulled into the set-down and drop-off area, I spied Ryan waiting in a doorway at the rear entrance of the hotel. He was dressed in a well-cut black suit, and holding a bag. A skinny teenage bellboy from the hotel stood beside him, holding a huge gift basket.

  ‘Vich von is he?’ asked Gran peering through the window.

  ‘Take your sunglasses off. He’s the one not wearing the bellboy outfit,’ I said.

  ‘Ah yes, he looks even better than he does on the goggle,’ said Gran lifting up her sunglasses. Ryan came down the steps, accompanied by the bellboy. I got out of the car and Gran wound down her window.

  ‘Morning ladies,’ said Ryan with a grin.

  ‘Hello!’ I trilled. ‘This is my Gr…’

  ‘It’s Anouska, hello,’ interrupted Gran through the window. Ryan leant in and pecked her on the cheek.

  ‘I think that might have to go in the boot,’ I said to the bellboy carrying the gift basket.

  ‘The trunk Natalie, speak his language,’ said Gran. I went round to the back of the car, where Ryan gave me a kiss on the cheek. He smelt delicious and looked so handsome in his well-cut suit. The gift basket was enormous, and it contained a bottle of expensive champagne, chocolates, whisky, and cheeses.

  ‘My goodness, you didn’t have to do that,’ I said.

  ‘The basket is for Micky and Dave, I know how the Brits love to party,’ he grinned. ‘And this is for Dexter.’

  He pulled out of the bag a boxed set of Peter Rabbit books by Beatrix Potter.

  ‘Oh Ryan,’ I said. ‘They’re beautiful.’

  The bellboy placed both gifts carefully in the boot, and Ryan tipped him twenty pounds. I went back round and got in.

  ‘He’s got them such beautiful expensive presents,’ I whispered quickly. ‘What have we got?’

  ‘A bottle of plonk and a rattle,’ said Gran.

  ‘I’ll get some cash out at a petrol station on the way, Micky loves cash,’ I said. Gran nodded in agreement as Ryan got in the car. As we pulled away from the hotel, he kept twisting round in his seat to look out of the back window.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ I asked.

  ‘I’ve had this photographer dude following me over the past few days,’ he said.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ I asked, glancing in my rear view mirror.

  ‘If I came to you, or my manager, every time the press followed me, you’d get so sick of hearing it!’ he said. He watched for a moment, and, satisfied we weren’t being followed, turned back in his seat.

  ‘I’m really jazzed about going to Sowerton!’ he said.

  As we left London, and the houses began to thin out to fields, Ryan got more excited. He asked if my parents had a thatched house, and if Shakespeare had ever been to our village.

  ‘No, but it is in the Domesday Book! It’s a very beautiful old English village,’ piped up Gran from the back. This was the first time I’d ever heard her say anything nice about the place. Her usual description is that Satan dug a big pit, filled it with shit, and on top he built Sowerton.

  I didn’t know how to behave around Ryan. It was as if my work life and personal life had collided. Every time I changed gear, my hand kept brushing against his leg, which was firm. After the fourth time saying sorry, I realised that he was just a guy, admittedly a very hot guy, but a normal guy to whom something extraordinary had happened. I’ve often read that when people become famous they don’t change. It’s the people around them who do.

  ‘Hey Natalie, could we stop soon?’ asked Ryan a few hours into the journey. ‘I need to take a leak.’

  ‘Yes, there’s a service station in about a mile,’ I said.

  ‘Do you mind if we just, you know, pull over. I try to avoid public restrooms.’

  ‘I know my darlink. I always hover over the seat, even with my bad hip,’ said Gran from the back.

  Ryan laughed.

  ‘No, I get girls following me into public bathrooms, and sometimes guys too. Last week I had to get my manager Terri involved when this girl took a picture of my you-know-what with her camera phone, and tried to sell it to the press.’

  I pulled over in a lay-by on a deserted stretch of the Motorway and Ryan got out and went to a row of bushes. We watched the back of him as he peed.

  ‘He’s nice, isn’t he?’ I said.

  ‘Very,’ agreed Gran. ‘Did you think he vasn’t?’

  ‘No, but when we’re at the theatre, we have to manage his time so carefully. He’s always got to have someone with him. I thought he was a little high maintenance.’

  ‘He’s peeing in a bush. How high maintenance is that?’ said Gran.

  ‘You’re right,’ I said. We watched him for a moment longer.

  ‘He really needed to go,’ said Gran. ‘Now I need to go too, but I’m not doing it in the bushes.’

  We set off again, and pulled into the next petrol station. I drove past the petrol pumps through to the car park at the rear, where there was a block of toilets.

  ‘Would you like anything from the shop?’ I asked as Gran and I got out.

  ‘No, it’s cool, I’ll just hang here and have a smoke,’ he said getting out of the car with us. We left him smoking his cigarette and walked over to the toilet block. When we were done and washing our hands I realised I should call Mum and tell her I wasn’t bringing Benjamin.

  ‘Yes. You might be right,’ said Gran reapplying her scarlet lipstick in the mirror. I pulled out my phone and dialled home. My mother answered sounding harassed.

  ‘Where are you Natalie? Is Mum with you?’

  ‘Yes, she is with me, and we’re on the M5,’ I said.

  ‘Is Mum behaving? I hope she hasn’t embarrassed you in front of Benjamin?’ she asked.

  ‘Mum, Benjamin isn’t coming,’ I said.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘We broke up…’

  There was a silence.

  ‘When did this happen?’ she asked.

  ‘A week or so ago…’

  Her response was not what I was expecting.

  ‘Natalie I’m very sorry about that. I just wish you’d said sooner, because we’d renamed the dog.’

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  ‘We got this little rescue dog a few weeks ago called Benjamin. I thought it might be rude if he had the same name as your partner…’

  ‘Partner?’

  ‘Well, you’re a bit old for a boyfriend, Natalie… Anyway we’ve been training him to be called Nigel.’

  ‘Nigel?’

  ‘Yes, you know how much I love Nigella, well the dog is a boy
so the obvious name was Nigel.’

  ‘Obvious…’ I said.

  ‘Natalie, don’t give me that tone. So do you think you and Benjamin will be getting back together?’

  ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘Then can we go back to Benjamin for Nigel, or should I say Benjamin?’

  ‘Listen Mum…’ I said.

  ‘Ooh I’d best go. Mrs Rust is just banging on the window with a baked Alaska. Poor woman has dementia.’

  ‘Mum, I just wanted to tell you I’m bringing someone else, the actor Ryan Harrison. The one I told you about at my theatre.’

  ‘Jolly good… Hello Mrs Rust, oh no it’s dripping… Look Natalie I have to go.’

  And she hung up. Gran had been listening beside me.

  ‘All that horse manure has gone to her head,’ she said.

  When we came out of the toilets, there was a group of teenagers shouting and rocking my car! Ryan had locked himself inside and was looking panicked.

  ‘Hey!’ I shouted. ‘Stop!’

  They ignored us and carried on shaking. There were two boys and two girls in their late teens, pale-faced and dressed in sports gear. Their shaking was building up momentum, and as the car lurched from side to side, two of the wheels came away from the tarmac.

  ‘Stop! Or I’ll call the police,’ I said brandishing my phone, but they didn’t look scared. Gran hobbled closer and stopped by the car bonnet, I put my hand on her arm, but she shook me off. The girls were now shrieking and goading the boys on. The tallest boy turned to face us.

  ‘Hey, we’ve got some bitches,’ he said. He looked us up and down, and spat on the floor.

  ‘Please, stop,’ said Gran taking a limping step forward. The tall boy motioned for them to stop, and the car ceased rocking with a creak.

  ‘There you go, Grandma,’ said the tall boy. ‘Now what are you gonna do for me?’ He looked her up and down, and the girls on the other side of the car gave a hyena-like laugh. Gran stood her ground.

  ‘Come on, no harm done, let’s go,’ I said, terrified. Ryan was watching from inside the car with horror. The tall boy moved towards Gran.

  ‘Old bitches know their way around a dick,’ said the boy. The other three smirked nastily. He stopped near Gran, towering over her. ‘You want some of this Grandma?’ he leered grabbing his crotch. There was a pause as Gran regarded him.

  ‘If I vanted a little maggot, I vould go to the fishing tackle shop…’

  With a deft and powerful twist she brought her walking stick round in an arc, and it connected with a crack on the boy’s nose.

  His eyes opened wide in surprise and he crumpled to his knees, blood gushing down his chin and onto his white hooded top. She placed the rubber end of her walking stick against his chest and shoved. He toppled over onto his back. Gran stood over him, holding her stick against his chest and pinning him down.

  ‘Vat’s your name?’ she said. The three teenagers stood with their mouths open in shock.

  ‘Mike,’ whimpered the tall boy, staring up at Gran with his back pressed against the tarmac.

  ‘Does your mother know how you speak to old ladies?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Vat?’

  ‘No, no, she doesn’t,’ said Mike.

  ‘If I vas your mother I vould smack your little bottom… Vat would I do Mike? Repeat,’

  ‘You would… Smack my little bottom,’ gulped Mike, wiping his bloody nose with a white sleeve.

  ‘You,’ said Gran clicking her fingers at the other boy who was in shock. ‘Open the door for my granddaughter.’

  Ryan undid the central locking and the boy rather awkwardly opened the driver’s door for me.

  ‘Get in Natalie,’ said Gran. I moved quickly to the door and climbed in. Ryan gave me a sideways look.

  ‘Now open my door,’ she said. The boy did as he was told. Gran released Mike from being pinned under her stick.

  ‘Now if no one else has anything nice to say, ve have a christening to attend,’ she added. The girls silently stepped away from the car, the other boy looked at Mike still bleeding and followed suit. When Gran was in the car, I started the engine and drove away with a squeal of rubber.

  ‘Jeez, way to go Anouska!’ said Ryan looking out of the back window at Mike, who was being helped up by his mate. ‘You are like the best bodyguard ever!’

  ‘That was very risky Gran,’ I said, my hands now shaking. ‘What if he’d had a knife?’

  ‘I have a Taser,’ she said pulling a small black device from her handbag. ‘I vould have shot him in the balls.’

  Ryan looked at me and laughed.

  ‘She’s not exactly the apple-pie-making grandma, is she?’

  ‘No,’ I said still shaking. I hit the motorway ramp faster than I should.

  ‘Hey Natalie, it’s all good, we’re okay,’ said Ryan and he put his hand on mine. When the car started to scream, I realised I had to move my hand and change up to fifth. I caught Gran smiling at me in the rear view mirror.

  For the rest of the journey, Ryan kept reliving the moment.

  ‘That was so cool, you hit him hard! Kapoww!’

  ‘Let’s not mention this to Mum and Dad,’ I said. ‘We’ll never hear the end of it…’

  ‘Anouska you should have your own TV show, Super Gran!’ added Ryan.

  ‘There was a TV show here called Super Gran,’ I said.

  ‘Then we should totally remake it with Anouska!’

  ‘I’m flattered but an actor’s life is not for me…’ said Gran. Luckily we passed some thatched cottages. Ryan started taking pictures on his iPhone, and we were saved from hearing about Gran’s topless acting role in The Song of the Floundering Mermaid.

  The farm

  We drove into Sowerton village around midday. The thatched cottages looked idyllic with their neatly mown lawns and gardens full of wild flowers. As we rounded the corner to the green, the Ramblers Rest pub came into view. A group of walkers sat outside, enjoying a drink in the sun. I had a sinking feeling, returning home. It always feels like I regress and I stop being the person I have worked so hard to become over the past few years. I go back to being the girl with the frizzy hair who is always being told off by her mother, the stupid girl who failed her exams and left her fiancé at the altar. I looked in the rear view mirror at Gran, she didn’t seem happy to be back either.

  Ryan opened his window, and the smell hit us.

  ‘Wow. What’s that?’ he asked screwing up his face.

  ‘Ten kinds of shit,’ said Gran. ‘Get used to it, it’s relentless.’

  I reached the gate to the farmhouse, and saw Dad had propped it open. The car churned and lurched slowly up the driveway through the mud, and I came to a stop alongside the house where the drive rose up to a grassy slope. Ryan was peering out of the window as if he had landed on the moon.

  ‘What’s that?’ he asked, pointing in awe at a furry creature with long legs and a long neck standing in the field at the end of the garden.

  ‘That’s Rihanna,’ I said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘She’s my Dad’s llama. My nieces and nephews named her,’ I explained.

  ‘Wow! I’ve never seen a llama before!’ he said excitedly. We all got out of the car and Ryan sped off down the garden. I looked back at Gran who had a lace handkerchief pressed to her mouth and nose.

  ‘Jesus, I’m back in shit city… I hate it here,’ she said. She motioned to me to follow Ryan, and I caught up with him by the wooden fence. Rihanna had come to peer at the handsome man in the suit. The sun glinted off his dark hair, and his mouth spread into a smile showing perfect teeth.

  ‘Do you want a photo with her?’ I asked, thinking of Sharon’s calendar request for January.

  ‘Cool,’ said Ryan. Rihanna moved towards him on her spindly legs, jutting her bottom teeth out and gurning. Please don’t spit, I suddenly thought. Llamas will often spit if they are scared or provoked, and it’s a revolting lump of green gunk which stinks. Rihanna snorted and pu
shed her head against Ryan. He gently reached out, and his hand disappeared into her coarse fur coat.

  ‘Hey Rihanna, aren’t you pretty?’ said Ryan. She stared down through giant eyes with huge curling eyelashes. I took a photo of them, then I reached up and stroked her too. She gave a snort and opened her mouth showing a leathery tongue.

  ‘They’re like those creatures in Star Wars, the ones they ride in the desert. Could I ride her?’ asked Ryan.

  ‘They’re not crazy about being ridden,’ I said. ‘And she’s pregnant right now.’

  ‘Wow, baby llamas,’ said Ryan stroking her fur in wonderment.

  Gran came limping up to us by the fence, muttering swear words and Rihanna reared up. With a snorting hocking sound she spat at Gran. A lump of green goo shot out and landed on her cardigan. It all happened so fast.

  ‘Whoa, what was that?’ said Ryan stepping back in surprise. ‘Is someone paintballing around here?’

  ‘Bloody animals!’ Gran shouted waving her stick at Rihanna. ‘The only reason I never became a vegetarian vas so I could eat you all!’ Rihanna eyeballed Gran and a long string of drool oozed from her mouth.

  We heard a ‘yoo-hoo’ and Mum was running down from the house wearing a smart suit with a pinny over the top.

  ‘Natalie! Oh Natalie!’ she cried swooping in for a hug. She held me tight. ‘It’s lovely to see you!’

  ‘Annie, your bloody animal just threw up on me!’ said Gran, easing her way out of her cardigan.

  ‘It’s just llama spit. She must have sensed you didn’t like her,’ said Mum going to Gran and helping her off with the cardigan. ‘Didn’t you used to have a llama fur coat?’

  ‘The second I set foot in this bloody place, I’m standing in shit and spat on!’ Gran shouted. Then a little blond Labrador came bowling across the grass and crashed into her legs.