by Carol Wyer
‘Well, possibly one or two.’
‘I’m really glad for you,’ Charlie said. ‘It’s transformed you. And, by the sounds of it, it’s transformed Dave.’
‘Yeah, joking aside,’ said Marcia, ‘I thought you were looking a lot happier. It had to be more than just hanging out with us, although we are pretty awesome chicks.’
Susannah laughed. ‘Let’s just say, things are getting better. I don’t feel I’ve reached an impasse now and I’m not spending every night on my own at home watching the telly while Dave goes out with his mates. Now, I’d better get home. I’ve got some new moves to show off.’
‘Night, Susannah. See you on Friday. Are you going straight home, Marcia?’ Charlie asked.
‘Yep, me too. I’ve got an appointment with a packet of wax strips, a pair of tweezers and an entire tub of body cream. I’m going out with my new man tomorrow and I want to be prepared for any eventuality.’
‘Hope you have a super night. You can fill us in on all the details next time.’
‘All of the details?’
‘Maybe not all of them.’
‘Bye Charlie.’
Charlie parted company with Marcia and strolled to her car parked in the small car park adjacent to the studio, next to Jasmine’s sparkly new Citroen C1. She checked her phone en route. She had another missed call. It had gone directly to her answerphone leaving no number on the screen but the person had not left a message. She threw her bag onto the passenger seat, started the engine and turned on the radio. Cindy Lauper was singing about girls having fun. Charlie was certainly having fun with the girls at the moment but she wondered if she would ever have fun again with a man. For a moment she pictured the man who had caught her on all fours. Then she shook her head, reprimanded herself for such thoughts and set off, assisting Cindy with the chorus.
Sixteen
Mercedes had drafted in Sean to help Charlie on her show because the crew for Nosh for Dosh were filming Mercedes. They were quite a distraction and several members of staff had already passed by the studio in the hope of being caught on camera. After today’s filming, Mercedes was taking the rest of the week off for the show and to prepare for it. And Mercedes had, as promised, arranged for Charlie to be involved in the show, although it wasn’t exactly the role Charlie had planned and she had her own preparations, which she was more than a little anxious about, to see to before the big day. Why had she let Mercedes talk her into this?
‘Could we have Mercedes sitting there wearing her headphones, please? Yes, if you could wave your pencil at the presenter… as if you are cueing her in or something. That’s it. You’re a natural at this, Mercedes. Sorry, what’s your name? Sean. Could you keep out of shot? Thank you. Yes, over there would be great, lovey. Watch out for the cable. Trevor, can you shine the light more onto Mercedes? Better, much better.’
Charlie wondered how she’d have coped if it had been her. As much as Charlie wanted to be on the show, she wouldn’t have enjoyed this part. Mercedes seemed to be at ease with it all. She did exactly what the producer wanted and wasn’t fazed by the reshooting. He seemed to be constantly dissatisfied with the lighting and kept moving the crew to get better angles. Mercedes took it all with good grace and kept smiling.
On the show you only saw each contestant in their natural environment for about five minutes. So far, they had been filming for the best part of a day and still did not seem to have what they needed. The hospital authorities weren’t too keen on an entire crew being in the hospital, so they were confined to the studio area and unable to film in the rest of the hospital.
‘Mercedes, darling, how about you go outside the studio now to collect a request for the show? I know we’re not allowed to go and see the real patients, but if, what’s your name again? Sean. If Sean could go outside and hand you a piece of paper, you could pretend it was a request. Sean you need to look a bit sorry for yourself. Try and look like you’re ill. No, not that ill. Fake a limp or something. Davina, slap some white powder on his face, sweets. Make him look poorly. There, that’s much better.’
‘Come on, Sean. This could be your big break. A movie agent could see this and want to sign you up as a zombie in the next blockbuster movie,’ said Mercedes and wheeled off with the crew, Sean trailing behind her.
Charlie ignored the team as best she could as she continued with her show. ‘That was “Muskrat Love”, a big hit in nineteen seventy-six for Captain and Tennille. Award yourself two points if you got both of their names right and if anyone’s wondering what “Muskrat Love” is about, it’s about two muskrats making love, who’d have guessed? Although, I’m not too sure what a muskrat is, is it just a rat? Anyway, the song wasn’t supposed to be taken seriously. In July 1976, First Lady, Betty Ford, invited Captain and Tennille to perform at the White House. Queen Elizabeth was a guest at that time and when they played “Muskrat Love”, the Queen was the only one who didn't applaud at the end. Well, fancy that! One was not amused! In January 2014, Darryl “Captain” Dragon and Toni Tennille decided, after several decades together, to end their marriage. I wonder if we should expect a new release from them soon, “Farewell my Muskrat Love”.’
‘And here’s your last trivia question for today: Local lad, Ozzy Osbourne, was lead vocalist in the band Black Sabbath, but what is Ozzy’s real first name? You can have a bonus point if you know both his first names. No cheating by nipping on Google. Remember, we have nurses watching you. Answers in a minute, but first, just for Spud in ward fourteen, this is “Paranoid” by Black Sabbath. Please don’t wave your air guitar about too much, Spud. Enjoy.’
She turned off her microphone and Sam came into the studio singing along to the track.
‘You’re early. Let me guess. New T-shirt. Smart haircut. You’re here in case the cameras come in and do some filming.’
‘Guilty as charged,’ replied Sam and slumped down in the chair opposite her. ‘Actually, it was a good excuse to come in early. We’ve got the grandkids over and little Rosie is going through one of those difficult phases. I can’t stand the noise. It’s quieter here. Even with Ozzy yelling,’ he added.
‘Not my first choice, but we have to please all the people,’ said Charlie. ‘Do you know the answer to the question?’
‘John. John Michael Osbourne,’ responded Sam.
‘Correct. You have earned yourself two points. Well done Mister Trivia.’
‘I confess, I cheated. I checked the answer on my phone as I walked into the studio. I knew you’d ask me.’ He sat back, eyes twinkling. ‘Where’s the star of the television food show anyway?’
‘Gone off with one of the walking dead to pretend to collect requests. Didn’t you see her? She should’ve been just outside the studio. Management won’t be pleased if they’re mooching about in the corridors. Hang on. Track’s ending.
‘Hope you enjoyed that, Spud. That was Ozzy Osbourne, or as his mum called him, John Michael Osbourne. Give yourself a pat on the back if you got that right and didn’t cheat like Sam the man here. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the quiz today. Remember it’s just for fun. I’ll have some more questions for you next week. And now, something to relax us all, this is the Commodores.’
She turned up the volume on the deck and silenced the microphone.
‘Watch out,’ whispered Sam. ‘Here comes the television crew. Lord above, who’s that with them?’
‘Sean of the almost dead. He’s supposed to be a sick patient. They weren’t allowed to use a real one.’
‘Do they need any other extras? I could offer my services.’
‘Go and see Staff Nurse Lesley on reception. She might lend you a doctor’s coat.’
‘Great idea. I’ll go and see what I can do. I’ve got half an hour spare before my show begins.’
Sam pushed back his chair, hauled his large frame from it and ambled out. Charlie saw Mercedes through the window again. She pulled a face at Charlie. Sean was back in position behind the glass. His face was pasty white. The production tea
m were still filming. Thank goodness she wasn’t doing Nosh for Dosh. She was better behind a microphone than in front of a camera.
Seventeen
The four contestants on Nosh for Dosh sat around a large round glass table dominated by an enormous heart-shaped floral arrangement. ‘So, that’s how I became a florist,’ said a large man wearing a sequined waistcoat and bow tie. His hair was slicked back revealing a shiny forehead. The man, Maurice, was perspiring heavily having spent five hours attempting to get his special meal prepared under the warm lights that were moved frequently about his kitchen to avoid shadows.
He was the first contestant to cook on the show and the filming was taking its toll. The team trailed about his florist’s shop for an entire day retaking shots and repeating questions until he wanted to scream. It was proving even more stressful since they arrived at his home. He had to put up with them monopolising his house and staging the rooms for viewers to get maximum entertainment. An eagle-eyed member of the team spotted his teddy bear collection hiding in a wardrobe and in spite of his protests, pulled several out, leaving them scattered about his bedroom, where later his guests would go and comment on the evening. He was now trying to be very amenable and hoped to score highly by getting his guests drunk on his home-made wine.
‘Mercedes, tell us a little about yourself,’ said Maurice.
‘Oh, I’ll save that for another day. It’s your night, Maurice. The mousse was delicious. Very light indeed. I’m almost tempted to be greedy and ask for seconds but your next course sounds wonderful too and I want to leave room for it.’
‘Yes, it was verrey nice,’ agreed the elegant woman seated opposite Mercedes. ‘We make zees a lot en France, Maurice,’ she purred. ‘I don’t like to eat too much because of my figure. I ’af to be careful.’ She smoothed her hands over her flat stomach. When no one commented, she continued, ‘Ow did you get zees flowers like zees?’
‘I used florist wire, Claudine. You can get it heart-shaped, so you don’t need to bend it into shape. Looks good doesn’t it?’
Claudine nodded in the direction of the camera and opened her mouth to speak again.
‘Okay, we’ll cut there. Maurice, do you want to go into the kitchen now and prepare the next course? We’ll do a piece to camera in the bedroom with Claudine. Patrick has already done his piece. We’ll ask Claudine what she thought of the meal so far, and so on. You know the routine. Then we’ll come down and do the main course.’
‘This is ’arder zan I fort it would be,’ whispered Claudine. ‘All ze questions. I shall ’av to try to be carefool. Maurice’s wine iz verrey strong and az gone to my ’ed. I cannot be responsible for my comments about ’iz soufflé.’
‘Claudine, are you ready to go to Maurice’s bedroom?’
Claudine pouted, pulled out a compact and make-up from her handbag, reapplied some deep red lipstick, and then stalked off after the camera in her designer heels. Mercedes smiled conspiratorially at Patrick, who was relaxing with his glass of wine. He raised an eyebrow, ‘We’ll have to watch that one. She’s definitely out to win. I hope she isn’t going to feed us foie gras and frog’s legs when we go to her house,’ he continued. ‘Poor Maurice, I have a feeling that Claudine is going to have something to say about the teddy bears on the bed, especially the one wearing the French maid’s outfit.’
Eighteen
‘Happy Birthday to you,’ sang Peggy, Charlie and a bunch of children in unison. Bert bounced up and down on Peggy’s shoulder in time to the singing.
‘Hip, hip, hooray!’ shouted the children.
Bert, who was wearing a small cone hat, whistled. The children, also wearing party hats, were gathered around watching him. He had played peek-a-boo with them, shown them his ring hoop trick and regaled them with a vast array of whistles, calls and impressions.
Now Peggy cut the cake into pieces for all the children and gave Bert his own special seed cake.
‘It’s nice to have the house filled with children and laughter, isn’t it?’ said Peggy to Charlie. Bert was blowing kisses to George and making him giggle. ‘I was thinking the other day that it would be nice to go to Canada and see my grandchildren. I haven’t seen them for three years, and although I speak to them on Skype, it isn’t the same as sitting down with them. I wouldn’t want to leave Bert, though. It’s a shame they can’t come over here. Liam’s always busy at work and if he gets any free time, he’s not likely to want to spend it here, in the UK, in a semi-detached house with me, when he can go to Hawaii, or Argentina, and bask in luxury at a five-star resort. I don’t mean to sound bitter. I’m not. I’m glad he’s as successful as he is, and he’s got such a lovely family. It’s just, some days, I feel lonely. It wasn’t so bad when we lived on Lanzarote. The weather was so much better for one thing, and of course, I had Dennis. I miss him. Still, mustn’t grumble. Ignore me. I’m being a silly old woman. It’s because today’s Bert’s birthday. It reminds me that yet another year’s raced by – another year without my dear Dennis. And it reminds me that time’s too short. Bert’s eleven years old now. I remember when we first got him.’
Charlie patted Peggy’s hand. ‘I know what you mean. And, you’re not a silly old woman. Look at the smiles on those faces. The children have had a lovely time. They’ve watched Bert doing all his tricks. What about Oliver’s face when Bert meowed at him? It was a picture. You’ve given them a super tea and even party bags. How many children can say they’ve been to a parrot’s party? And Bert’s enjoyed it too.’
A small girl with long dark hair and rosy cheeks was tickling Bert’s head. He was chirping in delight. The others tucked into the array of cakes, sandwiches and treats in front of them.
‘It was wonderful, wasn’t it? He’s very good with children. I think it’s because they’re so gentle with him. He used to be very content with people until the day one of our clients got very drunk and became aggressive. He marched up to Bert while he was dozing on his perch and prodded him with his finger. It frightened Bert witless. He put up with it for a while but the wretched man kept doing it. Dennis asked him to stop and leave the poor creature alone, but he laughed and stabbed his fat finger right at Bert’s eye. Bert went crazy, flapping about and shrieking. Dennis raced over and pulled the man away but not before Bert bit his finger. It bled such a lot. The man started shouting and said he’d have Bert put down. Luckily, the bite was only superficial and Dennis managed to calm the man down.
‘He came back to the bar a couple of days later. Bert remembered him and got very upset. He flew at the man but Dennis stopped Bert attacking him. We asked the man to stay away after that. I never liked him anyway. He was one of those old soaks who spend all afternoon getting drunk and then do stupid things that annoy the other customers. Bert became wary of people after that, especially anyone who’d been drinking. I think he could smell the alcohol on their breath. He became aggressive if anyone who’d been drinking approached him, or Dennis, or me. He was suddenly quite protective of us, especially me. Shortly after that, we sold the bar and came here. Bert seemed happier. He prefers quiet, sober people.’
As young Oliver let out a whoop, Peggy added, ‘Although he seems fine with children, even when they are very noisy.’
‘Does Bert want to play with his new hoop?’ asked Sophie. ‘I can throw the ball for him.’
‘No, I want to,’ cried Elizabeth.
‘I think he’s a little tired of playing now. Bert. What about a song?’ said Peggy. ‘Come on everyone let’s help Bert sing. Do you know “Zip a Dee Do Dah”?’
Charlie observed the scene. She knew how Peggy felt. She felt it too. Once upon a time, she had a family, a life and a future. Nowadays, she filled up her time with her radio show, gardening, cake baking and the café. She needed to inject something more into it. She thought about Mercedes’s proposition. She decided she would do it. After all, life was short.
Nineteen
Patrick had had enough of the film crew. By the time his guests arrived he was ready to p
lay up. He was only on the show because one of his hairdressers had dared him. His wife thought it was hilarious. Patrick knew nothing about cookery. Unlike fellow contestants who had asked spouses and partners to hide from the cameras, Patrick was happy to have his wife in the house with him while they filmed. Patrick had taken a dislike to Claudine, decided Maurice was a buffoon and only had time for Mercedes.
‘You could try and take it a little more seriously,’ hissed his wife as Patrick marched about the bedroom dressed in a smoking jacket, a copy of the Times under his arm and a riding crop in his hand.
‘No. I’m only doing it for a dare. People want entertainment when they watch this show. They don’t give a monkeys about the actual cooking bollocks. I’m going to be a man behaving badly. I feel like being controversial.’
‘Are you ready, Patrick?’ called the producer. ‘We want to start with you preparing your starter.’
‘Here goes nothing,’ said Patrick with a wry smile.
‘Oh, please try to behave just a bit,’ moaned his wife.
‘Not a chance,’ he replied, grinning from ear to ear. ‘Thank you, love. I’ll expect you to run my bath later, as usual,’ he called as the cameraman and sound engineer filmed him going downstairs.
In the kitchen he fumbled about looking for his dinner menu. ‘Now, what am I cooking? Gloria was supposed to buy the ingredients. I wonder where she’s put them. Glor!’ he yelled. ‘Where’re the tinned baked beans?’
The cameraman guffawed.
‘I can’t do beans on toast without the beans,’ he shouted.
His wife, Gloria appeared from the bedroom. ‘Patrick!’ she warned.
‘She’s no fun,’ said Patrick directly to the camera. ‘While you lot are here,’ he added with a wink and picked up his riding crop, giving it a meaningful look. The director clapped his hands together silently. This was pure gold.
