Radio Gaga

by Nell Dixon

  Events were conspiring against me now. Why did someone famous never want me to interview them? Why did my interviews always have to be with somebody who usually smelt of mothballs and cat pee and have to take place in the middle of some muddy and godforsaken spot? And Mr Hassan thought my life was glamorous.

  * * *

  I woke the next morning before the alarm. My mother had been awake for ages pottering about the flat. The bumping and scraping sounds coming from the lounge had sounded ominous. Sure enough when I dragged myself out of bed I discovered Mum had been busy rearranging my furniture.

  Clutching my dressing gown closer to me I stumbled on into the kitchen. I needed coffee, preferably strong and black with lots of sugar. It was going to be another one of those days. Mum was already showered and dressed in her usual tailored skirt and silky blouse.

  “Oh darling, you’re going to be late.” She took in my dishevelled just-woken-up appearance with a slight frown of distaste.

  “Loads of time.” Yawning, I stuck a piece of bread in the toaster and took a plate out from the cupboard.

  “White bread will make you bloat.” My mother smoothed her skirt over her sickeningly narrow hips with a self-satisfied air.

  “Why have you moved my furniture round?” My toast pinged up from the toaster and I tried to catch it without burning my fingers.

  Mum’s nose wrinkled as she watched me slather butter onto my toast. “I wanted to surprise you. That room is so dreary; I thought a little change might perk it up. Perhaps a few new cushions or a nice print for the wall would help.”

  “I like my flat the way it is.” Scooping up my plate I headed off towards my room to get ready for work.

  She followed me out into the hall. “Wear something pretty.”

  Yep, right, I was in radio not television and I had a feeling that wearing a nice dress and heels might be wasted on Fred. Twenty minutes later I was showered, dressed in my usual jeans and tee shirt and ready to go and find Freely Street allotments.

  Freely Street turned out to be fairly close to the radio station. I unloaded my recording equipment from the car and hoped the ground wouldn’t be too muddy. For once I was early, traces of grey damp mist swirled across the earth as I picked my way carefully along the narrow path between the plots, looking for Fred.

  The site was eerily deserted and if it hadn’t have been for the gates being unlocked to allow access onto the allotments I would have thought that no one had been there.

  I paused in the middle of the site to peer hopefully at the faded brown wood sheds and bright blue water butts along the edges trying to find Fred.

  “Are you waiting to meet someone?”

  I leapt about six feet into the air as a male voice sounded in my ear and a hand touched my shoulder.

  “Oh my God, you scared the crap out of me.” My heart thumped so hard and rapidly against the wall of my chest I thought I was about to die. As my pulse gradually slowed down I realised the oversized grey hoodie was familiar. “Hey, didn’t I meet you the other day? Um, Keith? Kevin?”

  “Kevin. You signed an autograph for me.” He grinned shyly at me.

  “Of course. I came here to meet someone called Fred Hardcastle. An older chap with a flat cap?” Kevin’s openly adoring expression unnerved me.

  “Yeah, he’s down the bottom.” Kevin turned on the path and led the way. I hesitated for a second before following him but then realised I could see Fred’s cap in the distance through the mist.

  “Here he is.” Kevin halted so suddenly I bumped into his heels.

  “Sun should be out later.” Fred gripped the brim of his cap with soil stained hands as he nodded to me.

  “Let’s hope you’re right.” I glanced at my watch, ten to eight. “Um, I need to get a sound check done as we’re going to be live at eight o clock.”

  “Right O.” Fred stuck his fork into the soil and wiped his hands on his trousers. Kevin had vanished as quickly as he’d appeared. I didn’t have time to worry about it as I had to get set up.

  In a matter of minutes I’d checked the levels and linked to the studio, keeping the earpiece in my ear so I’d be prepared for Steph to cue me in. Fred occupied himself with a great deal of coughing and throat clearing ready for his big moment. I had a mental checklist of questions to run through to fill the next five minutes. Fingers crossed Fred wouldn’t dry or swear, both were a risk during a live segment.

  I gave Fred a reassuring smile and ran through my instructions with him one last time. Through my earpiece I heard the news and weather bulletin finish and Steph’s nasal whine commence our introduction.

  “We’re going live now to Chloe, who’s live at Freely Road allotments this morning with Fred Hardcastle, champion grower of monster veg.”

  I flicked my switches and held the mic out to Fred. “Thanks Steph. It’s a cool, damp start to the morning here at Fred’s allotment plot.”

  We nattered for a minute about Fred’s cups and his passion for growing.

  “Tell me Fred how do you set about becoming a champion veg grower?”

  “A bit of know how, good seeds, and lots of love and care.”

  “Do you think anyone could become a champion like you?”

  “Aye, even you, Chloe.”

  “Ooh, that sounds like a Challenge Chloe throw down.” Steph’s voice unexpectedly chipped into the conversation.

  “Oh, I don’t know, you know me, even the pot plant in the office died when it was my turn to look after it.” I tried to laugh it off. There was no way I planned to get embroiled in the cut throat world of giant veg growing. I’d seen enough at the horticultural show. They had been all sweetness and light for their chats with me but snipping at one another like toddlers when the recorder had been turned off.

  “What do you say, Fred? Can you turn our Chloe into a green-fingered giant veg champ by the time of the show in August?”

  I’d been set up.

  “I’ll certainly give it a try, Steph. Chloe can use a corner of my plot and I’ll support her all the way.” His gold tooth winked at me.

  “Well, that sounds like that’s our first of Chloe’s challenges for today. I’m sure she’ll feel right at home amongst the cabbages. Keep listening to find out which other challenges will be coming her way later in the show.”

  They killed the feed from the studio leaving me to stare helplessly at Fred.

  Chapter Ten

  “Fred, I really don’t think this is going to work. I’m hopeless with plants. I kill anything green without even trying; it’s almost as if they sense me coming.” There was no way I intended spending my evenings and weekends in Fred’s company being tutored on the way of the giant marrow or whatever it was he had planned for me.

  “You’ll be grand. By August you’ll have some champion veg ready for the show.” He waved his arm expansively in the direction of his plot. “You can have that corner over there and Mervyn from the radio station said you’d come and report from here every week so listeners can hear how you’re doing.”

  “Oh he did, did he?” So I’d been right about this being a set up. God alone knew what else he had planned for me but I’d be willing to bet that it wasn’t any of the lovely and fun things I’d put on my list.

  “He were very obliging. He reckons as this will be a popular feature with me giving regular gardening tips and you telling everybody how you’re getting on.” He picked up his fork ready to recommence his digging. “You’ll need to come down about twice a week to start with and more often if the weather turns dry. I’ll sort out some plants and seeds to start you off.”

  I stared glumly at the patch of mud and unknown green stuff that Fred had blithely assured me was all mine.

  “Fred, I am not a gardener.”

  “Aye, mebbe not, but neither is that Stanley Frobisher with his regular gardening column in the Chronicle. I’m twice as good as him. He’s a cheat. I know he bought some of his veg from Tesco when he won straightest carrot last year.” Fred’s face flu
shed with righteous indignation.

  This was clearly going to be a battle I wasn’t going to win. This was more to do with Fred’s rivalry with Stan than it was to do with making me grow green fingers. I could only hope that once Fred and Merv had witnessed my horrific mass slaughter of innocent veg they would change their minds. I arranged to come back later in the week armed with a trowel and wellies and said goodbye to Fred.

  I reckoned there was time for me to grab a coffee and a bacon butty to go from the corner café before I reported in to the radio station for the next stop on the ‘Let's Torture Chloe Campaign’.

  The café was packed when I arrived. It seemed to be the favourite haunt of every construction worker within a ten mile radius. I hunkered into my fleece and tacked on to the end of the queue.

  “Hello Chloe, I didn’t expect to see you here.” I turned to find Ben standing behind me looking far too good for a cold, damp spring morning.

  “I could say the same for you.”

  He dug into the pocket of his jeans to find some change as the line inched forward towards the counter. “Mervyn called my boss this morning wanting me to take some shots of you for the Challenge Chloe spot.”

  Great, I had on my oldest pair of jeans and somehow whilst I’d been at the allotments mud had transferred itself from Fred’s fork to my clean white tee shirt. Maybe I should have listened to my mother for once and worn something pretty. Now I would be splashed all over the paper looking like a scarecrow.

  “He didn’t tell me what he had planned.” I noticed the expensive-looking camera hanging around Ben’s neck.

  Ben’s eyes darkened with concern. “Are you well enough to be taking on this new slot, Chloe? It could be quite pressurised.”

  “I’m perfectly fine.” The man in front of me moved and I drew in a deep breath before giving my breakfast order to the lady at the counter. My traitorous body heated as Ben moved in closer behind me.

  “I hope you weren’t offended by the literature I put through your door. It’s just that I know how difficult it can be for someone to admit they need help.” The low tones of his voice tickled my ear.

  I paid for my take out and turned to face him. “For the record, I do not have a problem.” I swiftly lowered my voice when I realised I’d attracted the unwanted attention of the queue. “I was the victim of an unfortunate reaction to prescribed medication.” Leaving Ben to place his order I marched back outside into the cool morning air. A couple of bites from my bacon sandwich with extra tomato sauce and mushrooms and I began to feel marginally better.

  “Chloe, wait up!” Ben called as I crossed the street ready to head for the studio.

  Reluctantly I waited at the corner while he caught me up.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “Yeah, well. Let’s forget about it, shall we?”

  He fell into step next to me, adjusting his long-legged stride to my much shorter one. “Your Mum leads an interesting life. She was telling me all about her charity work.” He eased the lid from his polystyrene coffee cup to take a tentative sip.

  Mum loved talking about the work she did with the deprived and underprivileged. In fairness to her she did an awful lot of good, haranguing authority, organising committees and drawing attention to sections of society which otherwise would simply be ignored. It didn’t however; make her very easy to live with.

  “Yes, she does a lot of good work.”

  “She um, told me about your partner leaving you.” He shot a glance at me as I picked mushroom slices out of a ketchup sea and popped them into my mouth. A tricky feat whilst moving, I narrowly missed blobbing sauce down my cleavage.

  Cheers Mother. I wondered what else she’d told him about me. Thank God I didn’t have any of my baby photos in the flat or she would probably have shown him those too.

  “Neil and I had been over for a long time. I caught him cheating with his dry cleaner.” I tried to sound nonchalant. I wasn’t upset over my break up, not really. I’d been angry at being made to feel a fool but my heart had been surprisingly undamaged by Neil’s defection.

  A faint crease appeared on Ben’s brow. “Oh, only your mother seemed to think you’d been quite upset by it all. She er thought that might be why you reacted to the tablets.”

  I licked the traces of ketchup from the corners of my lips before dumping my sandwich wrapper in the bin outside the entrance of the radio station. “My mother would have liked me to be upset. I reacted to the tablets because I have a low tolerance for medication. Mum was the one who was upset. She had high hopes for Neil as a future son-in-law.”

  His frown deepened as he held open the door to the studios, allowing me to enter ahead of him.

  “You’d better sign in and get a visitor pass,” I suggested, appalled that Ben had obviously succumbed to my mother’s charm. She had the ability to sucker people in by appealing to their better nature and charitable instincts. Then, when she’d got them where she wanted them she’d turn on the screws. If Ben wasn’t careful she’d have him trotting down the aisle with me before he had time to blink.

  I allowed myself a delicious momentary daydream involving me, a white Vera Wang wedding Dress and a steamy honeymoon night with Ben before being summoned back to reality by Merv’s nasal tones.

  “Lark, get your arse into the studio before you’re late again.”

  Tracey raised her heavily pencilled eyebrows and gave me a small shrug of sympathy as I scurried past her. The sound of Ben’s deeper voice mingled together with Mervyn’s slightly higher pitch followed me as I hurtled down the corridor to the studio.

  Steph’s producer spotted me through the glass window and opened the door leading into the anteroom. Steph was in full flow, extolling the virtues of dietary fibre over the airwaves, as I scooted inside. Anyone listening to her probably developed watery bowels anyway thanks to the diet of auditory crud she fed her listeners.

  “In a few minutes I’ll be joined live by our roving reporter Chloe Lark as we reveal our first, voted for by you, Challenge Chloe adventure.” She cut to the advertisements and scowled at me through the glass.

  I opened the door to the inner booth and took my place opposite Steph as a particularly annoying double glazing advert finished and was replaced by the Live it Up jingle.

  Her producer placed a sealed white envelope in front of Steph labelled ‘results’ and made a sharp exit as the final strains of the jingle died away.

  “And we’re back with Chloe to reveal the results of the vote. Ooh, it’s like X Factor isn’t it?” She warbled into her mike and hit a drum roll clip. I didn’t think it was anything like X Factor but Steph was intent on making the most of the moment.

  “You’ve all been voting in your um hundreds for Chloe’s first challenge and I have the envelope right here with the results. So, Chloe, gosh you look a little windswept this morning, which challenge do you think our lovely Live it Up listeners have picked for you this week?”

  I stared blankly at her and wondered, not for the first time, if Steph was on drugs. Since Merv hadn’t told me what the challenge options were and I’d been too busy, and too chicken, to listen in and find out, I couldn’t answer her question.

  She gave her irritating laugh. “Oops silly me, of course Chloe has been kept quite in the dark about today’s surprise, haven’t you Chloe?”

  “Absolutely, Steph.” I managed to squeeze in a quick answer before she prattled on.

  “Well, have we got a treat in store for you! Back in two ticks to reveal Chloe’s Challenge.” She hit the jingle button again, killing my mike.

  “Well, what were the choices?” I eyed the sealed envelope on the desk dying to grab it and tear it open.

  She eyed me frostily. “If you bothered to listen to my show then you’d know what they were. I could have made a real fool of myself a minute ago thanks to you sitting there like a big fat dummy.”

  I ignored her insult. “I was kind of busy this morning interviewing Fred.”

  “Oh ye
s, the great vegetable challenge. You’ll be right at home there.”

  Fortunately for Steph the ad finished and my mike came back live before I could respond.

  “Here we go.” She played the drum roll again. “Did you vote for joining the circus and learning circus skills like tight rope walking, the art of clowning and juggling, or did you opt to send Chloe to the zoo for a day working in the reptile house handling snakes, spiders and lizards?”

  Funnily enough I didn’t remember putting either of those options on my list. Juggling didn’t sound too bad but the high wire was a no-no. The zoo option sounded far worse. My fear of heights probably ranked equally with my fear of snakes. I’ve always really sympathised with Harrison Ford in the Indiana Jones films over his snake-o-phobia.

  She waved the envelope under my nose before hitting that damned drum roll again. I sincerely hope that one day technology will exist whereby listeners can reach through the airwaves to give annoying presenters a good slap.

  “Can’t wait, Steph.” I chirped through a dry mouth. Please Lord don’t let it be the snakes.

  She held the envelope next to a mike as she ripped it open taking care to make maximum paper tearing sounds. “And the winner is… ooh I feel like Holly Willoughby.”

  She looked more like Denise Welch.

  “The first Challenge Chloe, as voted for by you is… The reptile house at the zoo.”

  I knew it.

  “How exciting.” I hoped I sounded convincingly chirpy and thrilled. I felt more like throwing up.

  “Join us on Friday to find out how Chloe gets on with her scaly and eight legged friends, plus there’s the giant veg growing challenge. You can see pictures of all of these in your local paper, the Gazette, proud sponsors of Challenge Chloe. And of course you can follow her adventures on our website.” Her smile was pure evil as she switched to the ad break.

  “How lovely for you, Chloe, a day at the zoo. At least they didn’t ask you to muck out the elephants.” She leaned back in her chair, a smirk playing at the edge of her lips.

  “I know. I’m so lucky that Merv gave me this big break. My profile is going to soar.” I faked a huge beaming grin and headed for the door. “Just think, if this goes well I’ll be really famous.”