by Amanda Egan
We settled at our table - me, Ned, Patience, Pritesh, Rachel, Mike, Jenny and Colin and we waited for F&J - I assumed she was having a hard time settling Darcy and hoped she wouldn’t miss any of the fun.
Josh eventually arrived, looking a little flustered, and joined us at the table. “Fenella’s not feeling too good. She’ll try to pop along later but I doubt it very much. She’s been in the bathroom for the last hour.”
I was so disappointed. Potentially the biggest laugh of our time at Manor House and I might not have my side-kick to enjoy it with.
So my slightly deflated evening began with H&B taking the stage and welcoming us all. Hinge was resplendent in a moth-eaten sequinned number and Bracket was in a tartan maxi skirt topped off with a manky feather boa. They were co-hosting the night in a maiden aunt version of Ant & Dec.
The circus began with swimwear and we were treated to varying takes on the theme - G-strings for those who wanted to show nearly everything they had on offer, sparkles and spangles, vertiginous heels to make legs look endless and 1920’s bloomers with a snorkel and flippers for Dress-up-Mummy - what is that woman on?
Just as I thought I’d seen it all, Barbie appeared in a gold crocheted bikini accessorised with garter and knife à la Lara Croft (obviously for all the fish she needs to gut on Planet Barbie?) and I received a text from Mrs S:
HOPE YOU ENJOY SURPRISE TONIGHT. SHE IS CRAZY WOMAN. WANT PHOTOS X
Thinking she’d totally lost the plot, I was about to lean over and have a word to Pritesh when my attention was drawn to Hinge.
“And our final entrant for the swimwear section is the lovely Fenella Hunter-Barnes.”
Well you could have slapped our butts and called us all Charlie - Nic’s stock phrase was never more appropriate.
Our table did a collective jaw drop combined with nine sharp intakes of breath as we saw Fenella shimmy along the catwalk. Her glorious bosoms were well supported in what looked like an extremely expensive piece of construction and what was left of her baby tummy was covered artfully in a beautiful sarong. She was barefoot and almost bare faced (but I know Fenella, that look would have taken hours) and she looked like a beautiful glowing mermaid, fresh from the sea.
I saw the three judges visibly swoon in front of my very eyes. At last, a natural beauty!
Josh just looked dazed - hardly surprising really - “ill in the bathroom”, my foot! It dawned on me that even he hadn’t known about her surprise.
But Mrs S had! Ha ha! I could just see Fenella visiting her and filling her in on her secret. She’d have loved it.
Hinge was interviewing Fenella who was looking very cool and calm - not an ounce of nerves or a hint of beauty queen gushing. I could see the other contestants, who were now lined up at the side, looking daggers at her. They weren’t feeling quite so confident now - a dark horse had entered the arena and things weren’t looking so rosy for them any more.
There was a brief break after the first round, obviously so that the contestants could change for the ‘sporty’ heat. Our table remained in complete shock for a moment and then we all started babbling at once - what had made her change her mind, why was she doing it, why had she not told anybody other than Mrs S, could she be in with a chance of winning it?
Josh was nervously knocking back the Chablis and scratching his head. “Now I realise what she’s been up to the last couple of days - pampering and preening - and I suspected nothing!
We all told him how stunning she looked and that we really believed she could pull it off and he began to look chuffed. He knew he was the envy of just about every man in the room and almost began to revel in the attention. “She does look pretty fit for a mother of three doesn’t she?”
Bloody hell! Fit? A mother of three, one of which she only pushed out a couple of months ago - and she looked that good with no surgical intervention.
The sporty round predictably showed most contestants in leotards or miniscule tennis skirts. Barbie actually lifted hers to scratch her tiny buttock in the fashion of the famous 70’s poster - needless to say, she was commando. She’d clearly decided all the stops were going to be have to be pulled out to stand a chance of stealing the crown from Fenella.
Fenella appeared as the crème de la crème of the round in the tightest pair of jodhpurs, leather boots and a fitted blazer which revealed a hint of buoyant cleavage. Her hair was piled under her riding hat with just the right amount of tousled curls escaping.
And she struck her thigh with a whip!
That may well have been the moment that did it for her. Letchy shifted uncomfortably in his seat and both Actor-Wankor and Dan sat to attention and then began scribbling notes on their scoring sheets.
The evening wear round followed and H&B interviewed the mummies about the charity of their choice before the winner was finally announced.
Dresses ranged from ridiculously expensive to ludicrously tiny and the heart-rending drivel that spewed from their mouths was enough to make me want to part with my Pinot and nibbles.
“It’s a worthy cause and one that I have been involved with for many weeks …”
“Without this money my charity could go bust, so I urge you to crown me ‘Manor House Yummy Mummy’ if only to help these poor starving children.”
“Winning means nothing to me. I’d gladly hand the crown over to another mummy, I just want to save my donkeys.”
As the final contestant, Fenella swept onto the stage in a silver sheath of satin and lace. Her curves were accentuated to perfection, giving her the appearance of an ethereal Jessica Rabbit.
She spoke with quiet confidence, looking directly at H&B and not simpering at the judges as all the others had done.
“I’d be thrilled to be crowned - what an ego boost - but I’d mainly like to win so that I can donate the money to help some very dear friends get more research done into a little known condition called Hunter’s Syndrome, in the hope that they can give their son a better chance at life.”
Was just feeling the first prickle of a tear in my eye when she added, “Oh and of course, it would be totally fab to have a tiara to do the vacuuming in!”
Clever, clever Fenella had been planning this all along. This was what she’d meant when she’d said she had something up her sleeve.
We had a short and nervous wait while the judges conferred and handed the result over to H&B, who made their way to the stage to announce the winner.
And then we heard the words which, deep down, we’d never really doubted. “The winner of Manor House Yummy Mummy of The Year is … Fenella Hunter-Barnes!”
Our table erupted into shrieks and cheers with much hugging and kissing. Fenella had bagged nearly three grand for little Mikhail. She’d taken a gamble and it had paid off.
When she finally joined us at our table, sporting her diamante crown at a jaunty little angle, and her Manor House satin sash over her ample boobs, she flopped onto a chair and poured herself a glass of wine. “Thank fuck that’s over! I’ve never felt such a prat in all my life and if I ever have to change clothes with a room full of yummies discussing their Brazilians or otherwise asking one another to check for wayward pubes, just shoot me, please!”
We all kissed and congratulated her and she looked thoroughly pleased with herself. “I didn’t tell any of you because I thought you might try to talk me out of it and I was feeling wobbly enough about the whole thing anyway. I just wanted to give Mikhail’s fund a bit of a boost and thought it was worth a try - make the most of the hooters while they’re still in town!”
From the looks of contempt and disdain we were getting from the other mums, we decided it might be time for us to take our celebration elsewhere.
Fenella said, “Can we go back to yours Lib? I left all the kids with a babysitter and I don’t want to wake Darcy. We can collect a crate of fizz on the way because I need a good long drink!” And she removed her slingbacks, threw them over her shoulder and gyrated past Letchy with a wink.
Fenella called Nic as
soon as we got back to our place to give him the good news. By the sound of the shrieks coming from the phone we got the message that he was delighted and obviously very touched.
We then uploaded all of our photos of the night and texted them to Mrs S. Five minutes later she replied:
I KNEW SHE COULD DO IT. HAVING A BABY TO CELEB. X
We hoped that meant she was having a Babycham to celebrate.
Fenella asked if she could borrow some casual clothes to relax in. “PJ’s would be delightful, Lib. I’m sick of being trussed up!” And we all settled in the sitting room with our bubbles and toasted Fenella.
“The Jodhpurs were particularly hot, Fenella,” I told her. “I never knew that you rode.”
Josh laughed and Fenella shot him a look. “I don’t ride, Sweedie. Never had my bum in a saddle in my life. Just thought it was a look I could pull off and I knew the whip and the boots would get old Letchy’s vote. Tactics, that’s all that was.”
Tactics indeed! You’ve got to love her. As she lounged in my tatty tartan pyjamas sipping champagne, with her satin sash and her ridiculous crown still firmly in place, she looked every inch the fallen beauty queen.
Sunday 10th May
After yet another celebration with Fenella and Josh last night, a fairly lazy day spent recovering.
Took a drive past the new house just to get a feel for our impending move and, while we were in the neighbourhood, popped in to Mrs S to fill her in on Friday night and have a giggle over the photos.
“I was very much wanting to tell you, Libbybeta, but your beauty queen friend was swearing me to secrecy”.
So sweet of Fenella to include Mrs S when she knew she wasn’t strong enough to be at the contest.
She’s one crazy lady but still one of the most caring people I know.
Monday 11th May
The looks we were given at the school gates this morning could have curdled organic milk. Fenella took it all in her stride. I was frankly surprised that she hadn’t turned up with her sash and crown, just to rub their noses in it.
Barbie, Shergar and Gestapo were in a little clique looking like thoroughly disgruntled Macbeth witches. It was clear that Fenella would never be forgiven for her win - she’d stolen their moment of glory and would be ostracized for it.
Oh well, no great change there then. I’m sure we can live with it, although it does feel a bit like being back in the school playground. “I didn’t want to be your friend anyway! So ner-nicky-ner-ner!”
Got a busy few weeks ahead what with the christenings, the talent contest, the wedding and now the move.
Will write a quick list and then head over to Mrs S.
TO DO
Start packing for move.
Yes, yes. I’m doing it myself. I’m not going to chuck money at poncey packers (just because it’s the done thing) and allow them the privilege of rummaging through my knicker-drawer. Still, I suppose for those who have an artillery of ‘La Perla’ and ‘Rigby & Peller’ it’s not such of a concern. My M&S specials don’t like to be scrutinised - especially the greying ones with the saggy elastic.
Get outfits sorted for christenings and wedding.
Saw some lovely hats in the window of Cancer Research yesterday - must pop back and have a trying-on session. No point in buying new. People only wear these things once or twice and I’m willing to take the risk of catching head lice. I’m a mother - been there, done that.
Finalise list for talent show.
Looks like we’ve got about eight performers for each category. Barbie and Shergar have signed up again - Lordy, lordy! Must make sure Fenella doesn’t have anything secretive planned for this one - I know how she loves to sing but, if she won the talent show as well as the beauty contest, I reckon we’d be run out of town.
Source ten more raffle prizes.
Our booty currently resembles a Harrods shopping list or a WAG’S wannabe fantasy but the more we haul in, the more money we can make.
Research cake designs for christenings and wedding.
Why they’ve asked me I don’t know, but I’ll try to rise to the challenge with my Nigella hat on (won’t get that one in the charity shop) and do them proud.
Right, off to Mrs S to see what she’s been up to.
Tuesday 12th May
I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen Mrs S happier. She’s the most popular resident and everyone wants to be her friend. Ethel and Maud (rooms 21 and 36) were practically having a fisty cuffs session over who was going to sit next to her at dinner and it took Harry to settle the dispute.
“Sorry, ladies. I’m Mrs Sengupta’s dinner date for tonight and we’re eating alone at the window table.”
I think Harry might be a tad smitten. Mrs S doesn’t seem to mind though and even adopts a little bit of a girly giggle in his presence.
She asked me if I’d get her two tickets for the talent show as she and Harry would like to come. “I was very much sad to be missing Fenella in the beauty contest but I am feeling so much stronger now and Harry has offered to escort me in his motor car.”
Well, well! A little geriatric romance might be in the air.
Left her in the company of Skunk and Silver, playing Rummikub with Harry as her partner.
PM
I am a text-free zone. If I could write in a whisper I would, because I don’t want to tempt fate, but I believe they may have finally left me alone.
Ned came home with a huge bouquet of flowers and a bottle of fizz.
Early night but not much sleeping!
Wednesday 13th May
My design for the christening cake is finalised. Went the Delia route rather than Nigella - less sex-appeal but a fluffier sponge!
Will spend Saturday working on it and make sure Ned takes Max and the dogs out so that I can fully concentrate. If I let them help it will end up more like a ‘Heston Blooming-Blumenthal’ madcap creation.
Checked with Fenella that she definitely won’t be entering the talent show and was relieved to find that she’s not. “Oh no, Sweedie! Have you seen my Marilyn impression? I’d win it hands down and I don’t think that would be fair. Let’s give Barbie and Shergar their chance to shine. I believe they’re doing a Lady Gaga number.”
Can’t wait for that. And another little treat for Letchy!
PM
Had an email from Hinge (on behalf of her and Bracket) and am still having a bit of a giggle.
‘Libby
As regulars at the local church’s operatic society, Daphne and I would like to take the opportunity to perform at the talent show.
Obviously as my husband Snodgrass is on the judging panel he will refrain from voting for the staff category.
We hope that this will be acceptable to you and look forward to receiving an entry form in due course.
Penelope
PS; We will perform an adaptation of Gilbert and Sullivan’s ‘Three Little Maids from School Are We’ - as we are only two little maids! We used to perform with Greta De La Pont from the church but we had a falling out over harmonies - she’s tone deaf!’
Now that’s one performance I wouldn’t want to miss for the world - ‘The Penelope and Daphne Show’!
Thursday 14th May
Patience and Pritesh have just about got everything sorted for the big day. Her dad knows so many people he can call favours in from, it’s all just kind of fallen into place. The ceremony will be at Chelsea Register Office and the reception at a really swanky hotel in London.
Pritesh will move in with her and Solomon when they’re married - I think his male ego may finally have given way to practicality. Although, I have to say he’s working harder than ever before - probably to prove he can pay his way and not be a kept man.
They both seem incredibly happy and Pritesh really enjoys spending time with Solomon. Who’d have thought, this time last year, that we’d see the flirtatious playboy married off with two kids? Think Ned is quietly relieved, now he knows that Mrs S will definitely stop with the matchmaki
ng.
The christenings are all set for Sunday. Fenella and Josh are having a marquee erected in the garden for after the event. She’s having it catered as she said she “couldn’t be arsed to stuff 200 vol au vents”. No doubt there will be crate-loads of bubbles too.
She’s also bought all the dogs matching cream lace bandanas. Ned says Dog looks like a right nancy-boy (will we never get our heads around the fact that he’s a girl?) but I don’t think Dog seems to mind. Since living with us he’s worn everything from denim to polka dots and never batted an eyelid, but I reckon he’d have my hand off if I tried to dress him up in a sparkly bolero a la ‘rat in the bag’. No doggy designer stuff for our mutts!
