“Sorry,” she muttered and wiped her eyes. “Don’t feel too good.”
“We can see. Are you OK to drive?” Claire snorted, getting up from the table bleary-eyed, and staggering out of the room and towards the kitchen.
“Someone better drive her home,” Lucinda mused and Amy-Louise rose from her chair.
“I’ll do it.” Amy-Louise put her tracksuit bottoms and T-Shirt over her naked body, and slipped her feet into her flat shoes. In the kitchen, Claire was leaning over the sink and gasping for air. An empty one litre bottle of spring water from the fridge lay discarded beside her. “I said I’ll run you home.”
Amy-Louise twirled the keys in her left hand, holding her handbag in the other. Claire nodded; her eyes sparkling like diamonds; her comprehension absent and confused. She never argued; unable to walk straight as she staggered back into the office and then the board room.
Her long coat slipped over her shoulders; her clothes and personal effects gathered by Amy. Next to Claire’s expensive sports car was the company car Lucinda provided to her secretary.
The bright yellow car, a tiny-engine runabout, fired into life the moment Amy-Louise turned the key in the ignition. She reached over Claire to put the seatbelt over the guitarist, and she slowly pulled into the country lane.
The Bare Business offices were located in a converted barn; Lucinda had inherited a parcel of land in a previous divorce. The secluded location, in the Hertfordshire countryside, was close to Lucinda’s and Claire’s homes, as well as a number of their businesses.
“I can’t remember where you live,” Amy-Louise said, navigating the roundabout that put her on the dual-carriageway. “Can you remind me?”
Claire yawned, slouching against the car window. She reached for the satellite navigation system in the vehicle and jabbed her postcode onto the screen; it burst into life and plotted a route as Claire remained silent.
Tiredness oozed from her body; her skin was gaunt and lifeless and her body language reeked of weariness. She needed rest. Amy-Louise gave up trying to talk to her, and instead turned the car radio on the local rock station. Claire said nothing, and drifted into a nap.
She awoke with a jolt as Amy-Louise turned the vehicle into the little town Claire called home. The narrow street contained a throng of vehicles and Claire barked loudly as they passed a red shop.
“Stop!”
“What is it?” Amy-Louise cried, pressing the brake pedal and performing an emergency stop. The taxi behind her beeped his horn in disgust at the sudden braking.
“Won’t be a minute. I’m out of some stuff.” Claire felt for her purse in her bundle of personal items and after her fingers closed around it, she leapt from the stationary car. Her long coat did little to hide her nudity underneath the pale flowing garment as she ran inside her local off-license.
Amy-Louise moved her car from the centre of the busy road before Claire returned to the car with a bag containing clunking bottles of booze, that she rested on the back seat.
She took a bottle of wine from one of the bags. “To say thank you for driving me home,” Claire muttered, as they approached the top of her road. “Appreciated.”
Chapter XXII
Paige
The bell tingled as Paige entered the vegan restaurant. She crossed to the corner of the intimate eatery where she embraced Leah. “I’m starving.”
“I’m not having anything,” Paige replied apologetically. “I’ve been ill today.”
“You look pale. You poor thing,” Leah cooed; she straightened the cerulean blue flowers in her hair. “I like the look of the chickpeas and polenta salad, drizzled with rosemary oil and toasted nuts. Gotta be worth a bite.”
“Seriously, just a cup of tea for me.” Paige rubbed her belly and took a couple of deep breaths.
“You don’t look well,” Leah added, before calling the waitress to their table to order. “I gotta tell you what happened after I was arrested.”
Paige’s expression changed. “Yeah do!”
“Well, I got to the cop shop and they did the usual. You know, name, address, phone number, breast size, all that malarkey. I was strip searched, in case I had any weapons on me, and then interviewed. That Damien bloke said that I had pistol whipped him!”
“With a kids’ water pistol. You’re not a very convincing gangster.”
“Quite. Well, you know what these vegan pacifist librarians are like.”
“Vegan pacifist librarian who is taking a part-time beautician course,” Leah added. “We’re clearly dangerous.”
“I’ve heard what you can do with a bowl of hot wax and an unshaved crotch. You don’t need to go pistol whipping with the best of them.” Paige joked. “You can cause enough pain with cosmetics.”
Leah giggled. “I do need to practice. It shouldn’t be painful.”
“It bloody is!” Paige moaned.
“It might sting a bit. If you know anyone who wants a materials-only body wax or threading, let me know ‘cause I need the practice! Or I can do it on you!”
“That’s a lovely offer to a friend!” Paige teased. “Did you offer to pull the hair from that brute that arrested you. Bet you would make it painful for him.”
Leah shook her head. “No. Didn’t occur to me. But he offer me a caution for assault which I told him to stick up his warrant card.”
“Cool.”
“So I spoke to the duty solicitor who said the Police’s case was as watertight as a colander. And we challenged the duty officer and I was out with just a warning to stay away from Redhill, in time for boozing at my local in Croydon. But you know what I did get?”
“What?”
“Bloody parking fine! I’d overstayed the four hours we’d put in the meter!” Paige laughed and Leah sat back with a giggle. “But they put the wrong registration number on the ticket so I’ve said or done nothing, and nothing’s come through the post!”
“Eventful day then. I got such a bollocking from Jack.” She recounted much of the previous fortnight with her partner. Leah said little as Paige spoke; she empathised with her friend but resisted criticising Jack. He was her friend’s boyfriend, and she didn’t want to upset Paige by tactlessly remarking on how unreasonable her partner’s behaviour had been.
Leah moved the topics onto political conspiracy theories where could voice her robust views. Leah was a fierce character; uncompromising in her beliefs and fed Paige’s perceptions of the wealthy elite with anecdotal tales from her left-wing movement.
Paige left after two hours; she had an appointment at a nearby recording studio and she walked the mile and a half to a bustling industrial estate. She was shown into a small dressing room, and offered a drink. “You OK?”
“Yeah,” she muttered, taking the small bottle of water and drinking it quickly. She looked at the frightened figure of the television company’s employee.
“You look …”
“Just a dodgy breakfast.” She felt her stomach, wincing as her hands closed over her painful belly. “Jack took me to a new café in our village and the food wasn’t great. I’m sure the eggs weren’t cooked properly.”
The girl waited, holding her clipboard. “Well, it’s … are …”
“I’m fine,” Paige grumbled. “I am not bulimic or anorexic if that’s what you think. It’s not like I can hide an eating disorder, is it?”
“Ummm …”
“The whole world sees every part of me.” The singer wiped her face on a discarded towel and took a deep breath. The unexpected vomiting from the morning had pained her throat.
She had two hours in make-up and lying on the couch in her private room. Her nausea subsided through the afternoon, and when she was called, she was beginning to feel like herself again. The naked girl picked a T-Shirt from the pile and wrapped it over her head.
Paige was nervous as she took to the stage; the show may not have been a live performance, but it still gave her butterflies. The thousand-strong audience who were watching the talk show gave
Paige warm applause and generously received the former lead singer of the Bare Necessities onto the show.
The host embraced her warmly; she sat down on a towel, on top of his expansive multi-coloured sofa and smiled at the camera as a dozen whistles ended the applause. “Popular girl,” the host teased. “Now, first up, what’s this I hear about soaking poor Jack with water.”
Paige laughed; her mischievous smile filling her face as she looked into the nearest camera. “We had political differences.” There was a pause as the audience tittered and she shrugged. “He was there campaigning to the electorate and I soaked him with water.”
“In the middle of a High Street?” He asked. A picture of her drenched boyfriend from one of the national newspapers flashed onto the screen behind the guest.
Paige giggled. “He was campaigning for that lot. He deserved it!” A couple of cheers came from the audience and Paige turned to the crowd. “You get it. Nasty, evil party and I soaked him. That was it.”
“Right.”
Paige’s playful exterior always made her a popular guest with the camp chat show host and there were dozens of opportunities for the exuberant troublemaker in her personality to shine through. She was a regular invitee to the talk show, although in previous years it had been as part of the band. She lapped up the laughter and admiration from the audience as it was dished out.
Her eyes twinkled at the last question. “I think we’ve converted loads of people to naturism,” she admitted. “I think loads of people will now try the liberating wonderfulness of nudity. Either in public or in private. Not just in the UK but all over Europe and the World.”
“But what about an individual person? We saw the wedding photos from your sister’s wedding to The Tempest. As well as reading some comments on social media. Is your new brother-in-law a fan of your lifestyle?”
Paige laughed and the silver-tongued man smirked. “Err … well.”
“He does like getting his kit off.” A picture of her brother-in-law, naked, from one of his photography sessions flashed on the board behind them and the cheesy host cooed. “Oooh, he is a bit of loveliness, isn't he?”
“That's not naturism,” Paige said firmly. “It's erotic, if you like that sort of thing.” She glanced at the bare bum of her sister's partner on the giant screen.
“Oh, I do!” The host replied, causing a titter to emerge from the audience.
“Oh well, it's not naturism. It's sexual.”
He nodded. “And he isn't into non-sexual nudity?”
Paige bit her lip. “He’s … he’s a bit simple about things like that. He doesn't get nudity as a lifestyle that doesn't involve someone getting off. I don’t think he’ll ever embrace naturism really.”
“Oh. 'Cause it looks like he's a bit of an exhibitionist.”
“No. Those photographs that got leaked, he wondered if there were technical ninjas, faithful to the naturist cause, who had hacked into his phone and released them.” The audience laughed. “And he thinks that these naturist technical ninjas see me as a demi-god and I had arranged for them to go hacking into his phone. Which I had to explain wasn’t true. And I also had to explain that just because I enjoy being a naturist doesn’t mean that I want to see naked pictures of him. As I said, he’s a bit simple.”
She smiled; the early morning chat with her new brother-in-law was still fresh in her mind. “Thank you Paige Simmons. As ever, we’d like to say that Paige has waived her appearance fee for charity.” Paige nodded. “You are our only guest who does this. Do you want to say a few words?”
Paige gulped. “Yeah, we got a letter from Zak, an eight year boy in Lincoln, a few months ago. He had just been diagnosed with a disease called Jansky-Bielschowsky.” She paused as she replayed the pronunciation in her head. “I think that’s right. It’s ultra-rare, it causes seizures, sight loss, and eventually it will kill him before he becomes an adult. This money that you would’ve paid me, will send the family on a holiday back to their native Finland for Christmas, to Lapland and for them to have a break while they can enjoy it. And any money left over will go to the local hospital who’s supported the family.”
The audience clapped respectfully. “Good cause. And I understand you have a song to play us out.”
“I do, I’ve been writing a few pieces and this is one that will be part of my solo album when it’s released.” Without waiting for any further encouragement, Paige discarded her long T-Shirt, walked around the sofa and delivered a smooth performance that oozed control as her voice touched every note.
It was a low-tempo ballad; unlike much of her earlier work and the understated piano gave the song a rougher edge than she was used to.
She got a vociferous round of applause but the critics were less appreciative; she was savaged in the morning editions for her lifeless song that was “work in progress” and “should never have seen the light of day on popular television.”
For Paige it was sobering; she had been criticised for her naturism, for her inability to sing with clothes on, for her behaviour, her political beliefs and even her looks. But never, had she been mauled for her songwriting or singing ability.
Chapter XXIII
Claire
She sat on the edge of the pool; the liquid reflected like mercury, shining a deep array of colours from the kaleidoscopic sky.
Bright, luminous splashes of intense chromatic mirages swirled in the lapping water as her bare body slipped underneath the metallic sheen.
Her arms painted by the reflective material, she swam, breathing in the sweet strawberry scent of the hot, hazy air. A man stood by her mini-bar, bleating a delicious lullaby at the swimming woman.
She beckoned for the singer to join her, swimming in the aromatic water. She swam towards him, pulling herself onto the pool and looking at the psychedelic patchwork swirls that painted her skin.
He didn't look happy; she couldn't understand what he was saying. The animals surrounding him growled angrily at her; the unicorn, the chimpanzee, the dodo and the flying miniature hippo. She squinted as the African creature flew towards her, dodging his bombing raid and swatting him into the bright rainbow inches from her head.
She kissed the angry man. Her lips pressed against his as he fought the chimpanzee from climbing on her back. They were under attack. She pulled him into the water and the safety of the pool.
They'd be safe under the waves of the viscous liquid; safe from the miniature hippos and the angry unicorn. And they could breathe in the delicate aromas of soft fruits that swirled around them.
He thrashed, pushing her away, as he rose to the surface. She mumbled underneath the liquid, breathing in lungfuls of strawberry-smelling water as she begged him to stay away from the nasty unicorn.
She'd fight the evil horned beast with him. And all the evil creatures. She swam to the surface, spitting and coughing venomous liquid at the swarming animals.
Claire pulled herself from the surface of the water and yelled angrily at the circling creatures. They stopped and cowered.
But the man was leaving; where was he going? He rose from the water and shouted at the flying beasts, who followed him as he stormed from her pool and off the vast cliff-face that was the other side of her garden door.
She slumped in the deckchair, metallic liquid dripping from her body. The world was spinning once more.
* * *
Meanwhile, Ethan took a phone call from his band-mate. “She's out of it. The gate was open so I went in and everywhere was unlocked. Wide open. Empty drinks bottles and all sorts of drugs all over the place. I asked her if she was joining us and she swam over to me naked and tried to get my clothes off. We ended up in the water and she was pulling me under.” He panted as his tyres squealed. “She's fucking crazy, shouting at the roof of her pool and swatting the air. I just got out of there.”
“This is the fourth rehearsal she's missed on the spin,” Becky moaned. “I thought she was supposed to be a professional.”
“Me too.”
“Mate,” Iain cried. “Listen mate. She's a fuckin' nutter. She's not from this fuckin' planet. I've got to go home to get a change of clothes as I'm fuckin' soaked.”
“All right,” Ethan muttered. “I'll see ya when ya get here. I'm gonna go and speak to her later.”
“Shall we sack her and find someone else?” Becky asked, angrily. “We need the practice and we need the rehearsal time. We can't keep wasting time like this. We have a tour coming up and …”
“I'll sort,” Ethan promised his girlfriend, but he wasn't quite sure how. “We need her selling power so we gotta get through this, somehow.”
Chapter XXIV
Peter Moran
The format was popular; the satirical news quiz had been around for over 25 years. Three guests, one acting as the host, joined the two comedians for ninety minutes of jokes and laughter, making light of the news, that would be edited to a half-an-hour of prime-time television.
It was popular too; incredibly popular. Millions tuned in to watch, and ex-newspaper editor and media celebrity Peter Moran had joined the show for the fourth time, and his first time as the show's host.
His partners were David, a fun loving married MP recently caught in flagrante with an Italian supermodel, and Paige. He'd not wanted to be anywhere near her; he'd wanted anyone else as the guest but her. Peter had argued and begged for the producers to choose someone else the moment he had found out, but they waved the signed contract at him.
He heard the fiery naturist arguing too; the walls were criminally thin at the studio and Paige’s voice carried. She had been promised that David Attenborough would host the show and shouted slanderous descriptions of Peter Moran when she was told otherwise.
Bare Necessities 2 (The Bare Necessities) Page 11
