Bare Necessities 2 (The Bare Necessities)

by John David Harding

  “No Paige, you don’t. You know Hazel Simmons, but Hazel Nicholls is a very different beast. Is there anything else?”

  “Yeah, hear me out. I know when your lyin’. Like it or not Hazel, I can read you like a book and I can hear it in your voice. I went to see Emit ten days ago in prison.”

  “Why?” Hazel barked.

  “Because he had access to Ricky’s emails and I wanted to know if my fears about him were well-founded. I knew he’d looked into Ricky’s private files and if anyone knew what made him tick it would be Emit.”

  “Paige, that’s a gross intrusion.”

  “You’re right. It was. But I did it anyway. And what I learnt scares me, Hazel. I’m really scared for you.”

  “Well don’t be. He’s … just Ricky. He wouldn’t hurt me.”

  “Oh, really ’cause I do worry about you. Married to Ricky and employed by Andre. You surround yourself with complete bastards and inadequates.”

  “Is there anything else, Paige? I’m a busy woman and I have lots of things to arrange. I cannot be listening to your wild theories, unfounded insults and accusations all morning.”

  “Hazel!” Paige called. She took a deep breath. “Before you go. Just promise me, if anything happens or changes, you tell me. I’m only a short flight away and I’d come back in an instant.”

  “I promise,” Hazel groaned. “Now please, let me get back to work.”

  Paige growled; she dialled their mother and recounted her belief that Hazel was at risk, but Suzanne Simmons was dismissive of her daughter’s fears. “I know you don’t like your brother-in-law but you shouldn’t accuse him of domestic abuse unless you know it to be true. It’s not nice to chuck unfounded rumours at people, Paige.”

  “I’m saying that I am worried she will be hurt. Please keep an eye on her. I can’t.”

  “I do keep an eye on my children. Well two of them anyway. And you have other things to worry about. Tone it down, Paige. She’s not your concern at all. Stop causing problems.” Paige gulped and tapped the table.

  “I’m not. But if this isn’t sorted out, I will return. Don’t make me come back to London, Mum!”

  Suzanne sighed. “This is all in your head, Paige. But I’m ‘round there often enough. There’s nothing going on.”

  Chapter LXXX

  Claire

  Their encounter at the Russian television station was the only major blip in their fifteen-date criss-cross of Europe. Andre and Hazel had set up a punishing schedule for the band, who visited – and got themselves on television – in Athens, Warsaw, Prague, Bratislava, Zurich, Rome, Paris, Madrid, Lisbon, Brussels, The Hague, Dublin, Reykjavik, Oslo, Berlin and Tallinn.

  The band came together, like the early days of their first tour; their passports got some heavy use and their encounter in Moscow as speaking up for the arrested pro-gay activists became a viral hit.

  Paige was quizzed on this as they made further appearances and she recounted Jack's pre-concocted line. “I regret any offence to the Russian people, but this law is unfair and homophobic. Putin can't treat his citizens like this.”

  All of the hosts asked about Paige's baby; she admitted she had worried very little about the birth and still had several forms to complete for her birthing plan when she had left the UK to come on her European jaunt.

  In the fortnight away, Paige had established convivial contact with Hazel again. They communicated via text message as they waited to go on stage in Madrid and then continued to message each other every day thereafter. Paige told Lucinda to hold off with the legal action until after the concert. “We will get our money, I will get him, but I want to be there when it happens!”

  Lucinda photographed and sent Paige a copy of the letter Emit had sent; it had clearly taken a few days to pass the censorship regime at the prison, and Paige joined Claire in her hotel bedroom to decipher it.

  Dear Paige,

  It was good seeing you again and once more, I sincerely apologise to you for all the hurt and damage my actions caused. I also apologise profusely to Claire for my naivety which caused her no end of upset. I was a despicable twatbag and can never truly undo the hurt I caused.

  “Despicable twatbag sort of sums it up,” Claire mused as Paige kept on reading.

  You asked for advice on how you can properly secure your accounts in future. I would advise on a strong mixture of letters, numbers and symbols. While a password like “Ghs$2l*ydJK7rHS11P.M5DhsX814E” is very good, it is hard to remember. I would use such a password for an encrypted file container or such like. For …

  “That’s it,” Paige cried, ignoring the rest of the letter. She loaded her new laptop for the first time on the trip and double-clicked on the navy icon like Barry had demonstrated, before entering in the string of text. It replied with a beep.

  “Did you get the case right?”

  “What case?”

  “Uppercase and lowercase.” Paige scowled and Claire took the small laptop from Paige’s hands and typed in the passphrase. It mounted the encrypted drive and the two women spent over an hour poring over the four dozen emails, hundreds of pictures and messages that Emit had shared with them. It was all as Emit had described to Paige.

  It was clear Ricky was a stranger to monogamy. He was no stranger to abusing his girlfriends, but there was no smoking gun that he had done anything to Hazel. Neither could Paige show the evidence about the rap star to the Police as Paige should not have it.

  Paige discussed her predicament with Claire. “Hazel says she’s fine so why not wait until we are back in the UK and you can tackle it all together?” Claire suggested, and although Paige didn’t want to wait, she couldn’t do anything without explaining the provenance of the information she had in her possession. Neither Paige nor Claire thought admitting to receiving stolen data to Hazel while in Sweden would be productive and well-received.

  Claire looked at the folder entitled “Claire” and looked through the endless amount of photos of her; many of them enjoying themselves together. It also included the photographs from the hotel room and showed Claire’s violation as well as the drug-taking between the three musicians.

  Paige glared at Claire, and then back at the screen. Emit had captured one particular photograph of Ben and Jay taking drugs but without Claire in the shot. “You spent the night with these two?” Paige asked and Claire blushed.

  She yawned. “I better get to bed.”

  “Yeah,” Paige snapped. “You’re not ever going to do Coke again, are you? Or orange pills or …”

  “No!” Claire barked. “I told you that … we’ll delete those photos as they’re just reminding you that I went a bit crazy once or twice.”

  Paige hummed, and retreated to her bedroom with the laptop.

  * * *

  In between televised chat shows, free concerts and other media appearances they worked on their song and choreography. Before they had left the UK, the set designer had chosen a bright backdrop to bring their rousing fiery song to life, and the intense bright infernal colours matched Paige's personality perfectly.

  Paige noticed she tired easier than when she had made other trips; she put this down to the pregnancy which had made her belly prominent when she was on stage.

  “You know,” Claire mused as they walked off a Bratislava stage. “I think being pregnant and naked makes you more scary!”

  Their music video, filmed in Iceland, was shot in the middle of a lava field, as steam and smoke rose around them. The biting cold was unforgiving but the visual effects more than made up for the cold chill on the skin and the fiery backdrop suited their song of being “reborn.”

  Claire bought alcohol for the first time since she had collapsed; two litres of Brennivin in bright green plastic bottles were purchased and stowed away for Lucinda’s drink cabinet.

  That evening, the Icelandic chat show host pawned over the band after they played their music on his show. He raised the breaking story about the release of a song by two of Ricky's former band-mates th
reatening to rape Paige, and Jack replied stoically before his partner could respond. It was news to them all.

  That evening, Andre issued a robust statement deploring the violent lyrics and the music streaming services banned the music as the furore rose.

  It was threatening to get into the top twenty before they acted. “There's some messed up people in this world,” Paige claimed as she read through the lyrics. “Although I think Ricky did this to send me a message.”

  “You said he was a nutter,” Claire replied. She watched Paige swirl a prawn around in a pink sauce with a cocktail stick in the Icelandic hotel bar; the pattern in the thick sauce conducive to her thought process.

  “Yeah. But you don't sing about raping your sister-in-law. That's … sick!”

  “He's trying to freak you out. Or he genuinely had nothing to do with it.”

  “Nah,” Paige dismissed and took a deep breath. “He set this up. It's too much of a coincidence. Ben and Jay are going to be his supporting act when he goes back on tour later in the year. He's put them up to this.”

  “Just don't do anything stupid.”

  “I won't,” Paige promised, too quickly for Claire to be satisfied. “We go to Stockholm tomorrow and it's all EuroSong all week.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Although, I’m going to send that photo of Ben and Jay to Leah. See if she can do something interesting with it. And as for Ricky when I get home, I'm going to have words. Lots of words. Lots of Anglo-Saxon words. He wants a fight, he can have one.”

  Chapter LXXXI

  Jack

  Jack always considered himself a fairly perceptive man. He foresaw trouble long before others did and he read the sense of foreboding in the creased brows and uncertain body language. He saw and read the looks on the face of the BBC producer, as well as the EuroSong officials, the moment they entered the room.

  The band, and the BBC had been summoned to EuroSong headquarters located in a 1960's glass and concrete construction on the edges of Zurich. Set in impressive gardens of manicured trees and winding paths, the block building was somewhat of an eyesore amongst the plush greenery.

  The meeting room was impressively large; photos of winning acts lined the pale wall while a gentle aroma of fresh coffee softened the air with a welcoming, homely smell.

  The officials were far from welcoming however; the band had seen those disapproving looks before. It was a constant throughout their musical careers, the continuous possibility that someone in authority would disagree with their modus operandi. The desire for performances, uncomplicated by legal challenges or objections, became synonymous with the demands from local venue managers to the band to alter their attire whenever they toured.

  Every single time followed the same pattern. Apologetic and subdued expressions mixed with steely determination. Acceptance that the message they wish to convey would not be well received but believed that they were correct in their actions. The hope, if not expectation, that Paige would be reasonable and accept their demands and perform fully attired. The belief that their venue was so special to the band that irrespective of their own personal preferences, Paige would relent and sing clothed to make the venue manager’s life easier. Extreme naivety, given Paige’s reputation.

  It had happened so often, and Jack was almost surprised that no-one from the BBC had tackled them before, but he had read up on the rules before entering the contest. He was prepared.

  Paige yawned loudly as she slumped into a chair, looked at the faces of the weary executives and groaned loudly. “Oh shit! Can't believe we flew in for this.”

  They all knew what was coming. “We'd like to draw your attention,” the EuroSong organiser said as Claire became seated, “to the EuroSong rules handbook.”

  “We know. We've read it. We are not violating any of your rules.”

  The Swiss lady simpered; her graying hair, styled into permed curls barely moved from their place as she shook her head, and frowned; the creases in her face doubled instantly. “I must draw your attention to page two whichclearly states …” She paused to pass a small cluster of A4 pages to Jack, who turned to the second page. “The lyrics and/or performance of the songs shall not bring EuroSong into disrepute.”

  “Duly noted,” Jack countered. “But this is then listed as profanity, political gestures, promotion of an organisation, company, brand, hate speech and so on. I don't think you will find any such language or sentiment in our submission.”

  Paige and Claire looked at each other, exchanging wordless communication. They were used to Jack taking the lead role in such conversations as his elocution, vocabulary and delivery was considerably more polished and persuasive than their own.

  “Clothes. You want to be naked,” another EuroSong executive spluttered. “We saw the video. And we are very angry with the BBC for putting you forward.”

  The harassed BBC executive looked apologetic, but Jack shrugged, not offering contrition or regret. “We are naturists. You do know we've done three worldwide tours singing naked? What gave you the impression that we would suddenly start operating with clothes after four years of not doing so!”

  “And it would bring this show into disrepute. We don't even allow topless bodies on the show.”

  “It's topfree,” Paige interjected. “Top-less, indicates something is missing. And nothing is missing. Why is this such a difficult concept for everyone to grasp?” She glanced around the room; the glaring expressions were a slap to her face. She slid back into her seat.

  “No, but the rules state we are not to throw the competition into disrepute. I would argue that as we entered this competition as naturists, have been honest throughout and will be performing as naturists, we cannot have caused any disrepute.”

  “It's a family show.”

  “Excellent,” Jack continued. “We play to family crowds and family naturist venues all the time. Are we done here?”

  “No!”

  The BBC producer snorted. “I'm sorry, but they are the rules,” he ventured. His hands shook and he clamped them together, as his wavering voice muttered in weak agreement of the decision.

  “We know the rules,” Jack countered, rubbing his eyes; their schedule had been punishing and they had to arrange an additional stop in Zurich after EuroSong had demanded it. “The rules are clear and we had made every effort to adhere to them. As naturism is as old as Adam and Eve, and has only ever been seen as a healthy pursuit, I fail to accept your implication that it is a problem.”

  “There is also the possibility of embarrassment.”

  “I'm not embarrassed. We're not embarrassed.” Jack snapped, somewhat aggressively. He banged his fists on the table as he glared at the three shifty officials. “I didn't release the sight of three bare buns could make you blush with embarrassment!”

  Paige sniggered; the three officials glanced at each other; the Swiss lady nodded and she opened the file in front of her, passing a piece of paper to the BBC producer.

  “This is a decision by the EuroSong Executive which states that the BBC – our member organisation – must guarantee that they will be supplying an act that will adhere to our rules. We specify that we consider full frontal nudity to be inappropriate for the show and the BBC must provide us with a new entrant to represent the United Kingdom, withdraw from this year's competition or demand that the Bare Necessities perform … decently.”

  Paige's eyes widened. “We can …”

  “He said perform, not take to the stage,” Jack interrupted. “Your trick won't work.”

  Paige's smile vanished as she rested her head on her hands, her elbows leaning on the table.

  “What about a right of appeal?” Claire asked. The Swiss lady looked at her colleagues and they nodded.

  “All Executive decisions can be appealed in writing, up to five days after they are made.” She gulped. “But the executive have spoken.”

  Jack snatched the paper, and rose from his chair. For the first time that day, he shouted. “Then they can
unspeak. This isn't over.”

  Chapter LXXXII

  Paige

  The hours after the meeting in EuroSong's headquarters in Zurich had been stressful. Jack spoke at length with the BBC and then with a lawyer Andre had found for them. They had submitted an appeal in writing, citing the Freedom of Expression as a human right. Claire and Paige made a video on Claire's mobile phone.

  They made almost tearful pleas for help with their appeal, urging their supporters to contact EuroSong to offer support for their cause, and by signing the petition Claire had created on a popular website.

  They hoped that their distress call would go viral and put pressure on EuroSong; the Bare Necessities still demanded, and got, sizeable media attention and their position as the poster children for promoting naturism leant their argument against EuroSong additional credibility.

  “Why are EuroSong suddenly surprised that a naturist band, known for their pro-naturist actions might want to sing without their clothes?” Claire asked with a wry smile to close their video, which was sent to Andre, edited and then uploaded to the Internet.

  They caught their plane with minutes to spare, dashing through the airport terminal to board the jet that would take them to the Scandinavian city and their home for the next week.

  Paige's hands, placed over her pregnancy bump, worried Jack as they flew from Switzerland to Sweden. She had done so on a number of their flights, but her contorted, twisted face was evidence that she was in some discomfort. “Baby hates flying more and more,” she whispered, and then bought a significant number of snacks from the drinks trolley.

  The hotel which housed the three band members, and a twenty-strong delegation from the national broadcaster, was located in the centre of the city. Paige admired the view over the spectacular waterfront, the still water reflecting the vast spectrum of colours from the kaleidoscopic lights.