by John Harding
“I really can't do three, I'll get killed at six.”
Claire looked at her two band members and Paige's eyes narrowed. “Five?”
Andre blew air through his lips. “OK. Five. But I am so dead when I go to London.”
“Don't go,” Claire told him. “Stay for a day, 'round here.”
“Well I did bring my tent in case you didn't agree this tonight,” he explained. “But I am not a naturist so I will probably check into a hotel.” He crossed some text out on two bundles of paper and amended them with ink and passed one bundle to Paige who passed it to Jack and Claire.
Paige reasoned she wouldn't understand it and just allowed her two friends to read the text. Jack asked a few questions, and they had the notice period reduced from one year to one month. “We are a new band,” Jack explained. “And with some familial pressures.”
“OK. But after a year, it goes back up to a year's notice,” Andre argued. After half-an-hour of discussion, Jack signed both Andre's copy and the band's copy, followed by Claire.
“I'm not signing it,” Paige said awkwardly, and everyone looked at her.
“But …”
“We are nudist band, he is on a naturist camp site. I will sign it after he has stayed the night and been for a swim. Without those clothes.”
“But that's forcing our beliefs onto Andre,” Claire barked. “That's wrong.”
“No. All I am saying, is how can he be our spokesman and representative if he doesn't understand why we do what we do?” Claire shook her head, but Paige got up from the tent. “That's my decision,” she said firmly and held out her hand. “Fancy a swim Jack? It's six o' clock. Just time for a quick splash 'til it gets too cold.”
“Sure,” he muttered. “I'll meet you down by the pool,” he promised, and Claire just sighed.
“She's a brilliant singer,” Claire explained to Andre. “A fantastic person, just stubborn. And very unpredictable.”
Andre sniffed. “Yeah, I got that.”
“Do you want any help putting up a tent?” Jack offered, but Claire shook her head.
“I'll help him,” she promised. “That's not a problem. Go swim with Paige. And try and get her to change her mind. She listens to you.” Jack snorted. “Well sometimes she does.”
* * * * *
“Sit down,” the tall man ordered and his employee sat down on the couch in the living room of the large house. “You know my son is … umm … gallivanting around the country in the nude with your daughter,” Paul told Claire's mother. “And I can't get him to come back. I sent my sister, I've phoned him, and I've spoke to him and he won't come.”
Teri nodded. “I know.” She looked at her hands and rubbed them together. “I have spoken to Claire. But she says he wants to stay and … we're shocked.”
“Yes, me too.” Paul told her and rubbed his forehead. “'Cause we know your daughter has been trying to seduce him.”
“Seduce him?” Teri asked.
“Oh yes. Proper trying it on. Anne caught them a few months ago. And that girl they are with. Claire's friend, Paige. She's been selling drugs to my daughter. Harriet's confessed all. And they are sharing double beds. It's not on.”
“Paige? Really!” Teri muttered and shook her head. “I'm so … sorry! I had no idea. She seems such a lovely girl.”
“Right, well. I want my son back here,” Paul demanded. “And I know Claire is the key to this. She put him up to it, she introduced him to Paige, and she's got him doing this ridiculous and outrageous jaunt.”
“Well Claire said it was …”
“I don't care what Claire said,” Paul shouted. “It's your bloody daughter that's caused all these problems. I want my son back now.”
“I will tell her to pass on your wishes.”
Paul sneered. “Oh no. Because you are fired, until Claire returns and Jack is in this house again.”
“Pardon?”
“You heard me. You are fired until my Jack is returned.”
“Fired? But I can't control my daughter,” Teri sobbed. “She's eighteen, and I've been here for years.”
Paul shrugged. “Then you better get your daughter back to Surrey pretty sharpish,” he snapped and rubbed his furrowed brow. “Your daughter might want to flaunt herself, but my son should not.” He straightened his shirt. “He has a place at my firm.”
Chapter XVII
Paige yawned. “You're not tired, surely?” Andre asked and then introduced the three of them to the director.
“Sorry, I didn't get much sleep last night.” Paige looked accusingly at Jack who shrugged. “Someone was snoring.”
“Me? That's …”
“Shall we get on,” Claire suggested before Jack could hurl any accusations in her direction.
The bald-headed director nodded. “Good idea. We've only got a day to film, and it's tough.” He looked at Andre who was the “gopher” and then turned to his two companions. Barry was firm, assertive and clear; he showed the band the storyboard for their Don't Hate Us video and when Claire wanted to change it, calmly explained that while she had “a cracking idea,” they did not have the time or money to shoot her much improved suggestion.
Paige stripped in the cool weather; it was the coldest day for weeks and she shivered in the wind as it whistled between the trees. Barry told Paige to walk aggressively and animatedly barefoot through the wood, singing as she went – although he promised her that they would use the studio recorded version of their song for the audio track.
It took several takes as Paige kept getting needles in her feet and would stop, so Andre had to clear the small path of anything other than mud for the shoot.
At lunchtime, their agent was dispatched to acquire food, and in the afternoon they filmed the second half of the video with Paige joining her two colleagues in the middle of a clearing. The director was concerned about lighting, and they had a couple of battery powered floodlights, but this meant they only had a small period to film the second half of their music video, and they felt a bit rushed.
At the end of the song, Paige tossed her microphone to Claire and strode away from the group with exaggerated hand gestures as if she was annoyed with them.
“Will that do?” Paige asked as the director called 'cut.'
“One more time,” Barry replied as he looked at the cameraman. “I got a guy coming in for the rest of the week to edit, and I want to give him some stuff to play with.”
“Fine,” Paige called, and they returned to the clearing to film again. For Jack and Claire it was weird to be “playing” their instruments as they weren't plugged into a power source so made little noise, but the Director wasn't bothered; he had the audio track from when they recorded it in the studio and the video was just for show.
As evening approached, the three drove to a small camp site just outside Heathrow and Claire cooked up a weird concoction of peas, beans and pasta for tea. “It's hardly haute cuisine,” Jack teased as he finished Claire's creation.
“You always bitch about the food,” Claire moaned and passed the pots to Jack. “So you can clear up.”
“I always clear up,” he moaned.
“Excellent,” Paige cried. “Then you've had plenty of practice! You can do that while I have a shower,” Paige demanded as she got up and showed Jack and Claire her feet. They were black from the filming and the unpredictable singer smiled at the guitarist. “You going to join me? I hate going on my own on textile sites.”
* * * * *
“We're on the radio again,” Jack called excitedly as he came into their tent with a small white device. They had chosen to have a day's holiday and rest at a little camp site in Surrey before going to see Andre and then visiting their families.
“What do you mean? Airplay?”
“No,” Jack scoffed and put his radio on the floor. “Peter bloody Moran. We are really getting his goat!”
“... And of course, they are a harmful influence, by being rebels like this, they are encouraging teenagers to g
o naked. Already there has been naked sit-ins in London, and we blame this silly fad on them. Why they think we want to see them without any clothes on. I mean, have some dignity, kids,” the voice ranted.
The female voice agreed with him. “It's outrageous,” she told him.
“And no offence, but that Claire, who wants to see her naked? She's fat, whoever told her that she should get naked needs to go to Specsavers.” The man laughed as he taunted the curvy musician. “And that Paige is cheap scum.” Jack went to turn off the radio, but Paige knocked his hand away.
“Leave it,” she whispered to Jack and rubbed the knee of Claire. “And don't worry what he says. He's the scum.”
“Yeah,” Claire muttered and wiped her eyes.
“I've banned the group in our house. Now the parents must take some of the blame. What sort of education have they given their kids? It's a disgrace, I don't know of anyone in the media who find their gimmicks appropriate. They are cheap and disgusting and …”
Jack pushed Paige's hand away and turned off the radio. “That's enough of that,” he told her. “It's just Peter Moran. No-one listens to him.”
“About two million people listen to him,” Claire replied with tears forming in her eyes.
“It's just him being stupid. He'll move onto someone else in a few days. It's nothing.”
“Yeah, storm in a teacup,” Jack added. “Nothing to worry about, eh?”
“It wasn't you, he called fat,” Claire spat with tears in her eyes.
“No, I was scum,” Paige snapped. “Would you rather be scum?” Claire shook her head and wiped her eyes. “I am not scum and you aren't fat,” Paige said in a soft voice. “You've got a nice body. Hell, you've got bigger tits than me and nice curves and … so what if a prat on the radio says he doesn't like us. We don't like him.”
Claire snorted. “I'm going to get some air,” she said and got up. Paige watched her leave and went with her, but Claire sent her back to the tent.
“She used to be anorexic,” Paige explained to Jack. “So being called fat is pretty low.”
“Oh,” Jack replied and put his head in his hands. “You know, there is a really simple way out of this.
“Don't let the bastards win,” Paige spat. “I want to get that Peter bloody Moran and knock 'im into next week. Don't you?” Paige's eyes narrowed, and she pointed out of the tent. “Our bandmate is really upset 'cause of what he says. Don't you feel anything?”
“Yeah,” Jack told her. “But I don't want all the upset and fighting. And neither does Claire.”
“Guess it's just me then,” Paige told him. “Because there is no way someone gets to do that to my friends or my family. If he wants a fight, he can have one.”
“Paige, you can't win this one.”
“Just watch me! 'Cause I play dirty. I thought my sister told you that.”
“You can't win this one. And he'll destroy you if you try.” Paige snarled and crossed her arms. “Promise me you won't do something stupid. Or rash.”
“Sure,” Paige replied airily, but her mind was already starting to whirr with possibilities.
* * * * *
Andre tapped his office desk as they three stars walked in. “My favourite clients,” he said when he saw them.
“Your only clients,” Claire teased, and Andre shrugged. “But hey, that's good. No-one else to compete with for your attention. No Uncle?”
“He's at the bank,” Andre told them. “And I am the one working full-time on your account! Come in, I have a video to show you.”
Andre waited for the three teenagers to be seated and turned on the large television screen behind them. He swore as he tried to connect the DVD player and jabbed his finger, but eventually, a blue screen appeared and then Paige's head emerged from behind the tree.
The music started, and Paige stepped out and started walking towards the camera, gesturing wildly with her arms. When it reached the chorus, she “kicked” the camera causing the camera to point towards the trees and then refocus on a clearing where Paige and the rest of the band were playing.
Paige thought it was a good video. It may have lacked the blockbuster production of top artists, but it was fun, upbeat and fit in with their fast-paced song, as well as their cheeky persona, exceptionally well.
“You like?”
The three of them looked at each other. “It's good,” Paige muttered and nodded.
“Bit late if you don't,” Andre replied with a coy smile as he crossed the room to sit down on his chair. “We've finished filming. It needs a few extra tweaks. I've also licensed the three covers you made.” He looked at Claire. “You said you hadn't licensed them, so I've done that.”
“Right.”
“Yes, that's done, and the album, song, and video all hit the shelves tomorrow.”
“Wow! You have been busy,” Claire replied, clearly impressed, and he looked at the black-haired girl with a smile on his face.
“I have. But …” He muttered, and Paige looked at Claire.
“But you two have been talking every day, right?” Paige asked.
Claire nodded. “Yeah. Well, we do need to talk. And you two are always off doing something.” Her tone wasn't accusatory, but both Jack and Paige objected to her inference.
“And it does show that I don't need to be naked, Paige, to understand you.”
“I would say that you've done a very good job,” the lead singer admitted. “And that's only been possible because I got you naked that night. Don't deny it!”
The agent did deny Paige's assertion, but he ran through some requests he had received for them and, with the meeting concluded, shook their hands as they left. The three of them walked in silence to Jack's car; they were about to see their families for the first time in weeks.
* * * * *
“Hiya Mum,” Claire called into the house. “Dad? George?” She heard a sound and looked up the stairs to see her Mum on the landing.
“Claire? Oh, you're home.” Claire held her arms out, and her mother almost fell down the staircase to greet her daughter. “We've missed you.”
“Yeah … and I've missed you. But we've had a great time and …”
“I know. I saw the news.” Her mother's expression changed, and she hugged the eighteen-year-old.
“Ahh yeah that,” Claire muttered meekly; her phone calls home had dried up as their notoriety had risen. “But we have an agent now. And a proper video and a single in the charts.”
Her mother bit her lip. “That's good,” she told her. “Really good.”
“What?” Claire asked. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” her mother told her, and Claire pushed her away to stare at her in the eye. “OK. I lost my job because of you and Jack going out.”
“What? There is no me and Jack. Paul said something 'bout this when he came to see Jack, what's me got to do with it?”
Teri Baynes groaned. “Because Paul and Anna think you led Jack into this and that he is running around naked because of you.”
“But that's not true,” Claire snarled. “That's totally not true. It was more Paige than me.”
“I know, look, it doesn't matter. I've had some interviews but …”
“But what?”
“Well Paul told one family who offered me a job that I had been sacked for stealing and …”
“The little sod,” Claire exclaimed and then had to apologise for her language. “This isn't on.” Claire picked up her phone and dialled a number.
“Don't,” her mother begged. “Now that you are back it should be better.”
Claire hummed. “We aren't splitting up,” Claire told. “This is just the beginning.”
“Claire, please,” Teri pleaded, but Claire put the phone to her ear to talk to Jack.
* * * * *
The figure of Suzanne Simmons loomed over Paige, and she bit her lip. “Hi Mum.”
“Come here,” she cried and hugged her daughter with tears in her eyes. “We're so proud of you.”
“You don't … you don't … care about it?”
She smiled and shook her head. “No, I don't care. But Dad. Well Dad's not quite so happy.”
“No?”
“Well,” she hesitated. “He always keeps his naturism a bit secret and now he can't. Everyone knows and he's had some awkward questions.”
“Where is he?”
“He is helping with the repairs at the clubhouse. Staying for a couple of nights.” Paige sighed.
