The Bare Necessities (Non-Profane Edition)

by John Harding

  “That's Chelsea Bridge,” he was told. “Can see Battersea Power Station there.”

  “Which way?”

  The man pointed towards to his right, and Jack thanked him as he tore out of the shop, almost knocking over a suited gentleman as he left. Jack sprinted down the road, reaching the junction and heading for Battersea.

  His sides started to ache as he dashed down each road, before having to cross another major road at an intersection. Jack felt his pocket vibrate. “Why? Wandsworth Hotel.”

  “Andre, you beauty,” Jack told his phone as he reached Chelsea Bridge. The conference was probably starting, and he still had to find the hotel. He ran across the bridge and stopped on the other side, putting the hotel name into his maps application on his phone. “Come on, come on, come on,” he shouted impatiently at his piece of consumer electronics. “You,” he shouted at a woman walking past him. “Wandsworth Hotel. Which way, please?”

  She hesitated. “Ummm …”

  “Quickly. I might lose the love of my life.”

  “That way, turn right, I think. Third right?”

  Jack shouted a “cheers” as he sprinted down the road and skidded as he approached the third road on his right. Facing him was the giant hotel and he ran to the end of small avenue before jumping up the stairs two at a time.

  “Where's the Bare Necessities press conference?” He panted at the receptionist who was talking on the telephone. She gestured at him to wait, but the mild-mannered teenager reached over and took the phone from her. “Where is it? It's urgent.”

  “Oh my God,” the receptionist shrieked and he turned to see Paige and Claire sat next to Andre on a television screen in the hotel reception. “In there,” she said, pointing towards some double doors. “But it's started.”

  Jack walked away from the receptionist towards the double doors. “You can't go in,” he was told, but he ignored her and stumbled into a long corridor. He could see dozens of people sat on the corridor with laptops and mobile phones and they looked up as he approached the end of the room where all the noise was coming from.

  “Jack's arrived,” voices whispered, but the keyboardist said nothing and burst into the large conference room at the end of the hallway. Sat on a stage at the end of the room, and lit by powerful spotlights was Paige, Claire and Andre, seated on chairs around a big, long table.

  “So with regret,” Claire told the audience. “The Bare Necessities are no more.” Paige had a stony-faced expression and Jack coughed.

  “I hope I'm not too late,” he told the room, and Paige's misty eyes turned away from him. The journalists muttered under their breaths as video cameras were turned to face the third member of the band, and he walked down the side of the room to the end of the stage. “'Cause I let someone tell me what to think and do, and I may have made the biggest mistake of my life.” He stared at his two former band mates, and he sighed. “And I hope I'm not too late.”

  He faced the cameras. “That girl. That Paige Simmons is one of the most talented and best singers this country has ever produced. You all know that, that's why our music shot up the charts,” he said confidently. “But what you don't know is that she is also the craziest, wildest, most beautiful, kind spirited, charismatic, wonderful person I have met.” He looked across at her, and she slowly shook her head. “Are you going to talk to me? Because I want to talk to you.”

  Paige sniffed. “You're just a posh bastard,” she muttered, but her microphone heard it, and her insult was broadcast to the room.

  “I was a posh bastard,” he admitted. “But for the last two months, I've been just like you.” She scratched her head, and Jack gave a smile to the room. He put his hands underneath his T-shirt and lifted it over his head. “I am a naturist, just like Paige. And I am proud to be.” He looked at her. “Are you going to talk to me, or do I have to go further?”

  Paige wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand and Jack kicked off his trainers. “Hey, Jack, this …” Greg started, and the experienced agent put his hand on Jack's torso, but the determined man searched Paige's face for an expression. He unbuckled his jeans and let them fall to the floor.

  “I don't mind you using dessert spoons for your soup, or using me to trap religious fundamentalists, or embarrassing me in front of all the paparazzi,” he told her and she looked up at him. “I like sharing double sleeping bags with you, or being dragged off to Southend or being hauled naked through the woods.” He smiled at her and, without looking down, pushed his thumbs into his boxer shorts and slid them down to his knees, where they fell to the floor. “I'm sorry,” he told her. “I'd love to keep doing what we do.”

  “You stupid …” Paige murmured and got up from her chair, sniffing.

  “I only have Lucinda and you guys now for family,” Jack told her. “And am begging for forgiveness. Please, can we go on tour, make a second album. I mean, I think we have a fan-base.”

  Paige smiled as she navigated around Claire, and put her arms around her well-toned band mate. “You're forgiven,” she whispered into his ear. “Just don't do it again!”

  They kissed, Jack running his hands over Paige's back as their tongues intertwined and caressed while hundreds of photographers eagerly caught the moment.

  “I guess the Bare Necessities are back together,” Claire told the excited press pack. “And … umm …” She looked at her boyfriend. “I guess you better sort us out a tour. I fancy, somewhere warm this time of year. The Caribbean, maybe? Oh, and a second album would be great.” She looked up at the kissing couple. “And a couple of hotel rooms.”

  He groaned. “Can't I have just have some time to relax?”

  Claire smiled. “Why do you think I asked for two hotel rooms,” she said with a glint in her eye and squeezed his hand. “Both doubles, of course!”

  * * * * *

  “Ahh Paul,” the voice cried, and the manager of the factory jumped. He turned around to see the figure of his sister in his chair and an unknown man next to her.

  “What's this?” He thundered and looked at Lucinda. “What are you doing here?”

  She laughed. “This is a bit awkward, really. I actually don't own 50% of the shares. I actually own 51%. We looked last night. Well Greg did.” Lucinda scowled as she spoke and she rubbed her hands, before tapping the desk. “Remember when Dad died, you got 40 shares and Mum got 25, and I got 35. Well when you needed that fantastic new machine, and I leant the factory the money from my second … or is third … I don't know, anyway that divorce, I took Mum's 25 shares and gave her back 18 as the full payment wasn't made, remember?”

  Paul hummed. “So?”

  “When Mum died, she gave us equal amounts of her shares. It was Dad's idea for having 100 shares, seemed silly to me, but I have 51% of the shares. And I so I have decided to … umm … take control.”

  “But … but you can't.”

  “Why not?” Lucinda asked.

  “Because you are an alcoholic.”

  “I am a free spirited drinker when I am not in a relationship,” Lucinda reminded him. “But I was not the one nicked for drink driving two weeks ago. Remind me, when is your court date?” Paul snorted, and she turned to her partner. “This is Greg, he has managed one of the most successful agencies in London and is our new Management Consultant.”

  “I do not need a management consultant.”

  “No, not you. Me.” She smiled at him and pulled out a small folder labelled “accounts.” He coughed. “We've looked at these. Did you know that your house is actually owned by this company? Great little tax dodge. And that revenue has declined far greater than the average company in London during the recession. And that …”

  “What's your point?”

  “The point is that, I am the new big boss. I'm sure I'll get the hang of it. Greg is my assistant and management consultant. He is quite keen to pass his business onto his nephew and go part-time, so working here is fine. And you … well … that position you had for Jack. Supervisor, or Assistant Superviso
r. You'll be perfect for it.”

  Paul's face went purple. “How dare you,” he shouted.

  “Errr … not a good way to talk to your new manager, is it?” Lucinda asked and smiled. “I can call an Emergency General Meeting. Actually shall we do it now. We have the right people. OK. I propose to sack Paul Rees-Montague. In favour?” She theatrically raised her hand and then nodded. “Carried.”

  “Why are you doing this? I am a good manager here. We've done all right. And I'm your brother, we're family.”

  Lucinda snorted. “When you can remember what a family means, I'll think of letting you have your factory back,” she told him firmly. “What you tried to do to Jack was nasty. But in the mean time I think you have a factory floor to watch over.” He hesitated and Lucinda stretched on the chair, not looking up from the folder. “Unless you want me to reassess our property portfolio and put a nice umpteen bedroom house on Barton Drive up for sale.”

  He tutted and turned to leave the room. “You're really enjoying this,” he spat at his sister.

  “Oh, and lunchtime, one o'clock. I want us to go for lunch. Have those brother-sister chats we've never actually had.”

  Paul didn't respond, and just left the room before closing the door.

  Epilogue

  Paige raised her hand and nodded, causing Claire to hiss. “We agreed no more than three hundred!”

  “No worries,” Paige whispered back. “We got an advance for the tour, we can cover it.”

  “Paige, I know that.” Claire whispered anxiously as her friend raised her hand again with a smile. “Jack's going to kill us.”

  “No, he won't,” the red-haired girl said with a grin. “He won't at all. He will be most annoyed with me, and I shall kiss him and tell him what a marvellous boyfriend he is and get on my knees…”

  “You are so vulgar,” the curvy teenager snapped.

  “... And beg,” Paige added with a smile. “And don't tell me you haven't been on your knees around Andre,” she added and Claire shook her head.

  Paige nodded towards the auction-master as Claire whispered. “I really wonder how you two ever work.”

  Paige smiled at her friend. “Because he loves me and I love him.”

  “Three days,” Claire reminded her. “That's it. Three days.”

  “Ahh well,” Paige blushed and she held up her board again. “So what, it's …”

  “Paige, that was for three fifty.”

  “Yeah, I know. I am listening,” the girl snapped at her friend and bit her lip. “I want that place. Jack wants it too.”

  “What about me?”

  “What about you? OK, this is our money, but you have spent some too. You made a bid for that florist yesterday for your mum.” Claire screwed up her face into a frown, but Paige continued. “And you are looking at houses for your folks. My mum used to work in childcare, and there is a lovely little house around the corner. And Jeremy wants out of South London after what happened, so a new start in Southend is just fantastic. We all want our families to get a leg up from our success.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Claire muttered as Paige looked around the room; the last bid by herself was at £360,000 and no-one was prepared to go any higher.

  “And I happen to know that little Miss Claire and little Master Andre were looking at travel agents together.”

  Claire sighed. “OK. I just know that our accountants will be annoyed that we went over budget.”

  “This is nothing. Just wait until I get decorators in,” Paige teased and grinned as the auction-master announced that The Bare Necessities were the new owners of the “Christian Light Childcare Centre” in the centre of Southend. “Excellent,” Paige cried with a giggle and nodded towards Claire. “I guess we should go and pay them! I got so many ideas for that place. This is going to get so expensive!”

  * * * * *

  “What's this?” Paul shouted as he burst into the office. “Are you taking the mick or what.”

  “Paul Rees-Montague. I advise you to moderate your language in the presence of your managers,” Lucinda goaded him as she looked up from the general ledger. “And yes, I meant to tell you about that.” He held out the T-shirt in his hands, and she smiled. “We got the contract to make or assemble all the Bare Necessities merchandise. How good is that?”

  Paul's face went a bit purpler, and he scowled at his little sister. “This is …”

  “Saving fifty jobs and opening up another fifty. I have put an offer on a warehouse a few miles away. We are buying in the stuff we can't make here so clothing, badges, posters, etc. And the toys which can be assembled here will be ...”

  “But we make machinery.”

  “No, we have several assembly lines which can make machinery. But in the recession, you have to be flexible. So we are being flexible. It's Greg's idea and …”

  “You let that thieving little …”

  “Don't finish that sentence,” Lucinda shouted and stared at her brother. “Sit down.” She pointed at the chair in front of her, and Paul shook his head.

  “I've had enough of this, sod you Luci. I've had enough.”

  Lucinda licked her lips. “Your house is on the books of this factory. Walk out of this factory and it will go on the market this afternoon.” Paul stopped as his hands reached for the door knob. “Now sit down,” she ordered and gestured for Greg to leave the office.

  Her management consultant put his pen down and sighed. “I'll get lunch. Fancy anything?”

  “I'll get myself something later. But, do us a favour, talk to the sandwich shop about putting a buffet on at the end of the week here for everyone.” Paul snorted and Lucinda turned to him, hovering next to her desk. “Sit down.”

  He gulped and pulled the chair roughly from underneath the table. “Haven't you humiliated me enough?”

  “I haven't humiliated you at all,” Lucinda replied icily. “You are my big brother, and I love you.” Paul shook his head, and Lucinda leant back on her chair. “I know you don't like what Jack is doing, but I promise you, it is making him happy. And that Harriet girl of yours is bright and sharp, but she is going to take after you. This deal with the Bare Necessities is good for the firm. Yeah, OK, you might not like it, but financially it's pretty special. I had an opportunity, so I've taken it. Now, this expansion, reopening up the two assembly lines, plus not closing the two you were planning to shut, plus opening the warehouse, gets our name in the local paper. Here's a company doing well. Plus, we're clearing around 30% at least after costs on each product, which is then being sold on by the group at another similar mark up. It makes business sense, can you see that?”

  “I don't want to encourage …”

  “Ignore that,” Lucinda interrupted. “It makes good business sense, can you see that?”

  Paul gulped and sighed. “Yes,” he snapped. “If it all works out.”

  “It will work out,” Lucinda responded with a smile. “I'm very excited about it. As should you be, because when you get control of this business back it will be twice as profitable.” Her eyes widened.

  “And when will that be?”

  “When I have taught you the art of humility,” Lucinda said, rubbing her hands. “How much better do you know your staff as a supervisor?” Paul grunted angrily.

  “I see what you are trying to do, but it'll just make me angry.”

  “I don't care,” his sister replied. “Now I was hoping to take you to lunch.” Paul bit his lip and sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I really don't want to fall out with you,” Lucinda promised. “I want to quit this as a solo role and give you back the factory after twelve months, with it being in safe hands, and me as a part-time co-managery thing. You're not a bad manager, but you are cold and aloof at times, and you rule with your heart, not your head. I know I'm not perfect, but neither are you, and I will shake that arrogance out of you.” She licked her lips and took a deep breath. “You might be rampantly arrogant at times, but I still love you more than anyone, because you are my brother. And th
ere are times when you really hate me, I know. Now, being one of them maybe, but if I hadn't have done what I did, Jack would be here miserable and you would be cutting staff as you had this tunnel, narrow vision of what we should do as it's what our dad said we should do. Now, are you coming to lunch 'cause I'm starving?”

  Paul grunted angrily. “It's not your place …”

  “I have a vested interest in the success of this company,” Lucinda replied. “And so it is my place if I think your beliefs and emotions are harming the prospects of the factory. Now, are we going to lunch?”

  Paul sighed. “Yeah OK,” he said wearily. “But I don't like this contract thing one bit. It's just encouraging him.”