Miss Wrong and Mr Right (14 page)

Tuppence appeared through the doors behind and joined him on the little stage. The crowd went wild. She wore a silver boned corset, with matching 1950s style knickers; this was coupled with stockings, suspenders, silver glittery heels, and long silver gloves.

‘Hello ladies!’ she cried. They screamed hello in response. ‘Are you ready to burlesque?’ They screamed again. I had to stop myself from joining in, such was the atmosphere.

‘Okay, now the routine we are all going to do goes left glove, right glove, then final showstopper, the corset… Have we all secured our nipple tassels?’ she asked.

The crowd responded in the positive. I noticed a swing was being lowered down to Tuppence. I followed the two steel cables up, to where a guy had appeared on the roof opposite. He was operating a small winch, fastened to the edge of the roof, lowering the swing. I looked back down and the swing stopped beside Tuppence at waist height.

‘Okay, now you all follow me,’ she said. ‘The choreography may be simple, but burlesque is slow… it’s all about the tease!’ She handed the microphone back to Jamie and gently perched on the swing.

‘You’re certainly teasing me Tuppence,’ said Jamie. ‘Are you ready to TEASE?’

The crowd screamed that indeed they were.
 

‘Sexy Back’ by Justin Timberlake began to boom out. Slowly, Tuppence was raised on the swing, to hysterical screams from the crowd below. She began to glide from side to side on the swing, against the video screen of the moon and stars, glitter trailing her movements back and forward. It was incredible.

Xander returned from the sandwich run, climbed up onto the roof, and came towards me carrying a huge basket of sandwiches, rolls, and baps. I turned back as the crowd below cheered.
 

Tuppence was removing one of her long gloves, teasing off each finger with her perfect teeth. I imagined those teeth biting into Jamie’s smooth muscles… She had the glove off and she dropped it with a wide-eyed pout. The crowd below were all mirroring her, and they threw their gloves in the air, in unison, with a scream.
 

Tuppence was now travelling rapidly side to side; she arched her back, smiled, then stood up on the swing in a practised move. The crowd below drew gasps and applauded. She pulled off the other glove and the hundreds of ladies below followed suit. Tuppence turned her head, and for a moment, our eyes met as she whooshed back and forth.

Xander was now standing beside me with the lunch basket packed with rolls, artfully displayed in neat rows. He said something, but I couldn’t hear him, the music was too loud. I don’t know if it was the smell of the fresh bread and all the fillings, but the flock of pigeons in the corner of the roof, which had up until now been snoozing in the sun, started to wake up, and peck around near us. Xander noticed them and went pale.

‘No! I hate pigeons!’ he shouted, skipping around to try and avoid them. I grabbed him, worried that he might fall over the edge. The pigeons started waddling round his feet and flapping up towards the basket. Xander panicked, lifting it up above his head, but then he lost his grip. The whole basket of filled rolls went flying over the side of the roof, separating in mid-air, and showering the burlesque ladies below in bread, salad, filling, and mayonnaise.
 

I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a park and dropped a crisp or a piece of a sandwich, and suddenly from nowhere pigeons besiege you?
 

A giant flock of pigeons appeared from one of the rooftops and zoomed towards all the free food on the floor below. They didn’t take into account that a half-naked lady would be suspended on a swing in mid-air, and they started to flap around Tuppence who lost all composure, screamed, and nearly fell off her swing. Bird poo dotted her black corset as she screamed even louder. The pigeons flocked and started to crash into the video wall. Screams erupted from the ladies below, as pigeons swooped down between them to get at the bread. The music stopped and people started to stare up to where the sandwiches had appeared from. Xander had scarpered, so it was just me leaning over the edge of the roof. Jamie looked up at me, still holding his microphone, and I made a dash for it, down into my office slamming the fire door.

I sat sweating in my dark office, unsure of what to do. I listened to the voices from the street below. One woman’s shrieks were very loud, moaning that her corset was ruined, now it was covered in coronation chicken. Nicky opened the door.

‘Hey Nat… Do you know if Ryan would be willing to shave his chest for ‘Torso of the Week’?’ I opened my mouth to speak, but I heard shouting, and Xander’s voice.

‘You can’t just barge up here!’

Jamie appeared behind Nicky. He was still shirtless and had a small slice of cucumber balanced on his head, like a weird little fascinator.
 

‘Sorry ladies,’ said Xander appearing shortly afterwards. ‘I tried to stop him but he wouldn’t take no…’

‘What the hell did you do, Natalie?’ interrupted Jamie. Nicky and Xander stood there for a moment looking between us. Then Brendan O’ Connor barged in. He was equally furious, and had mayonnaise smeared on the lenses of his glasses.

‘Hey! What’s this? I thought we had people on the door, stopping just anyone coming in!’ cried Nicky.

‘It was my fault,’ said Xander.

‘No Xander, let me deal with this,’ I said. ‘Guys, I’m so sorry, it was a freak accident…’

‘Freak accident?’ shouted Jamie. ‘Lobbing a load of filled rolls off your roof! What you just did was dangerous. Tuppence said you were waiting up there to deliberately scare those pigeons… She could have fallen off that swing! She could have died! She got pigeon poo in her mouth!’

The little slice of cucumber was flapping around on his head, and when he mentioned pigeon poo. I couldn’t help it. I laughed.

‘You think this is
funny
?’ shouted Brendan. ‘Cos you don’t want to go down that road girlfriend.’

‘Hey! You don’t want to go down that road either, Brendan,’ said Nicky.

The mayonnaise eye patch made him look slightly less threatening, but I didn’t like the look in his other eye. It was vindictive.

‘Where is she?’ came a voice from the corridor. ‘Which one is her bloody office?’

Tuppence Halfpenny burst in, barefoot, wearing a long towelling dressing gown. Pigeon poo clung to her hairdo, which was askew. One of our big burly security guards came in just behind, and attempted to guide her back out.

‘You get your hands off me! Do you want an assault charge against your name?’ she cried. The security guard stepped back, visibly scared.

‘No. You do your job! She’s trespassing,’ said Nicky. The security guard moved towards her again.

‘Oh no mister, you keep your hands off me… I won’t be here long!’ cried Tuppence. ‘I am
so
going to sue you Natalie Love!’

‘What are you going to sue me for? It was an accident!’ I said.

‘Oh, I have lawyers
Natalie Love
. You assaulted me with… you threw that bread!’

‘What, you were traumatised by all those carbohydrates coming towards you at once?’ I said.

‘Yes!’ she shouted. ‘And I am billing you for cleaning this corset, it’s covered in seven thousand pounds worth of Swarovski crystal!’ Tuppence pulled open the dressing gown. The corset was ruined.

‘We’re not paying for an act of God, which is what ‘birds flocking’ comes under,’ said Nicky.

‘What if I don’t believe in God?’ replied Tuppence.

‘What if I don’t believe burlesque is anything more than a fancy word for stripper?’ said Nicky challengingly.

‘You take that back now,’ said Tuppence.

‘I will not,’ growled Nicky.

‘You need to leave. Now,’ I said moving between Nicky and Tuppence.

The security guard took a step closer and Tuppence closed her dressing gown knotting it tightly.

‘I’m leaving. This isn’t over,’ she said and stormed out.

‘You too, lads,’ said the security guard, finally finding his voice.
 

‘You’ve chosen to screw with the wrong person, Natalie…You screw with my clients, you screw with me,’ said Brendan and he stalked out of the office.

‘Natalie. Do you know how hard we worked on putting that together? On our launch, the flash mob?’ asked Jamie.

‘Jamie. It really was an accident, I’m sorry,’ I said again. He shook his head and left.
 

When the door was closed, Nicky rounded on me and Xander. I explained what had happened, and then Nicky asked Xander to leave.

‘And you think this isn’t getting personal?’ said Nicky, when he was gone.

‘It was a freak accident!’ I said.

‘Yes, but why you were up on the roof spying on him?’

‘I was watching their launch… They
are
the competition,” I said.

‘The only competition we have is with ourselves, Nat. We look to better ourselves and what we do, yes?’
 

I nodded, she was right.

‘Ok, I’m gonna go down there and do some damage limitation. And so help Tuppence Halfpenny if she gets in my face,’ added Nicky. I nodded and she left the office.
 

I
had
to find a way of dealing with Jamie being back in my life.

Regional news

I sat in the dingy office for the rest of the afternoon, unable to work. For the first time I wished I hadn’t removed the anti-pigeon spikes on the edge of the roof. The council had fitted them when the theatre was renovated. I had quietly removed them one day, after finding a pigeon with a bad leg impaled on one of the spikes.
 

By five-thirty the noise outside had died down, and Nicky phoned to say she was going home, and the coast was clear. She sounded rather cold on the phone.
 

I waited until six, then left the theatre. The normal evening crowds were milling around, as the bars and restaurants opened. The Big O was deserted, the video screens were off, and it had blended back into the street furniture. I didn’t stick around to bump into anyone, I quickly walked past and made a detour down to Charing Cross where I picked up a copy of the
Evening Standard.
 

Half of the front page was taken up with news of a tube strike, and the other half read:
FLASH MOB CHAOS IN SOHO!
 
With a series of pictures under the subheading ‘
Popular British Burlesque star attacked by pigeons…
’ My phone rang in my pocket and I pulled it out. It was Nicky.

‘Have you seen the
Standard
?’ she asked. I told her I had a copy in my hand. ‘You know the worst thing? I’d been sent proofs of our Ryan Harrison billboard as the front cover image…If this hadn’t happened we’d be front page news.’

‘Where are we now?’ I said, putting the phone under my chin and rifling through the newspaper.

‘Page eight,’ we said in unison.

‘What about online?’ I asked.

‘Buried low down on the sidebar,’ she said. ‘Maybe we should fire Xander?’

‘No, it was a genuine accident. And he’s a good worker… And what if he took us to a tribunal? They’d have a field day with the reason why we fired him. Dropping baps from a great height?’

‘We’ve lost a real opportunity here,’ said Nicky pointedly. ‘We could’ve collected thousands of new social media followers, and you know…’

‘Yes, I know how important that is,’ I snapped.

‘Good, because whilst you get to go home, I’ve got to keep this from turning sour in the press, and we’ve got that Brendan on the war path, he’s a poisonous queen…’

‘Well, do your best,’ I said trying to lighten the mood.

‘I always do,’ said Nicky and hung up.

I got back to the flat just before six-thirty. I closed the front door and leant against it with my heart pounding. I thought about phoning Sharon, but I could imagine telling her what had happened and her finding it hilarious. Just the word ‘bap’ reduces her to hysterics. I wasn’t ready to laugh just yet.

I had a shower, and poured myself a large drink, but still felt tense and wound up. I picked up the post from the doormat and came through to the kitchen. There were some bits of junk mail, a bank statement, and a cream envelope with my sister’s unmistakable scrawl on the front. I opened it and an invitation fell out.

Dear
Natalie and Benjamin,

Micky, Dave, House, and the twins Downton and Abbey cordially invite you to the Christening of baby Dexter. The Christening will be held at St. Bathshebas Church, Sowerton, Devon on Sunday 26th July at 11am.

An infomal luncheon buffet will be held afterwards at Hill Farm. Due to the current financial crisis, I’m sure guests appreciate that money is tite. So therefore we are asking if each guest can bring a something to contrabute to the buffet table. Therefore I have put you down for…
 
A rotary chicken, a tube of barbecue Pringles and a bottle of Proscuttio

With love, Micky and Dave Lamb.

(Enclosed is a map with parking and a list of local B & B’s)
 

Ps Looking forward to seeing you, Nat and meeting Benjamin! Is he fit? ;) Are you staying with Mum and Dad? Since I printed the map there’s been a salmannella scare at the Pig & Whistle, and it’s closed for a deep clean, so don’t stay there.
 

Micky x

 
Everything about the invitation gave me angst. I would have to show up alone and try to play down another failed relationship. And why did the guests have to bring food? Surely the ones having the bloody christening should stump up for lunch! And Micky’s spelling was awful. What was a rotary chicken? And did she want a bottle of prosecco or a bottle of prosciutto ham? I made up my mind I was going to cancel. I just had to come up with an excuse.
 

I went through to the living room with my drink and flopped down on the sofa. I flicked on the TV and caught the end of the
BBC News
.

‘And now let’s see what’s happening in your region,’ purred the newsreader condescendingly. Growing up in Sowerton in Devon, I always resented the way BBC newsreaders said this, as if my little corner of Great Britain was inferior. Back then it was Anna Ford who read the
BBC News
from London and I idolised her; she was so cool, calm and clever. When I heard she’d thrown a drink over a TV executive at a party I loved her even more.