Strictly My Husband: It's funny, it's romantic and it's got dancing - what's not to love! (12 page)

‘OK then, ladies,’ said Laura, settling herself down in the purpose-built research suite on the ground floor of their office building. There were six women sitting on low chairs grouped around a coffee table, all sipping cups of tea and gingerly eyeing each other up. Six total strangers, all aged between forty-five and fifty-five, plucked from the high street by a recruiter that morning and who were hopefully going to give her some quality insight on how to market to their age group.

‘Thank you so much for taking time out today to sit and talk to us. It really is appreciated,’ Laura began. ‘I really hope you enjoy what should be a very relaxed, open chat. There’s nothing to be worried about; anything you say is of course treated as anonymous. We are going to start with a very general chat about how you feel you are treated as a consumer group and then I’ll introduce later the specific product my client would love to hear your views on. Does that sound OK? Does anyone have any questions?’

‘Will we get any freebies?’ asked a lady who had leant back in her chair and put her feet up on the table.

‘Er, no, Karen. No, there won’t be, I’m afraid,’ said Laura, leaning forward to read her name label.

‘Oh,’ replied Karen. ‘When I did a panel for Pumpkin Paradise we got a shedload of soup to take home.’

‘Right, well, not in this instance. The products we are testing are not always suitable to give away and obviously we wouldn’t want your feedback skewed by the fact you are getting freebies.’ Laura wrote a note to have a stern word with her recruiter. People who had previously taken part in focus groups were supposed to be filtered out. They quickly got wise to what they thought the researcher wanted to hear. Also people prone to agreeing to take part in market research often turned out to be big talkers who actually never said anything useful at all.

‘Right,’ said Karen, rubbing her hands together. ‘So is it a really expensive product then – that’s why you can’t give it away?’

‘Not necessarily,’ replied Laura, shuffling her notes to indicate that Karen should just pipe down.

‘Bet it’s Apple or someone.’ Karen looked conspiratorially around the room. ‘They must do mega research. Maybe she’s going to tell us what the next new Apple gadget is, see if we like it. Maybe we’ll get to try it.’

Laura smiled a tight smile. So Karen was the derailer. Every group had one. Someone determined to distract the entire conversation to something they wanted to talk about.

‘Why don’t we start with something easy?’ she said, beaming at the other five women in the room. Some of them would warm to Karen, she knew, start playing to her tune, enjoying her rebelliousness. Others would go quiet with embarrassment whilst the rest would choose to simply ignore her and focus on responding to Laura. She hoped the majority were that way inclined.

‘So can you tell me who you admire in the media, who are your role models? And I’m talking specifically people within your age group.’

Everyone looked blank. Laura beamed at them encouragingly; some turned their eyes away.

‘Come on,’ she said. ‘There must be someone on the television or in films who you aspire to.’

‘Our age, you say,’ asked another lady wearing a label with ‘Helen’ written on it. She looked around shiftily, trying to judge exactly what age group Laura was referring to.

‘Yes,’ nodded Laura, still smiling. ‘Anyone roughly between forty-five to fifty-five.’ She watched as everyone glanced sideways to assess who in the group was wearing well and who had clearly had a tough paper round.

‘My mind has gone blank,’ declared Karen.

‘Mine too,’ said Helen.

‘I really love Judi Dench,’ said a lady called Beth, ‘but I think she’s over eighty now.’

‘Oh, oh, oh,’ said Karen, ‘what about Helen Mirren? She’s amazing.’

‘I’m sure she was seventy this year,’ replied Helen.

‘Seriously,’ said Karen. ‘I need to have whatever she’s having.’

‘Julie . . . You know, Julie . . .’ Suddenly Carol, in the corner, came to life. ‘You know who I mean – dead funny, in
Acorn Antiques
but then she went a bit highbrow.’

‘Julie Walters?’ offered Beth.

‘Yes, her,’ replied Carol.

‘Mid-sixties, I reckon,’ said Beth.

‘Is it definitely fifties you’re after?’ said Karen, turning to Laura.

‘Well, yes really.’ Laura swallowed. ‘Over sixty isn’t really the target customer.’

‘OK,’ said Karen. ‘Come on, girls, we must be able to think of someone famous in their fifties who we’d like to be?’

The room went quiet for the second time.

‘What TV shows do you like to watch?’ asked Laura. ‘Are there any actors your age in those that you think are good role models?’

‘I love a good crime drama,’ said Beth, ‘but I guess women of that age are always either murdered or kind of in the background. Nobody in a lead part comes to mind.’

Carol shrugged. ‘I only ever watch
Strictly
. The rest of the telly is rubbish.’

‘
Strictly
!’ said Laura in relief. ‘Great one. Now, whose shoes would you have liked to have filled on there? There’s all ages on there, isn’t there?’

‘Oh, don’t,’ said Beth, shaking her head. She looked around the room. ‘I don’t know about you, I love
Strictly
, I really do, but I wish they wouldn’t have the older women on.’

‘Why not?’ asked Laura. ‘Isn’t it great to see women of your age represented in this way?’

‘No,’ replied Beth.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Because they’re crap at it?’ added Karen helpfully.

‘They’re mostly like the stooges, aren’t they? There for laughs or for people to feel sorry for.’

‘And a big fat reminder that you can do most things better when you’re younger.’

‘Right,’ said Laura. ‘That’s really very interesting that you feel that way.’

‘To be honest,’ added Karen with a chuckle, ‘me and my husband mostly watch
Strictly
to see who’s going to fall for one another.’

‘Ooh, I know.’ Carol nodded. ‘You can tell a mile off, can’t you? It’s like watching a love story unfold. Me and my mate have bets on which male celebrity will fall first!’

Laura sighed. She could really do without this conversation right now.

‘Well, it is foreplay, after all, isn’t it?’ said Beth.

‘What is?’ asked Carol.

‘Dancing,’ replied Beth.

Laura looked down at her notes. She needed to move the conversation on quickly.

‘Well, at least it used to be,’ continued Beth. ‘You must all remember those end-of-the-night dances down at Paradise, that nightclub on the edge of town?’

‘Way hey!’ exclaimed Karen, throwing her hands in the air. ‘I can remember rubbing up to some pieces of work in there years back.’

‘Exactly,’ Beth agreed. ‘Come the early hours we were all on that dance floor, weren’t we? Hoping to fall into the arms of some random bloke we’d been eyeing up all night and gyrate away to a soppy love song. Proper turn-on that was. Back then dancing with a man nearly always came before sex.’

‘It’s not like that now,’ sighed Carol before Laura could interject. ‘You don’t need to go dancing to pull any more because it’s all online, isn’t it? Believe me, I know. I’ve been divorced three years.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,’ replied Beth.

‘It’s OK. I’m getting used to it. But it’s all so different trying to date these days. Sexting is the new foreplay now, not dancing. I keep getting messages late at night from pissed-up blokes via dating websites sending me pictures of their you-know-what. What I’d give for a man who just asked me to dance. So much sexier.’

‘You’re right,’ agreed Beth. ‘Who can resist a man who wants to dance with them? Sexiest thing on earth. Me and Terry still dance. We go to festivals and are the daft pair at the back twirling each other round. I reckon couples who dance together stay together.’

‘Aah, that’s really nice,’ said Carol, looking as though she might burst into tears there and then.

‘And it’s exactly why the celebrities end up having it off with their partners on
Strictly
,’ cut in Karen. ‘They should be at home dancing with their wives, not with someone who can do things with their body that shouldn’t be legal.’

‘I tell you what, ladies,’ said Laura, having heard more than enough and feeling utterly depressed. ‘Shall I introduce the product we’re discussing today?’

‘Oh yes,’ said Karen, cheering up again. ‘Brilliant, I love this part.’

‘Well, it’s a well-known brand that you will all have heard of and who want to branch out and move into a related product category for your age group. It is quite a sensitive area, I must warn you—’

‘Condoms,’ shrieked Karen. ‘It’s geriatric condoms, isn’t it? They’ve finally developed one for the older man that keeps him up longer.’

‘That’s a good idea,’ said Helen excitedly. ‘A really good idea. Like adding Viagra to the actual condom rather than having to take it as a pill or something.’

‘Are you sure you’ve got no free samples?’ Karen asked Laura again. ‘We’re willing to test them, aren’t we, ladies? In the interests of science, of course.’

Four of the women nodded vigorously; the other two turned bright red and looked at their shoes.

‘That isn’t actually the product,’ replied Laura, surreptitiously writing it
down as a good idea to give another one of her clients. She looked up and took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be easy.

‘Actually,’ she said, clearing her throat and trying hard to remain composed, ‘the product we are discussing today is designer incontinence pants.’

‘Jesus,’ said Karen. ‘Shoot me now.’

Chapter Thirteen

Laura

Laura looked up at Tom as they stood on the doorstep of Jerry and Hannah’s house. They could hear the deep chime reverberating inside as the motion-sensor lights illuminated their warm breath. He was holding her hand but was grinning at Carly. Laura lifted her other hand to wipe off some of the lip-gloss she’d carefully applied half an hour earlier. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, to dress up a bit. She’d bought a new top with a daring plunging neckline and she’d spent ages carefully straightening her hair to a smooth and silky finish that looked almost as good as when the hairdresser did it. The lip-gloss had been an impulse purchase that lunchtime. Why not? she’d thought. Why shouldn’t I wear lip-gloss? She wore ‘Matt Rose’ every day to work and so lip-gloss for the evening seemed entirely reasonable. Well, it did until she raced downstairs in some leg-breaking high heels she’d found in the depths of her wardrobe at just after seven to find Tom and Carly waiting to head out to Jerry and Hannah’s for dinner. As soon as she saw Carly she lunged for her coat to cover up her extra special efforts that evening. Her exposed cleavage was soon engulfed in a faithful full-length black wool coat and she discreetly kicked off her heels and plunged her feet into some handy Ugg boots standing by the door.

‘You look nice,’ said Carly.

‘Not really,’ said Laura, buttoning her coat up quickly whilst trying not to notice how good Carly looked in sweatpants, a hoody, no make-up and a high scraped-back ponytail.

‘Jerry said casual when he invited me,’ said Carly, ‘and I was so overdressed last time compared to everyone else. Am I all right like this – should I change?’

‘No,’ said Tom and Laura in unison.

‘Right,’ said Carly. ‘If you’re sure.’

‘You look great,’ Tom reassured her. ‘No need to change, is there, Laura?’

Laura felt her lip-gloss smear over her teeth as she forced a smile.
‘You’re fine. Shall we go?’

‘Welcome, welcome, welcome,’ declared Jerry, throwing open his front door. ‘You are so very welcome.’

‘Waistcoat, Jerry?’ said Tom, pushing past him. ‘What’s the occasion? You didn’t tell the rest of us it was fancy dress.’

Laura took off her overcoat and tugged her top up to cover more of her chest.

‘No occasion – well, unless you count the fact I’ve done a bit of a revamp of the bar downstairs, which I’m hoping we’ll well and truly christen tonight.’

‘The bar?’ asked Carly.

‘Jerry has a den downstairs in the basement,’ explained Tom.

‘The den of iniquity,’ announced Jerry with a smirk.

‘It’s where all of Jerry’s bad taste is stored out of Hannah’s way,’ continued Tom. ‘Oak-panelled bar, pool table, fifty-inch plasma, that kind of thing.’

‘Aah, but just you wait,’ announced Jerry. ‘Your brother’s already here putting me some finishing touches up. I’m so excited I cannot tell you. Cocktails downstairs before dinner, anyone?’ He held out his arm towards Carly.

‘Well, I don’t mind if I do.’ She grinned, tucking her hand into his elbow. ‘Lead me to your den of iniquity, kind sir.’

‘It would be my utmost pleasure,’ he replied. ‘Come on, troops,’ he said over his shoulder to Tom and Laura. ‘This is going to blow your mind.’

Laura and Tom looked at each other.

‘What do you think he’s done?’ Laura whispered to Tom as they walked towards the basement door.

‘Knowing Jerry, it could be anything. He has mentioned an underground hot tub in the past. But he was pissed and installing a wax figure of Cameron Diaz was also discussed at the time.’

‘Perhaps we’ll get down there and find Will in a hot tub with Diaz,’ said Laura.

‘Wouldn’t that be a sight to behold!’ Tom grinned, reaching round to
squeeze her shoulders. She grabbed his hand tight and didn’t let go as they began their descent of the basement stairs.

‘Oh my God,’ they heard Carly scream when they were halfway down. ‘This is amazing.’

They arrived at the bottom of the steps and turned the corner to enter the large basement area. Laura’s jaw dropped.

‘So what do you think?’ asked Jerry. ‘Looks good, hey?’

Laura and Tom took a few more tentative steps into the room. The pool table had disappeared; the enormous couch had been pushed to the back leaving the vast open space of wooden floor to be lit by tiny little flecks of coloured light that bounced off the enormous glitter ball slowly rotating from the middle of the ceiling. The fifty-inch plasma on the back wall was playing the black-and-white classic movie,
Singing in the Rain
. Will was balanced on the top of a stepladder to the side of the room screwing something into a lighting track, a workman’s tool belt slung around his waist. As they ventured further into the room he leapt down from his perch and hurriedly started to collapse the ladder.