Strictly My Husband: It's funny, it's romantic and it's got dancing - what's not to love! (18 page)

‘Tom wants to come in,’ shouted Jessy, a stalwart member of the department. ‘Has anyone still got their tits out?’

‘I’ll check, shall I?’ Tom heard a male voice shout back. ‘No, don’t worry, girls, it will be my pleasure.’

What the hell, thought Tom. Was that who he thought it was? He pulled the curtain back sharply and searched the room.

‘Jerry!’ he exclaimed. ‘What are you doing back here? You shouldn’t be in the girls’ dressing room.’

‘Oh, don’t worry, darling,’ said Jessy, touching his shoulder. ‘He’s fine. We don’t mind Jerry being here, do we, girls?’

‘No,’ came back a chorus of approval.

‘He’s been really helpful,’ added Jessy. ‘Look, he’s put all these mirrors up and proper lights. He and Will have been a godsend.’

Tom looked over to the back wall where Jessy was pointing. In contrast to the chaos of the men’s dressing room the ladies’ area was organised and calm. A row of mirrors had been attached to a blank wall and his brother was halfway up a ladder attaching a string of high-powered lights above them.

Jerry came ambling up to him grinning like an overweight married man who’d just spent the last half-hour in a room with semi-naked women.

He went to embrace Tom and hissed in his ear. ‘Time of my fucking life. I want your job. You get to spend time with this?’ He cast his arm around the room as various girls looked up and smiled and waved at him.

‘That isn’t why I do this job,’ Tom hissed back.

‘Well, it should be. Might stop you being so fucking miserable about it half the time.’

‘Why are you here exactly?’ asked Tom impatiently. He didn’t really have time to deal with Jerry’s adolescent behaviour just now.

‘Carly called me,’ said Jerry with a shrug. ‘Said the show couldn’t possibly go on without decent mirrors and lighting for these adorable women to get ready in front of. How could I refuse? They were damsels in distress in hardly any clothes. I had no choice but to come running to their aid. And guess what? They’re all really grateful. They keep calling me their hero. Especially that one over there. The brunette with the extremely long legs. What’s her name? I’ll be her hero any day of the week, I tell you.’

‘Must I remind you that you are married?’ said Tom.

‘Am I?’ Jerry suddenly frowned.

‘Yes,’ urged Tom. ‘Remember? To Hannah? I didn’t waste all that money on a stag do for you to throw it away on someone half your age.’

‘We stayed in a caravan in Blackpool,’ said Jerry.

‘It was a lot of money back then.’

‘If I remarried I’d have a stag do in Vegas,’ said Jerry wistfully.

‘What are you talking about?’ asked Tom. ‘You’re not getting remarried.’

Jerry turned to him looking uncharacteristically sad. Jerry’s pint was always half full. Typically Jerry didn’t know what half empty meant.

‘So what do you make of this?’ he asked. ‘I come home with a seven-foot-long inflatable crocodile from the pub—’

‘And Hannah wants a divorce? Understandable,’ interrupted Tom.

‘It was a surprise,’ continued Jerry. ‘I’ve booked us a round-the-world trip including a week on my brother’s vineyard in Australia and do you know what she said?’

‘Get that enormous waste of space out of my sight?’

‘The crocodile had come to a sticky end having dive-bombed off the landing at that point.’

‘I meant you!’

‘Cheers. I’m trying to have a conversation here, buddy.’

‘OK,’ said Tom, looking at his watch. The cast had now had well over their allotted five minutes to get ready. ‘So what did she say?’

‘She said, and I quote, “I’ll think about it.” What in heaven’s name is that all about? I’m offering to take her to the ends of the earth and back and she needs to think about it. You’d think I’d offered to replace the hoover. I don’t get it, Tom. There was nothing. Not a hint of a smile, or glimmer of excitement. What do I have to do to make my wife look like she’s pleased she married me?’

‘She’s probably chuffed to bits. Just not showing it.’

‘Oh, she’ll be worrying about the cost, I know she will. She doesn’t know how to sit back and enjoy what we’ve achieved. What’s the point of working like a dog when you don’t get to make the most of the rewards? If only she’d just live a little, let go, have some fun. What’s wrong with that, I ask you?’

‘I have to say that Laura is no barrel of laughs either at the moment,’ said Tom. ‘She’s very short with me. I must have done something wrong but I’ve no idea what it is.’

‘Do you think it’s the menopause?’ asked Jerry.

‘They’re not old enough for that yet, are they?’

‘I don’t know.’ Jerry shrugged. ‘Not even sure what the menopause is, to be honest. Do you know? Do you think we should know?’

‘Something to do with hormones, I think.’ Tom shook his head. ‘Not really sure though, I have to admit.’

‘Are you allowed to travel if you’re going through the menopause? Perhaps that’s why she doesn’t want to go to Australia. She can’t because of too many hormones or something? Shall I ask her if she’s got too many hormones?’

Tom looked at Jerry. ‘Somehow that doesn’t feel like a question that it would be wise to ask.’

‘Shall I ask her if she’s menopausal then?’

‘Again, Jerry, I’d steer clear if I were you. Perhaps she’s pregnant? Have you thought about that?’

‘Bah. There’s no chance of that. To be honest it’s partly why I booked this holiday, get her away from that bloody dog. The damn thing is ruining my love life.’

‘What are you talking about?’ asked Tom.

‘It sleeps in the corner of the room and if I make one move, just one, it growls. I’m not kidding. It’s like trying to have sex whilst your mother’s listening.’

‘My mother’s listened to you having sex?’

Jerry paused.

‘Possibly,’ he said eventually.

‘What!’ exclaimed Tom. ‘When?’

‘When we went to your mum’s caravan when we were eighteen and I brought those girls back with us on the Friday night, do you remember?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And your mum and dad came to join us on the Saturday.’

‘Yes.’

‘They lied. They’d arrived on the Friday night whilst we were out. They just pretended they’d arrived on the Saturday because they were too embarrassed to admit they’d had to spend all night listening to us shagging.’

‘Wow,’ replied Tom, reeling.

‘Point is I’m not getting any. I either need to hire a hit man for the damn dog or get my wife out of the country and neither is looking likely at the moment. Now, will you tell me what the name of that brunette is?’

Chapter Eighteen

Laura

Laura pulled her skirt down and recrossed her legs, feeling the unfamiliar sensation of nylon against nylon between her thighs. Why on earth had she decided to wear a short skirt and her new knee-high leather boots, thus making it unavoidable that she wear tights? She knew it was inevitable that the crotch would end up halfway down her thighs whilst the waistband would remain determined to hang on just beneath her breasts. Both unattractive and uncomfortable. Why was she putting herself through this?

She looked up as a couple of brightly uniformed young lads strolled through the reception of Wonderland totally ignoring her. She pulled her skirt down over her knees again. She was embarrassed that she’d made such an effort for her meeting but it was all part of her attempt to spruce up her image in retaliation to the glamour that Carly had bought to the house. After Tom’s rejection and her late-night chat with Hannah, Laura had headed back to bed with the intention of waking her husband up and demanding the services of his body. But when she’d looked in the bathroom mirror and caught sight of her wine-stained teeth and hideous tangled mass of hair she’d convinced herself that waking him would only lead to another knock-back. Instead she’d vowed to ‘glam up’, and promptly went out and purchased knee-high boots and a short skirt but so far they had not had the desired effect on her husband.

She sighed and looked at her watch. Archie from Guest Happiness was running ten minutes late. She could have predicted that. When she’d spoken to him on the phone she’d realised very fast that Archie was probably not the type of client she was used to dealing with. She actually wouldn’t normally have come to this meeting, she would have sent her assistant as it was all very straightforward and Laura was used to dealing with more senior clients. However, for some reason she felt compelled to be involved and as she lived so close to the theme park it made logistical sense for her to call in on her way home to have a quick meeting and work out the details.

‘Hiya,’ said a lad leaping into view. She’d met plenty of Archies when she’d worked here before. Young lads whose dream-come-true was to work at Wonderland. Keen, enthusiastic, lovely, totally on another planet and totally clueless. He was a car crash from head to toe. The badly dyed jet-black hair didn’t suit his pale skin and served only to draw attention to his acne-ridden face. He was wearing a shirt and tie no doubt in an effort to make him look older than twelve but the gravy stain down the front gave away that he was barely out of bibs. He had every reason to be miserable and yet he wasn’t. The truly beautiful and truly ugly should not be allowed to be happy, thought Laura. It’s the middle-of-the-roaders like me who need the happiness. The pretty ones don’t need it and the ugly ones just make you feel bad because they have dealt with their shortcomings way better than you have.

‘Welcome to Wonderland,’ announced Archie. ‘Your happy place.’

Laura already wanted to punch him.

She stood up and smoothed down her too-short skirt. Archie’s youth and exuberance made her feel like a sad old desperate cow.

‘So I’ve booked Laughter for our meeting.’ Archie grinned. ‘Chuckles was free but Laughter has a much nicer feel to it even though everyone says that you can’t beat Chuckles for successful one-on-one. Follow me.’

Laura’s heart sank. Either he fancied himself as a bit of a comedian, or he’d been on some dubious substances around the back of the Cantering Carousel. She tramped down a long dark corridor watching the black curls on the back of his neck bounce over his stained collar.

‘Would you like a coffee?’ he shouted over his shoulder about halfway down.’

‘Yes please,’ she replied on autopilot.

He abruptly turned left into a small kitchenette as Laura paused awkwardly by the door. She watched as he picked a mug out of the washing-up bowl and switched on the cold tap. He swirled water around inside it then banged the mug down on the counter without drying it.

‘Do you take milk?’ he asked. ‘I’ve run out but I can nick someone else’s. No one minds if it’s for a guest.’

‘I’ll have it black,’ replied Laura.

‘Sugar?’

‘OK,’ she said slowly, worried that she might be leading him into further theft.

‘We share the coffee and sugar,’ he said, pouring boiling water into the mug and then adding the coffee powder afterwards. ‘How many?’

‘Just one,’ replied Laura, mesmerised.

Archie extracted the spoon and plunged it straight into the sugar bowl. It emerged with damp, claggy, coffee-stained sugar clinging to it. After a vigorous stir he tapped the rim of the mug with the spoon and hurled it into the washing-up bowl.

‘Shall we go and make ourselves comfortable in Laughter?’ he said, smiling and shaking his head as though amazed by his mirth. ‘We’ve renamed the meeting rooms. They used to be numbered but now we have Laughter, Joy, Happiness, Chuckles and Giggles. Cool, hey?’

‘Genius,’ said Laura, following him down another dark corridor at the end of which it seemed unlikely there would be anything approaching laughter, joy, happiness, chuckles or giggles.

They eventually entered a beige room, with beige carpet and beige chairs and a beige table, which instantly made you feel quite depressed. Blu-Tacked to the door was a sheet of A4 paper with a large pair of red lips on it and underneath ‘LAUGHTER’ spelt out in capital letters.

Laura sat down and tucked her new shiny boots under her chair, as far away from Archie as possible. She pulled a notebook and pen out of her bag.

‘So?’ she said, looking expectant. ‘You said on the phone that you needed a piece of bespoke research formulating to monitor the effectiveness of the
Malice in Wonderland
Halloween Show.’

Archie nodded enthusiastically but said nothing.

‘OK,’ said Laura, writing
Give me strength
at the top of her piece of paper. ‘So do you have any particular measurement in mind?’

‘Not really. We just want to know if it’s any good or not, which of course it will be because everything we do at Wonderland is utterly amazing.’

‘OK,’ Laura said again, writing
Shoot me now
on the next line down.

‘I know,’ Archie squeaked, looking very pleased with himself. ‘Why don’t we ask if watching the show makes them happy!’

‘Happy?’ asked Laura.

‘Yes.’ Archie nodded vigorously. ‘It’s one of our brand objectives. To make everyone happy. We aim to be the leading family brand for happiness.’

‘Yes,’ said Laura. ‘Just not sure if the right way to judge a Halloween show is how happy it makes you.’

‘Mmmm,’ said Archie, frowning for the first time.

‘Might I suggest that we keep it simple? That we ask the same sort of questions that we use on the overall park survey.’

Archie was still frowning.

‘We could ask people to rate the show out of ten just as we do for all the other attractions. Then we will at least have something to compare it to.’

Archie nodded.

‘We could also ask people if they would recommend the show to other visitors. That can be an effective way of asking in a different way if they enjoyed it.’

Archie nodded again.

‘What about asking if having a show is more likely to make them come back to visit next Halloween?’

Archie continued to silently nod.

‘So shall we do all that then?’ asked Laura.

‘Sounds brilliant. Great. Look forward to seeing the results,’ Archie said, getting up as if to leave.

‘Whoa,’ cried Laura. She couldn’t believe it. That wasn’t a meeting. It was a mother telling her son how to do his homework. She took a deep breath. ‘You need to tell me who you want asking, how many you want to ask, when you want it doing, when you want the results, all that sort of stuff.’