The Perfect Fit

by Mary Jayne Baker

  ‘S’pose.’ He was frowning at me, and I felt my cheeks heat. ‘Everything ok?’

  ‘Everything’s fine.’ They were all staring now, wondering what’d happened to turn me such a fetching shade of lobster. ‘I’m going to get a round in. You guys get thinking.’

  I was leaning against the bar watching the barmaid pour our drinks when someone tickled my hips from behind.

  ‘God, Marc,’ I said, patting my heart. ‘You nearly finished me off then.’

  ‘I often have that effect on women. Usually have to put a bit more effort in than that though.’ His grin disappeared when I didn’t smile. ‘You sure everything’s ok, Becky? You seem on edge.’

  ‘Bad night’s sleep, that’s all.’

  ‘You’re not pissed off with me, are you? You were a bit quick to turn down my offer of a script date.’

  ‘I just think we need all the help we can get.’

  ‘That’s all?’

  ‘Yes.’ I sighed and turned to look at him. ‘No.’

  ‘What is it?’ he asked, looking concerned.

  ‘It’s… well, it’s what you just said. It does sound like a date, doesn’t it?’ I held up my hand to stop him interrupting. ‘I know it isn’t. But you’re a man who likes women and I’m a woman who likes men and people might, you know, talk. About us spending so much time alone together.’

  ‘Who might talk?’

  ‘People round here,’ I said. ‘You know what they’re like. Our sordid affair could be the next Kit Beeton’s hot-tub parties. I’d hate Cole to think there was anything… you know.’

  ‘But there isn’t anything you know.’

  ‘All the same. I just…’ I trailed off, registering his hurt expression. ‘I think it’s better this way,’ I said in a small voice.

  ‘So are you saying we can’t be mates any more?’

  ‘God, no, that’s not what I meant at all!’ I said, horrified. ‘I just think, from now on, it’s better if we hang out as part of a group.’ I nodded to the table of our friends. ‘With these guys. I’m sorry, Marc.’

  He still looked hurt, but he made the effort to fix on a smile. ‘We’re ok though? Because I really like spending time with you. I’d hate to lose that.’

  ‘Course we’re ok.’ I gave his arm a playful punch. ‘I mean, we’ve juggled together, you don’t forget a bond like that. BFFs forever, pinky swear promise and all that Nickelodeon bollocks.’

  ‘Eurghh. Do we have to make each other bracelets?’

  I widened my eyes. ‘What, you don’t want to? I’ve been braiding for days.’

  He laughed. ‘All right, love. Let’s go fix this script, before the others think we’ve gone for a quickie.’

  ‘Ok.’ I grabbed his arm before he could walk off. ‘Marc?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I just want to say, before we go back… I really like spending time with you too. I mean, I’d miss you. If we couldn’t be mates any more. I want you to know that’s the last thing I’d ever, ever want.’ I pinkened in the face of his stare. ‘So… there.’

  He broke into a warm smile. ‘Thanks, Becks. I’d miss you too.’

  ‘You understand then?’

  ‘Yeah, I can see Cole’s point of view. If you were my girlfriend I’d probably feel weird knowing you were alone with another bloke all the time. Just as long as you’re not friend-dumping me.’ He looked at me keenly. ‘You actually are kind of my best mate, you know. Is that a bit sad?’

  ‘No. Not at all.’ I gave him a swift one-armed hug. ‘Come on then, bestie. Let’s innuendo.’

  Marc grabbed the drinks and we headed back.

  ‘Right. We think we’ve got one,’ Lana said as she took her Guinness.

  I sat down. ‘Ok, entendre me up.’

  Marcus didn’t go back to his old seat. Instead he sat next to me, where he could look at my notes over my shoulder.

  I subtly shuffled so his warm breath wasn’t on my neck. I didn’t want to feel him there if we were about to do sexy jokes.

  ‘How about this for the dancing lesson?’ Lana said. ‘The prince and the baron start waltzing and the prince forgets to take his sword out of its sheath. So then it pokes Harper in the hip and he says “Oooh, that’s a big one”.’

  Me and Marcus stared at her.

  ‘“That’s a big one”,’ she repeated. ‘You know, like a cock,’ she added helpfully.

  ‘Yeah, we got it.’ I shook my head. ‘You’ll have to do better than that, love.’

  ‘Plus if it’s anything like the first dress rehearsal, the last thing we want Harper and Maisie thinking about is cocks,’ Marcus muttered to me.

  ‘All right, how about “Is that a sword in your tights or are you just pleased to see me?”’ Lana said.

  ‘Too old school,’ Deano said. ‘We need something cheekier. Think Two Ronnies. Think seaside postcards. Think 1970s sitcoms.’

  ‘Here’s one,’ Stewart said. ‘Gerry comes into the kitchen holding two jugs of milk. Then you can get a line in about him having a great pair of jugs.’

  Lana raised her eyebrows at him and he shrugged. ‘What? I watched a lot of Carry On films as a kid.’

  ‘Hmm. Slightly better,’ I said, jotting it down. ‘Any more for any more?’

  ‘Rude poems where you don’t say the ending are good,’ Marcus said. ‘You know the sort of thing. “There was a young barmaid from Pogley, the lads all said she was canny. See her all right on a Saturday night and she’ll give you a flash of her –”’

  ‘Yeah, we get the idea,’ I said hastily. ‘Ok, a few of them. Oh, and how about this for the Ugly Sisters? Tabitha could tell Griselda she once acted in a play, then Griselda could ask if she had a large part.’

  ‘Oh! Like a cock,’ Lana observed cheerfully.

  I frowned at her. ‘Yes, Lana, like a cock. But the whole point of a double entendre is you have to let the audience work that out by themselves.’

  By the time we’d finished our second round of drinks the script was riddled with things that were secretly cocks, apart from the things that were secretly boobs, and even Deano, the hardest to please when it came to innuendo, agreed it was looking a lot more colourful. Whether the knob gags were going to stand up during performance, though (pun entirely intended), was something we wouldn’t find out until our second dress rehearsal the following day.

  Chapter 28

  ‘Oh. Hullo,’ Cole said when he came into the kitchen later. ‘I didn’t expect to run into you tonight. Aren’t you going to Marcus’s?’

  ‘No,’ I said, rummaging the cupboard for quick meal options. ‘No, not tonight.’

  He frowned when he opened the bin to empty the dregs of his Thai curry into it. ‘Why is there an unopened bag of crisps in here, Becky?’

  ‘I’m on a healthy-eating kick. Doritos are full of salt.’

  He quirked an eyebrow. ‘What, the queen of junk food is going on a diet?’

  ‘Better late than never, right?’ I selected a Pot Noodle and flicked the kettle on. ‘I’ll start as soon as I’ve eaten this.’

  ‘So why aren’t you going to Marcus’s? It’s his night to have you, isn’t it?’

  I winced. Of all the ways he could’ve phrased it…

  ‘I’d just rather spend the evening with you,’ I said. ‘I mean, if you’re not busy.’

  ‘That sounds nice.’ He put his arms around me from behind and started kissing the sensitive spot on my neck. ‘Don’t you need to work on your script though?’

  ‘It’s finished. Tonight’s group meeting at the pub was the last lot of changes we’re making.’

  ‘Marcus’s loss is my gain then,’ Cole mumbled between kisses. ‘Hey. We could always have an early night. What do you think?’

  ‘No… not tonight,’ I said, tilting my neck away from his lips. ‘Bit tired.’

>   ‘You’re tired a lot lately.’

  I wiggled out of his arms and turned to face him. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  He blinked. ‘Becky, it wasn’t an accusation. No need to be so touchy.’

  ‘Look, I know it’s been a while. It’s just… the panto and everything. Once it’s done, everything’ll go back to normal.’

  ‘I wasn’t trying to make you feel guilty,’ he said earnestly. ‘I’m just as happy with a cuddle. I’m worried about you burning out, that’s all.’

  ‘I’m fine.’ I sighed. ‘Sorry, love, didn’t mean to snap. I’m just tense this evening. Couldn’t get back to sleep after I woke up last night.’ I let him absorb me into an embrace. ‘Oh, guess what? I was looking at wedding venues in the shop today.’

  ‘It’s going to be a little while until we’ve got enough put away, Becky. Late next year at the earliest.’

  ‘I know, but it gives me something to look forward to.’

  He smiled. ‘Well, I’m glad you’re excited. I am too. I can’t wait to wake up next to my beautiful new wife.’

  I looked up into his face. Cole hadn’t changed much in the four years since we’d met. A couple of little crinkles bracketed the blue eyes, but they still held that absent, slightly baffled innocence that had first drawn me to him. They looked permanently far away, full of deep thoughts, as if the real world was the one in Cole’s head – the one where his paintings lived – and everything outside was a dream.

  I felt a surge of affection as I thought about every sacrifice he’d made for me, his love for me; the man himself. All mingled with a crushing guilt over the attraction that, try as I might, I couldn’t help feeling for Marcus.

  I’d just have to conquer it, that was all. I loved Cole. Whatever I felt towards Marcus would soon go away once the panto was over and we stopped seeing so much of each other.

  I reached up to draw a tender finger down his cheek.

  ‘Cole, you know that I… I mean, I want you to know I’d never hurt you. Not on purpose. You know that, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, darling, of course I do,’ he said. ‘What’s brought this on?’

  ‘Oh, nothing. Hormones and sleep deprivation.’ I smiled. ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to be weird. Why don’t you go find something on TV while I get us drinks? Then we can have a nice evening snuggling.’

  Cole went into the living room while I poured a couple of glasses of wine.

  ‘Anything decent?’ I asked as I handed him his drink and joined him on the sofa with my Pot Noodle.

  ‘Not really. I’m assuming you wouldn’t be interested in Hockney: A Retrospective on the Arts channel?’

  I grimaced. ‘Honestly?’

  ‘I’ll keep looking.’

  TV was always hard work. Nights in front of the telly usually involved a compromise that left one or both of us asleep before the end of whatever we were watching.

  ‘Oh! Stop there,’ I said as Cole channel-hopped. ‘No, down one – that’s it!’

  He frowned. ‘A reality show? You don’t like those, do you?’

  ‘It’s The Brady Bunch. Don’t you remember me telling you? Some of it was shot at our panto rehearsals. Didn’t realise it was already airing.’

  ‘You mean you and Marcus and the others are in it?’

  ‘Yeah, bits of it.’

  The early scenes were all of Harper and Maisie, playing with their puppy, entertaining their celeb pals, going to photoshoots and acting jobs. Gav’s shaky fly-on-the-wall footage was interspersed with talking-head interviews, where either Harper, Maisie or one of their mates would get dragged into a private room and asked questions.

  The show was minutes in when a face I recognised popped up.

  I giggled. ‘Oh God, it’s Stew. Doesn’t look right happy, does he?’

  ‘Who’s Stew?’ Cole asked.

  ‘Lana’s husband.’ I shook my head. ‘You’ve met him a dozen times, Cole.’

  ‘What’s your relationship to the Bradys?’ the muttered voice of Gavin asked TV Stew.

  ‘Professional gimp,’ Stew said gravely. ‘They don’t let me out normally. Not in daylight, anyway.’

  ‘This will be broadcast nationally, Mr McLean. Could you spare the levity?’

  Stew grinned. ‘All right, I’ll do it properly. I’m Harper’s cousin.’

  ‘Are the two of you close?’

  ‘Yeah, suppose we are.’ He turned to call over his shoulder. ‘Harper, do I have to do this?’

  ‘Yes!’ the voice of Harper sailed back from somewhere. ‘Aunty Heather said there’d be trouble if you didn’t.’

  Stewart sighed. ‘Go on, Gav. Apparently I’m under orders from my mum.’

  ‘It sounds like the two of you have more of a sibling relationship than cousins,’ Gavin observed. ‘Why is that?’

  ‘Er, that’s kind of personal.’

  ‘That’s the whole point!’ Harper’s voice called again. ‘Get on with it, Stew.’

  ‘Stop eavesdropping!’ Stewart yelled back. ‘This is the private bit.’

  Cole nudged me. ‘Didn’t your actor friend think to edit this before it went out?’

  I shrugged. ‘Probably thought it’d show his human side, that rapport with Stew. Harper doesn’t seem to recognise any boundary between his private life and his public image.’

  ‘Harper’s mum died when he was eighteen, and she was bringing him up alone before that,’ Stewart told Gavin, and several million viewers. ‘We were both only children, and we grew up together.’

  ‘Harper’s mum being Sonia Brady?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Millionaire sauce bottle inventor Sonia Brady?’

  ‘The money came later,’ Stewart said. ‘When Harper was little they were pretty broke.’

  ‘What do you think of Maisie?’

  ‘I think she’s a lovely girl. Perfect for him.’

  ‘Mr Brady once dated the lady who’s now your wife, I believe. Did it cause any tension between the two of you?’

  Stew laughed. ‘Now that I’m not answering or I’ll have Lana on my case. Let’s just say we’re all friends now.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ I muttered. ‘She never told me that.’

  ‘How are you finding Maisie’s acting?’ Gav asked Stew. ‘I believe it was you who recommended her for your village pantomime.’

  ‘Her approach is certainly… creative,’ Stew answered diplomatically.

  His interview faded and the backstage area at the Temp came into focus.

  ‘Oh! It’s me!’ I said, grabbing Cole’s arm. ‘Ugh, is this really going out nationally? The state of my hair.’

  ‘What on earth are you doing?’ Cole said.

  I laughed at the little person on TV, bouncing on her haunches with her mouth wide open. ‘Watch and see.’

  Sure enough, a second later a Malteser sailed through the air and landed right in TV me’s gob. Catching it made me lose my balance and I rolled over backwards like a Weeble, giggling.

  ‘Oh God,’ I groaned. ‘I look a right tit.’

  ‘Where did that chocolate come from?’ Cole asked.

  ‘Marc chucked it. It’s a game we invented to amuse ourselves between scenes. We call it Human Malteser Pong.’

  Cole blinked. ‘How bizarre.’

  ‘We’ve got a million of them. Human Buckaroo’s my favourite, but we only get to play that when Gerry falls asleep.’

  Next the camera cut to me and Maisie performing one of our scenes. Oh God, it was excruciating.

  Was that really what my voice sounded like? And was my head that enormous in real life? Ugh, and there was a song number coming up…

  ‘The lady playing Jack isn’t very good, is she?’ Cole said.

  ‘No. She has improved a bit since then though. And she’s Prince Charming in th
e new script so she hasn’t got as many lines.’

  ‘You’re wonderful though, darling,’ he said as I started belting out my song. He leaned over to peck my cheek. ‘I’m very proud of you.’

  The camera cut again, to Harper this time in a private interview.

  ‘What made you and your wife decide to perform in a little production like this?’ invisible Gavin asked.

  ‘Maisie and I are both very socially conscious,’ Harper said. ‘When my cousin told me his village hall was at stake, of course we had to get involved.’

  ‘You do a lot for this village, don’t you?’ Gav said.

  ‘I do what I can,’ Harper said, spontaneously sprouting a halo and wings. ‘But it was Maisie’s idea to volunteer for the pantomime. She’s the best-kept secret in showbusiness, the greatest little actress. It’s like my girl to use that to help people.’

  What Harper seemed to have forgotten was that the TV audience had just watched Maisie acting, so that really wasn’t going to wash.

  Harper faded and Maisie herself appeared, her Yorkie pup Teddy tucked under her arm.

  ‘How do you find the other pantomime actors to work with?’ Gavin asked her.

  ‘Oh, I’ve been very impressed,’ Maisie said, beaming. ‘At the end of the day it is just a tinpot village production, even with the two of us involved, but these people could hold their own against the best in the business.’

  ‘Such as?’

  Maisie, not actually having worked with the best in the business, looked lost for a moment. ‘Oh, well, Harper, of course,’ she fumbled. ‘And, er… Kevin Bacon.’

  ‘And your leading lady – Becky Finn. Do you like working with her?’

  ‘She’s wonderful, honey, just wonderful. Of course she’s an amateur, she doesn’t have that star quality that my Harper, or –’ she coloured prettily – ‘or perhaps I have. But she does perfectly well for a little thing like this. She’s so eager to learn too, I’ve enjoyed mentoring her.’

  ‘Do you think you’ll stay in touch?’

  ‘Oh, no. I shouldn’t think so.’

  Cole examined my scarlet cheeks with concern. ‘Are you all right, Becky?’