The Perfect Fit

by Mary Jayne Baker

  The only real problem was Maisie.

  ‘No, no, no!’ Deano yelled when for the third time in a row she failed to deliver her pet rock line in a way that would get a laugh.

  ‘Didn’t I do it right?’

  ‘No you didn’t do it right. You never do it right.’ He shook his head. ‘Have you practised at all?’

  ‘Of course I’ve practised,’ she said, drawing herself up. ‘Haven’t I, Harper?’

  He nodded. ‘We rehearse together every night. That’s why she’s line-perfect.’

  ‘It’s not her memory that’s the problem,’ Deano said. ‘It’s her complete inability to bloody act that’s going to sink my panto.’

  Maisie’s face crumpled.

  Harper frowned. ‘No need, mate.’

  ‘I know. Sorry,’ Deano said, pushing his fingers into his hair. ‘Sorry, Mais, I didn’t mean that. You are getting better. Just… keep working on your delivery, ok?’

  ‘Ok, Chef,’ she mumbled. ‘I’ll try.’

  We made it through the next few scenes without incident, and Deano was actually smiling by the time we reached the ball. I sailed on stage in the new, lighter dress I’d borrowed from Fancypants, confident I could manage to glide around the ballroom without giving Maisie an asthma attack. Now that the stage was fully loaded with the eight members of the adult chorus as well as principals, it felt for the first time like I was turning up to a real ball.

  It was when Lana bellowed Maisie’s cue that we realised we had a problem.

  ‘His royal highness, Prince Charming of Rummancoke!’

  And… nothing.

  ‘Oh God, not again,’ Deano muttered. ‘For fu–’ He caught sight of a little Pikachu, picking her nose in the wings, and his eye started going. ‘For flipping heck’s sake. Will somebody go find the prince and tell him he’s missed his blood– his ruddy cue again please?’

  ‘I’ll go.’ I gave his shoulder a squeeze as I walked past. ‘Don’t be too hard on her, eh? I think you really hurt her feelings before.’

  She wasn’t backstage. I knew she couldn’t be bonking in a cupboard with Harper this time either. He was in the audience with Stew.

  ‘For God’s sake,’ I muttered. Deano’s head was going to explode if this kept happening.

  I headed downstairs to the toilets. There was no sound from the cleaner’s cupboard, thankfully, but when I pushed open the door to the Ladies, there was a noise coming from in there. It sounded like… sobbing.

  ‘Hello?’

  No answer. I crouched down to look under the doors. Sure enough, a pair of heeled principal boy boots attached to a couple of long, shapely legs were visible in the second cubicle.

  I knocked on the door. ‘You missed your cue again, Mais.’

  ‘Go… away,’ she sobbed. ‘I’m not coming.’

  ‘Open the door, love. Let me take you to Harper.’

  ‘No. I’m staying here where Gav can’t get at me.’

  ‘You can’t hide forever.’

  ‘Can too.’

  ‘Let me in then.’

  There was silence, just the sound of gulped sobs filling the empty air. Then I heard the lock slide back.

  Maisie was sitting on the closed loo seat, mascara streaked down her face.

  ‘What’s up, Maisie?’ I said gently. ‘Is this because Deano told you off?’

  ‘Yes,’ she sniffed. ‘A bit.’

  ‘He does it to all of us, you know. It’s nothing personal.’

  ‘He hates me. You all hate me because I’ve got no talent.’

  ‘Come on, you know that’s not true.’

  ‘Yeah? Then tell me which of you voted for me to play this part. I bet Deano didn’t, did he?’

  ‘No,’ I admitted. ‘But that doesn’t mean he hates you.’

  ‘What about Marc?’

  ‘He doesn’t hate you either.’

  ‘But I bet he didn’t vote for me. Because I’m the world’s worst actor, right?’

  ‘You’re not the world’s worst actor.’

  She ignored me. ‘So that just leaves Stew and Lana, because they’re Harper’s family, and that pervert from the pub. Real vote of confidence.’

  ‘Not just them. I voted for you.’

  ‘I know. And now you hate me most of everyone.’ She looked up through bleary eyes. ‘Did you really vote for me because you thought I could be good?’

  ‘Well… partly, yeah,’ I said, deciding honesty was probably the best policy at this stage. ‘You know, with enough practice. But also because I thought you’d help us make some cash for this place.’

  ‘I thought so. The legs, right? Everyone’s a big fan of the legs. Oh, and the breasts. Sometimes even I forget there’s a head stuck on top.’

  There was a knock at the door.

  ‘Are you two in there?’ Harper called.

  ‘Yeah, Maisie’s not feeling too hot,’ I called back. ‘Can you get Deano to call a time-out for ten minutes?’

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘You ok, babe? Need me to get you anything?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Maisie said, trying not to sound too choked. ‘Er, period pains. Just waiting for the ibuprofen to kick in.’

  ‘Maybe I did mainly vote for you to make money for the Temp,’ I said when he’d gone. ‘You’re famous and Harper’s famous, and people like to see famous people. That doesn’t mean I think you’re a bad actor.’

  ‘I am though. I stopped kidding myself ages ago. Harper’s the only person who still thinks I’ve got any talent, and he’s biased.’

  ‘You’re better than you think,’ I said earnestly. ‘You’ve surprised me, sometimes. You just need to channel the character.’

  She laughed. ‘In a pantomime?’

  ‘In a pantomime more than anything. Kids need to believe it’s real far more than adults do.’ I stopped, hit by a sudden idea, and filed it away for later.

  ‘You know why I started modelling, Becky?’ Maisie said.

  ‘Because you’re gorgeous?’

  She smiled. ‘You’re sweet. But yeah, kind of. Because I looked good, but mainly because I was shit at everything else.’

  ‘That’s bollocks,’ I said firmly. ‘You’re an amazing dancer, for a start.’

  ‘No. I’m an ok dancer, and that’s after years of practice.’

  ‘Well, that’s the same for everyone. Nobody gets good at anything without practice.’

  ‘Maybe. But taking my clothes off was easy money, something I didn’t need to work at to do well. It ruined my life for a while, but it was easy money.’

  ‘Ruined your life!’

  ‘Until I met Harper, yeah. I was never ashamed of the work, but when it came to my private life – I mean, my confidence was shot, my love life in tatters. All the blokes I went out with saw in me were tits and legs.’ She let out a bleak laugh. ‘And because I got them out for a living, some of them thought they were entitled to tell me to get them out for them whenever they felt like it. Some of them were… not nice men, Becky.’

  ‘Hmm. I’m guessing Harper told you what that guy said at Yo-yo’s wedding?’

  ‘He told me he thumped someone. I worked out the rest.’ She smiled fondly. ‘He’s so naive. He thinks he can protect me from that stuff, I haven’t got the heart to tell him I’ve been hearing it for years. Trust me, the man he punched was a long way from the first guy to call me a whore.’

  I flinched. ‘Don’t use that word. It’s horrible.’

  ‘Not my word, honey. Their word.’ She grabbed some loo roll to mop her eyes. ‘That’s one reason I fell for Harper. Ok, there was that physical aspect to it, when we met. I knew it was my body that first attracted him to me, and vice versa, if I’m honest. But he does love me. For myself, I mean.’

  I smiled. ‘He really does.’

  ‘I’d nev
er had a boyfriend like him. We’d been together a month when he took me home to meet his aunty and uncle, and Stew and Lana, and he seemed so proud of me – like he really respected me, you know? And his family were lovely. They made me feel like I belonged.’

  ‘Does he get on with your parents?’

  She flushed. ‘We’re not really in touch. They’re dead religious. Don’t approve of the whole modelling thing.’

  ‘Here. Budge up.’ She shifted over on her loo seat so I could plant half a bum down. ‘You belong here too, you know. We’re your friends now.’

  ‘But I’ve been so mean to you,’ she mumbled. ‘On TV and everything.’

  ‘Yeah. Why was that?’

  She shrugged. ‘Jealous, I guess.’

  ‘Seriously?’ I shook my head. ‘That’s what Marc said, but I didn’t believe him. I thought you were just being bitchy.’

  ‘I was really,’ she admitted. ‘You’re so bloody good at everything, aren’t you? You can act, sing, juggle. You’re funny. I’m just the lass who gets her tits out in the papers.’

  ‘Not to us you’re not. You’re Maisie.’

  She glanced up. ‘How do you do it so it feels real like that? The acting?’

  ‘Well, I…’ I frowned. ‘Dunno really. S’pose it’s all about being in the character’s head. Feeling what they feel, seeing things how they see them. Accepting a new reality, then chucking a bit of empathy at it.’

  ‘Harper’s always saying stuff like that. Sounds like nonsense to me.’

  ‘It’s hard to explain. You’ll get it though, eventually.’ I stood up. ‘We’d better go up. Just remember that we’ve got your back, ok? You can do this.’

  ‘You really believe that?’

  ‘I really do. Now come on, love. Fix your make-up, take me up those stairs and convince me you want to marry me. We shall go to the ball.’

  Maisie grabbed my arm as I turned to leave the cubicle. ‘Becky, can I tell you a secret?’

  ‘Dunno. Is it something good?’

  ‘I don’t know yet,’ she said, flushing. ‘You can’t tell anyone though, ok? Not even Harper.’

  I frowned. ‘What is it, Mais?’

  ‘It’s me.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’m going to have a baby.’

  Chapter 37

  Date: one month until opening night.

  It was the second week in November, and in the shop windows and public buildings of Egglethwaite, it was beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Even at the Fox, despite Billy’s rumblings that it got earlier every year, there was a smattering of pink tinsel over the quiz machine. The place was looking a lot more feminine since its new landlady had taken up residence.

  That Saturday was the afternoon of our big Christmas Fair, and when I arrived at the Temp, it was already in full swing. I fought my way through the throng of villagers browsing stalls to Stew, who was leaning against the wall beaming at Lana while she played a Frosty the Snowman solo with Egglethwaite Silver up on stage.

  ‘Bloody hell. It looks like somebody sicked up Christmas round here,’ I said. There were two huge decorated trees flanking the stage, swathed in multi-coloured fairy lights. Giant metallic baubles in red and gold were strung from every beam and the rich scents of cloves and cinnamon and pine mingled in the air.

  ‘Yeah, Yo-yo and the decorating committee went a bit over the top. Happens every year.’ Stew glanced at what I was wearing. ‘Pretty festive yourself.’

  I was in a knitted reindeer jumper, a flashing LED keeping the nose rosy. Posters had said there was a competition for the best Christmas jumper, with the chance to win a pie and a pint at Pie and a Pint, so I thought I’d better show willing.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said. His eyes had fixed on Lana and the band again. ‘You look very proud today.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I look proud? It’s not everyone who’s got a tromboning wife. You haven’t got one.’

  ‘Ok, you’ve got me there.’

  ‘Here, Becks. Have a cigar.’ He took a large, shrink-wrapped cigar from his pocket and handed it to me.

  ‘Er, thanks,’ I said, blinking at it. ‘I don’t smoke though.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. You can keep it as a souvenir.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ I said as the penny dropped. ‘Are these new-dad cigars? You two got matched to a kid, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yep,’ he said, grinning. ‘Jay, two years old, cute as a button. We’re going to meet him next week.’ He took out his phone and showed me a photo of a tousle-haired little boy, grinning at the camera with his teeth and mouth covered in chocolate.

  ‘Awww. What a sweetheart.’

  ‘Isn’t he? If it all goes as planned, we’ll be mum-and-dadding in the new year.’

  ‘Congratulations, Stew. That’s brilliant news.’ I grabbed him for a hug. ‘You’ll be fantastic.’

  ‘Lana will be. I’m just planning to follow her lead.’ He nodded towards the floor. ‘Someone small seems to be trying to get our attention.’

  Pip was smirking up at us, clutching a couple of gift-wrapped parcels. While dressed as a camel, for some reason.

  ‘Hello, tiny,’ I said, lifting her up. ‘Oof. Getting heavy. Why are you a camel?’

  ‘Because she’s got the hump,’ Stew said. ‘Get it, Pips? That’s a joke.’

  Pip giggled. ‘Yeh, coz camels are humpy.’

  ‘Why really though?’ I asked her.

  ‘Beavers’re doing a play when Aunty Lana’s band stop. S’called an activity.’

  Stew looked puzzled. ‘Activity?’

  ‘I think she means a nativity,’ I said, smiling.

  ‘Oh. Why’ve you got two presents, Pips?’

  ‘Santa gave them me,’ she told him proudly.

  ‘Been to see the big man, have you?’

  ‘Yep.’ She pointed through the door to the backstage area, where we’d made a grotto for Gerry and his entourage – one elf, as played by Noah, a spotty teenager who had a Saturday job up at Holyfield Farm, and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Sheepdog, portrayed for the third year in a row by Flash. ‘He’s in there. He doesn’t live there though, he lives at the North Pole.’

  ‘That’s a long way to come just to see us.’

  ‘Yeh, but he’s magic so he can do it fast.’

  ‘Weren’t you frightened?’ I asked her. ‘Last year you wouldn’t say a word to him.’

  ‘He’s not so scary now I’m big.’ She cocked her head thoughtfully. ‘And he smells like Grandad Gerry now, so that makes him not scary too.’

  ‘Roll-ups and beer?’ Stew muttered to me. ‘I bet he does.’

  Pip giggled. ‘Santa’s got Flash, Uncle Stew. He’s pretending to be a reindeer. Santa said his real reindeers weren’t allowed in coz they’d poo everywhere.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Stew said gravely. ‘Santa asked me and Aunty Lana and we said Flash wouldn’t mind being a reindeer for the day.’

  ‘How come Santa let you have two presents, Pips?’ I asked. ‘You’re only supposed to be allowed one before Christmas.’

  ‘Coz I told him I was getting a new cousin but not till after Christmas and he said I could save a present for him.’

  Stew laughed. ‘Sounds like a sneaky way to get extra presents to me.’

  Someone nudged me. I peered round the bundle of kid in my arms at Cameron and Tom.

  ‘Think you’ve got something that belongs to us,’ Cam said.

  ‘Here you go,’ I said, plonking Pip back down on the floor. ‘I was getting arm-ache anyway. Heavy things, camels.’

  ‘I actually meant that boxset of Breaking Bad I lent you.’ He shrugged. ‘But go on, we’ll take the child while we’re here.’

  ‘Look at Papa’s jumper,’ Pip whispered, tugging at my sleeve. ‘It’s really silly. Isn’t it, Aunty Becky?’

  I scanned Tom’s Christmas jum
per, which bore a knitted Darth Vader and the legend ‘I find your lack of cheer disturbing’.

  ‘Nice, Tommy. Geek chic.’

  ‘This is my lucky jumper, I’ll have you know, little girl,’ Tom said, crouching down to tickle his daughter.

  ‘Why is it lucky?’ Pip asked, squirming. ‘Does it make you win things?’

  He smiled up at his husband. ‘Well, I was wearing it when I won one thing I’m quite attached to.’ Cam squeezed his shoulder fondly.

  ‘I want hot chocolate,’ Pip told them in an imperious little voice, oblivious to any notion of romance between people as ancient as her parents.

  Cameron shook his head. ‘Try again with the magic word, Pips.’

  ‘Please may I have hot chocolate. With marshmallows.’

  ‘Better. Now we just need to work on turning it into a question.’ Cam waved goodbye. ‘See you later, guys. Congrats again, Stew.’

  ‘And cheers for the cigars,’ Tom said.

  They each took one of Pip’s hands and half walked, half swung her towards the kitchen hatch, where some Ladies Who Lunch were serving refreshments.

  ‘So did you pick up any tips there?’ I asked Stew.

  ‘Yeah, one. Do you think if I told Gerry I was just minding it, he’d let me have Harper’s present too?’

  The band were downing instruments to take a break. Lana stuck her trombone on its stand and joined us.

  ‘Did Stew tell you the news?’ she demanded.

  ‘That he’s got a devious plan to con Father Christmas out of two gifts? Yeah.’

  She nudged her husband. ‘You did tell her, didn’t you?’

  I pulled out my cigar and gave it a Groucho-style waggle.