by Unknown
‘There are only three stores in the UK that have a size fourteen.’
‘That’s fantastic. Where are they?’
‘Cardiff, Manchester or Brighton.’
‘Oh blimey,’ I say again. Well, I guess Brighton’s only a three-hour round journey, maybe Henri’s sister won’t mind a little road-trip whilst she’s in the country.
‘Yes, isn’t it perfect? You’re off there this afternoon, so you can pick it up.’
‘Oh, hang on now, Henri. I can’t go and get it, I’m driving a minibus full of my work colleagues on a team-building trip that I’m organising. I can’t just drive into the centre of Brighton to pick up a dress.’
‘I’m sure no one will mind.’
‘Henri, I’m not even going anywhere near Brighton. We’re going into the South Downs countryside.’
‘But you have to! You’re the only one that is going anywhere near.’
‘Can’t you or your sister go, tomorrow?’
‘No, there’s no time, we’re in the hairdressers getting our hair dyed today, then we’ve got the spa tomorrow followed by the mani-pedi.’
I don’t think I can really point out that maybe getting a dress to wear for her big day might be a slightly higher priority than a spa day, but as I was the person who, an hour ago, said that there would be an easy solution, I probably don’t have a leg to stand on.
‘What about getting the store to courier it down?’
‘Apparently they don’t do that. If you want them to send it between stores you have to allow at least two days and there isn’t time. And I don’t know anyone who lives in Cardiff, Brighton or Manchester to post it to me, I’ve thought of everything, I really have.’
‘OK, calm down, Henri,’ I say as I can hear her voice starting to go funny like she’s starting to cry. ‘I’ll tell you what, I’ll look at our route and see if we are going anywhere near Brighton.’
‘Oh, Penny, you’re a life-saver. A dream come true.’
‘I’ll phone you back in a minute,’ I say.
I put the phone down, just as Shelly comes back to her desk. That would be the last thing I needed at the moment, her to find out about the Henri dress errand that I’m probably going to have to run.
‘Here’s your sandwich,’ says Shelly, handing it between the no man’s land between our desk, which is where we used to keep shared copies of Marie Claire and Heat. Only, now that we’re in serious competition, they’ve been replaced by copies of HR Magazine.
I pull up the route on Google Maps and conflicting feelings of dismay and relief wash over me. We are staying in the scout hut which looks to be about twenty minutes, at most, outside of Brighton. A plan hatches in my head as I do the necessary research into where the Brighton branch is and how I’m going to navigate my way through the city centre.
I pick up my mobile and text Henri. I’m too afraid to call in case Shelly overhears.
We’re on. Text me the details of where and who I pick it up from. x x
I press send, and I hope that I’m not about to do something that’s going to come back to haunt me.
chapter nineteen
princess-on-a-shoestring:
Ask Penny!
Dear Penny,
I want to have a photo booth at my wedding where people take photos of themselves and then they get uploaded onto Facebook, only I can’t afford to have one as they’re so expensive!
Amber J
Dear Amber J,
Don’t despair, just get a digital camera and a tripod and make your own booth! Pick a blank bit of wall at your reception venue, place a table next to it with props like wigs, hats, glasses and inflatable guitars etc. Either write instructions for people to use the timer or get them to ask another guest to take the pics. Then you can upload the photos to Facebook from the memory card. So it might not be as high-tech as a fancy photo booth, but the results will be just as fun.
Penny x x
We manage to make it to the scout hut on time, which I think is impressive, considering I was driving one of the minibuses. Not only did we not get lost, but I also resisted all urges to sing classic road-trip songs like, ‘Take Me Home, Country Roads’, that I do to the annoyance of Mark every time we drive for more than an hour. No one was sick (which I felt was an indication of my excellent driving skills) and we only had to stop once for a toilet stop at my insistence.
I was slightly disappointed that people didn’t think we should play games like Twenty Questions or I-Spy. I thought it might be fun to start the team rivalries – gee us up for the competition, but no one seemed that bothered. Instead, they spent most of the trip with headphones in their ears or surfing on phones. Clearly they’re not very excited about the prospect of tomorrow’s mobile-free day. Luckily for me, next to the driver’s seat and chief navigator was Annie. Who, let’s just say, kept me company all the way. I think my ears are going to still be ringing tonight.
According to my instructions from Henri, TK Maxx is open until seven p.m. and Brighton is twenty-two minutes away. As far as I know, we’re not doing anything special tonight, other than the cook-out which means I should be able to slip off for an hour without anyone noticing. I didn’t imagine that I’d be trying to escape and evade everyone before we’d even started the competition, but I guess it’s all good practice for the main event tomorrow.
I step out of the minibus and immediately lock eyes with a man who has to be Baz. He’s dressed in full green camouflage and is sporting a ’tash circa 1980.
‘Hello, Baz,’ I say, receiving a very firm handshake which has the potential to rip my arm out of its socket. I always say that I like a firm handshake, but that was something else.
‘Penny,’ he says in the same way that Len says seven in Strictly Come Dancing. ‘If you get everyone to line up in their teams, we’ll get everyone kitted out, and then we’ll have a mini briefing session before we go and get some scram.’
‘Great,’ I say, no hanging around here, no comfort breaks or a cup of tea. We are, as they say, in the Army now.
After getting everyone into their teams in almost straight lines, we follow Baz into a large wooden hut. It’s got that rustic cabin in the woods type feel to it, along with a pungent smell of disinfectant mixed with smelly feet and wood.
‘Right, listen up. There are piles of kit that you will need. First you will pick up a Bergen.’
It’s a good job that Baz is holding up a large rucksack as, to be honest, it sounded like he was telling us to pick up a tasty snack.
‘You will then walk around the edge of the room, stopping at each pile of kit and taking it. It might not look like anything useful to you, but it might just be a vital piece of kit for tomorrow’s exercise.
‘The only things you will need to try on are your helmet and your boiler suit. Everything else is one size. Helmets and boiler suits are at the end there. I will call people over, team by team, to get them. Understood?’
I look round at everyone and we all nod our heads in fear as he doesn’t sound like he’d be sympathetic if we said no.
‘I said understood,’ says Baz so loudly that the walls seem to shake and I’m sure I can see dust falling out of the roof.
‘Understood,’ we all say like schoolchildren.
Blimey, Baz truly is a SSM.
*
When Baz told us he was going to kit us out, he wasn’t joking. I don’t entirely know what I need all of this kit for, but one thing’s for sure, there isn’t going to be a lot of room for any of my ‘essentials’. I’m thinking the tinted moisturiser, foot lotion and deodorant aren’t going to make the cut.
Mr I-Don’t-Believe-in-Armies is looking pleased with himself at the fact we are wearing plain khaki boiler suits. I don’t want to point out to him that I’m sure somewhere in the world an army fights in this kind of outfit, but I must remember the prime objectives of this trip are a) not to get lynched, and b) to make sure everything runs smoothly so I get the promotion. Which means I have to be nice to him.
‘Right then, privates,’ says Baz, to much sniggering, mostly from the men. ‘You will pick up your roll-mats and your sleeping bag and you will make up your bed in here.’
I look round the sparsely populated room and wonder exactly what he means. Everyone else is doing the same and then, for some reason, they’re looking at me. And then I remember that I’m in charge.
‘Baz, can I, um, have a word?’ I ask. ‘Talk amongst yourselves,’ I call as I walk towards him. ‘I thought that we were sleeping in dormitories?’
‘Er, no. You’re doing the escape and evasion package.’
‘That’s right, for the day,’ I say nodding.
‘Well it starts tonight. We have you all in one room, sleeping on the floor so you start off tomorrow morning sleep deprived. It’s the next best thing to dumping you in the woods overnight. We used to actually get people to shelter build and sleep outside, but we found that teams would sneak off and try and get a head start.’
‘But there aren’t any beds.’
‘No, there aren’t. You’ve got a roll-mat and a roof over your head, that’s all you need.’
‘But we needed separate accommodation between the women and the men.’
‘Penny, we’ll just split it down the middle.’
I’m starting to feel ever so slightly queasy. Gunther and Giles spent their lunchtime at Chez Vivant, how are they going to cope lying on a bit of foam? And not only that, how am I going to cope sleeping in the same room as all these men? The smells and noises that emanate from my own husband are bad enough; how awful will it be with twenty of them?
‘Right,’ I say nodding and wishing I’d bought ear plugs and a nose peg.
I go back over and join the line of people listening to the briefing.
‘So, you will all be sleeping in here tonight on roll-mats and sleeping bags. Women down that end, men down the other. I suggest you take some time to get yourself sorted and pack your bags. Dinner will be at 1900 hours,’ shouts Baz.
Perfect, I think. It’s six now, I’ve got an hour to get to Brighton and back, that sounds doable.
‘After dinner, we’ll give you some tips for escape and evasion. Then I suggest that you get an early night, we will be setting out to your start locations at 0530. This means you must be up, dressed and ready in your full kit by 0530. You will need to have breakfast before you go; it can be found in your ration pack. Enjoy.’
I’m starting to imagine what kind of breakfast you get in a ration pack, as any illusion of a nice hearty full English to give us energy for the day disappears.
‘There are showers, in case any of you are brave enough to use them. They are solar-powered, and hot water is on a first-come first-served basis.’
Luckily, I’ve bought a family-size pack of wet wipes so I’m happy to make do for a day with those.
‘Right then, I’ll leave you to pack your bags. Remember you will be carrying these tomorrow over rough and, in some places, difficult terrain. Only carry what you absolutely need. Now, get to it.’
I rush off almost a little too quickly and secure myself a space in a corner in the women’s section of the barn. I unroll the roll-mat and throw along my sleeping bag. I’m just going to have to make time to pack my big bag later as I really need to get going to make it to Brighton in time.
I make it outside the doorway of the barn when someone calls my name.
I turn round and realise that it’s Anthony, the sales director.
‘Hi, Anthony,’ I say, hoping that he’s simply going to congratulate me on my excellent organisational skills.
‘About this sleeping arrangement. I don’t think that it’s very appropriate for the senior managers to sleep on the floor next to the other staff, is it? I mean, Gunther Jacobson is here, Penny.’
‘Well, I don’t hear him complaining,’ I say looking longingly over at the minibus. I’m desperate to make a bid for freedom, and every minute I’m talking to Anthony is another minute wasted not getting this dress.
‘He’s probably too embarrassed. I just don’t understand how we’re supposed to get these people to respect us and take us seriously when they’ve seen us sleeping.’
I wonder what is it that Anthony does in his sleep that would make people not respect him.
‘Anthony, the barn has no windows in it, it’s going to be pitch black. No one will see you sleeping.’
‘That’s not the point. I’d rather check into a hotel.’
Me too, I want to scream, but I don’t. Instead, I take a deep breath. I feel like pointing out to him that he agreed to come on this sodding trip and as a manager he should lead by example. But I’m worried that it will come out a bit snide. I’m supposed to be in charge here and I’ve got to find a way of resolving the situation without shouting at him, and in double-quick time so that I can go to Brighton.
‘Anthony, look, I think rather than taking away respect for you, sleeping amongst the staff will give you it. You’ll be known as one of the team, one that mucks in with everyone else. All you’ll be doing by going to the hotel is alienating yourself.’
I almost do an involuntary dribble as I think of a hotel room with a comfy bed, a bath and clean fluffy towels. Sod the bridesmaid dress, I should be going in search of that instead.
‘Do you think so?’
‘I know so. Look, go into the barn, set up your bedding and chat to those in your team. You may find you actually have fun.’
Anthony looks at me in horror.
‘OK, perhaps not fun, but it might not be as bad as you imagine. You know sleeping on the floor sometimes does wonders for the posture.’
‘I guess so,’ Anthony walks off slowly back towards the barn and I give myself a virtual pat on the back for sorting out the problem.
I glance at my watch, how did that take ten minutes to sort out? I’m cutting it fine if I’m going to get there and back by seven.
‘Penny!’
I turn round and see Gunther towering over me.
‘Are you leaving?’ he asks as I’ve got the door open to the minibus.
‘No, no. I just thought I’d left my mobile in here,’ I say looking around for it in exaggeration. ‘I guess not,’ I say acting surprised, despite the fact that it’s in one of the myriad pockets of my combat trousers. ‘I’ll find it in a minute. What can I do for you, Gunther?’
‘It’s about my meals.’
If he’s going to say anything about changing, I’m going to lose it. The number of conversations I had with Giles and Gunther’s PA about it, not to mention the terse conversations with Baz. I don’t want to go there again. ‘What about them?’
‘Well, it’s just that I’ve been given a vegetarian ration pack.’
‘OK,’ I say. ‘And you can’t eat any of it?’
‘Bits, but the main meal is vegetable Thai curry, and I can’t eat that. I wonder if you could sort it out for me?’
I look longingly at the driver’s seat of the minibus and I step back and shut the door.
‘Of course, Gunther.’
‘Thanks, Penny. I don’t want to make a fuss.’
No, no fuss at all. I think to myself.
I head back into the barn where Baz is helping someone pack their bags.
‘Baz, I just need a quick word,’ I say.
He looks up at me and sighs.
‘I promise I won’t keep doing this,’ I say.
‘What can I do for you?’
‘Remember how we were talking about the vegan?’
‘How could I forget?’
‘Well, it seems like he has a vegetarian pack.’
‘Oh, well you’ll have to speak to Knobby, he does the food. He’s over there.’
I look over to see a tall, lanky guy in combats and go up to him. I don’t really want to ask him if he’s called Knobby, it’s one thing for a butch, scary man to call you that, quite another for a little woman to.
‘Um, hi. Baz sent me over to speak to you about the food. It’s just that o
ne of my colleagues is a vegan, and he’s been given a vegetarian meal.’
‘Right, isn’t it the same thing?’
I wince and wonder just what all my phone calls with Baz were about. I feel like slapping my head in frustration.
‘No… Vegans, don’t eat any animal products, so no dairy.’
‘Oh right, now that I think of it Baz did say something about that. Right then, there’s a Tesco Express down the road, I’ll nip out and get something like a Pot Noodle.’
‘I’ll go,’ I say a little too enthusiastically. That would be an excellent and legitimate cover story. I could go and get the food, whatever that would be, and then go and nip to Brighton. If anyone asked, I could just say that I got lost trying to find the supermarket.
‘Are you sure?’ asks Knobby.
‘Dead sure, I’ll know exactly what to look for,’ I say, about to race off before anyone can stop me. But, just at that moment, I hear an almighty crash over the other side of the room.
‘What did you just say?’ I hear Baz shout in his booming voice.
‘On second thoughts,’ I say to Knobby. ‘You might have to go.’
I run over to the other side of the barn where there seems to be a Mexican stand-off between Baz and Mr-I-Don’t-Believe-in-Armies. I should have known he was going to be trouble.
‘What’s going on?’ I hiss.
‘You, outside now,’ says Baz, ignoring me.
Mr-I-Don’t-Believe-in-Armies stays rooted to the spot, and I have to drag him outside myself. ‘Everyone else, carry on with the packing, there’s nothing to see here.’
‘What’s going on?’ I ask, putting myself in the middle of the two of them when we’re safely away from the barn.
‘He just called me a war-mongering butcher,’ says Baz pointing his finger in a menacing way.
I turn round and look at the trouble-maker.
‘Did you really?’ I ask in disbelief.
‘Well, I didn’t mean for him to hear, but yes, yes I did say that.’
Baz almost goes to lunge at him, but I manage to throw my hands up to stop him.