by Susan Lewis
They nodded eagerly. ‘Daddy helped a bit,’ Kitty admitted, looking up at Mark.
‘It’s the best banner I’ve ever seen,’ Carla told them, hugging them again. Then she hugged her brother, whose eyes were shining with pride.
‘Everyone here’s seeing this as their triumph too,’ he told her. ‘Even Maudie. Wait till you see what she’s got you.’
‘Maudie?’ Carla echoed.
‘Over here! Make way! Make way!’ Faith demanded, pushing open a path in the crowd.
To Carla’s amazement Maudie, the old cross-patch, was standing in front of the food table, holding a magnificent cake in her arms, while scowling horribly at Carla.
‘You made that?’ Carla cried.
‘Course she did,’ Faith answered. ‘Bloody brilliant, isn’t it?’
‘It certainly is,’ Carla agreed, as genuinely touched by the gesture as she was impressed by the expert replica of a Boeing 747 with Carla goes There and Beyond piped in icing across the wings. ‘Maudie, I don’t know what to say …’
‘I’ve got my camera,’ Sonya shouted, pushing her way through. ‘We’ve got to get a shot of this. Maudie, try smiling, will you?’ She looked through the viewfinder. ‘On second thoughts, Maudie, you look a bit scary when you do that.’
At that everyone exploded into laughter, even Maudie, and Sonya quickly captured an historical shot.
‘John!’ Sonya cried, turning round to find him. ‘Come on! You’ve got to have your picture taken too. No, not with Carla, with me!’ And thrusting the camera at Mark, she grabbed John’s arm and smiled glowingly into the lens.
‘He hasn’t got a drink!’ Robin Jessop called over the noise. ‘Sylvia, pass one of the glasses, will you? And then it’s my turn for the photo.’ And mincing up to John’s other side, he linked arms with the star and affected an outrageous pose, which John promptly mirrored, much to everyone’s delight.
‘Here, did you see the telly we’ve got in special?’ Jack, the landlord, said to Carla.
Carla turned to where he was pointing, and actually gasped out loud. ‘How did I miss that?’ she laughed, unable to believe the size of the screen. ‘Where on earth did you get it?’
‘Fleur and Perry found it in a shop in Bath,’ he informed her. ‘So we rented it for the night. Not going to miss anything on this one, are we? Three foot by three foot, it is. Course, they do have them in their homes like that in ’Ollywood, so Avril says.’
‘What do I say?’ Avril demanded, coming in the door with Lionel. ‘Let me through, will you? I need some champagne. And who the hell’s in charge of the lights around here? Turn them down, for God’s sake! It’s supposed to look like a Roman bath, not a bloody swimming bath.’
‘That’ll be a great dress when it’s finished,’ Sonya shouted, as Avril discarded her pashmina to a chorus of bawdy whoops and whistles.
‘She’s got some nerve, coming in here like that,’ Maudie grunted.
‘Well at least she’s got the figure for it,’ Angie remarked, enviously.
‘More women should dress like that,’ Jack decided. ‘It’s feminine, is what it is.’
‘Listen to him,’ Sylvia jeered, ‘he wouldn’t know feminine if it got up and bit him on the bum.’
‘I wouldn’t need biting on the bum if you had a pair like that,’ Jack countered.
‘No, you’d need rescuing, is what you’d need,’ Joe Locke told him, making everyone laugh.
Avril gave a shameless waggle of her shoulders, then took the glass John was passing her.
‘More photos,’ Sonya insisted, shoving her way back in.
Carla linked arms with Mark and after Sonya had snapped them she eased him to the edge of the crowd, making space for those jostling to have a picture taken with John.
‘He seems like a really nice bloke,’ Mark commented, his handsome face reddened on one side from where he’d been standing in front of the fire.
Carla shrugged. ‘He’s used to all this, remember. It happens to him all the time.’
‘Yeah, but he doesn’t have to be so good-natured about it.’
‘He does if it’s my friends and family,’ Carla declared hotly. Then, smiling, she squeezed his arm and said, ‘I’m so nervous about this transmission. I wish it was already over.’
‘It will be soon enough,’ he responded, ‘then you’ll be saying, Oh, I wish it could happen all over again. It went too fast. I missed it.’
Laughing, she said, ‘Your gift for mimicry is almost as good as Avril’s.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ he replied, ‘but I do know we were beginning to wonder if we’d ever see this day. You, with your very own programme going out on TV. Amazing! Who’d have thought it?’
‘It’s been a long journey,’ Carla admitted, ‘and looking back, it seems nothing short of miraculous that we ever got it going, never mind to this point now.’
‘Well, it’s certainly an ambitious project,’ he agreed. ‘But it’ll all be worth it, you’ll see.’ He hesitated before continuing, and Carla knew instinctively that he was going to say something about Richard. Obviously Sonya would have told him about the renewed contact, even though she’d asked her not to, and the thought of trying to explain it to Mark was worse than trying to explain it to Avril. At least Avril was a woman, which gave her some empathy. As a man, and particularly his type of man, Mark was never going to understand the kind of bond that held her and Richard together, not when there was no physical contact to support it. All Mark would remember was how utterly devastated she had been when Richard had left her, and that being a married man now Richard had no right to be messing around in Carla’s life again.
To her relief, the door opened at that moment, and Graham stomped in from the rain. It fleetingly occurred to Carla to put him and Mark together so that Graham could try persuading her brother that he didn’t need to worry, but it was hardly Graham’s problem, so it would be unfair to ask.
‘Graham!’ she cried, going to greet him. ‘I was beginning to wonder what had happened to you.’
He held up his hands. ‘I had to take Betty to the station,’ he said. ‘Her sister’s sprained her ankle, so she’s gone to look after her for a couple of weeks.’ He chuckled. ‘All that walking in the Pennines and then poor old Daphne goes and slips on the kitchen floor at home.’
‘Well, at least you’re here,’ Carla said, ushering him towards the bar. ‘Come and get a drink. The programme’s starting in ten minutes.’
Angie was in front of the champagne, and pushed one into Graham’s hand as he said to Carla, ‘So, do I get an introduction?’
Carla frowned. Then, realizing who he meant, rolled her eyes and said, ‘Not you too. Come on,’ and, turning round, she searched John out in the crowd and began pulling Graham through.
Sonya was at the ready with her camera and managed to capture the three of them laughing, as John shook Graham’s hand and got in first with, ‘I’ve always wanted to meet you.’
At that point Carla’s empty glass was removed from her hand and replaced with a full one, then Avril joined them and began flirting with John, only to be outdone by Sonya, Sylvia, Angie, Fleur and the most gregarious of them all, Randy Robin, which was what the other men had dubbed him.
Graham looked at his watch. ‘Not long now,’ he said to Carla.
‘Don’t,’ she responded with a shiver of nerves.
Grinning, he said, ‘Come on, let’s get ourselves some good seats, I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time, so I don’t want to miss anything.’
‘Oh no, please,’ Carla groaned. ‘Let’s stay near the bar so I can get drunk. I’ve got a feeling I might need to.’
As she spoke, the large screen adjacent to the bar flickered into life, and not long after that Avril shouted for everyone to be quiet. The preceding commercials were playing. It was only a matter of minutes now before There and Beyond was aired to the nation.
An expectant hush hovered over the gathering as Jack lowered the lights
and Sylvia turned up the sound. An advert for Andrex was showing.
‘I feels so bloody nervous, reckon I could do with some of that meself,’ Teddy Best commented, sending a titter round the room.
Carla looked at Graham and failed to raise a smile. Then John Rossmore came to stand the other side of her, and before she knew it the familiar soundtrack of the opening titles started to play – and her heart stopped beating.
‘Catchy tune,’ Lloyd Lamar commented.
‘Sssh,’ his wife hissed.
Carla was very still and very tense. She knew this programme inside out, was only too aware of how the magnificent opening shot, of the sun rising over the rolling plains of the Kruger Park, was soon going to give way to a big close-up of Chrissie, welcoming them all to South Africa.
As the transition happened, and Chrissie’s lovely face filled the screen, Carla felt her insides turning to liquid. It had to be the size of the screen making her feel so peculiar, or perhaps it was a reaction to yesterday, and being confronted now with Chrissie’s face and voice. There was an odd rushing sound in her head and she felt vaguely sick. Then dimly she was aware of a hand squeezing her shoulder, and the steadying reassurance that seemed to flow from it set her breathing again. A few seconds later she was able to glance at John Rossmore, whose gesture was reminding her that he was well acquainted not only with first nights, but with being maligned and misquoted by the press, so he knew how she was feeling.
He looked at her for only a moment, then, returning his eyes to the screen, he removed his hand. It was the right thing to do, for she’d only have felt awkward if he’d kept it there, and now the programme was really under way she found herself able to detach from its content and silently pray that everyone who was out there watching was going to love it.
After the introduction, and more stunning shots of the South African landscape, the programme moved on to the dramatized section, a comedic misunderstanding between two Zulus, whose communication through coloured beads had been read by one macho warrior as a request for a night of passion, when what the other was actually expressing was anger at a slight to his family. The players were genuine Zulus, whose performances, though obviously amateur, were still good, but having written it, rehearsed it, shot it and watched it a thousand times in the edit, Carla now knew it so well that she saw only its flaws, cringed at the dialogue and wanted to bury herself alive in the hideous pauses. How could Jed have allowed that? Why hadn’t she seen earlier that the style was just too feature-film for a meagre little TV sketch? And then the midway break was upon them, and the Zulu story was only half over.
Of course that was the problem with a Channel 4 transmission. If it had been going out on the BBC, as originally planned, there would have been no break, and they wouldn’t have to endure this ludicrous hiatus in a piece that wasn’t good to begin with. She saw now how right John was when he’d suggested they should start with the dramatization, and come in with the contemporary insert later. That way it wouldn’t matter which channel they transmitted on, there would be no pause in the drama.
No-one was saying anything, they were just looking around, waiting for someone else to speak first, then Teddy Best broke the terrible silence by asking for a drink.
Carla caught Avril’s eye and smiled weakly when Avril gave her a thumbs up. Then she noticed that Mark, too, was beaming encouragement, and Sonya, who’d seen it all a hundred times anyway, was aglow with pride. But they were family. Of course they were going to like it. They probably didn’t dare not to.
The second half rolled on to the screen, and everyone was once again making a great show of being riveted. Carla wasn’t sure she could bear any more. What the hell had she been thinking, making a programme about places that were so exotic and expensive and out of most people’s reach that condescending was the kindest word she could think of to describe her insufferable elitism and arrogance. In fact, the longer she watched, the less able she felt ever to face anyone again. But maybe the catastrophe had one saving grace, that of persuading the world that she’d been justified in dropping Chrissie. Not because Chrissie was no good, but because the public was generally unable to distinguish between a presenter’s performance and a programme’s weakness, so ultimately, in the audience’s mind, Chrissie would take the blame for the programme’s failure.
Finally the end credits appeared from the bottom of frame, and closing her eyes she braced herself for the bemusement, or worse, of her neighbours. It was a moment before she realized that the noise drowning the music was applause, and that accompanying that were cheers of bravo and more! But of course, they would do that; she was standing right there so they had to be polite.
‘Best travel programme I’ve ever seen!’ Teddy Best roundly declared.
‘Fantastic. Absolutely marvellous,’ Beanie Lamar added.
‘Divine, darling. Simply divine,’ Robin crooned.
‘What I wouldn’t give to go to a place like that,’ Sylvia lamented.
‘What about those couple of old buggers and their beads?’ Jack chuckled.
‘Great stuff,’ Joe Locke agreed. ‘Clever to stay away from the political thing. Just concentrate on the culture and landscape.’
Graham was grinning at Carla’s surprise. ‘A winner!’ he declared. ‘An absolute winner!’
Carla’s face was starting to light up. They genuinely did seem to like it, and the sound of more corks popping, to the accompaniment of Cliff blasting across the sound system with ‘Congratulations’, started her laughing. Obviously someone had already cued that up, but it was no less welcome for that. And tomorrow’s reviews, and audience ratings, would come soon enough, so why not just go with it now and have a good time?
‘The rocket’s launched! Let the party begin!’ Avril cried, and, hoisting a full magnum of champagne in Carla’s direction, she refilled her glass and whispered, ‘You’re on your way, baby. Today Cannock Martin, tomorrow the reviews.’
Carla’s smile was wider than ever. ‘Thanks for reminding me,’ she cried over the noise. Then, biting her lips as emotion brinked, she added, ‘I’ll never forget what you’ve done, Avril …’
‘Speech! Speech!’ Teddy Best shouted.
‘Yes! Speech!’ the others started to echo.
So Carla got up on a chair, made everyone gasp and laugh by almost losing her balance, then somehow managed to get through a short and slushy thank-you for the party, the support, the friendship and ‘The cake!’ she ended, raising her glass to Maudie.
John Rossmore was standing with Graham, listening and applauding along with the others, then laughing when she collapsed into the arms of her brother and sister-in-law. Reaching for a bottle to top up his and Graham’s glasses, he said, ‘She has every right to feel proud tonight.’
Graham was beaming with pride. ‘An unusual approach to an innovative idea,’ he commented. ‘And having you on board for the next series is about the best validation she could hope for.’
John looked surprised. ‘Modesty prevails here,’ he responded. ‘But I thank you for that. And I don’t mind telling you that I really do believe in this programme. And in Carla. She knows what she’s doing and she’s not afraid to take chances.’
Graham was still watching her as she grabbed Avril and started to dance. ‘She’s a remarkable young woman,’ he said, ‘and this past year has been far from easy.’
‘Avril told me about her mother,’ John said. ‘Amazing the way the papers manage to skip over the most crucial issues when it suits them.’
‘Mmm,’ Graham grunted. Then, after a moment’s pause, ‘She thinks Chrissie sold the story, but I’m not so sure.’
‘Why would she think that?’ John asked, frowning.
‘Ah, now we’re getting into the female psyche,’ Graham grimaced, ‘which, I have to confess, is territory I’ve never successfully charted. However, Carla, and the way her mind works, is certainly a fascinating study.’
John laughed. ‘I was forgetting you’re a writer,’ he said, �
�so I guess we’re all subjects of study to you.’
‘To one degree or another,’ Graham acknowledged. ‘And despite how many years I’ve been at it, I can tell you the human capacity for survival never ceases to amaze me. But of course that’s my field, and as you know it gets considerably more complex, not to mention sinister, the further into it you go. Were I writing historical romances I’d no doubt have a very different view of the world.’
Like many of Graham’s readers John was only too aware of the macabre trails the author followed to obtain his story. ‘It must have an effect on you,’ he said, ‘dealing with all those depraved aspects of human nature.’
Graham’s eyes danced merrily. ‘I try to keep it in check,’ he joked.
John smiled too, then, after taking a sip of his drink, he said, ‘Going back to this newspaper thing. As a detective manqué, who do you think was behind it?’
Graham thoughtfully scratched his chin. ‘Not knowing all the players in this particular scenario,’ he said, ‘it’s hard for me to say. But I’ll tell you why I don’t think it was Chrissie.’
John waited.
‘I don’t think it was her,’ Graham said, ‘because based on the personal knowledge I have of Chrissie, I’d say that she’s not the vindictive type. Self-destructive, maybe. But certainly not vindictive, which would therefore make it unlikely that she was behind that story.’
John’s eyebrows were drawn together. ‘But you’re not hazarding a guess who might have been?’
‘Impossible when, as I said, I don’t know everyone involved. But I do know that it can often be the person you least suspect who turns out to be the culprit.’
John grinned. ‘Something you’ve made an extremely good living out of,’ he commented.
Graham cocked a humorous eyebrow. ‘Thanks to my close association with the police force, most of what I write has its roots in truth,’ he replied. ‘Now, I think, if I want to remain on good terms with my neighbours, I should stop hogging your company.’
It was well after midnight before the party finally started to calm down, and those who’d danced and drank themselves senseless began staggering about in search of their coats. Carla, both exhausted and elated, disappeared into the ladies for a few minutes to communicate on a telepathic level with Richard, then came out again to have a last jig around with Sonya. Despite having had a fabulous evening, she’d hardly stopped being aware of the gap at her side that Richard, not John Rossmore, should have been filling. It wasn’t that John had pushed his way in, in fact they’d only danced together once, and that without touching, it was simply that John’s instant popularity with her neighbours had felt like an intrusion on a place that had always been Richard’s. But the occasional quiet moments she had taken to connect with Richard had helped ease her over the resentment, and thankfully no-one but Graham had known anything about it. And the only reason she’d confided in him was so that she could speak Richard’s name out loud. It was a way of bringing him right into the party, and Graham, she knew, would neither judge nor mock her need to do it.