by Tracy Bloom
Ben looked across to the clear acrylic dining chairs lining one wall. They did look like the most uncomfortable thing on the planet.
‘This is the only time Daniel could fit us in. When I suggested a cheeky pint, he said the last time he’d had a cheeky pint was in 1984 when he was fifteen and thinking he had to impress women. He’d grown out of cheeky pints very quickly, he said.’
‘As well as women.’
‘Exactly. Look, we’ll probably just sit in his office or something. Nothing to be scared of.’
‘Ben King and Brain— I mean Martin Freeman for Daniel in Creative Services,’ Ben told the receptionist.
‘The Martin Freeman?’ the receptionist asked with a friendly smile.
‘Do I look like a hobbit or a midget detective?’ spat Braindead.
‘Just asking,’ she said, frowning and picking up the phone.
‘Just chill, will you,’ advised Ben.
‘It’s just there’s a lot riding on this, and tired jokes about Martin Freeman are not helping.’
‘Ben King and Martin Freeman are in reception,’ said the woman into the phone. ‘No, not the Martin Freeman.’ She paused to listen to the response before cupping the receiver with her hand. ‘Are you the Martin Freeman otherwise known as Braindead?’ she asked.
‘Precisely,’ agreed Braindead, marching off and sitting himself down in an uncomfortable acrylic chair.
‘Martin?’ Daniel exclaimed as he came out of the lift a few minutes later. ‘Seriously? Martin?’
‘Yes, what of it?’
‘No wonder you prefer Braindead.’
‘Shall we go to the pub? There’s one next door.’
‘No,’ said Daniel. ‘I’m supposed to be at work. You and Ben are here for research purposes, if anyone asks. Now come upstairs and try not to draw attention to yourselves.’
‘It’s a very big dining room,’ said Braindead, when they reached their destination.
‘It’s a boardroom,’ said Daniel, switching lights on and pulling up blinds.
‘I knew that,’ said Braindead. ‘I watch The Apprentice.’
‘Well, unlike The Apprentice no-one gets fired in here. They have a pokey little HR office for that. The windows are cheaper to replace if they get smashed, and it’s on the ground floor if anyone decides to jump.’
‘Really?’ exclaimed Braindead.
‘No,’ said Daniel. ‘It’s on the first floor. But with locked windows. Now sit down and let’s get on with this, shall we?’ He indicated for the pair of them to sit down then went over to a large glass screen on wheels and dragged it over.
‘You building a greenhouse?’ asked Braindead.
‘No, this is a smart screen. We can write on it – see.’ Daniel grabbed a pen and scribbled fluorescent yellow on the glass.
‘Wow,’ said Braindead, ‘very Minority Report! Are you sure this is all necessary, Danny boy?’
‘Do you want my help or not?’ asked Daniel.
‘Yes, but—’
‘Yes, but nothing. You came to me to make sure this job gets done properly so we’ll start as we mean to go on. Now let’s talk about our target customer.’ Daniel grabbed a pen and wrote Abby in capital letters across the top of the screen.
‘Even I think you might be going a bit over the top here, Daniel,’ muttered Ben.
‘That’s where you’re wrong. The key to success in most things is always to put the customer at the centre of the experience, whatever that is. Whether it’s buying beans or test-driving a Porsche. You understand your target market and you’ll be successful, I promise you. Now, tell me about Abby. Let’s start with her likes.’
‘Me,’ said Braindead.
‘Well yes, that does speak volumes and tells us things about her that are best left unsaid – but what else?’
Braindead went quiet.
‘What apart from me?’ he eventually asked.
‘Yes, apart from you.’
‘Well, all the usual girly things really. She loves make-up – I mean, really loves it, spends hours with it. Don’t get it myself. And fake tan, what’s that all about? Her mate goes round with a tent every week and she stands in it stark bollock naked while she gets sprayed with dirty water. I’ve told her that if an alien landed and watched her handing money over for the privilege, he’d pack his UFO up and get off the planet as soon as he could.’
‘What if an alien landed and saw thousands of people watching a tiny little ball bounce around a field every week? What would he do then?’ asked Daniel.
‘Probably ask someone to explain the offside rule?’
Daniel stared at him. ‘Back to Abby… What else switches her on?’
‘Bit personal eh, Danny Boy?’
‘You know what I mean. What else does she get excited about?’
‘Apart from me?’
Daniel blew his cheeks out.
‘She likes her music, doesn’t she?’ said Ben. ‘And dancing. You can often find Braindead at the edge of a dance floor while Abby really goes for it.’
‘I don’t do dancing,’ said Braindead, shaking his head.
Daniel wrote music and dancing on the glass board in lime green.
‘What do you enjoy doing together?’ he asked.
‘Again, a bit personal!’ exclaimed Braindead.
Daniel put the top on his pen, put it down on the table and went to walk out.
‘No, don’t go, I’m sorry,’ said Braindead, leaping up and pulling on his arm. ‘Please, I’ll stop taking the piss, I promise.’
‘I have much better things to do with my time than be messed around by you.’
‘Sorry. Really sorry,’ blustered Braindead. ‘It’s just nerves,’ he said. ‘You know. It’s kind of embarrassing, that’s all.’
‘Braindead, you’re about to reveal your innermost feelings to the woman you love. This is no time for embarrassment. Now, what do you enjoy doing together?’ He took the top back off his pen.
‘Why don’t you tell him, you know, about that thing you told me you do?’ said Ben.
‘What thing?’
‘You know, your Thursday-night thing.’
Braindead didn’t reply just turned slightly pink. ‘When did I tell you about that?’ he asked.
‘Chris’s stag do. You passed out soon afterwards, you were very drunk.’
‘I am never drinking again,’ he said solemnly.
‘You always say that.’
‘I mean it this time.’
‘Oh for God’s sake!’ cried Daniel. ‘What is your Thursday-night thing?’
‘Beer, balti and Beauty and the Beast,’ muttered Braindead.
‘Excuse me?’ asked Daniel. ‘Could you repeat that please?’ He had his pen paused ready to write it down on the screen.
‘He said beer, balti and Beauty and the Beast,’ said Ben helpfully. ‘They drink beer, have a curry and watch Beauty and the Beast, and depending on how drunk he is then they do a slow dance round the living room at the same time as the ballroom scene.’
‘I am never, ever drinking again,’ said Braindead, staring at Ben with a horrified look on his face.
Daniel was staring at Braindead with his mouth open.
‘Every Thursday?’ he asked.
‘Pretty much,’ muttered Braindead.
‘For some reason this ever so slightly raises you in my estimation,’ said Daniel. ‘Wait. I trust you mean the original animated version?’
‘The cartoon one, yes. I’m afraid so,’ said Braindead, hanging his head. ‘If you tell anyone else I will kill you both. It’s just… it’s just, she likes it, and she made me watch it, and it’s quite a good story actually so we just got into this weird habit. We always watch The Premier League Show straight after. Without fail. Always. I am very firm about that.’
Daniel shook his head. ‘If somebody else told me about their beer, balti and Beauty and the Beast habit I would be appalled, but somehow from you, Braindead, it’s kind of romantic.’
Brainde
ad shrugged. ‘Like I said, we watch The Premier League Show straight after.’
Daniel was staring at the screen, tapping his mouth with the pen.
‘It’s your story, isn’t it?’ he said suddenly. ‘You think you’re Beauty and the Beast. Abby likes to think she’s a princess who has discovered this great man hidden underneath this beastly exterior. It’s a metaphor for your entire relationship.’
‘A what?’
‘A metaphor.’
Braindead looked back at him blankly.
‘It’s kind of a thing that is representative of something else.’
Braindead still looked blank.
‘Abby thinks she’s Beauty and you think you’re the Beast,’ Ben said helpfully.
‘Well, he’s pretty cool, I have to say. Goes a bit soft at the end, but I like the fact that he says what he thinks.’
Ben and Daniel looked at each other.
‘So this could be it,’ Daniel told Braindead. ‘This could be the inspiration for your proposal.’
‘What could?’
‘Your Thursday-night ritual.’
Braindead thought for a minute.
‘What, take her out to a proper curry house and propose over a proper Indian beer?’
‘No!’ cried Daniel. ‘Sweep her off her feet like the Beast did. Make her feel like a princess, like the belle of the ball. Do you get it?’
‘Get what?’
‘Belle of the ball. Isn’t the girl in Beauty and the Beast called Belle?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well that’s what I meant – you need to make Abby feel like the belle of the ball.’
Braindead furrowed his brow. ‘How the fuck do I do that?’ he eventually exclaimed. ‘Where do I get hold of a ball, for goodness sake? I can’t just conjure up a ball out of nowhere, can I? I’m not the soddin’ Queen. We’re not living in the eighteenth century, when there were grand balls every soddin’ weekend. You aren’t helping at all, Daniel.’
‘We may not be living in the eighteenth century, but we do have something on our side.’
‘And what might that be?’ replied Braindead with a sigh. He was fidgeting and casting Ben sideways glances as if he wanted to leave.
‘Christmas,’ said Daniel and laid down his pen.
‘Christmas Party Land!’ exclaimed Braindead some time later when Daniel had explained how he could easily access a ball at this time of year.
‘Yes,’ he said decisively. ‘It’s the perfect stage for you to make Abby feel like the only woman in the world.’
‘But I don’t even understand what it is,’ protested Braindead.
‘It’s at the Pride Court Arena, and it’s like one big massive party night for local companies. You can book as many tables as you want. Personally when I heard we were going there I was absolutely appalled. I cannot imagine anything worse than celebrating Christmas with a load of estate agents and construction workers… well, maybe construction workers would be OK,’ said Daniel, pausing to think about this for a moment. ‘Anyway, the theme for some unknown reason is Zulu Sundance or something. I know what you’re thinking. A theme? Really? Anything that has a theme is by its very definition crass and appalling and bound to be a disaster, but given it’s Christmas, I guess you need to forgive their poor taste levels. Anyway, what I’m saying is that a big event like that strikes me as the perfect occasion to play out your little Beauty and the Beast fantasy and propose to Abby.’
‘Can you run that by me again in plain English,’ asked Braindead. He looked over at Ben, who was trying hard to disguise a smirk. Braindead wasn’t sure whether what was coming was utter humiliation or something quite brilliant.
Daniel got up and started pacing up and down the room deep in thought, his chin cupped in his hand.
‘What are you doing?’ Braindead asked.
‘Shhhh,’ he said, ‘I’m thinking.’
‘What’s he doing?’ Braindead whispered to Ben. ‘I’m scared. Why have you brought me here?’
‘You heard. He’s thinking,’ replied Ben. ‘It’s going to be good, but I think you need to prepare yourself. It’s going to be big.’
‘What do you mean, big?’
‘I don’t know, but you asked Daniel to help because you thought he’d be on the same wavelength as Abby, right?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Would Abby want a subtle, quiet, personal proposal or an in-your-face-everyone-look-at-me proposal?’
Braindead leaned back in his chair. He screwed up his face.
‘I see what you’re saying,’ he said. He cast a terrified glance in Ben’s direction. ‘What have we done?’ he asked nervously.
‘I’ve got it!’ exclaimed Daniel before Ben could reply. ‘Are you ready for this?’
‘No,’ said Braindead, shaking his head vigorously.
‘Well, prepare yourself because this is good. This is going to blow her socks off.’ He pushed the glass screen out of the way and cleared his throat as he took centre stage. ‘Ball guests are milling around; pre-dinner drinks are being sipped. There is light-hearted chatter to the gentle background of Christmas music. The ladies are splendid in their gowns while the men are dashing in their dinner suits.’
‘What has this got to do with me?’ interrupted Braindead.
‘Hang on a minute, I’m getting to that,’ said Daniel. ‘Just be patient. A giant gong announces the commencement of dinner and the guests move to find their tables. Abby is worried. You’re nowhere to be found. You’ve promised to meet her here, but it seems as though you haven’t showed, or perhaps you’re hidden behind one of the fake African trees and you haven’t made yourself known yet.’ Daniel raised his eyebrows. Braindead and Ben rolled their eyes.
‘Just as the guests are seated, the music pipes up. The first bars of the Disney classic, “Beauty and the Beast”, sang by the glorious Céline Dion can be heard throughout the auditorium.’
‘Now hang on a minute, there’s no way I’m doing anything to Céline Dion!’ said Braindead.
‘But she sings the song,’ said Daniel.
‘Which song?’
‘“Tale as old as time, Beauty and the Beast.” She sings it,’ replied Daniel.
‘Fuckin’ hell,’ said Braindead, a look of total outrage on his face. ‘Why did no-one ever tell me I was doing it to Céline Dion?’
‘There’s no shame in doing anything to Céline Dion,’ said Daniel. ‘Now calm down and let us continue.’ He closed his eyes momentarily to get himself back in the zone.
‘When Abby hears the familiar music she smiles to herself as it reminds her of you,’ continued Daniel. ‘She looks around for you again and sees that people are pointing towards the ceiling. It appears as though it has started to snow as delicate flakes cascade to the ground. There is excited chatter and then gasps as a lone figure begins to descend from the ceiling on a rope. A man dressed in the sharpest of evening suits, a mask covering his face and holding a lone yellow rose. He stares out across the packed room until a hush descends as he hits the floor. He is unhooked from his harness and walks straight over to Abby, offering her the single rose and his hand. She follows him to the dance floor, where they spin and twirl, round and round until the music ends and then the masked man reveals himself.’
‘Who is it?’ gasps Braindead, now entranced.
‘You, you bloody idiot!’
‘Me?’
‘Of course it’s bloody you!’
‘What the hell am I doing all that for?’
‘Because then, after you’ve swept the girl of your dreams completely off her feet, made her feel like an utter princess, that is when you’ll drop down on one knee in front of all those people. Everyone will be thinking that you, Martin Freeman – not the Martin Freeman, the other one – are the most romantic person on the planet.’ Daniel paused to check he still had their attention. ‘And that the woman you’re proposing to has to be the luckiest woman alive. An utter miracle and a feat of quite extraordinary stage management that we
could convince anyone that Abby is lucky to be proposed to by you, Braindead,’ he continued, pointing at him. ‘And when she nods and throws her arms round you, then you’ll have the whole room in the palm of your hand. There will be clapping and cheering and smiling and everyone will talk about you for days and weeks after. The man who pulled off the most romantic proposal ever, you’ll be an absolute legend.’
Daniel sat down, exhausted.
There was a shocked silence as they absorbed what Daniel had just said.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ said Braindead eventually.
‘How about thank you?’ answered Daniel.
‘It’s just so, so, so much bigger than what I was expecting to do.’
‘You see, that’s the problem with men,’ said Daniel, getting up and wiping the screen clean. ‘They’re about to do the single most life-changing thing in their lives and all they want is to play it down. Come on, Braindead. This is big, asking someone to marry you is huge. So go big! Don’t skimp. Make it a big deal because it is a huge fuckin’ deal.’
Braindead swallowed. ‘But how – how do we make all that happen? It doesn’t seem possible.’
‘I am the creative director of the north of England’s most successful advertising agency,’ replied Daniel. ‘This is what I do. This is easy-peasy. If I can get a bull in a china shop, quite literally, then I can get you dangling on a piece of string and proposing. We just get Katy to call the production company for the event and set it up. Brilliant publicity for them, they’ll love it.’
‘But won’t we need tickets at least?’ asked Ben. ‘Don’t they sell out in like, June? I remember Katy asking me to pick my menu months ago.’
‘I’ve already thought of that,’ said Daniel. ‘I’m not sure if Katy mentioned it – probably not knowing her – but Luca, my boyfriend, and I split up very recently, leaving me with a spare ticket that I haven’t inflicted on anyone yet. And it’s possible Katy won’t be here either if she ends up going to Australia by the end of the week.’
‘What?’ asked Ben.
Daniel paused. ‘She has told you about her trip to Sydney, hasn’t she?’
‘Yes, but last I heard she didn’t know when she was going.’
‘Oh,’ said Daniel, pretending to stare at something on the floor. ‘Well, she mentioned this morning that she might be flying out at the weekend. Maybe she’d just got the details through when I saw her.’