by Nikki Ashton
"No, no way. I’m truly interested," I said – sarcastically. "Just spit it out."
"Okay, you asked." She shook her hair back and lifted her chin. "I expect it would be difficult to find spectacles that suit you because you've got quite a fat head."
My mouth dropped open as I stared at her.
"Sorry," she muttered, looking down at the floor, "but you do."
"I do not have a fat head. I'll have you know I was voted second in Men's Health’s Sexiest Man of The Year poll."
"Really?" She asked with what sounded like genuine interest. "Who won?"
"Ryan Gosling," I replied petulantly.
Shit, I still felt the sting.
"Ah." Phoebe nodded knowingly. "That explains it.”
“What does?”
“That he came first.”
“Are you trying to say you find Ryan Gosling more attractive than me?” I thrust a hand to my chest. “Because if you are, that hurts.”
“He has his qualities,” she replied earnestly. “I can see what women see in him. I just find his lips to be a little too thin.”
“Ah, is that so?”
I couldn’t help but smirk. It was often commented how full and pouty my lips were.
“Hmm.” Distractedly, Phoebe looked back down at her phone. “Stupid idiot.”
“Who is?”
Her head shot up. “So you are eavesdropping?”
“You’re here in front of me,” I cried incredulously, sweeping a hand in front of me. “I can’t help but hear.”
“If you must know, it’s the delivery man who is supposed to be delivering my trampoline. He’s left it at the wrong house and won’t go back for it. Well he wouldn’t, but after I threatened to call his manager he’s relented.”
Suddenly images of Phoebe bouncing up and down on a trampoline filled my head – specifically her tits bouncing up and down.
“The address is quite clear,” she continued. “It’s not my fault he doesn’t understand the difference between Grove and Road. Although, I’ve always said having a Cedar Grove and a Cedar Road was utter madness. I even called the council about it, you know.”
Yep, she was definitely high.
“So, you use a trampoline?”
Okay, so I changed the subject back to the trampoline, but the images just wouldn’t go away.
“Oh yeah,” she scoffed. “It’s good fun and keeps me fit – helps to improve my pelvic floor tremendously.”
Fuck there was that eye roll again. What the hell had I said wrong this time?
“Obviously, I’m annoying as well as have a fat head. Anything else wrong with me? Because you know, you may as well tell me, now that you’ve started.”
The little shit actually thought about it for a second and then shook her head. “Nope, not that I can think of off the top of my head. Although,” she said with a laugh, “if it was you, you’d say ‘off the top of my fat head’.”
“Once again, I do not have a fat head. It’s a perfectly normal size.” I shook my perfectly sized head in disbelief. “I could have you thrown off set for talking to me like this you know.”
“What, for telling you the truth? Seriously, you’ve surrounded yourself with too many arse lickers if you can’t take a little criticism.”
“You said I’ve got a fat head. That’s just damn fucking rude.”
“Well Ryan Gosling did beat you, so…” she trailed off, giving a shrug.
“What are you trying to say?”
Phoebe sighed. “That he has a normal size head."
"You've got to be shitting me. His head is the same size as mine." I put my hands up to feel the shape and size of my head.
"You'd think that," Phoebe said, tilting her head to study me. "But when you look at it close up, it is fairly large. Not overly so, but enough to lose you a few votes."
"Seriously, you think that's it?"
"Hmm, I do. Anyway, I'd better get some lunch. See you around Grantley."
With that she walked away, giving me a little wave over her shoulder.
"Fuck." I muttered. "I have a bigger head than Gosling."
Phoebe
When I finally got home, dragging my weary body through the door after standing on the train and then sitting next to a rather badly odorous man on the bus, I was disappointed, to say the least, that I couldn’t smell food cooking. Beth always had dinner ready for me.
“Oi, you lazy bugger,” I cried, making my way into the lounge. “Where’s my dinner?”
I threw my bag down next to the sofa and looked at my sister with wide, expectant eyes. As soon as I saw her face, I knew something was wrong.
“What is it?” I asked, plonking myself next to her and grabbing hold of her hand. “Beth?”
She looked up at me with tears in her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’ve found a lump.”
“What? Where? Have you called the doctor?”
I must have squeezed her hand too tightly because she winced a little.
“Sorry,” I apologised. “Have you?”
Beth nodded. “Yes. I went a few days ago, but I’ve had a letter from the hospital. They want me to go in tomorrow for a mammogram. Dr. Phillips rushed it through. That’s bad right?”
“No,” I shook my head. “Not necessarily.”
“I’m so scared, Phoebes.”
Beth’s bottom lip trembled as she looked up at me.
“I’ll be with you, so don’t be scared. What time is the appointment?”
Beth shook her head. “No, you can’t. You need to work. You can’t afford to be away from the set.”
“I can and I damn well will,” I protested. “They’ll have to sack me if they won’t let me take the time.”
“I thought you were doing the reverse shots on your dialogue piece tomorrow?”
She looked so lost and worried, I dragged her against my chest and hugged her tightly.
“Fuck it and fuck stupid Addison Yates.”
Beth pulled away. “No, you need to go. Honestly, I’ll be fine. I won’t hear anything tomorrow and my appointment is early, so I’m sure it’ll be a quick in and out and I’ll be back at work before the first brew is due.”
“Are you sure?” I felt extreme guilt wrap itself around my throat at the thought of letting her go alone. “I’m sure I can get Mr. Roderigo to reschedule it.”
“Nope. Not a chance. If you could drop the boys off at Wendy’s though, that would be a big help.”
Wendy was the boys’ child-minder in the school holidays when both Beth and I worked.
“Consider it done. No problem at all.” I said dragging her to my chest, for my own comfort as much as hers.
The next morning, the boys were not in the mood for doing anything that I asked. Beth had gone off to the hospital for her eight-thirty appointment and I needed to be on set by ten-thirty, which meant the boys needed to cooperate.
“Please, Mack,” I pleaded on the edge of hysteria, “leave the box where it is.”
“But it needs to go into the bin,” my eco/society conscious nephew complained. “People shouldn’t leave rubbish.”
He was right. I knew he was but at that precise moment I didn’t give a shit who had dropped their take-away carton onto the pavement without a care. I was going to be late for my call if I didn’t get to the station within the next hour.
“You’re stinky,” Callum shouted at his twin, while kicking at a piece of dried up dog shit.
“Am not. You are.”
“Boys, please,” I cried, closing my eyes and hoping when I opened them I’d miraculously be on a train heading into Manchester. “Neither of you are stinky. Mack, leave the box and Callum stop kicking the dog shi- poo.”
They both looked at me murderously as if I’d just informed them that that the Easter Bunny was a ridiculously insane marketing ploy made up by chocolate companies to help increase their profits.
“Please, move it.”
“Why are you taking us to Wendy’s anyway?” Mack asked, running his hand
s along some garden railings.
“Your mum explained this. It’s because she had to go into work early this morning.” I repeated the lie that Beth and I had agreed to tell the boys.
“Oh no.”
I rolled my eyes and prayed for patience as I watched Callum drop to his knees to tie his shoelace – something which he couldn’t actually do, but always insisted he could.
“Callum, please we’re two minutes away from Wendy’s. You can leave that for now.”
The concentration on his face was evident as a tiny tongue poked out of the side of his mouth. If I let him carry on we would be there for at least ten minutes before he gave up and had a frustrated strop.
“Auntie Peepee,” Mack insisted. “We can’t go to Wendy’s today.”
“Mack, will you stop it. You’re going to Wendy’s and that’s final. Callum, please just leave the shoelace.”
Callum stood up with a sigh and crossed his little arms over his chest. “Mack’s right. We can’t go to Wendy’s.”
“Why not?” I cried, almost stamping my foot like the six-year-olds standing in front of me might do.
“Because she’s in Terror reef.”
“Where?” I glanced across the road to where I could see Wendy’s house. The porch door that was usually open, wide and welcoming, was firmly closed.
“Terror reef,” Callum repeated.
“See I told you,” Mack added. “We can’t go today because she’s in Terror reef.”
“Where the hell is Terror reef?” I muttered, anxiously glancing at the house once more.
“It’s on holiday,” Mack said in a voice that indicated I was the most stupid adult ever to darken his doorstep. “You go on a plane to it.”
“It takes ages to get there,” Callum offered.
I looked at them both wracking my brains and suddenly realised what they meant.
“You mean Tenerife?”
“That’s what we said,” Callum sighed.
“You mean she’s not there.” I pointed at the house.
Mack shook his head. “That’s what I’ve been telling you for the last hour.”
I pulled my head back and furrowed my brow. “Excuse me, I think you’ll find it was about five minutes tops.”
“Well, it seemed like an hour,” he grumbled.
“Auntie Peepee, please can I tie my shoelace now?”
“No.” I gave Callum a cursory glance before turning back to Mack. “So, you’re telling me Wendy, her husband, and kids have gone on holiday?”
“Yep. They went yesterday.”
“So how do you know this, but your mum doesn’t?”
“Mummy does. She properly forgot.”
“Probably forgot,” I corrected.
It wasn’t surprising that she had forgotten - going to the hospital was probably the only thing on her mind. I pulled my mobile out to call her, but when I thought about what she was in the middle of dealing with, changed my mind.
“Okay boys, let’s turn around. You’re coming to work with me today.”
“Do we have to?” Callum groaned.
“It’ll be fun,” I said, grabbing hold of both boys’ hands and walking back the way we’d came. “You’ll be able to see all the cameras and the actors.”
“Will we see Addison Yates?” Mack asked excitedly, ever the little boy enthralled by action.
“Yes, dickhead will be there,” I muttered under my breath.
“Who’s Dick Head?” Callum asked. “Is he an actor too?”
Shit those kids had bionic hearing, unless it was when Beth was shouting for them to get to sleep.
“Oh, it’s no one.”
“Is that Addison’s real name?” Mack asked. “Dick?”
“Well, no not really.”
“So why did you call him that?”
“I didn’t.”
“You did,” Mack replied. “You said, yes Dick Head will be there.”
I looked down at the two earnest faces looking up at me and conceded defeat.
“Yes, that’s his secret name, but only certain people are allowed to call him that. It’s short for Richard.”
“Will we be able to call him Dick?” Callum asked. “Or do we have to call him Richard?”
“Should we call him Addison?”
“Or do we call him Mr. Head?”
“God no,” I snapped, quickly crossing the road to the bus stop. “You can call him Addison or Mr. James.”
“Why Mr. James?”
Please let me close my eyes and start the day again. And what sort of school do they go to that they’ve never heard the phrase dickhead before?
“That’s another one of his names. He only lets his friends call him Dick, so maybe just call him Mr. James or Addison.”
I felt Mack shrug. “Okay, but I think I’ll call him Addison.”
“He might let us call him Dick,” Callum added, stumbling over his untied shoelace.
“Can I tell my friends that I met Addison Yates?” Mack asked. “When we get back to school after the holidays.”
Having reached the bus stop, I let go of the boys’ hands and stooped down to Callum’s shoe.
“I don’t see why not.”
“We’ll have to get evidence,” Callum added, placing his tiny little hand on the top of my head to steady himself, while I tied his lace. “Auntie Peepee will need to take a photograph.”
“Woah that would be cool.”
Mack high-fived his brother and giggled.
“Just think Cal, me and you on a photograph with Dick Head, everyone will be dead jealous.”
“Yeah, us and Dick. How cool is that?”
I groaned inwardly and knew without doubt today was going to be challenging to say the very least.
Grantley
I was waiting on set for my call, when I heard hissing and whispering behind me. Turning slowing in my chair, I noticed it was her and she had two little people with her. Two little people that looked identical to each other.
Twins!
Twins freaked me out – Village of the Damned and all that shit, and didn’t they talk to each other in some strange language or via telepathy? Plus, what the fuck were they doing on set? I knew Alexi encouraged a friendly, family atmosphere, but bring your kids to work day was pushing it too far.
“Good of you to turn up,” I said as Phoebe caught me looking at her.
“I’m not late,” she snapped. “Our call for the reverse shots isn’t for another ten minutes.”
I chose to ignore the fact that she was correct. “Who are they?” I nodded at the matching pair of evil, suddenly wondering whether she was married with a brood of kids.
“My nephews. My sister had an appointment and her child minder has gone to Tenerife and Beth forgot, so I took the boys there this morning and ended up bringing them here because I didn’t want to worry my sister, so I was going to leave them in the dressing room but Pauline, who is an extra in the dinner party scene, said it might be dangerous to leave them alone whereas on set someone could keep an eye on them, so I checked with Alexi and he said it was okay as long as they didn’t make a noise, so I’ve warned them that they have to be quiet and -.”
“Okay, okay,” I cried, cutting her off. “Take a breath, otherwise we’ll need to get a doctor on set.”
She took a deep breath and looked down at the boys and lifting their hands one at a time said, “This is Callum and this Mackenzie – well, we all call him Mack.”
“Hey.” I gave them a short wave, noticing both were staring at me open-mouthed.
“You’re Addison Yates,” the one called Mack said, his tone laced with awe.
“Yep, I sure am.”
Looking at them both, I could see they were slightly different. Mack had darker hair than Callum and where Callum had dimples in his cheeks, Mack’s was in his chin. Maybe they weren’t so freaky after all.
“You jumped out of a plane without a parachute,” Callum added.
“I did,” I replied seein
g no point in telling them it wasn’t actually me, but Bruce, our stuntman.
“Woah. You’re really cool, Dick.”
Phoebe squealed. “Callum!”
Callum looked up at her and frowned. “But he is.”
“Aaah you’re in trouble,” Mack said with mischievous grin. “Auntie Peepee said we weren’t to call him Dick. We are supposed to ask or call him Mr. James.”
“She said that it was okay, didn’t you Auntie Peepee?”
I looked up at Phoebe who was breathing rapidly and shaking her head, evidently having been ratted out by the little terrors. And Auntie Peepee? That was fucking hilarious.
“Auntie Peepee said my name was Dick, did she?”
I narrowed my eyes on Phoebe who was now a deep shade of red.
“Yep. She said you only let your friends call you Dick, but you might let us call you Addison or Mr. James. What can we call you?” Mack asked, giving a little shrug.
“I think Dick will be fine.” I kept my eyes on Phoebe as I answered the boy, loving the discomfort she was obviously feeling.
“I’m sorry,” she spluttered. “They misunderstood or misheard or something. I said they were to call you Mr. James. Didn’t I boys, didn’t I say you were to call him Mr. James, because that’s his name?”
She ground out the last few words, staring hard at the boys and silently begging them to save her ass.
They both nodded and Phoebe let out a breath.
“But you did say Dick Head was his secret name.”
And good old Mack threw her right back under the bus.
“MACK!”
“Well,” I said. “Only a few people call me that, but I think your Auntie Peepee calls me that all the time. Isn’t that right, Peepee? Usually Dick ‘Fat’ Head, I believe.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said in a strangulated voice, as though she was choking. “I didn’t say…I mean…I...your head isn’t really that fat, I was joking.”
“Ah, you’re both here,” Alexi gushed, appearing at the side of my chair. “Let’s get these reverse shots done and then you can go and get changed for the dinner party scene, Phoebe.”
Alexi didn’t tend to like to use the same extras in multiple scenes, but he did have a trusted few that were, and it looked like Phoebe was one of those bad pennies that would keep turning up.