Hubble Bubble

by Christina Jones

  ‘Er – right.’ Doll stood up. ‘As it looks like a battle zone out here, I guess we’re eating in the living room, so I’ll just go and set the table then, shall I?’

  With the table laid with rainbow plates, blue-handled cutlery, three odd champagne flutes, four purple candles in pink holders, red paper napkins left over from last Christmas, and a centrepiece of the orange and yellow chrysanthemums remaining from Mitzi’s leaving bouquet, Doll thought it set the room off a treat.

  Putting a Mott the Hoople CD on the player and leaving Abba for afters, she turned off all but one of the table lamps, and with the candle glow and the fire’s flickering flames, the living room looked wonderfully cosy. If only the bungalow could be half so welcoming.

  ‘Right,’ Mitzi bustled in carrying a steaming vegetable dish, ‘Lulu’s just come in, and everything’s ready – so I’m prepared for the moment of truth. No, you sit down love – I’ll bring the rest in.’

  As Doll sat, Mitzi and Lu passed in the doorway. Richard and Judy shot into the room between them and settled down for a happy reciprocal grooming session in front of the fire.

  ‘Wow.’ Lu looked around with pleasure as she plonked herself opposite Doll, shaking her beads and braids away from her face. ‘This all looks gorgeous. And it’s so lovely and warm. I’ve just come back from Niall’s bloody freezing loft and it looked so stark and harsh after being back at home for a while.’

  ‘Just what I was thinking about the bungalow,’ Doll reached for one of the many bottles on the table and scrutinised the label. ‘Oh hell, it’s one of Clyde’s. Well – are you ready for this?’

  Lu grinned, helping herself to a hefty glass of parsnip and raspberry. ‘More or less. We’ll have to eat it anyway so as not to hurt her feelings, and at least the veg smells okay.’

  ‘And so does the rest of it,’ Mitzi backed into the room carrying a loaded tray, ‘even if I say so myself. I’m really proud of the way this has turned out.’

  ‘So you should be …’

  Doll and Lu surveyed the pie with ill-disguised astonishment. It appeared perfectly normal – and smelled wonderful. Still, Doll thought, the proof of the pudding and all that.

  Mitzi, her hair still awry, but looking a little less harassed, dished up three portions. Doll continued to look at her plate in surprise. Considering she knew more or less what was in it, it had turned out looking like one of those ‘and here’s one I made earlier’ jobs that the telly chefs served up. However, as you could never be too careful, she topped up everyone’s glasses with Clyde’s toxic home brew.

  ‘To my first venture into cookery—’ Mitzi looked more amazed than any of them ‘—and to making our wishes come true …’

  Giggling, they clinked glasses in the firelight as Mott the Hoople crooned in the background.

  ‘And yes, it’s entirely suitable for vegetarians.’ Mitzi beamed at Lulu as she reached for the greens. ‘Granny Westward must have known. Right – gravy anyone? More potatoes? Okay – so now for the good bit. The Wishes Come True only works if you wish when you take the first mouthful, or so it says in the book.’

  Lu poured more wine. ‘What are we all wishing for? Weekly lottery wins and size ten figures for ever?’

  Mitzi laughed. ‘No way. And none of the Miss World universal peace and health and happiness for man, woman and animal-kind, either – we all want that anyway. According to Granny Westward’s notes, the wishes must be personal and contrary to tradition, spoken out loud. So, who’s going first?’

  ‘You must,’ Doll said. ‘You’ve done all the work. Go on then.’

  Mitzi sat back in her chair, her loaded fork hovering. ‘Well, as I’ve been feeling a bit lonely and adrift since being forced into retirement, I’d really like to feel needed and useful again. I want a purpose in life and I want to be loved. For myself. I’m going to wish for that. For someone to really need me and love me.’

  Doll pulled a face. ‘That’s so boring, Mum! Everyone loves you and needs you anyway – me and Lu and the neighbours and your friends – and look at all those people who’ve been ringing up for your baby-boomers thing … Nah, you should wish for something much more personal.’

  Mitzi pushed the forkful of food into her mouth and chewed. ‘Far too late, I’m afraid. I’ve done it – oh, and this tastes okay. Now you two …’

  Lu topped up her glass again and lifted her own fork. ‘Easy-peasy. I wish someone would give me Heath Ledger – in his scruffy, shaggy-haired, drop-dead sexy Knight’s Tale mode, not all cropped haired and straight-looking, of course – as a plaything.’

  ‘Lu!’ Doll and Mitzi howled in unison. ‘That’s not in the spirit of the game at all!’

  ‘Tough,’ Lulu gulped down her first mouthful. ‘That’s what I’ve wished for and oh, hey, Mum – this is great. Really great … Go on then, Doll – what’s your wish?’

  Doll took a deep breath. She’d been wishing for so much earlier in the evening, hadn’t she? Holidays, more money, sex … They all seemed a bit too personal and grasping somehow. Oh, of course this was all a load of hokum, but if, just if, it worked. ‘Well – getting married and having kids would be lovely – but there’s fat chance of that at the moment, so to get things kick-started in the right direction I’ll settle for wishing that Brett would show some impromptu romantic inclinations …’

  Lulu frowned. ‘Oh, pul-ease! That’s too disgusting to even contemplate. Postman Brett on the rampage – yuk! Still, if it’s what you really want … go on then – eat it or it won’t come true.’

  Doll looked down at the pie. Years of living with Brett had deadened her taste buds to all but the plainest of plain cooking. Even a touch of coriander was considered exotic in the bungalow. Oh, well. She took a mouthful of the pie. It tasted unusual, but certainly not unpleasant. The textures all blended into rich creaminess and even the spotty pastry melted in the mouth. She smiled and forked up some more.

  ‘Congratulations, Mum – I think you’ve found your new forte. Watch out Nigella, is all I can say.’

  Mitzi went pink with pleasure and, staggeringly slightly, swapped Mott the Hoople for Abba.

  The doorbell chimed faintly. Richard and Judy turned pale green eyes towards the hall.

  ‘I’ll go,’ Mitzi said. ‘It’s probably Lav and Lob – they knew I was cooking and they’ll be on the lookout for leftovers. Whoops! My legs have gone all tingly – must be too much of Clyde’s parsnip and raspberry.’

  Scraping her plate and surprising herself by reaching for seconds, Doll watched her mother make a sort of zigzag exit from the living room. ‘I feel a bit woozy myself …’

  ‘Mmmm, me too.’ Lu rattled her braids. ‘And this pie really is ace. Hey – you don’t think it’s this that’s made us all light-headed, do you? You don’t think Mum has really unleashed some sort of magic?’

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ Doll tried to focus. ‘It’ll be Clyde’s booze …’

  They smiled squiffily at one another across the table, listening as Mitzi unlocked the front door. It was all very peace and love. Jigging gently, they joined in a very giggly duet of ‘Gimme Gimme Gimme a Man After Midnight’.

  The giggles suddenly died as they heard Mitzi scream.

  Chapter Five

  ‘Oh, my God!’

  Mitzi clung to the bottom banister and gawped at Heath Ledger standing on the doorstep.

  ‘I’m really sorry to have startled you,’ he grinned at her, his teeth very white in the gloom. ‘Are you okay?’

  Mitzi nodded. The twinkly, floaty feeling seemed to have robbed her of her powers of speech. This vision in front of her, young, tall and beautiful, his perfect features tanned, his shaggy blond-streaked hair falling towards his dramatically blue eyes, surely couldn’t be real.

  ‘Er—’ she gurgled a bit, wishing that her legs would stop shaking ‘—um, yes, I’m fine, I think.’

  ‘This is number thirty-five, isn’t it?’ Heath Ledger still looked concerned. ‘Only I couldn’t quite make out the numbe
rs from the street.’

  ‘Yes – that is, no,’ Mitzi corrected herself quickly. Goodness – the poor boy was going to think she was doolally. What on earth was wrong with her brain? ‘We’re thirty-three. Thirty-five is next door.’

  He grinned a bit more. ‘Oh, right. Then I’m really sorry to have – oh …’

  He was staring into the hall. Still clinging to the newel post for support, Mitzi turned her head carefully to follow his gaze.

  To the loud background accompaniment of ‘Gimme Gimme Gimme A Man After Midnight’, Lulu and Doll were shoulder to shoulder in the living-room doorway. They too seemed to have lost the power of coherent speech.

  But not for long.

  ‘Mum … are you okay? I mean—’ Lulu’s jaw dropped. ‘Wow!’

  ‘We heard you shout and … blimey …’ Doll blinked. ‘That was quick. She only wished for him a few minutes ago.’

  ‘This … this – um – gentleman is looking for next door,’ Mitzi explained. ‘The Bandings, that is, not Flo and Clyde’s.’

  ‘Really?’ Doll raised her eyebrows. ‘Did something go wrong with the wish, then? What on earth would Lav and Lob do with Heath Led—’

  ‘I’m so sorry to have disturbed you all,’ he repeated, still smiling across Mitzi’s shoulder towards Doll and Lulu. ‘It may be too late to call on—’ he scrutinised a piece of paper ‘—Lavender and Lobelia at this time of night.’

  ‘They certainly go to bed quite early,’ Mitzi agreed, forming her words carefully as her lips seemed to have gone numb, ‘but if there’s a light on in their front room you’ll still catch them.’

  ‘Okay, thanks. I’ll give it a go. My apologies again. Goodnight.’

  And with a long last look into the hallway, he disappeared down the dark path in a blur of faded jeans and much-washed black sweater.

  Mitzi slowly closed the door. Of course he wasn’t really Heath Ledger. Of course it was just a coincidence. Of course wishes didn’t come true. Did they?

  Lu exhaled heavily, rolling her Nefertiti eyes. ‘Wow. Was he fit or what?’

  ‘Very hot.’ Doll raised her eyebrows. ‘And Heath Ledger to a T. I reckon Granny Westward knew exactly what she was cooking up.’

  Giggling, they all trooped back into the living room. Richard and Judy were sitting on the table licking the plates clean. Mitzi hoped their wishes didn’t involve the massacre of multitudinous wildlife to be presented to her under the duvet, still kicking, in the early hours.

  ‘Anyone else want a drink? I think I need one.’ Mitzi pushed her fingers through her hair, humming ‘Waterloo’ along with Abba. ‘And I hope it wasn’t the cooking, but I’m feeling pretty peculiar.’

  ‘So are we,’ Doll agreed, sitting down heavily and reaching for yet another of Clyde’s bottles. ‘But that may be because of the excitement of having a Heath lookalike on the doorstep rather than anything toxic you added to the pie.’

  Lu still had a faraway look. ‘Anyway, you only used herby things, didn’t you? Granted not your usual spice-rack stuff, but nothing that could be classed as a banned substance. And don’t half the royal family indulge in herbal remedies?’

  ‘That’s a recommendation, is it?’ Doll laughed a little too loudly. ‘Look at what it’s done for them – there’s not a normal one amongst them. Oh, crikey – I feel as high as a kite.’

  ‘But it’s not a nasty too-much-to-drink feeling, is it?’ Mitzi frowned. ‘It’s sort of fizzy and floaty and rather lovely.’

  Sinking into the fun-fur cushions on the sofa, she smiled to herself. Maybe the feeling was exactly what Granny Westward had intended. They’d had to find their own amusements in small villages even a few decades ago. Why wouldn’t people spice things up a bit with one or two readily available hedgerow ingredients in their recipes? And if the rather potent results were then claimed as magical, where was the harm in that? It was only a bit of fun, after all. She really must study the book more closely and see what other entertainment could be found amongst its pages.

  ‘Oh, my God!’ Mitzi struggled to her feet. ‘I must be mad!’

  ‘What’s up?’ Lulu and Doll spoke together.

  Despite her light-headedness, Mitzi was already at the living-room door. ‘Me – I’m what’s up. I’ve sent that bloke – gorgeous as he was – round to two elderly ladies at this time of night! Me! I’m supposed to be sensible and caring and keep an eye on them – and he could be a mugger or a rapist or a murderer or anything.’

  ‘Course he couldn’t.’ Lu laughed. ‘He was lovely.’

  ‘And I’m sure there have been a lot of very handsome serial killers …’ Mitzi tugged at the front door. ‘I won’t be long.’

  Because she could no longer feel her feet, the short journey down her own path and up that of the Bandings was a rather odd experience. However, clinging to Lav and Lob’s porch, she leaned on the doorbell.

  Eventually, Lavender, wearing a moth-eaten dressing gown and Celtic football socks, pulled the door open and peered across the security chain. ‘Oh, hello, Mitzi. Are you all right? Your hair looks funny and your face is all shiny. You’re not ill, dear, are you? Ah!’ Lavender’s eyes widened pleasurably. ‘You’re letting yourself go, dear, aren’t you? You’ve spent one too many lonely nights with the gin bottle and have reached the cry-for-help stage. We knew it would happen before long. Come along in, dear. Lobelia and I will cheer you up.’

  There was a lot of metallic scrabbling and Lavender flung the door open.

  Stepping into the hall, which was fractionally colder than the autumnal night outside, Mitzi smiled. ‘Thank you, but really I’m fine. I’m not alone, the girls are with me – we’ve had a lovely evening – but there was a young man at our door just now asking for you, and I thought I ought to come and check if he’d … that is, if you’d let him in. Of course, I know you wouldn’t, but—’

  ‘Oh, yes we did, dear.’ Lavender nodded happily. ‘He’s upstairs in the bedroom with Lobelia.’

  Jesus! Mitzi whimpered. ‘Okay, now don’t panic. You ring the police and I’ll go up and see what I can do.’

  ‘Why would we need the police, dear?’ Lavender queried. ‘We haven’t got any more room. And anyway it would only be that rather dim Tom Hodgkin at this time of night – unless of course that nice young sergeant is on duty in which case we could perhaps squeeze them in and—’

  ‘We’re not inviting them to a damn party, Lav. It doesn’t matter about the numbers. This could be serious. Just ring them and say this man has forced his way into your house and that he’s taken your 82-year-old sister hostage and—’

  ‘Lobelia is eighty-one and a half,’ Lavender said crossly. ‘And I’m seventy-nine. And she’s hasn’t been taken hostage. Are you quite sure you’re all right, Mitzi?’

  ‘Lav, look, you really should never, ever let strange people into your home. You know that don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, dear, of course we do. We’re not senile, you know. But he’s not a stranger. Dr Merrydew sent him. Because of our ad in the surgery. Good heavens Mitzi, surely you remember? We advertised for a lodger, dear. And he’s here. Look …’

  Heaving a huge sigh of relief, Mitzi realised that she’d been shaking violently. Her legs were really quite wobbly, so she sank down on the bottom stair, painted 1950s cream with a faded dusty runner in sepulchre brown, as Lav unfolded a piece of paper.

  ‘There. See? A written recommendation from Dr Merrydew. This young man is newly attached to the hospital at Winterbrook and there’s been an accommodation problem – his digs were double booked – and Dr Merrydew said he should try us. He’s a paraplegic.’ Lavender beamed. ‘And his name’s Shag.’

  ‘What?’ Mitzi tried to focus on the scribbled writing. ‘No, no – this says he’s a paramedic. And his name’s Shay, Lavender. Shay.’

  ‘Oh,’ Lavender peered at the note. ‘Yes, well, maybe. Dr Merrydew’s writing is practically indecipherable. It’s why everyone has to swap their prescriptions at the pharmacy. Do you remember wh
en your Lance needed some ointment for his verruca and he got Mrs Elkins’s Arthur’s steroid cream instead? Didn’t we all laugh? I mean, not too bad for your Lance of course, but absolute murder for Mrs Elkins’s Arthur’s haemorrhoids. And do you remember when—’

  ‘Yes, yes …’ Mitzi pulled herself to her feet. ‘And I can see that everything’s okay, even if it is a bit late for anyone to be looking for lodgings, but—’

  Any further assurances were interrupted by Lobelia, beaming almost as widely as Lu had been, and the gorgeous Shay, making their way downstairs.

  ‘Oh, Mitzi – lovely to see you. Were you feeling suicidal, dear? This is Shay Donovan, our new lodger. Mr Donovan, this is Mitzi Blessing, our next-door neighbour.’

  They shook hands rather awkwardly.

  ‘We’ve already met,’ Mitzi explained to Lobelia. ‘Lav’ll tell you – anyway, I must get back.’

  ‘Mitzi was worried that it was a bit late to be entertaining gentlemen callers,’ Lavender puffed, bending down to yank her football socks up to her knees. ‘She was worried about us – or so she said. To be honest—’ she fluttered pale eyelashes in Shay’s direction ‘—I think she was lonely. She’s divorced, you know.’

  Shay smiled at Mitzi with deep understanding. ‘So are my parents. And you seemed to be having a fine time when I called.’

  ‘We were,’ Mitzi assured him. ‘I’d cooked a meal for my daughters and—’

  Lobelia hooted with laughter. ‘Cooking! You? That’s a turn-up!’

  ‘Yes, I know – anyway, I was fine – but it just seemed very late for – er – Mr Donovan to be calling and I thought—’

  Shay pushed his tousled hair away from his face. It fell back again. ‘There was a mix-up – I was supposed to be sharing a flat in Winterbrook, arrived there tonight to find people already installed, went back to the hospital to see if there was a temporary B&B in town, and your GP was there in the reception area. We got talking and well, here I am.’