The Bunk Up (The Village People Book 1)

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The Bunk Up (The Village People Book 1) Page 10

by D H Sidebottom


  “Oh yes. Mummy dearest. So how’s having her in the house working out?”

  “It isn’t because she insists on sharing the bed with me, and so Frazer is having to sleep on the sofa and I’m scared it’s going to lead to an embarrassing faux pas where I attempt to mount my own mother. I need her out of here, but she seems to be embedding herself in village life. She’s already let Frank feel her left boob.”

  “Who’s Frank?”

  “Never mind.”

  “Well, you need to get her out of that cottage as soon as possible. Doesn’t she realise she’s getting in the way?”

  “This is my mother we’re talking about.”

  “Yes, well then get her lined up with a bloke in the village and fast.”

  My mind goes over what I’ve seen here so far. “I don’t think she’s going to go for Jerry in the DIY shop unless he agrees to Fifty Shades her with the cable ties and I doubt the handyman’s that handy. He hasn’t been to mend our boiler yet. It’s a good job it’s been a warm day and we have a kettle.”

  “Well, mind that when you say the boiler needs mending he doesn’t try and mend your mother.”

  This has us guffawing with laughter.

  “Well, the evil pixies have escaped their beds so I’d better go and help Rex gather them up. Promise me something, Daisy?”

  “Yeah, what’s that?”

  “Enjoy more than one penis. Remember you’re there for life experience and...”

  I hold my breath.

  “I dare you to try and get a part in that film.”

  “What?”

  “Why not? See if you can be an extra or something. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. Then when you get near enough to Joe Foster, can you pull me a bit of his hair out and send it me in the post?”

  “Dear God, are you trying to get me arrested, woman?”

  “I love him. If you send me his hair I can smell it and imagine he’s with me.”

  “You’ve lost your mind. Go and see to the pixies.”

  After an hour’s read I start the usual fight with my eyelids that occurs when I’m in the middle of a great book. My lids want to close and I need them to stay open. I pray to them to let me read another line, another word. I realise it’s a losing battle and must be asleep for 0.05 of a second before my mother bursts into the room.

  “For God’s sake, Mother. Do you have to be so loud? I was asleep.”

  “Oh, sorry, darling. Oh well, now you’re awake. Let’s talk about Frazer.”

  I prop my head up on the pillow. “Keep your voice down. He’s only a few feet away.”

  “I think he’s quite fond of you, you know. He was asking me twenty questions. Especially about you and dickhead.”

  “You’d better not have told him my business.”

  “Well, it saves you having to do it. Now you can spend your time on other things, like what you were doing when I got here.”

  “Mother.”

  “Anyway, I realise I’m in the way staying here.”

  “Oh, you’re leaving already? Where to this time? The Algarve? Tenerife?”

  “No, darling. Just above the Horse and Hound. They have a B&B. Frazer told me.” She leans over and pets my head. “I’m not going anywhere until I see my daughter settled.”

  She then turns over and is out as if someone has put a chlorophyll-filled tissue in her face.

  Of course, I’m now wide awake, but on the plus side that means I can read more words. Thank goodness I brought my clip-on book light with me. I hope Trevor the landlord is prepared for what’s coming his way tomorrow.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Frazer

  My penis has a problem, or rather an addiction. It wants in Daisy, like ALL THE TIME. I’ve not been able to shag her this morning because her bloody mother is still here. I’ve managed to rub one out and clean myself up and get the kettle on before Daisy and her mother make their way downstairs. Shirley has her suitcase. I might get some action this morning after all. My dick wakes up fast and I have to keep facing the kitchen sink.

  Gertrude’s drooling mouth.

  Henry’s arse-crack.

  Frank’s flatulence.

  Hurrah, I can turn around.

  “Morning. Drink anyone?” I ask.

  “I’ll have a quick cuppa before you help me down to the Horse and Hound, Frazer.”

  “What?”

  Daisy smirks. Cow.

  “Oh, sorry, Frazer. I just assumed. I didn’t expect to have to take such a heavy case all the way down to the pub by myself.” Shirley puts on this little girl lost look which might work were she a young Shirley Temple and not fifty-two.

  “Oh, I meant what did you say you wanted to drink again? Of course I’m taking you down to the pub. Wouldn’t dream of you dragging that case there yourself.”

  Shirley comes up and squeezes my arm. She might make out like it’s a friendly thing but she’s feeling my muscles. I’m being molested.

  “Cup of tea, love. Splash of milk and no sugar, because I’m sweet enough.”

  When she’s ready to depart, I whisper to Daisy. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Get ready.”

  She winks at me. Dirty cow.

  It’s already a roasting hot day and I’m sweating buckets by the time I’ve dragged Shirley’s case down to the Horse and Hound. What the fuck has she got in here? The dead corpse of her toy-boy?

  As she meets Trevor she holds out her hand and puts on a posh voice. “So pleased to meet you, Trevor. Thank you for allowing me to stay in your beautiful establishment.”

  “So, like I’m sure Frazer here has told you, its forty-five pounds a night. Fifty if you’d like an evening meal in the pub.”

  “Oh, Trevor.” She strokes a hand down his cheek. “It’s so vulgar to discuss one’s finances in public. Let’s do it later somewhere a little more intimate. Perhaps you could show me to my room now.”

  Trevor, whose ex-wife left him around five years ago, looks petrified and turns to me.

  “See you later, Trev,” I tell him, and I rush out of the pub, looking forward to a tryst before I’m back later for work and filming.

  God, she’s that keen she’s even left the door slightly ajar. I push it open with force; dust and small bits of plaster fall from the ceiling. A bit of plaster goes in my eye. “Ow. Fucking hell.”

  I do that thing Mrs Flowers in Primary School showed me, where you pull your eyelid further forward and recite the numbers up to twenty before you then say, ‘Now my eye should be empty.’

  I look up and find a bemused Daisy in front of me.

  “Sexy.”

  “I’ll show you sexy.” I growl and start to chase her up the stairs.

  There’s a knock at the door.

  “Ignore it.”

  But Daisy is already looking out of the bedroom window. “It’s a grey-haired bloke with a spanner in his hand. Any chance he’s the handy-man?”

  “Fucking Henry. Now he comes to repair the boiler.”

  Daisy chuckles. “Hopefully it won’t take him long and then we could have a nice, long, hot shower together.”

  I dash downstairs to let Henry in. The sooner the job’s done the better.

  Except this is Henry. Henry has four cups of tea for every four minutes of work he does. It’s been an hour and so far he’s only admired the shower and boiler. Daisy has given up and started some more painting. I’m about to give up on life itself if I have to sit here much longer. I’m thoroughly up to date with life with his wife, daughter, son, grandchildren, budgie and ferret. He was about to tell me about his new tropical fish tank when I interrupted him to ask if he wanted another cup of tea. However, he has the uncanny ability of remembering exactly where he’s left a story, which is a real achievement when he to’s and fro’s about his actual repairs, checking and double-checking.

  In the end I have to leave Daisy and get to work. I’ve a short shift at the Horse and Hound and then at four pm Tilly and crew are coming to film my scene!


  I ask Henry if he doesn’t mind if I check my hair out in the mirror. I’ve managed a small wash in the kitchen sink by using the kettle. I know there will be hair and make-up artists but I want to turn up looking professional, not like I’ve spent the evening with Frank.

  So it’s when Henry moves out of the bathroom and I stare into the mirror that I remember I have a black eye.

  Oh fuck. I hope those make-up artists are good.

  ***

  My shift is over and the film crew are getting ready to film. Daisy has turned up as Henry has finally finished the repairs to the boiler and she keeps calling me hot stuff and singing It’s Raining Men and that she’s going to get soaking wet. It’s a good job I need to stay behind the bar for my scene.

  Tilly storms in with a harried looking Joe behind her. She takes one look at my face and says, “Fuck no. Not now, Frazer.”

  She grabs hold of a young girl’s arm. “See if you can do something with that.”

  “Do you mean my eye?” I ask her.

  She blows out her lips. They look inflatable. She’s obviously had that trout pout done. I get the evil eye and she flounces off, tearing a strip off of at least five people she passes. I catch Joe’s eyes, and he rolls them upwards.

  “Artistic differences?” I ask him.

  “Her mother said I was prettier,” he answers, smoothing down his wig. “Needless to say her mother was packed off back to the US and I’m stuck with my lovely wife.”

  “Right. Come on. Get this scene set up!” Tilly yells at the set director. “Joe!” she bellows. “Come to the bar.”

  “I’ll pass you a real drink instead of the prop shit,” I tell him.

  “Thanks, mate. Make it a double.”

  Except that’s not what happens. Because at the beginning of the scene, I, as the barman, have to insult Joe’s attempts to be a woman. This results in his character, Olivia, realising that if she’s going to be a woman, she needs to do it properly and she then goes on to a clinic. Joe/Olivia has to throw a drink at me. The first time we film it, I wipe my face with the bar cloth and my make-up comes off.

  “Cut!” yells Tilly.

  “Sorry, Tilly.”

  “Sorry, Tilly,” she mimics. “I don’t have the time or the money for this shit, Frazer. I need to replace you, and fast.”

  “What? You can’t.”

  “I’m not writing that the barman has a black eye into my script, Frazer. You’re out. Maybe next time you’ll think before you crawl into a married woman’s knickers. No doubt it was a disgruntled husband who socked you one.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Nothing to do with bedroom antics then?” She tilts her head towards me, waiting for a response.

  “Well...”

  “Get out of here, Frazer. You’re done. I should have known better than to take a chance on a man who only ever let me down. Who lets all women down.”

  I’m sacked from my part. I feel like I’m going to cry. The only thing that can cheer me up right now is a shag with Daisy.

  “Right. I need a new barman. Who wants to audition? We’ll sort any acting permissions out after. I need someone right now.”

  “Can it be a barwoman?” says a familiar voice.

  She’s got to be fucking kidding me.

  “Oh my God, Daisy. I bet you can act, coming from such a dynasty. Of course it can be a woman. In fact, that’s even better for the script. Make-up. Get over here quickly. Let’s get Daisy in position as soon as possible.”

  That’s what I’d wanted to say.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Daisy

  When Tilly had her meltdown and fired Frazer I wasn’t sure what to do. Then Kathy’s words came into my mind and before I could consider whether or not it was a good idea, my hand was raised and I asked if I could be a barwoman.

  I adore pretending to be someone else. In this case, I’m Lavinia the barmaid. My lines are few and so I pick them up in no time and all I do is imagine it’s totally real life and Joe is no longer in front of me. It’s Oliver/Olivia and though the scene asked for the barman to be cruel, I ask Tilly if I can try something else. She’s all, “Whatever you think, babe,” and so I gently tease out of Olivia a confession that he’s Oliver and I offer advice to maybe contact his doctor or an advice centre for guidance on how to move forwards. When we’ve filmed it, everyone applauds us! It’s only a few minutes’ claim to fame and Tilly does tell me that it may end up on the cutting room floor as the plot may go in a different direction. I don’t care. I’ve acted with Joe Foster! At the end of the scene he has to kiss my forehead. I’m never washing my head again!

  There’s no sign of Frazer, which I take as not a good one.

  “Hey there, Daisy. You were amazing back there.” Troy, whose scenes with his ‘best friend’ Oliver are up next, gives me a hug.

  “Thank you. I loved it.”

  “You were a natural. Ever thought of acting for a living?”

  “Oh my God. No. Thanks, but it’s not for me. All that line learning and travelling around.”

  “Fair enough. So what do you do around here in an evening, Daisy? Because I’ve been staying with Joe and Tilly and I can tell you now, there’s no way I’m going back to their house tonight.”

  “There’s a B&B here. My mother’s here somewhere,” I tell him, looking around for any sign of her.

  “Well that’s okay for later but I need some food after I shoot my scene. Fancy going for something to eat?”

  I suck on my bottom lip then release it. “I know a great place just outside of Beydon. I visited there before but didn’t get to stay long.”

  Troy’s gaze seeks more information.

  “Bad date, bad food, bad wind.”

  He snorts with laughter. “Oh, Daisy, you are a hoot.”

  “Don’t let me have red wine.”

  “I think we’ll do shots. You up for it?”

  Shots with a tasty actor? I think of Kathy’s words again.

  Dead right I’m up for it.

  So it’s back to The Cock Inn. This time I enjoy a full three course meal with an accompaniment of water. Troy is quite a clean eater, all fresh food, and he skips dessert, saying he much prefers watching me eat mine. I have the biggest portion of chocolate cake I’ve ever seen.

  Stomach lined, Troy orders a tray full of multi-coloured shots. He’s been super fun, with his stories about spoiled female actresses. I’ve enough gossip to not need to renew my subscription to Gossip magazine for at least a year. Which then reminds me I need to cancel it as no doubt Marcus is throwing my issues in the bin. I wish I could throw my issues in the bin.

  “Hey, hey. What’s happening? You’ve gone all sad.”

  I sigh. “Looks like I’ve not had enough shots.”

  So Troy orders another round.

  Somehow in our drunken states we manage to get in the back of a taxi. Unable to fasten my seatbelt because my eyes are seeing two places to insert it, we go around a corner and I slide across the seat straight into the side of Troy. Troy takes this as his cue to place his lips on mine. Wow, he’s a great kisser. I’m so lost in trying to concentrate on my tongue not slipping back out of Troy’s mouth, that I don’t realise we’ve pulled up at the edge of the village.

  Troy pays the taxi driver and helps me out.

  “Would you like to come to mine for a coffee?” I ask.

  “Yes, I would, Miss Harlow.”

  It takes Troy and myself quite some time to reach the cottage what with our inebriated states and stops for snogging.

  Troy waits behind me as I try to get the cottage door open.

  I can’t understand why my key won’t fit in the lock. I try a few more times until I realise that I’m trying to open the door with a tampon.

  “See, the adverts are wrong,” I tell Troy as I shake my head in annoyance. “They say you can live your life as normal if you use tampons, but it’s not letting me in my house.”

  “You crazy lady. Ha! Crazy Daisy,” hoots
Troy, slapping me jollily on the arm. Just a little too hard. With my lack of balance in my drunken state I fall sideways into the garden.

  I hear the front door open and a voice shout, “What the fuck is going on here?”

  I sit up in the grass. “Frazer! Have you got a magic tampon?”

  “What the hell are you talking about? It’s one o’ clock in the morning. I was trying to sleep.”

  “Sorry, F. Well you go right back on to bed.” I make shoo-ing motions with my hands. “I’m having a coffee with Troy.”

  “I’ll make you both one,” Frazer states as he stomps away.

  We follow him into the house. “Did you actually mean a proper coffee?” Troy whispers in my ear as we both stare towards Frazer, who’s slamming stuff around in the kitchen.

  “No.” I sulk. “I didn’t.”

  I sit alongside Troy on the sofa, and every time Frazer isn’t looking, I cop a feel of Troy’s dick. I think this one might be a pierced one like those girls in the pub were talking about.

  Frazer hands both myself and Troy a drink and then he sits in the middle of us.

  “What are you doing?” I ask him.

  “Having a hot drink with you two. You woke me up, so now you can entertain me.”

  There’s virtual silence as we all drink our beverages. I slowly start to sober up and now the thought of entering into sexual relations while Frazer is in the house is mortifying. What was I thinking? Well, of course, I wasn’t. I was drunk.

  Troy also seems to have sobered up, and realising nothing’s going to happen while Frazer’s in the house, he makes his excuses and leaves. He does give me a nice soft kiss on the lips as he leaves though, and asks me if we can go out again. For one moment I feel like I’m betraying Frazer, then I shake myself. We’re bunk-up partners, no strings.

  “I’d love to go out again, Troy. I had a great time.”

  “Well once again, congratulations on your acting today. It may be a one-off for you, but I thought you were incredible.”

 

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