The Bunk Up (The Village People Book 1)

by D H Sidebottom

  Frazer storms off, saying he’ll sort it.

  Tilly notices me in the background.

  “Daisy! Thank you so much for coming. I know it’s a small scene but it’s so intrinsic to the part. Can you remember your lines?”

  “Yes. I’ve spent the night practicing.”

  “Thank goodness. Well, if you can give our new lead some pointers, because he’s not managing to encapsulate the character at all yet.”

  “Who’s the new lead? Anyone I’ve heard of?” But she doesn’t hear me. She’s off organising the next scene to be shot.

  Make-up done, I’m put behind the bar and then Frazer walks out. I’m so put off I don’t realise they’ve said ‘action’. He’s wearing the wig for Olivia. I know he’s pissed at Tilly for not casting him in the film but I think he’s actually gone too far now. Tilly doesn’t have time for this.

  “What are you doing here and what the fuck do you look like?” I ask him.

  He recoils. “Oh, that’s all I need. Here I am in this horrendous wig, I don’t need you telling me how awful it is; I can see that.”

  “So why are you wearing it? It makes you look like a drag queen.”

  “Cut!” yells Tilly.

  Oh dear, I’m going to get sacked now from my five-minute-long role.

  “That, Frazer, that, is EXACTLY what I’ve been seeking from you all day. Marvellous work.”

  “Eh?” I respond.

  Frazer stands with his shoulders back. “Yes, well I thought about your advice and, well, Daisy and I had a little chat before we filmed our scene.” He talks slowly, like I’m stupid. “We felt it best if the barmaid was really angry towards him. That it would make Oliver determined to seek help to look the part of a transgender female. It’s the catalyst for the rest of the film. Isn’t that right, Daisy?”

  I stand stock still, not sure what’s happening.

  “With Daisy being related to Spielberg, I, of course, sought her advice in relation to my being the new lead in the movie.”

  New lead in the movie? New lead in the movie? NEW LEAD IN THE MOVIE?

  Oh my fucking God. I snap to it quickly.

  “That’s right,” I tell Tilly. “So it worked then. You’re pleased?”

  “I’m fucking ecstatic. Can you carry on and finish the scene? The scriptwriters wrote you both a couple more lines.”

  Filming the non-shouty scenes that follow is a lot more difficult as I have to look Frazer in the eyes and be compassionate.

  “I’m sorry you’ve had to go through this alone.”

  “Oh, I’m not alone. I have my mother.” His face reflects the reality of having a mother he doesn’t speak with. I can see him channel his real experiences. “It’s tough, though. I can’t tell her everything I feel.”

  “I’m sure your mum would want to be there for you. Why don’t you try?”

  “I’ve fallen in love. With someone I can’t have. They belong to someone else.”

  This is too close to home for me. I look at my feet and speak indirectly to him. “Is there nothing you can do?”

  His answer is terse. “It’s too late for that now. I showed them a side of me they didn’t like and they’re marrying another.”

  “Things aren’t always how they seem. Take some time to work out what you really want.”

  “I know what I want.”

  “You do?” I hold onto his gaze a second too long.

  “I want the surgery. I want to be Olivia.”

  Reality bites quickly as we hear, “Cut!”

  “Fantastic, you two. Frazer, if you carry on like that, we’ll have a fabulous film on our hands.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Right, am I done?” I ask, because I need to get home.

  “Daisy, wait.”

  “Frazer, can you get back in make-up quickly? We’re going straight onto the surgery scene,” Tilly snaps.

  “Daisy. Please, wait for me. I need to speak to you.”

  Sighing, I know I’ll always wonder what he wanted to say if I walk away, so I nod, hoping I don’t regret my decision.

  I sit in that room for six hours. Frazer doesn’t show. I walk downstairs. The pub is empty. “Where is everyone?” I ask Trevor.

  “They had to go up to the main house to film. His Lordship demanded they film right now. Says he has a guest coming tomorrow. Tilly said we won’t see ‘em again until the early hours now.”

  “Oh, okay. I’ll go order my taxi, then. Nothing to hang around for here.”

  “We miss you around here you know, Daisy.” Trevor coughs and goes a bit pink in the face. “You’ve been good for the place. Been a breath of fresh air, like.”

  “Thank you.” I give him a genuine smile. “Maybe one day I’ll return. Who knows?”

  “I know one person who’d like that, even if they won’t say so.” He nods.

  “That’s it though, isn’t it? I’ve already been messed around by one bloke for years. I’m not giving another one the chance to give me the run-around. I need a plain speaking bloke next time.”

  “Show us ya’ tits!” yells Frank.

  “Frank, mate. What have I told you about coming in the pub? You’re barred. Off you go.”

  “At least I know where I stand with Frank.” I laugh. Then I return to my room, pack my things and wait for the taxi to take me back home.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Frazer

  As soon as filming is finished, I hurtle around to the pub where Trevor is about to lock up for the night.

  “Has she gone to bed?” I ask him.

  “She’s gone home, son,” he replies, looking at me tenderly.

  “Oh, I…”

  “Come on in. Let’s get you a scotch,” he says and, the fight gone out of me, I follow him in.

  This village has made me go weird. This pub landlord has become a familiar figure, and as he sits listening to me whine on about missing Daisy, I can see he’s almost become a friend.

  The shock is so acute that I sit for a moment, nursing my scotch and thinking. Beydon has become my home. It’s the place I always run to.

  Fucking hell.

  If Beydon is my home, then is the cottage my home? I’m kind of settled there, except for one thing. It doesn’t have Daisy in it.

  I need Daisy.

  I… shit. I LOVE Daisy.

  “I LOVE DAISY!” I shout out by accident, lost in my thoughts.

  “Yes, we all know that, Frazer. All except for you,” answers Trevor. “Now what are you going to do about it?”

  ***

  I take myself back to Haversham House the next morning before filming to pop in to see my mother. What the hell is happening to me? I’ve caught some kind of disease. I love Daisy and I’m seeing my mother without feeling a great big wall of hate. In fact, there’s a lump in my throat as I see her face light up when she opens the door. Someone send for Embarrassing Bodies; I’ve got one.

  “Morning, Frazer. Everything alright?”

  “I love Daisy.”

  “You do?” Her face beams with joy.

  “I do. But she went back home so I can’t tell her.”

  Mother’s forehead creases. “What do you mean, she went back home?”

  “She came to re-film a scene. I’m telling you there was, still is, something between us. Why has she chosen that idiot?”

  “Perhaps she felt she had no other option. I did tell the girl she should look out for herself, but it would appear she’s not learned yet. I do hope she doesn’t marry that knobhead.”

  “Mother!”

  A jaw-dropped, wide-eyed face greets me in return.

  I just called her mother.

  “Calling you Hazel is weird,” I say, and shrug it off.

  She nods and we both pretend we don’t see her wiping at her eyes.

  “You need to go to Chesterfield and tell her, Frazer.”

  “I know. I will. I’ve filming until Friday 15th, then I’ll go get my girl.” I clutch the end of the table. “What if
she tells me to get lost and picks that loser?”

  “I’ll go home, Frazer. Later today. I’ll go back to Chesterfield and see how the land lies. I need to get back to the shop anyway. I’ll keep you up to date on her comings and goings while you finish your filming. Then please come and claim Daisy as your own, though you’d better be serious about her. That girl deserves love.”

  “Mother. I think I want to marry that girl.”

  “Steady on, Frazer. You’ve only just decided you love her.”

  “No. My body and soul knew that a long time ago. It’s taken my brain a while to catch up is all.”

  Mother rolls her eyes and mumbles something about actors.

  After another heavy day of filming I return to the cottage and spend an hour looking through Daisy’s dream box. Goodness me, that woman has spent a long time planning her dream wedding. I know for sure when I look at one particular idea that there’s no way that prick Marcus would do this for her. Me, though? Well, I AM an actor.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Daisy

  It’s the night before the wedding. I know it’s sensible these days to have the stag do and hen night about a week before so everyone has time to recover but that is not what I want. Marcus has been a happy little bunny of late, since I told him I would handle all of the wedding preparations and keep it very simple. He doesn’t realise I’m now a bunny boiler.

  Kathy and I are dressed in hoodies and jeans. We’ve put the darkest fake tan on our faces and hands so we look a different race altogether from a distance. That’s what we’re going to be all night long. A distance away from the action. Incognito and ready to record all the events of the evening into a lovely wedding video. A present for my fiancé.

  I don’t know half the blokes Marcus has invited. The only familiar faces to me are Rex, who is there under sufferance and promise of five blow jobs from Kathy before the end of the summer, and a couple of blokes from Slimming Universe, recognisable for the fact they’re drinking slimline tonic water while everyone else sups pints.

  I’ve given Rex a budget to buy Marcus drinks, and Marcus being the greedy bastard he is, never turns one down. An hour into the stag do he is completely bladdered.

  Then Belinda comes in.

  I have to hand it to her. She’s come to win her prize. She’s dressed as a bride, with a dress halfway up her arse, stockings, suspenders, and a veil that she covers Marcus’ head with as she sticks her tongue down his throat, going beyond her professional boundaries.

  Then he has to take the garter off her leg with his teeth, and I can tell by the way my fiancé’s eyes widen that despite the dress being short, she isn’t wearing any knickers -although he could also be imagining her legs are Twixes. She whispers something to him and then waves goodbye to everyone.

  It’s so predictable. We watch as Marcus makes an excuse to go to the toilet. Kathy leaves her stool and gives me a nod before following him.

  Three minutes later she’s back.

  “So did he do it?” I ask.

  “Yep. All on film.”

  I sigh.

  “You are so well out of that one, Daisy. He lasted a minute tops.”

  “But you were gone for three.”

  “I went for a piss. Bloody cheap watered down wine!”

  I put the camera safely in my bag.

  After more drinking and frivolity, it’s time to move to another bar, and this is where Rex has his main role. He whispers my idea to the most raucous of the group and I sit and watch as whispers go around his mates.

  We’re following from a safe distance behind as they trip Marcus up, strip him and tie him to a lamppost outside the town hall by his belt. Then they run away, laughing.

  I make a phone call to the male stripper I ordered. He’s been sitting around a local bar waiting for my call. He arrives five minutes later and performs the sauciest lamppost dance I’ve ever seen. You’d think that lamppost was a pole. We get as close as we can to the action, made a lot easier by the crowd that’s gathered around.

  Marcus’ face is one of complete fright as Paulo – dressed as a policeman - tells him he’s going to be arrested for lewd behaviour.

  “My m-mates did it,” he slurs. “Please don’t arrest me, Officer. I’m getting married tomorrow. The ball and chain won’t be happy if I don’t turn up ‘cos I’m in prison.”

  “Oh, baby. I’m a present from your wife to be. She ordered you a stripper for your stag do. How fantastic is that?”

  “She ordered me a bloke? Fucking dozy bitch.”

  Paulo’s chin tightens. “There’s obviously been a mix up. But now I’m here you’re going to get exactly what she ordered.”

  Marcus’ face pales.

  Paulo performs a complete routine, stripping down to a pair of budgie smugglers which reveal his impressive girth. He thrusts and rubs himself up and down Marcus’ body while Marcus tries to meld with the lamppost, screaming ‘get off.’

  The audience around clap, scream for more and record it on their smartphones. As do I.

  Paulo dry humps Marcus’ leg screaming, “Oh my, yes! Feel my truncheon, yes!”

  The sheer shock and horror, plus copious amounts of alcohol, register on Marcus’ face and it’s clear he’s going to be sick.

  Paulo moves away, giving everyone a clear view of my fiancé throwing up down himself, and the real policeman who’s just passing by.

  The real one frees Marcus and arrests him for being drunk and disorderly.

  Rex goes to the police station, and after a kind word with the officer about an exuberant stag do, Marcus is let out with a warning.

  It’s so pathetic. At only ten pm I’m informed by telephone that Marcus is passed out on our sofa. I’m staying at Kathy’s to get ready, but first I pop home to see Mr Unconscious. I have a brand new packet of marker pens and I’m bursting to get artistic.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Hazel

  I’ve kept a close counsel this last few days, speaking with Kathy about my concern that Daisy is rushing headlong into a wedding. Imagine my surprise when Kathy revealed to me what is really going to happen on her wedding day. I’m very proud of my Daisy. She’s finally realised it takes yourself to make you happy first. I swore Kathy to secrecy. It’s now time for me to put my own part of the plan into action.

  I get out my mobile phone and text Frazer.

  Has filming finished? You must come to Chesterfield straight away. Daisy gets married TOMORROW at midday. It’s your LAST CHANCE.

  I sit back and hope I have one son who isn’t a complete idiot. I love Nigel, but by God, he’s a tool.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Daisy

  It’s my wedding day.

  The day of my dreams.

  Yet here I am surrounded by three over-excited evil pixies while I attempt to get ready for my almost-wedding to Cunt.

  I wish I’d stayed in bed with my kindle.

  Miranda jumps onto my knee. “I have a bride Barbie but she doesn’t look like you. Where’s your dress?”

  “I’m having a different sort of wedding. A fancy dress one. You have your pretty dress, though.”

  Miranda pouts. “I want to dress up too. I want to be a Ninja Turtle.”

  What the hell? “Off you go then to get changed.”

  She runs off, returning five minutes later, telling me she’s now Donatello, and wielding a bo-staff which knocks a vase and her breakfast cereal bowl onto the floor.

  “Let’s put that with my handbag,” I tell her. Only thirty minutes to go now before my transport arrives. Thank God. This outfit is hot and I don’t mean sexy.

  Frazer

  The Night Before….

  “She can’t. She fucking can’t.”

  I’m in the middle of filming the final scene of the film. I begin peeling off my wig and run to the make-up department, grabbing wipes and cleaning the crap off my face.

  “What are you doing?” Tilly screams. “It’s the final scene.”

 
“I have to leave. Now,” I tell her.

  “You can’t leave.” She stands in front of me. “If you do I’ll cancel this whole film. It has to be wrapped up tonight. I start a new project tomorrow.”

  “Sorry, Tilly, no can do.” I kiss her cheek and run off set. I’ve a main role in a whole other town.

  I grab my bag and call for a taxi.

  “Sorry, mate. Can’t get near your village. Haven’t you heard? Load of sheep escaped Donnie’s farm. Road totally blocked off.”

  Cursing, I sling my backpack over my shoulder and start to run to the train station. Good job I’ve kept my fitness up for my career.

  I get the last train leaving the local station. I’m bound for Cambridge, then Leicester. As I reach Leicester I’m forced to pay for a one night stay in a local hotel as there are no trains for Chesterfield until 5.30am the following morning.

  I text my mother.

  First train to Chesterfield 5.30am.

  Set your alarm.

  Of course I’m going to set my alarm. I’m not stupid.

  She gets married at twelve.

  No she doesn’t!

  That’s my boy!

  Of course I put the phone straight down and fail to set the alarm. I wake up at 10am. The next train departs at 10.30am and takes forty-two minutes. Estimated time of arrival to Chesterfield Town Centre therefore 11:12am.

  This is going to be too tight a margin. I pick up my phone.

  Miranda

  Auntie Daisy’s upstairs with my mummy. Her phone’s ringing. No-one is looking so I’m going to answer it.

  “Hello.”

  “Hello. Who’s that?”

  “Miranda.”