Miss Wrong and Mr Right (17 page)

The theatre caretaker Len, along with Xander and Nicky, were all for it. Nicky hasn’t been able to think of pigeons in the same light after she went on a booze cruise to Dublin, and a tour guide told her that pigeons in the capital eat three hundred tonnes of vomit off the streets each year.

I suggested that we look into more humane ways of keeping pigeons at bay. Craig proposed renting a bald eagle, and taking it up on the roof twice a day to scare them away, but we doubted the Arts Council would fork out for that.

Then we had a meeting with Craig,
and Mhairi, the set designer for
Macbeth
. She pitched the idea to us that blood could cascade down the back wall of the stage when Lady Macbeth killed the King. It sounded fabulous, but we had to try and work out how we could do it, and then how much fake blood we’d need to do it every night for five weeks. Mhairi estimated it to be
six hundred gallons. Then Nicky started telling her about the pigeons in Dublin, and Mhairi tried to work out what three hundred tonnes of vomit would be in gallons, which made us both laugh and feel sick.
 

I realised again that without my wonderful, unpredictable job, I would be lost.
 

Later in the afternoon, I was surfing the net to find competitively priced fake blood suppliers, when I realised I still hadn’t phoned Mum to explain I would be coming to the christening tomorrow without Benjamin. I reached for the phone, but there was a knock at my door.

‘Come in,’ I said. The door opened and it was Ryan Harrison. He was dressed in jeans and a checked shirt, his hair fashionably tousled. He had a record bag over his shoulder. He looked like a student, a rather cute one at that.

‘Ryan, hello,’ I said. ‘Is everything okay? Is Byron with you?’

‘Yes, and no, it’s just me,’ he said.

‘Is your new hotel room okay?’ I asked. ‘They said it would be overlooking the park.’

‘Yeah, and it’s a suite, it’s so much better. I slept!’

‘That’s great,’ I said. He was quiet for a moment and started to straighten up some books on my desk.
 

‘You know, London is kinda weird, especially the weekends…’ he said. ‘I have friends here, but they’re in the industry too. They wanna go to parties and… I’ve been and seen loads of shows. Have you seen
Matilda
?’

‘Yes, it’s fab,’ I said. ‘And I remember when I first came to London, how overwhelming it was,
and that’s for people who aren’t famous!’
 

‘Yes, that’s why I really appreciate the invitation,’ said Ryan.

‘Invitation?’

‘Yeah to um, Micky’s christening.’

It was the weirdest moment, to hear my sister’s name come out of Ryan Harrison’s mouth. He went on.

‘Your grandma, Anouska, sure is a character… Did she really grow up in Hungary with Zsa Zsa Gabor?’

‘Apparently yes,’ I said, with a fixed smile on my face.

‘And did she really escape the Nazis?’

‘Yes. Although sometimes we wish…’ I shook away the thought. ‘So, she invited you to the christening?’

‘She said I should experience an “oldie English village and an oldie English church”, but that she was no oldie! She’s funny… She said you’d come by my hotel tomorrow morning at seven.’

‘Of course, we’ll see you at seven,’ I said the smile still fixed to my face.
 

‘Do I need to bring anything?’ he asked. I was tempted to ask him to pick up a rotary chicken and a bottle of ham, but I wondered if he did his own shopping anymore, or if he even handled cash?

‘Just bring yourself,’ I smiled.

‘Great, thanks Natalie,’ he grinned and slipped out of the door.

I stormed back to the flat and found Gran lying on the sofa. She had a cold flannel pressed to her forehead.

‘Natalie, I had a funny turn!’ she said dramatically. I rushed to her and took her hand.

‘What is it?’

‘Angina. I think I overdid it hoovering.’

I looked around, but I couldn’t see the hoover.

‘You don’t have to clean the flat,’ I said.

‘I am your guest Natalie, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.’

I went and made her a cup of tea, no milk just a slice of lemon, and came back to where she was lying on the sofa.

‘Oh that’s better,’ she said sitting up and taking a sip. ‘I forget I am old. It sucks to be old.’

‘Gran. Did you invite Ryan Harrison to Micky’s christening?’ I asked.

‘Yes,’ she said taking another sip of tea and coughing.

‘Why? And how? And didn’t you think you should ask me first?’

Gran looked thoughtful and sat up a little.

‘Natalie. You get dumped by this Benjamin, before you can introduce him at the christening – vich ve both know is about as desirable an invitation to view an execution on death row…’

‘Okay,’ I said.

‘However Micky and your mother think it’s the next royal vedding…’

‘Where are you going with this?’ I asked.

‘Do you vont to turn up man-less again? To see their pity?’

‘No.’

‘Of course not… And yet here you have vorking in your theatre, Ryan Harrison! A huge heart-throb!’

‘You said you didn’t have a clue who he was?’

‘Vell, I looked at the goggle. On the computer… I goggled him,’ she said.

‘You
googled
him,’ I corrected.

‘Yes, he is certainly vat the Americans call candy for the eye.’

‘Eye candy.’

‘Yes, he’s no Sean Connery, but there vill never be another Sean. However, those pictures of Ryan in the swim suit are hot stuff, no?’

I nodded in agreement.

‘But this is Dexter’s christening, Gran! It will be full of people from Sowerton…’

‘Natalie, ven I vas your age I fantasised about coming back to my hometown in Hungary, with Sean Connery on my arm. That vould have shown all those potato-faced bitches who called me a slut! Ha!’
 

‘He won’t be on my arm. I work with him. He might even be gay! Anyway, how did you get him to agree?’ I asked.

‘Natalie. You phoned his hotel in front of me last night. Ven you vent to bed I dial 1471, called the hotel and ask for Mr Heathcliff! He is very keen to experience a little of England…’ she gave me a wink.

‘Gran, he’s virtually a teenager, and…’

‘Oh Natalie. You are too shy! Now, I von’t hear anymore. I vill microvonk some goulash and ve vill decide vat you must vear.’

She got up off the sofa.

‘I thought you had angina?’ I said, seeing she suddenly had much more energy than when I’d arrived.

‘It comes and it goes…’ she said vaguely.

Despite my protests she fed me goulash, and this time didn’t let me drink, so I could look my best. She went through my wardrobe and found me an outfit and then she sent me to bed, for my beauty sleep. I lay there in the dark for an hour, with my brain whirring. Unable to sleep, I phoned Sharon.

‘What?’ she cried when I’d told her everything. ‘Life is so unfair! You know what I’m doing tomorrow? Taking Fred’s dad, Giuseppe, to Lewisham hospital to get his ears syringed…’

‘Sharon, it’s going to be so embarrassing… Ryan Harrison meeting my weird family, and Gran will be trying to matchmake the whole time…’

‘You get no sympathy from me,’ she said.
 

‘It’s going to look desperate, isn’t it?’ I asked. ‘Showing up at Dexter’s christening with Ryan Harrison. Maybe he’s gay?’

‘Dexter? I don’t know Nat, he’s only two years old,’ said Sharon.

‘Not Dexter, you twit, Ryan! If Ryan is gay, people might assume he’s my GBF.’

‘Wash your mouth out with soap and water, Natalie Love! He is
not
gay,’ insisted Sharon.

‘Let’s look at the evidence,’ I said. ‘He’s far too handsome to be straight, his dogs are named after
Twilight
characters. And I did hear a rumour he’s dating someone on
Manhattan Beach
.
’

‘Who?’ demanded Sharon.

‘It’s just a vague rumour…’

‘WHO?’ she growled.

‘The guy who plays his best friend…’

‘Jodie Pitch? Who plays Mitch Fitch, who’s married to the rich bitch? NO WAY! Oh my god!’

‘I hasten to add Sharon, that this is just a rumour. Anyway, if Ryan is gay, he’s not going to out himself at a random family christening,’ I said.

‘Also Ryan does look good in Speedos,’ she agreed. ‘Not many straight guys look good in Speedos. Well, apart from Olympic divers… I am jealous as hell Nat. You have to take photos, document everything. Oh my God, I’ve just had an idea!’

‘What?’ I asked.

‘You could make me my very own personalised Ryan Harrison calendar!’

‘No.’

‘Come on, you’re always asking for ideas for what to get me for Christmas! And it’s a family occasion. It’s perfectly normal to have a camera at a christening. January could be Ryan with one of the llamas on your farm… Hot guys look so cute with cuddly animals.’

‘No Sharon…’

But she wasn’t listening.

‘February could be Ryan on the green outside the Ramblers Rest pub, shirtless… I’ll check the weather forecast for tomorrow. I’m sure he’d take off his shirt if it was hot. March could be…’

I finally got off the phone after fending off Sharon’s requests for Ryan photos; she assured me she knows someone at Snappy Snaps who can be discreet. And Byron thought bunny boilers would be the strangers in the street!

Super Gran

It was a beautiful day when we left the flat early next morning. Gran had shown remarkable taste, helping me to choose a pair of skinny jeans and a cream-coloured sleeveless top, which showed just the right amount of cleavage for a christening. She had opted for a cream pair of close-fitting slacks with black patent heels, a matching cream blouse, a string of pearls, and a cashmere cardigan thrown around her shoulders. As we stepped into the lift down to the garage she slipped on a huge pair of Jackie Onassis sunglasses.

‘You look amazing,’ I said.

‘Thank you darlink,’ she said pulling down my top a little. I pulled it back up.

‘He vill be looking at you, not me,’ she protested.

‘He doesn’t need to see that much of me,’ I said tartly. ‘And besides I’m his boss, kind of.’
 

The lift opened to the underground garage, and she took my arm as we made our way over to my little Ford Fiesta. She grimaced, limping badly.

‘Those shoes look three sizes too small,’ I said noticing her feet crammed painfully into the black patent heels.

‘I’ll be fine. I took nine painkillers,’ she said stopping for a moment and leaning on her stick.

‘Gran!’

‘Oh be quiet. I’d rather have liver failure than be seen in flat shoes by a man who has von
GQ’
s
Sexiest Man of the Year three years in a row.’

‘You have been busy on the goggle,’ I said.
 

‘Now stop fussing and let’s go and get him,’ she said. I tidied up the car and helped Gran into the back seat (she wanted Ryan to go in the front so he could talk to me). We drove out of the underground garage and made our way to the Langham Hotel.
 

It was quite difficult to navigate the winding streets and one-way system to reach the rear entrance of the hotel, and I wondered if Ryan was going to bail on us at the last minute. Would he want to get up so early? And there was a strong chance he could get a far better offer, but as I pulled into the set-down and drop-off area, I spied Ryan waiting in a
doorway at the rear entrance of the hotel. He was dressed in a well-cut black suit, and holding a bag. A skinny teenage bellboy from the hotel stood beside him, holding a huge gift basket.

‘Vich von is he?’ asked Gran peering through the window.

‘Take your sunglasses off. He’s the one not wearing the bellboy outfit,’ I said.

‘Ah yes, he looks even better than he does on the goggle,’ said Gran lifting up her sunglasses. Ryan came down the steps, accompanied by the bellboy. I got out of the car and Gran wound down her window.

‘Morning ladies,’ said Ryan with a grin.

‘Hello!’ I trilled. ‘This is my Gr…’

‘It’s Anouska, hello,’ interrupted Gran through the window. Ryan leant in and pecked her on the cheek.

‘I think that might have to go in the boot,’ I said to the bellboy carrying the gift basket.

‘The
trunk
Natalie, speak his language,’ said Gran. I went round to the back of the car, where Ryan gave me a kiss on the cheek. He smelt delicious and looked so handsome in his well-cut suit. The gift basket was enormous, and it contained a bottle of expensive champagne, chocolates, whisky, and cheeses.

‘My goodness, you didn’t have to do that,’ I said.
 

‘The basket is for Micky and Dave, I know how the Brits love to party,’ he grinned. ‘And this is for Dexter.’

He pulled out of the bag a boxed set of
Peter Rabbit
books by Beatrix Potter.

‘Oh Ryan,’ I said. ‘They’re beautiful.’

The bellboy placed both gifts carefully in the boot, and Ryan tipped him twenty pounds. I went back round and got in.

‘He’s got them such beautiful expensive presents,’ I whispered quickly. ‘What have we got?’

‘A bottle of plonk and a rattle,’ said Gran.

‘I’ll get some cash out at a petrol station on the way, Micky loves cash,’ I said. Gran nodded in agreement as Ryan got in the car. As we pulled away from the hotel, he kept twisting round in his seat to look out of the back window.

‘Is everything okay?’ I asked.

‘I’ve had this photographer dude following me over the past few days,’ he said.
 

‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ I asked, glancing in my rear view mirror.

‘If I came to you, or my manager, every time the press followed me, you’d get so sick of hearing it!’ he said. He watched for a moment, and, satisfied we weren’t being followed, turned back in his seat.

‘I’m really jazzed about going to Sowerton!’ he said.
 

As we left London, and the houses began to thin out to fields, Ryan got more excited. He asked if my parents had a thatched house, and if Shakespeare had ever been to our village.

‘No, but it is in the Domesday Book! It’s a very beautiful old English village,’ piped up Gran from the back. This was the first time I’d ever heard her say anything nice about the place. Her usual description is that Satan dug a big pit, filled it with shit, and on top he built Sowerton.