Chapter 4 The Real World

Back at home, Sam sat on the sofa while Daniel walked round him, thinking hard.

`We can solve this,' he said to his stepson. `Remember that I was a child too. She's at your school - right?’

`Yes.’

`And how does she feel about you?’

`She doesn't even know my name. And if she did, she'd hate me. Everyone at school thinks she's a goddess.’ `Right,' said Daniel. `So you've got no chance, have you?’

Sam shook his head sadly.

*

Billy, the ageing rock star, was being interviewed on a Saturday morning children's TV show by the well-known presenters Ant and Dec.

`So, Billy, Dec said, `there are three weeks until Christmas and it looks like the problem's going to be Blue.’

`Yes,' Billy agreed. `I saw them on the show last week. They weren't very nice about my record.’

'Ah, bad boys!' said Dec. `Billy, I understand you've got prizes for our competition winners.’

`Yes, I have,' said Billy. `Big pens with the winners' names on them.’

`Oh, great!' said Ant.

`They're wonderful,' Billy said. `So if you've got a picture, like this one here of Blue - one of the prizes - you can write on it. Like this.’

Billy wrote a few insulting words about the pop group across the picture. Parents all around the country, shocked by the language, picked up the phone to complain.

`There are lots of children watching, Billy,' Dec said quickly.

`Oh, yes.' Billy nodded. `Hello, children! Here's an important message from your Uncle Billy. Don't do any schoolwork. Become a pop star, earn lots of money, and drink until you fall over.’

`And now it's time for the advertisements," Ant told the watching children quickly. `We'll see you soon. Bye!’

In the next room, Joe hit his head against the wall.

*

Peter's best man Mark ran an art gallery. Inside the gallery he was on the phone, while three schoolgirls were laughing at a photograph, on the wall, of four large naked bottoms.

Mark covered the phone with his hand and spoke to the girls. `Actually,' he said. `They're not funny - they're art.' He spoke into the phone again. `OK - let's say Thursday, at my place.’

`Great,' said Peter. `But I've got Juliet here. Can I pass the phone to her? She wants your help.’

`Oh, no,' Mark thought to himself. `OK - fine,' he said into the phone.

`Thanks. And be nice,' Peter said.

`I'm always nice.’

`You know what I mean, Mark. Be friendly.’

`I'm always...

`Mark?’

`Hi, Juliet,' Mark said. He paused. `How was the honeymoon?'

`It was great.’

There was another pause before Mark spoke again. `So what can I do for you?’

`I need help,' Juliet told him. `I've played the wedding video and it's all blue and it's got lines across it.’

`I'm sorry.’

`And I remember that you were filming a lot on the day - and I just wondered if I could look at your stuff.’

`Oh, no. I didn't really...’

`Please,' Juliet said. `I just want one picture of me in a wedding dress that isn't bright blue.’

'OK. I'll have a look,' said Mark. `But I think I recorded something else over it, so don't get too hopeful. Er... I must go.'

Juliet was left holding the phone.

*

At Fairtrade, Sarah was sitting at her desk. On the desk, in front of her, was a picture of a good-looking young man.

`Has there been any progress in your love life?' Harry asked.

`No,' Sarah told her boss. `I've done nothing about it and never will, because he's too good for me.’

`How true,' Harry agreed.

Sarah hit him lightly, and he hit her back. Her phone rang.

`And now, of course, you have a phone call,' said Harry. He turned to Mia. `How are the arrangements for the Christmas party going?' he asked.

`Good,' Mia replied. `I think I've found a place. A friend of mine, Mark, works there.’

`What's it like?’

`Good,' said Mia. `It's an art gallery - full of dark corners for behaving badly in.' She looked at him meaningfully.

`Right,' said Harry. `Good. Well, I suppose I should see it.’

`You should.’

*

Jamie was typing when he heard a knock at the front door of his French farmhouse. He opened the door to a middle-aged French woman.

`Good morning, Mr Bennett,' she said, with a strong French accent.

`Hello, Eleonore,' said Jamie.

`Welcome back. And this year, do you have a lady guest?’

'Ah, no. No change there. It's just me.’

`Am I sad about that, or not sad?’

`I think you're not surprised,' Jamie said.

`And you are staying until Christmas?’

`Yes’

`Good,' said Eleonore. `And I have found you a perfect lady to clean the house. This is Aurelia.’

Behind Eleonore, another woman stood nervously waiting. She was a pleasant-looking woman in her late twenties.

Jamie stepped forward to greet her. `Hello, Aurelia,' he said, in careful French.

Aurelia said hello, very quietly, also in French.

Jamie said, very slowly, that he was very happy to have Aurelia there. Confused; Aurelia looked at Eleonore.

`Unfortunately,' Eleonore told Jamie, `like you, she cannot speak French. She is Portuguese.’

'Ah,' said Jamie, and thought for a minute. Then he wished Aurelia good day in Italian and told her in bad Spanish that Eusebio was a very good footballer.

`She is ten years too young to remember a footballer called Eusebio,' explained Eleonore. `And "muy bueno" is Spanish.'

`Right,' said Jamie. `Sure. Well, it's nice to meet you!'

`And perhaps you can drive her home when she finishes her work?' asked Eleonore.

`Of course,' Jamie said. `Con grande plesoro.’

`What language is that?' asked Eleonore. `Turkish?'

Later in the day, Jamie drove Aurelia home along an empty road. There was silence in the car and Jamie looked out in embarrassment at the lovely valley they were driving through. `Beautiful. Beautiful,' he said, in Italian. Aurelia looked confused. `Mountains,' explained Jamie, in Italian. `Trees,' he added. Aurelia looked even more confused. `No, right,' said Jamie to himself. `Stop talking now.' He continued driving.