Питер Ловси - Do Not Exceed the Stated Dose [Stories]

“Mr Tinker? He wouldn’t let us borrow his caravan.”

“I bet he will. He doesn’t use it himself. Since the divorce, it’s been stuck on that drive for two years. He’ll be glad to be rid of it.”

“Rid of it?” said Karen, failing to understand.

“We’ll be doing him a favour,” said Albert. “What does he want with a caravan? He’ll make a few quid on the insurance. I’ll speak to him tomorrow.”

When Albert returned from his chat with Joe Tinker, he was practically turning cartwheels of joy. “He couldn’t be more helpful,” he told Karen. “Like I said, he’s got no more use for the caravan. We’re welcome to do just whatever we like with it.”

“Take it on holiday?”

“We’re doing him a favour,” said Albert. “He won’t have to park his car on the street any more. But that isn’t all. I told him what this is about.”

“You told him?” said Karen, horrified.

“Everything. To get his co-operation,” said Albert. “He’s seen the programme and he thinks the same as us. He says this is one hell of a stunt and he reckons we can’t fail to win the big money. I’ve told him I’ll give him a couple of hundred if we do. Fair enough, eh?”

“I suppose so,” said Karen, “but can we trust him to stay quiet about it?”

“That’s why he gets a cut. He’s part of the conspiracy, then,” said Albert. “But I haven’t told you the best part. Joe Tinker also owns a camcorder. Yes, I’m not kidding. He’s going to lend it to us for nothing. For nothing, Karen! What’s more, he’ll show you how to use it.”

“Me?” said Karen.

“Unless you want to be making an idiot of yourself on television, you’ve got to be holding the camera, pointing it at me. And it’s got to be done properly. Good focusing. No shaking. You only get one take, remember. It’s got to be right first time, and it’s got to be up to professional standard to win the ten grand.”

She said nervously, “I don’t think I can do it, Albert.”

“Course you can! They’re simple, these camcorders, dead simple. I told Joe you’ll be over for some instruction this afternoon. He’s a good bloke, and he fancies you anyway. He’ll give you all the confidence in the world.”

“What is this stunt, anyway?” said Karen.

“We take a holiday, like I said, towing Joe’s caravan.”

“Where to?”

“Some remote part of Wales. I’m going to study the map this afternoon while you’re learning to be an ace camerawoman. If you get your certificate of competence we can drive down there next Saturday for the shoot.”

“The shoot?”

“Of the film,” Albert explained. “Get with it, love. We’re shooting a film, remember? Like I say, we hook the caravan to my old Cortina. Joe’s lending me his towbar as well. He’s great.”

“Is it strong enough?”

“The towbar?”

“Your car. Those caravans are big things to tow.”

“No problem,” said Albert. “We can take it gently, just tootling along. We’ll be stopping every few miles filming bits and pieces of our journey.”

“What for?”

Albert sighed. Everything always had to be explained to Karen. “Because it has to look like we’re on a proper holiday. We need about twenty minutes of boring holiday stuff to divert suspicion from our real intentions. Can’t you see how phony it will look if the only thing on the tape is the caravan going over the cliff?”

Karen gasped in horror. “Over the cliff? Mr Tinker’s caravan?”

Albert smiled. “With only the seagulls as witnesses — apart from the camera and fifteen million viewers.”

“It’s insane!”

“That’s why it’s going to win ten grand. What a spectacle! I’m going to look at the Ordnance Survey and find a bit of the coast with a gentle slope leading to the cliff edge, and a good long drop to the rocks below. We park the caravan thirty yards up the slope. That way I have time to get out.”

“Get out?”

“Before it rolls over. It’s going to be sensational. You’ll be outside filming the scenery from the cliff top. You pan around to me at the window of the caravan. I’ll hold up a bit of metal and say, ‘What’s this, love?’ The caravan will start to move. I’ll shout something the TV people will have to bleep out — the audience always loves that — then I leap from the door holding the broken hand-brake of the caravan, to watch the thing roll over the edge.” He laughed out loud and raised his arms like a boxer who has just heard his opponent counted out.

“It’s so dangerous,” said Karen. “I mean, it’s a tremendous idea, but...”

Albert brushed the objection aside. “No risk at all,” he said. “If you’re nervous, we’ll give the van fifty yards to roll, instead of thirty.”

In the week that followed, Albert planned the “shoot,” as he called it, with military precision. Having selected several possible clifftop sites, he drove down to Wales to make a decision on the most suitable. He found one on the Pembrokeshire Coast that was wonderfully remote, with a grassy slope leading straight to a two-hundred foot drop. In his spare moments he worked diligently on the script that he and Karen would have to follow, complete with stage directions.

“We only get one shot at this,” he told her when he returned from scouting the locations. “It has to go like clockwork, while appearing totally unplanned. How are the lessons going?”

“All right,” Karen said.

“You’ve been clocking in with Joe, have you, while I was away?”

She nodded.

“Mastered it yet?”

“I hope so.”

“Hope isn’t good enough,” said Albert. “You’ve got to be certain. Are you going over to see him again?”

“This afternoon.”

“Excellent. He’s a good bloke, isn’t he?”

“He’s very good,” said Karen, and she meant it.

“While you’re in there, I’m going to do a bit of work on the old caravan. It could do with a clean. The smarter it looks, the better the effect.”

So whilst Albert sponged and polished, preparing the caravan for its TV debut, Karen had more tuition from Joe. Really, as Joe explained, the camcorder was a simple machine that almost anyone could use, but if the attractive Mrs Challis wanted more practice with the thing, he was only too pleased to show her how to hold it. No woman had been inside his house since his wife had divorced him two years ago.

For her part, Karen was not displeased to feel Joe’s arm around her shoulders steadying the camera from time to time. He was a most considerate man, and not bad looking, either. And he had double-glazing and central heating. “It seems a real shame that you’re going to lose your caravan through this,” she said.

“Not at all,” said Joe cheerfully. “It’s had its day. I’ve no more use for it. Besides, it’s not in very good condition any more. The door has warped in the damp. You have to give it quite a tug to open it. Better mention that to Albert. A little grease around the sides will ease it.”

Extremely early Saturday morning, when it was still dark and nobody was about, Albert went over to Joe’s to attach the towbar. He’d arranged to collect Karen at the last minute. She sat in their front room with the lights off, mentally revising the instructions for the video camera. She had collected the camera from Joe after one last session of instruction the previous afternoon. Joe had been a tower of strength.

After what seemed like a couple of hours, Albert drew the caravan from its mooring and swung the car across the street. Karen climbed in, camcorder in hand.

“You’ll do no filming in this light,” Albert said tensely. “I don’t know what you’re holding it for. Chuck it on the back seat.”