Lilian Kendrick - Always Something There To Remind Me

‘How are we going to do that?’

Des clicked a tab that we hadn’t yet explored. It gave details of the site’s administrators. Des was listed as editor, and I was listed as assistant editor.

‘This is a new fanzine, so we need the support of the band’s most prominent member. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to make contact with Mr Greenwood and get him to agree to an interview for the website. I propose that you arrange to meet him for lunch to conduct the interview; the rest is in the hands of the gods. If you play your cards right over lunch – who knows? Maybe the rest will follow.’

The rest? Champagne, moonlight and roses – followed by a trip to the moon and stars? Yeah, right - like that was going to happen!

Chapter 8: Seeing Stars

The email from the BBC arrived on Thursday. I stared at the details in my inbox for a few minutes, scared to click and read the contents. If I didn’t get in it would be so disappointing, but if I did … well, that would be terrifying. I looked around me; the office was fairly empty with half of my colleagues on their lunch break.

I’ll leave it until I get home; a few hours won’t make any difference and I’ll have time to put on a brave face before I have to tell anyone.

But that was easier said than done. Throughout the afternoon I could think of nothing else. I was almost grateful when the phone rang at three-fifteen and my supervisor, Liz, called me into her office. My personnel file lay open on her desk.

‘Ah, Lydia,’ she said. ‘We need to talk.’

This couldn’t be good. I prepared for the worst and forced a smile. The truth is, she terrified me at the best of times and this was not one of those.

‘Is there a problem?’

‘There are, er, shall we say … issues? I think we should schedule your PM review shortly so we can sort things out.’ She was flicking through her large desk diary. ‘How about Monday at eleven?’ It sounded like a question, but I knew it was an instruction. I nodded.

‘Of course. That’s fine.’ I went back to my desk and rooted through the drawer to find the guidelines on preparing for performance management reviews. I’d have to make sure everything was in order or the Superbitch was sure to find a reason to sack me.

I was clock-watching, still resisting the temptation to open that email, when Des sent me a text at four-thirty.

‘Do you want a lift 2nite?’

I’d forgotten all about the writing group! I sent a quick reply.

‘Yes, please. But come early. I’ve got mail and I don’t want to open it alone.’

I knew it would be easier if Des was with me, whatever the outcome.

Of course, I couldn’t eat anything when I got home, so I had a soak in the bath and almost dozed off. The doorbell snapped me out of it. Wrapping myself in a bath towel I went downstairs.

‘Des, I know I said come early, but this is ridiculous. I’m not dressed.’

‘Really? I hadn’t noticed.’ He had thrown his leather jacket on the sofa and was powering up the laptop. ‘Where’s this email?’

‘It’ll come up in Outlook automatically.’

‘That’s not very secure, you know.’ He was looking down the list of messages in my inbox. ‘You should at least password protect it.’

‘Why? I’m the only one who uses the computer.’

‘Well, I’m using it now. I could be snooping around when you’re not looking.’

I laughed. ‘I have no secrets from you. Come to think of it, I have no secrets at all. What you see is what you get.’

‘That’s not a bad deal,’ he muttered as he scrolled to the email from Stargazing. ‘There it is! Now, sit down and let’s see what it says.’

I perched nervously on the edge of the sofa and looked up at the ceiling as I clicked to open the message. Forcing myself to read the words at last, I was overwhelmed by emotion and couldn’t speak for a minute. I turned to Des who was beaming at me. ‘I made it! I got an audition!’

There was an awkward moment when we didn’t quite know what to do, but eventually he broke the tension. ‘Well done, babe. You’re halfway there.’ He hugged me and I really wanted to respond, but I was acutely aware of the fact that I was still wearing nothing but a bath towel, so I pulled away and turned back to the computer.

‘There’s an attachment with all the details,’ I said, ‘but I can’t take it in right now. Why don’t you read it while I go and get dressed? You can fill me in on the way to the pub.’ I shot upstairs before I could change my mind.

The audition was set for a Saturday in two weeks’ time, so we decided to discuss it later and concentrate on the task in hand – sharing our erotic writing with the rest of the scribes. This would be interesting. I hadn’t seen Des’s final draft and he hadn’t even seen a first draft of my story. The subject had been shelved since what I now thought of as our moment of madness.

We’d all been asked to bring six anonymous copies of our work to distribute to the other members and the first half-hour or so was spent passing the stories around so that we could each read a few samples and the note-takers could make notes. I hadn’t got around to reading all of them when Tess called us to order.

‘Good evening everyone. Welcome to our “erotica showcase”.’

There was polite applause as she shuffled through the papers in front of her. ‘I was going to thank you all for coming …’ The group erupted into a fit of self-conscious giggles. ‘But enough of the double entendre ; let’s get down to it.’ More giggles followed. ‘Now, behave yourselves for a change and let’s talk about our stories. I must say, I was a little disappointed that a few of you didn’t submit.’

Beside me, Des was on the point of collapsing from laughter. ‘I don’t know how much of this I can stand!’ he whispered. ‘It’s excruciating.’

Tess explained that there were eight stories and she would read them out for us to share our comments and criticisms. The first two stories were pretty good and met with general approval and some constructive criticism. The authors were given the opportunity to ‘own up’, which they did. The next story was mine and it too was well received. In fact, one of the guys said it was ‘hot’, which I took to be a compliment. I raised my hand shyly to claim ownership and Des squeezed my arm and said, ‘Well done.’

Tess read out the title of the fourth story. ‘ In Vino Veritas – ooh, a Latin title; we have an intellectual in our midst,’ she joked, before continuing to read. The story was an exquisitely written account of two friends being swept away on the tides of passion after drinking a couple of bottles of wine. It was all too familiar, and I squirmed in my seat. I tried to catch Des’s eye to gauge his reaction, but he was looking at Tess as she read. I guessed he also recognised the situation and was trying not to meet my eyes. As the story finished, everyone applauded. It was clearly the favourite of the night and rightly so. It seemed to have more depth and realism somehow. Everyone loved it.

‘Well, that was a real turn-on and beautifully handled, if I may say so.’ Tess was looking a little flushed. ‘I bet the author enjoyed researching that one.’ Laughter filled the room. ‘So, come on, ‘fess up. To whom do we owe the pleasure?’

There was a long pause before Des raised his hand and acknowledged the story as his. As he accepted the congratulations of the other members, I picked up my coat and bag and slipped out of the room. I’d have to walk home, but I needed to cool off.

Research! So that’s what it was – bloody research! Well, at least now it had a name.

I switched off my phone and walked to Trudi’s instead of going home. There was no way I was going to talk to Des tonight, or ever again, if I could help it.