Fat Girls and Fairy Cakes Read Online Free PDF Page A

surreal garden maze by the final show. Suffice to say, Bernard would be bailing out by show two and, as his wife was insisting on going commando, we’d probably be taken off air anyway. First thing was first and I needed to share the Denise-lack-of-undergarment horror with someone so I tracked down Al across the muddy ground, who as ever had got over the shock of being assigned assistant producer and thrown himself into the project with gusto.
    “Ooh darling, that should get the phone lines buzzing,” was his response when I finally found him flirting with the sound man by the catering tent.
     “It’s not funny Al,” I said, grabbing his meat pie and taking a very big bite. “I know it’s late and I’m tired but don’t tell me I’m overreacting to the fact that the vicar’s wife can only talk about sex, doesn’t wear pants and is likely to share all this with the viewing public as soon as we go on air.”
    “Why Denise, how lovely you look…” he suddenly gushed loudly for my benefit. Denise was behind me and within seconds she had embraced Al and had embarked on some sordid tale of three-in-a-bed bell-ringers involving the doubles, the triples and the Bristol Surprise .
    I had to walk away.
    It was very late and the rain was still falling lightly. We’d all had a long day and as usual we were behind schedule and working into the night. I was desperate to phone home but it was after ten and Tom and Grace would probably be asleep. I tried to fight the urge to reconnect with my family, but couldn’t resist. I convinced myself that Tom wouldn’t mind being woken up. I needed sanity and the sound of his voice telling me all was well and our little girl was safely asleep having lovely eight-year old’s dreams.
     I popped behind a tree, opened my phone and dialled. Just as it started to ring, a voice called out from the darkness. “Stella? Where’s Stella?” I closed my phone and reluctantly emerged from behind the tree.
    Belinda, a young researcher with straight blonde hair, long legs and clear skin was running like an Olympic athlete across the grass towards me. “Stella we’ve got a real problem...” I put my phone back in my pocket, with a sinking heart.
    “Tell me,” I said, really not wanting to know.
    “Well you know we’ve been waitin’ for this ten-ton compost? It was finally delivered this afternoon – to the wrong address! The woman’s goin’ bonkers. She’s on the phone now. Says she’s left loads of messages but no-one’s got back to her. She’s losin’ it big time.”
    “Compost? Hell. Er, give me a second Belinda...”
    “Stella,” a new voice demanded in the darkness. This time it was Dan, one of the gardeners. “Do you want us to have the bulbs item over here? If you do we’ll need to dig it out and put sleepers down. Who’s going to do that?”
    “Erm...I haven’t had chance to think about that yet Dan.”
    “Have the sleepers been ordered yet, Stella?” he continued shouting.
     “Sleepers?” I answered. “Ask Al.”
    “He said to ask you.”
    “ I don’t know. He’s in charge of ordering.”
    “Stella if we don’t get those sleepers...”
    “Hang on a minute Dan. I just need to get my head round ‘compost-gate’.”
    “But the sleepers’ll need time to settle, this is the emergency.”
    “I know Dan, I know, I’ll find Al...”
    “Stella, the woman’s still goin’ bonkers down the phone about the compost...”
     “OK. Tell Mrs Bonkers we’ll get the compost moved tonight. Send her a bouquet and two audience tickets to I know My Mrs . If that doesn’t do it I’ll go and see her and let her scream abuse at my face for seven minutes when I have a window,” I added with a deep sigh.
    “And where’s Al? Has he ordered those bloody sleepers?” I screamed into the darkness, spotting Al’s silhouette in the dim middle distance. Backlit by a halogen light, which gave him a rather unlikely halo effect, he was chatting animatedly, waving his