Chart Throb (59 page)
Authors: Ben Elton
‘I’m sorry, Rodney,’ Keely replied, ‘but—’
‘I must speak!’ Rodney insisted. ‘Calvin, can I speak?’
Glancing at his fellow judge, Calvin was content to nod benignly.
‘Keep it brief, mate,’ he said.
‘Thank you. Iona,’ said Rodney, turning towards her and Keely.
‘Yes, Rodney,’ she answered with a radiant smile.
‘Iona, first of all, congratulations on a stunning achievement. You’ve performed brilliantly, you’ve come second, you deserve it, you are a big star and are going to sell a lot of records.’
‘That’s kind, Rodney,’ Iona said.
‘But life is not only pop music and I have something personal to say. You and I have had our ups and downs in the past but the truth is in my heart I have always loved you. You’re beautiful, you’re talented, you have a lovely family and you’re a lovely Scottish girl. I would like you to do me the honour of agreeing to be my wife. What do you say, darling? How about you and me try and make a go of it?’
This shock development produced a stunned silence in the room. Calvin broke it.
‘Rodney!’ he exclaimed. ‘You sly dog. Good work, my son.’
There was nervous laughter. All eyes were fixed on Iona, waiting for her reply.
Keely, always the professional, said, ‘Iona, I’m going to have to hurry you. I must have an answer.’
Iona smiled and blew Rodney a little kiss.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ she said, ‘Rodney Root is asking me to marry him because I have blackmailed him into it.’
There was a huge gasp. Rodney’s jaw dropped open.
‘You all know that last year he and I had an affair, something I have always regretted because he’s a repulsive little man and he didn’t deserve me . . .’
Another gasp and a roar of cruel laughter from Beryl. Rodney turned to Calvin, desperation written across his every feature.
‘Calvin!’ he appealed. ‘Move on. Please move on!’
‘No way!’ Beryl shrieked.
‘Sorry, Rodney,’ Calvin agreed, declining to conclude one of the TV coups of the decade. ‘You’ve had your say, now let Iona have hers.’
‘You all just heard this man say he loves me,’ Iona continued. ‘He told me he loved me then too and he promised my band a recording contract. He never got us that contract and when the novelty of bedding me wore off he dropped me and from that day onwards refused to answer my calls . . .’
‘Calvin, please!’ Rodney pleaded but Calvin merely shrugged as if to indicate that matters had passed beyond his control. Clearly he was still not minded to intervene on what was going to be one of the most talked-about TV events ever.
‘Anyway, as you know, I came back on
Chart Throb
without my band and Rodney’s been a pig to me from that day to this. Recently, however, I turned the tables on him: I told him that our teenage bass player was ready to swear he’d molested her unless he proposed to me on air. I said I wanted to take him for half his money. It was a bit of a sad trick to play but then he’s a bit of a sad bloke, isn’t he? So here we are and here’s my answer, Rodney: no, nay and never. Not in a billion years. What, link myself publicly with a spineless swine like you? As if! I don’t want your money, never did. I set you up simply so that I could humiliate you on
Chart Throb
the way you humiliated me. I’m done now, Keely. Thanks for waiting, Your Royal Highness, I do appreciate it.’
Chart Throb
without my band and Rodney’s been a pig to me from that day to this. Recently, however, I turned the tables on him: I told him that our teenage bass player was ready to swear he’d molested her unless he proposed to me on air. I said I wanted to take him for half his money. It was a bit of a sad trick to play but then he’s a bit of a sad bloke, isn’t he? So here we are and here’s my answer, Rodney: no, nay and never. Not in a billion years. What, link myself publicly with a spineless swine like you? As if! I don’t want your money, never did. I set you up simply so that I could humiliate you on
Chart Throb
the way you humiliated me. I’m done now, Keely. Thanks for waiting, Your Royal Highness, I do appreciate it.’
The Prince of Wales had of course been hovering on the periphery awaiting his victory announcement.
‘That’s quite all right,’ he said. ‘Don’t mind me.’
The entire arena had been eerily silent throughout Iona’s extraordinary speech. It now erupted into a crescendo of cheering and shouting. Rodney, who if nothing else had some survival instincts, resisted the urge to turn and run and instead assumed a wry grin, as if to say that the joke was on him and that he could take it. When the shouting finally died down he said, ‘Full marks for honesty, Iona. I still think you’re a great talent, a true star and you’re going to sell a lot of records.’
It wasn’t a bad effort but Iona was having none of it.
‘Fuck off, Rodney,’ she said.
‘Oh, I say!’ the Prince protested, ‘No,
really
please. There are children watching.’
really
please. There are children watching.’
The studio erupted once more into cheers and a chant was fast developing as more and more people began shouting, ‘Fuck off, Rodney!’
Keely rose to the occasion.
‘And with the Quasar and Iona out of the race,’ she said, showing the kind of steely professionalism that had made her a dead cert to host the following year’s Brit Awards, ‘this year’s Chart Throb is His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales!’
After the cheering had once more subsided Keely enquired whether the Prince would like to say anything.
‘Oh, I don’t suppose anybody wants to hear
muggins
here
banging on
,’ he replied.
muggins
here
banging on
,’ he replied.
All the nine other finalists then joined the Prince, Iona and the Quasar on stage and together they sang ‘We Are The World’.
Emma ran forward from the celebrity enclosure and threw her arms round Calvin. ‘You know what?’ she said. ‘I love you. Big time.’
She Wanted It So Much
Consciousness returned slowly to Beryl and it was a moment or two before she recalled who or where she was.
‘That you, Mom?’ a half-familiar voice asked. Familiar but muffled, very muffled. ‘I can see your hand twitching. Are you coming round?’
The voice was that of Priscilla, her daughter. And Beryl was in bed.
‘Five minutes, that guy took. Ten tops. Can you believe it?’ the muffled voice continued. ‘And he charged eight thousand. That’s sterling, Mom, not dollars. Eight thousand
pounds.
Lisa Marie said a sack over your head would have been a lot cheaper.’
pounds.
Lisa Marie said a sack over your head would have been a lot cheaper.’
Beryl remembered now. She’d had a bit of work done, that was it. They had done the final of the show, the Prince of Wales had won and then she’d gone straight to the Porchester Clinic to have a bit of work done.
‘Oh my God,’ she said.
‘What?’ she heard Priscilla reply.
‘Rodney proposing to Iona! I just remembered. Oh – my – fucking – God!’
‘Wasn’t that incredible? The best. I mean it was just fantastic. The papers have gone crazy, some of them have put it ahead of that Prince of Wales guy.’
‘I’ll bet they have. Well, Rodney always wanted more press coverage, now he’s got it and I hope he’s satisfied.’
‘They’re all saying Calvin’s going to have to drop him from the judging panel.’
‘Speak up, will you. You’re all muffled.’
‘That’s because the top of your head is bandaged. I said Calvin’s going to drop Rodney from the show.’
‘Hallelujah! Can you imagine what it’s like having to sit next to that little shit? When can I get these bandages off?’
‘He said we could take them off any time after eleven. It’s ten thirty now.’
‘And more to the point, where the fuck am I?’
‘Home.’
‘LA?’
‘No, dickbrain. The London house. It’s the morning after you finished
Chart Throb.
Don’t you remember? You checked into the clinic straight after the show and they did it at six this morning. Then I collected you and brought you here. This is all your idea, Mom, trying to squeeze in a quick bit of cosmo before we start the new season.’
Chart Throb.
Don’t you remember? You checked into the clinic straight after the show and they did it at six this morning. Then I collected you and brought you here. This is all your idea, Mom, trying to squeeze in a quick bit of cosmo before we start the new season.’
‘All right, all right. I remember, and don’t call your mother a dickbrain.’
‘Well, don’t talk like one and you’re not my mom.’
‘I am your mum, Priscilla, and I’ll talk however I like since I have just emerged from an anaesthetic.’
‘How do you feel, by the way?’
‘Pretty woozy . . . my arms and legs are numb.’
‘Yeah, he said you’d feel that. You have to rest.’
‘Fine by me. I’m fucking knackered. I’ve just finished ten weeks of paying for our lifestyle, young lady. Jesus, it gets harder each year.’
‘Great show though. Last night was awesome. Except I got stuck with that weird chick for a while.’
‘What weird chick?’
‘You know, the weird chick that got chucked off at Pop School.’
‘Darling, they’re all weird. How do you expect me to remember them?’
‘You were really nice to her, you told her to learn and grow.’
‘I’m nice to all of them, Priscilla, it’s my thing. I’m a mum.’
‘The one with the tear. You know, they trailed her for weeks.’
‘Oh,
her.
Shaiana. Fucking lunatic.’
her.
Shaiana. Fucking lunatic.’
‘You got that right. She was scary.’
‘When?’
‘Last night. I just told you.’
‘She was there?’
‘Yes! Aren’t you listening? She came right up to me and started talking.’
‘She shouldn’t have been there.’
‘Well, she was and she sure is mad at you guys. Particularly Calvin.’
‘God, I hate it when they get angry and righteous. Who the
fuck
do they think they are? Like the world owes them a living. Fuck them. So they have a fucking dream. Everybody has a dream. What makes them so special?’
fuck
do they think they are? Like the world owes them a living. Fuck them. So they have a fucking dream. Everybody has a dream. What makes them so special?’
‘You told her she could sing.’
‘Yes and then we told her she couldn’t. Haven’t they watched the show? That’s what we
do.’
do.’
‘And could she sing? I thought she could sing.’
‘And what the fuck would you know, Priscilla? Of course she couldn’t fucking sing.’
Emma opened her eyes slowly. For a moment she wondered where she was. But only for a moment, then with an overwhelming sense of happiness she realized that she was in Calvin’s bed and that they had made love all night.
She was alone but she could hear the shower running. She was glad actually to have just this moment to collect herself, to stretch out and luxuriate in the wonderfulness of being her. To squirm and yawn and lose herself within the biggest bed and beneath the biggest, softest duvet she had ever experienced.
It had all worked out so well. He loved her, he had said he loved her and he had proved it with his lovemaking. He had fought to win her trust and he had won. She was his and she wanted nothing more than to remain his for ever.
Then the telephone rang.
Inside the shower Calvin did not hear it ring. He was lost in the cascading water and the guilty turmoil of his thoughts. He no longer loved her. The boil had been lanced and he no longer loved her. He could not believe how quickly his heart had turned. He had loved her utterly the evening before, as he took her home and then to bed. He had continued to love her utterly for at least half the night and had truly believed in all those hours that he had found his soulmate, the perfect sweet girl who was so different from all the others he had known before. But then around four o’clock in the morning, as she had dozed and he had lain awake smoking a cigarette, he had begun to wonder whether he did love her and after she had woken up and they had made love once more he began to realize that he didn’t. By the time he got up to have his shower he was certain. The boil had been lanced, the conquest made and he no longer loved her. She had been a challenge, a project. He had won and now it was over.
Emma did not answer the phone. It was Calvin’s phone and not her business, so she let it ring until the answer-phone kicked in.
‘Good morning, Mr Simms,’ said that soft, familiar, old-fashioned voice. ‘It’s the Prince of Wales here.’
The light was becoming brighter. The noise of scissors cutting through fabric was suddenly surprisingly loud in Beryl’s ears.
‘How do you feel?’ she heard Priscilla say.
‘My eyes are OK, I think, but I can’t move my arms.’
‘They were restrained so you wouldn’t pull at your bandage while you were asleep. I’ll get to them in a moment.’
The light was very bright now even though Beryl’s eyes were still shut. It was shining through the lids.
‘Fuck,’ Beryl exclaimed. ‘Dim the lights, babes.’
Beryl felt the light darkening beyond her lids and nervously she tried opening her eyes again.
‘You know, I really don’t think you should have told her she could sing if you thought she couldn’t.’
‘What?’
‘And if you thought she
could
sing then you should have put her through.’
could
sing then you should have put her through.’
The bandages were gone from Beryl’s ears now and she could hear more clearly. Her daughter’s voice had changed.
‘What are you talking about?’ said Beryl, peering into the shadows, wanting to rub her eyes but unable to do so as her arms were restrained.
‘Shaiana.’
‘Who?’
‘Me.’
‘Well, goodness gracious,’ the voice said, ‘you did it and I must say it has been the most tremendous
fun.
I’ll admit that when you first approached me all those months ago I had no idea how much I would enjoy the whole thing and of course, as you predicted, it has increased my popularity enormously, which is most
gratifying.
I realize that one shouldn’t court public favour but nonetheless it really is
nice
to be
liked
for once. I’ve been offered my own chat show, you know, and a record deal of all things. Quite extraordinary, I feel like
Val Doonican.
There’s even been a suggestion from the
Big Brother
people that they put hidden cameras into Buck House and follow us all about for a bit. I had to tell them that I did
not
think Her Majesty would think much of
that
idea. Anyway, thank you once again for your faith in me and, more importantly, your support for the ancient institution which it is my honour to embody. Anyway must dash, there are reporters climbing over the wall and crushing my petunias. So all the very best and, as we pop stars say, it’s been real.’
fun.
I’ll admit that when you first approached me all those months ago I had no idea how much I would enjoy the whole thing and of course, as you predicted, it has increased my popularity enormously, which is most
gratifying.
I realize that one shouldn’t court public favour but nonetheless it really is
nice
to be
liked
for once. I’ve been offered my own chat show, you know, and a record deal of all things. Quite extraordinary, I feel like
Val Doonican.
There’s even been a suggestion from the
Big Brother
people that they put hidden cameras into Buck House and follow us all about for a bit. I had to tell them that I did
not
think Her Majesty would think much of
that
idea. Anyway, thank you once again for your faith in me and, more importantly, your support for the ancient institution which it is my honour to embody. Anyway must dash, there are reporters climbing over the wall and crushing my petunias. So all the very best and, as we pop stars say, it’s been real.’
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