ChickLit Page #6

Yes.

Sh*t.

I'm so sorry,

lady Fermley-Cadwaller.

Yes!

Sh*t.

I'm sorry.

Horse won,

then steward's inquiry.

Yes.

- Sh*t.

- [Laughing]

Sorry. Disregard that

unfortunate outburst .

- Even if we did own up...

- Which we can't.

If we did, they're not going

to go for mummy porn

written by four blokes.

There must be a way

to persuade them

that it's more interesting to

have a mysterious secret writer.

Actually, it's probably

for the best.

The book would have

flopped anyway.

The bubble's burst.

That's not the point.

We'd have had the money

however it sold.

300 grand to the penny.

- Your go.

- Been.

Oh.

Last domino.

You lost again.

- Every which way.

- Oh, that sounds serious.

Not really, but,

I'm going to go to bed.

- Aren't you hungry?

- No.

- Are you ill?

- No.

Do you know any words

with more than one syllable?

How much of a disappointment

am I to you?

Oh, you silly boy.

What are you on about?

I'm a small-town

journalist.

I'll probably never

write that novel,

because by the time I'm ready...

By the time the children

are old enough,

I shall be itching

to turn the garden,

and you can get busy

with the novel.

Anyway, you're writing

now, aren't you?

- What?

- Writing.

You do it every day.

Oh, that.

- Yes, I suppose so.

- Well, then.

But if I'd wanted

to marry a novelist

there were plenty

to choose from at uny.

Trouble is,

none of them made me laugh.

So that's all I do for you?

No, you make happy,

you maudlin fool.

And I don't even mind you

playing dominoes.

Although if you ever

graduate to darts,

I shall divorce you.

Now go to bed.

And if you're very good,

I'll bring you a chocolate

digestive with your morning tea.

Oh, by the way, Zoe's

coming to stay tomorrow.

- How long for?

- As long as she likes or needs.

I'm really worried about her. She

sounded so down on the phone today.

Suppose I'd better try

and make her laugh, then.

That would be good.

I'm sorry, mate, but the

numbers just don't add up.

Okay, well, thanks anyway.

Hey, you're Zoe, aren't you?

Jen' s sister.

Uh, yeah, I'm Zoe.

We've met in the pub last year.

Chris.

The manager.

Oh, yeah, yeah,

of course. Sorry.

Yeah, no prob. So, what

are you doing up here?

I thought you lived in London.

Uh, yeah, I did.

I mean, I do.

But I have a thing

I need to do up here.

Actually, I'm running

a little bit late.

Sure, well, maybe you'll

come to the pub again.

We're always open.

Obviously not always,

but we're open during...

- Opening hours?

- Yeah.

It was nice to see you.

Stop for a chat, son?

Uh, no.

Well, f*** off

out of the way then.

Go on.

I'm afraid we haven't

got good news.

Well, as you know,

we were optimistic

that changing your medication

would be of significant benefit,

but I have to tell you,

it appears not to be the case.

Meaning?

There's not much more we can do.

But I don't want to...

Well...

Um, well, of course

we can run more tests.

How long?

I've organized

for someone to help you.

They're very skillful

and supportive.

How long?

Six months.

Maybe nine.

How are you? You sounded so

miserable on the phone.

Bloody critics.

Would you like a drink, Zoe?

We're having a G&T.

Oh, yes, please.

Make it a quadruple.

I'm knackered.

I've been crying all day.

[Jen] Oh, surely,

it's not that bad.

You should have come earlier.

Where have you been?

The hospital.

God, what's happened?

Bad news.

Breaking bad news.

24, well, no, 23 times...

One of them didn't turn up.

What? What are you

talking about?

Role play.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Didn't I tell you?

When the play closed, I got a couple of

days' work up here doing role play.

It's easier tomorrow.

We're doing bipolar.

Oh, thank god. You got

me really worried then.

- Mmm.

- When's supper?

All that crying has

really taken it out of me.

- 50... - if I ever

get a film role,

and they want me to cry,

at least they won't have

to squirt anything in my eyes.

I'm an expert now.

David. What on earth are you

doing skulking about here?

I need to talk to you.

But I'm on my way

back to your place.

Privately.

Come on.

So, what's all this

cloak-and-dagger stuff then?

I have a proposition for you.

I hope that's not

as pervy as it sounds.

Good god, no.

Oh, what, I'm not

sexy enough for you?

No.

I mean, yes, but, no.

"Oh, yes, but no,

but yes, but no," but what?

I'm looking to hire you.

David, that's more insulting

than not fancying me.

I mean, I want to engage you

for some role play.

Jesus, David, are we talking

whips and obedience here?

Of course not. Although

there is a connection.

But before I go on,

you have to promise me

that whether or not

you accept my offer,

you won't breathe a word

of this to anyone,

particularly not to Jen.

Gets curiouser and curiouser.

Do you promise?

Brownie's honor.

And you're talking to the gal

who'll take the secret

of Brownel's cannabis

plants to her grave.

Why the clandestine meeting?

Well, I assume Ashenden

will tell us if he turns up.

- [Chuckles]

- Hey?

I assume Marcus is making

an ironic reference

to John Ashenden,

subject of a series

of short stories

by somerset Maugham.

How fascinating.

Please tell me more.

Well, Ashenden was

a first world war spy.

Oh, bollocks.

Sorry, guys. When you get going

it really freaks me out.

I guess this somerset guy didn't

write erotic women's stories.

No, oh, well, actually,

there was "Liza of Lambeth."

- "Cakes and ales."

- Shut up.

Oh.

Gentlemen, I want you to meet

the author

of "love let her."

Zoe fielder.

Have you gone mad?

Never saner, as I will explain.

Please do.

When pubs disappear

they never come back, right?

We can save our hallowed institution.

All we need is an author,

and Zoe here, who happens

to be my sister-in-law,

is an actress, who does lots

of what they call role play.

This will be her greatest role.

Well, I'm not sure about that.

[David]

Greatest role play then.

We'll pay Zoe for the time

she has to be our writer,

probably about three months

until the fuss dies down.

We get the 300 grand,

minus what we pay Zoe.

- I think it's too risky.

- So do I.

Well, explain why.

Well, supposing she's unmasked.

She's not a bloody spy.

I don't mean to be rude, Zoe,

but what if she does

- tell anybody?

- She's Jen's sister.

She's family.

But anyway, we'll be paying her.

She can sign a contract.

You wouldn't mind that,

would you, Zoe?

No, but I do mind my deal.

You didn't mention

what you were making.

And I have to sort the tax out.

My accountant can do that.

And all that's left is going

toward saving the pub.

400 a week?

Still pretty crap.

It is, actually.

Fine, we'll make it 500.

Which is 490 pounds more

than you were getting

for your last

theatrical engagement.

I'm not happy about this, David,

but there is no need

to be rude to Zoe.

My apologies.

Zoe, 500.

- Agreed.

- Gentlemen?

Agreed.

As long as there is no chance

of us being found out.

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