One
Lunchtime on the last Bank Holiday of the summer and Molly Foster was standing on the quay at Wells-next-the-Sea close to the radio car, where a man dressed as a bear was juggling rubber herrings. Alongside him stood an Elvis impersonator in a white jumpsuit and rhinestones, and beside him a woman called Linda, who knitted jumpers from the fur collected after grooming her three Newfoundlands – encounters that were all in the day’s work for a presenter on a local radio station.
Molly had one side of her headphones pressed to her ear, keeping the other one off so that she could hear the activity on the quay. The last track had played out and the East Anglian Airwaves FM station jingle was coming to a close. Ready with the mike, all the while nodding and smiling inanely at her guests, holding eye contact so they didn’t wander off, Molly was waiting for the moment when they went live to air.
‘You okay? All ready?’ she mouthed. Everyone nodded in unison, all except Elvis who curled his lip and said, ‘A-huh-huh. ’
‘Here we go then,’ she said, smile widening.
Phil, her broadcast assistant, should have been doing the sheepdogging but, thanks to some technical glitch, he was hunched over in the back of the radio car – a converted people carrier with a retractable mast that the station used for outside broadcasts – fiddling with the control panel.
Molly hoped that what she could see billowing out from the open door was steam from Phil’s coffee and not smoke.
Meanwhile through the headphones, Molly heard her producer, Stan, back at the studio, cue in her next caller. The music faded out at which point Molly said, ‘Great track, that. Perfect for a sunny day by the seaside – speaking of which, we’re here live on Bank Holiday Monday at beautiful Wells-next-the-Sea as part of our Great British Summer Days Out series. We’ve got some fantastic guests lined up for you in today’s show. But first of all on line one we’ve got Maureen from Little Newton, who wants to talk about – what is it you’re talking to us about today, Maureen?’
‘Death,’ said Maureen in a monotone. ‘I want to talk about how it felt when my cat Smokey died.’
‘Right,’ said Molly, pulling faces at Phil, who had stopped fiddling and was now busy flirting with two teenage girls in bikinis.
‘I’m sure that we all feel very sorry for your loss, Maureen. I know that my pets are very important to me but we were hoping that you were going to talk to us about your memories of the good old British seaside holiday – kiss me quick, fish and chips on the prom.’ Molly jollied the unseen woman along.
‘Smokey loved fish, particularly the heads,’ said the unstoppable Maureen. ‘We used to save them for him. Little tinker used to bury them down the back of the sofa if you didn’t watch him. I had him cremated last March. Fourteen, he was. I’ve got the urn here with me. He loved the radio. Not you but that other chap, the one with the glasses, what’s his name?’
‘Right,’ said Molly, waving now, desperately trying to drag Phil’s attention away from the wriggling, jiggling, giggling girls and back to the job in hand.
From somewhere close by she could hear a mobile phone ringing with the distinctive Laurel and Hardy theme, downloaded by her live-in lover Nick as a joke. She felt a flush of heat; how the hell had she managed to leave her phone on? It was the ultimate no-no. On TV and on radio, before you go on air you always check your mobile is switched off and if you’re not sure then you take the battery out, except of course hers was ringing and it seemed to be getting louder. It rang once, twice – after six rings it cut off and Molly turned her attention back to her caller.
‘I’ve been having grief counselling,’ Maureen was saying. ‘And we’ve had a séance – he’s still here, you know. Him and Timmy the rabbit…’
‘Well, thank you for that, Maureen. And we’re lucky enough to have Ken Barber with us here today,’ said Molly, praying that someone back at the studio would have the good sense to pull the plug on Maureen.
To her right the bear man was mid-throw.
‘Ken is currently working his way around the coastline of Great Britain, staging a one-man show to raise public awareness about the state of the British fishing industry. Now for the listeners at home, Ken, let’s just describe what you’re wearing, shall we?’ At which point Ken growled at her.
Molly forced a laugh; bloody man. ‘So, not very talkative, our Ken – maybe listeners would like to ring in and guess what Ken is dressed as…’
‘Jess from Norwich is on line two,’ said Stan in her ear.
‘Let’s go to our next caller, Jess from Norwich,’ said Molly. ‘Hello there, Jess. How’s your Bank Holiday shaping up?’
‘Mum?’ said a familiar voice.
‘Jess?’ Molly could feel her colour rising.
‘I couldn’t get through on your mobile so I got the studio to put me through instead,’ Jess gushed excitedly.
‘Well, that’s nice of them,’ said Molly, with forced good humour. ‘We’re live this morning here on Radio EAA –’ Molly swung round to Phil and made frantic throat slitting gestures so he would cut the live feed, but he was oblivious.
‘I know,’ said Jess.
‘You know?’
‘Of course I do,’ Jess sounded drunk. ‘Stan said this couldn’t wait. Actually I told him I couldn’t wait. I’ve got the most brilliant news, Mum – I wanted you to be the first to know. Max just asked me to marry him and I’ve said yes. I’ve said yes, Mum. I’m going to get married!’ The last few words were a shriek of pure delight followed by giggling and then Molly heard Jessica say, ‘Here, you talk to her – just say hello. Yes, she’s on air, but it’ll be fine, go on, yes, just say hello. She wants to talk to you…’
Which wasn’t strictly true, mainly because Molly hadn’t quite caught up yet. But there was nothing much she could do, short of pulling the lead out, and then Max came on the line and said in that deep, dark, self-assured voice of his, ‘Hi there, Molly. Jess is insisting that we ring everyone. She wanted you to know straight away.’ He paused. ‘Mum.’
Before Molly could say anything, back in the studio Stan put on a Robbie Williams number and while it was playing Jess came back on the line, all squeaky and excited and full of joy.
‘Isn’t it brilliant? I mean, I am just so excited. Max went down on one knee and everything and he’d already got the ring and it fitted. It’s like this big flower and all these little coloured stones and it was just so romantic. God, there is so much to do; we were thinking Christmas? Sleigh bells, reindeer – maybe we should fly everyone out to Lapland, what do you think? I’m going need your help to get this together because Max is really busy. I mean, what are the chances of there being any decent snow in England? And you know I’ve always loved snow, mind you maybe we could hire one of those machines. Is that a bit naff? Oh, isn’t it exciting, Mum? If we had snow I could have one of those fur-trimmed hoods and a long cloak and the pageboys could wear tartan waistcoats. Maybe we could have it in Scotland. Oh my God, they could all wear kilts then – Max is shaking his head. What do you think? Aren’t you going to say something?’
Molly opened her mouth to speak but there weren’t any words in there.
‘Mum? Are you still there?’ asked Jess, sounding a little anxious, and then presumably to Max, said, ‘I think she might be cracking up.’
Never a truer word was spoken, thought Molly. Finally she found her voice and said, ‘Well, well done you – both of you – congratulations. Look, do you think I can ring you back later? We’re right slap-bang in the middle of a show here…’
‘I know. They’re playing our song,’ said Jess wistfully.
‘Look, I’ve got to go, sweetie. We’re interviewing some guy who is singlehandedly trying to save