Chapter 1
Every now and then, even the Monsoon household witnesses a quiet afternoon. Most of these times, it's because Eddy is not home and lives up to her family name. Today could be one of those rare occasions: Saffy is busy wiping the kitchen counter while her grandma is sitting at the kitchen table reading OK! magazine.
But suddenly – alas! – Eddy barges in. She is all flustered, her hair is sticking out in all directions from under a cap, her jacket is lopsided, she is carrying a big travel bag in garish colours that matches her trousers, and she is panting like a freight train.
"Nononononono," Eddy goes in time with her feet hitting the steps down to the kitchen. "Oh, hi, sweetie, I didn't expect you home this early."
"It's five o'clock, Mum. I'm always home at four on Thursdays."
"You are? Anyway, mummy doesn't have time now, darling, I'm on my way to Manchester. Big business deal. You know, mummy is a business woman." She puts her bag on a chair while muttering under breath, "I'm a business woman. Business woman…"
"What's that, dear?" Mrs Monsoon interrupts Eddy's mantra, peering at her in slight concern.
Eddy looks at her as if she's noticing her mother for the first time.
"What are you doing there, aren't you supposed to be in Birmingham with your hell on wheels club?"
"Mum!" Saffy hisses in a low voice, looking at her mother reproachfully, while June Monsoon does not seem to register Eddy's sarcasm.
"I don't understand, the only club I'm in is my bridge club. But we were actually going to go to Birmingham to see the world/bridge championship, how did you know? Unfortunately, now, Petunia's and Harriet's wheelchairs take up so much space in the car that not all four of us could go so I volunteered to stay at home. I've already been to the monster truck championship last year so I thought I'd give up my seat in the car. It's a bit of a pity since the hotel rooms were already booked and all but, oh well, you get a better view of the hands if you watch the games broadcasted on TV anyway."
During Mrs Monsoon's soliloquy Eddy has been busy opening kitchen drawers and rummaging around in them, then slamming them shut and moving on to the next one.
"What are you looking for?" Saffy asks, laying her palm against her forehead as if to prevent an upcoming headache.
"I need the papers my agency sent me. Admission tickets, hotel bookings, timetables and a map of the bloody Amber Room." The contents of another drawer clatter loudly as Eddy drops them back into place.
"Mum, stop that! Your documents are not in there!"
"Oh, really? And how would you know?"
"Because I tidied those drawers up yesterday and although I came up with a great number of stained cocktail umbrellas, I didn't find a single slip of paper."
"Oh." Eddy stops and looks abashed. "I'm sorry, sweetie, I didn't mean to… I will look in my room then. Go on with what you were doing. Uh, wiping, right? Wax on right, wax off left." And she moves her hands in small circles as though wiping an invisible wall, retreating backwards from Saffy to calm her down. She's smiling and nodding at her daughter in a way she seems to think looks reassuring but which results in a rather demented grin instead. Saffy watches her perplexed, even more so as Eddy bumps into the chair with her luggage on it and sends the heavy bag crashing down to the floor.
Eddy jumps in surprise and June Monsoon looks up from her magazine, listens intently and concludes, "Oh dear, I think a thunderstorm is coming up. I'd better go outside and take the potholders from the clothesline."
When she gets up to leave for the garden Eddy notices a strong, flowery smell coming from the bag on the floor. She wrinkles her nose and lifts the bag to locate the source. There is a dark spot on the side of the bag indicating that something is leaking through the fabric. Just as Eddy pulls on the zipper impatiently Patsy comes stomping down the stairs in her usual high heels. She is wearing an outfit nothing short of Jacky O., featuring a classy costume with a flimsy, polka dot scarf and a matching purse and earrings.
"Eddy, the bar in the car is out of champagne, we have to restock before we can go on to Manchester. Otherwise I won't survive the endless sight of armies of sheep and mountains on the way. Anyway, we need to get going. Have you found the stuff you were looking for?"
Meanwhile Eddy has managed to open her travel bag and her face is changing from disgust to disbelief as she pulls a handful of damp sheets out of the bag. Apparently, a perfume sample in a glass bottle has burst under the impact when the bag fell and seeped through the bag.
"Pats! Pats, look at this! Here they are. Hotel reservations, timetables, backstage passes… They are reeking like a bloody weed plantation! I mean, not that I'm opposed to marijuana per se… I'm a very open-minded person… but I can't go to that high-class fashion fair smelling of weed!"
"Forget the smell, Eddy, those people deal with much worse things than weed on a daily basis."
"You're right, you're right." Eddy inhales deeply and lets the air out in several short puffs (just like her Yoga instructor taught her). "The important thing is that I've found the papers. Of course, if I had known I had them on me I wouldn't have had to return here and we wouldn't have lost precious time…"
"Relax, Eddy, we will tell the driver to drive faster. It's a simple calculation: if you have less time, you need to go faster."
"That is so irresponsible!" Saffy, who has watched the situation quietly for a while now, pipes up. "You could cause an accident as fast as you would have to go to make up for the time you've already lost!"
"Don't you have a good cause to attend to? I bet there is an Oxfam department that collects good advice. Why don't you tell them instead?" Patsy counters menacingly.
Eddy doesn't notice what's going on between Saffy and Patsy because she has started humming to herself to calm her nerves. At this moment Mrs Monsoon reappears carrying several pairs of potholders and an embroidered cushion reading "Bridge Friends Forever".
"That was a really small storm," she says. "When I went outside it was already over and the laundry didn't even get wet! Oh, hello Patsy, dear. Don't you look splendid today?"
"Hello, Mrs Monsoon," Patsy says, feeling obliged to respond to the compliment. "You… look quite nice yourself. That's a very fancy cushion you've got there."
"It's from my bridge club, you know. We were supposed to go to Birmingham today…" Mrs Monsoon begins but Saffy interrupts her to avoid another Groundhog Day moment.
"Say, Mum, you're going to Manchester in your Jaguar, aren't you?"
"Yes, sweetie, as soon as I've re-established my inner balance and Patsy has loaded the car with champagne we'll be off."
"You know, I've been thinking," Saffy says with a nasty sideways glance at Patsy, "Birmingham is halfway between London and Manchester. Why don't you take Gran to her bridge championship and then pick her up again on your way back?"
"Oh, Saffy, that is a wonderful idea!" June Monsoon chimes in. "You are such a bright girl. I can't believe no one else has thought of that."
"Yes, quite unbelievable," Eddy says through clenched teeth, glowering at Saffy and forgetting all about her humming routine while Patsy is making a sound as if she was choking on something – which is rather surprising since she hasn't eaten anything since 1973.
"I'll go get my coat," Mrs Monsoon announces happily and disappears from the room.
"What a nice car you've got there, Edwina," Mrs Monsoon observes and pokes the headrest in front of her with her finger. "No imprint, see? Not like in Margaret's car. I should have asked you to lend her this car to drive us to Birmingham. Maybe next time. You know, there is a wonderful flea market in Camden. I could use a car when I go shopping there at the weekends…"
She, Eddy and Patsy are all sitting in the back of Eddy's Jaguar with Eddy in the middle. The latter looks rather stressed despite the ten sun salutations she did before climbing into the car with her best friend and her mother who is babbling non-stop. Patsy is silent and hides behind dark sunglasses she does not actually need to wear because it is already getting dark outside. Finally she leans over to Eddy and says imploringly, "Make her shut up, Eddy, make her shut up. I'm too young to get life for murder."
"Too young?" Eddy echoes before she can stop herself.
"Okay, let's say too well-preserved, but still I don't want to share a loo with anyone but my own bum."
"All right, all right," Eddy sighs and leans forward to angle for the driver's copy of the Daily Telegraph on the passenger's seat. She thrusts it into her mother's hand and tells her: "There you are. If you can find every single letter 'e' in this issue till Birmingham, I will let you have the Jaguar for your next shopping trip. Here's a pen, now enjoy. Spit spot."
June looks quite surprised to find Eddy sitting next to her but takes the pen anyway. Before she starts with the task Eddy has set her she remarks: "You look rather tense, Patsy. I guess we should really look out for that loo you were just talking about. After all, the key to happiness is a healthy stomach and bowel system."
Patsy makes an indistinct sound and reaches for a champagne bottle while Eddy is muttering to herself, "Only two more hours till Birmingham…"
It's pitch-black outside the car and Eddy and Patsy are soundly asleep. Eddy's head has dropped on Patsy's bony shoulder and she's slightly snoring, open-mouthed. One cannot really tell if Patsy is sleeping because she is still wearing her sunglasses but she doesn't move nor has she done so during the last couple of hours. Only June Monsoon is awake, quietly browsing the Telegraph for e's. She is wearing a headtorch which gives her the air of a speleologist gone astray. When she is done with the newspaper she folds it up neatly, gives Eddy a scrutinising glance and then decides not to wake her up. As the light from the headtorch meets Patsy's face her head jerks towards June in such a mechanical manner that one would almost expect her to ask for the whereabouts of John Connor. At that moment the engine gives a loud bang, then jolts and finally the car slows down under the dying sounds of the motor. Everybody jumps at the sound and Eddy shouts: "Don't shoot me! It's only perfume!"
The driver swears but manages to bring the car to a safe halt on the hard shoulder of the motorway.
"What is it? Are we there yet?" Eddy is still confused and pushes herself between the front seats to get a better look of things. But the only thing she can see in the dark is the reflection of their own hazard warning lights and the screen of the navigation system as the driver tries to restart the motor.
"What's that with the map on the screen?" she asks tentatively. "Why does it say Torquay? Shouldn't we be in Birmingham? In fact," she continues, checking her watch, "we were supposed to be in Manchester by now! Was there heavy traffic on the way? Is it still a long way to Manchester from here?"
The driver has started to look rather uncomfortable. "I'm sorry to tell you Mrs Monsoon, but before we left I chased one of your neighbours' children away from the car. Unfortunately, he must have meddled with the GPS while I was stowing your luggage in the boot. But to make a long story short, we are in Torquay, Devon, now instead of Manchester."
"So what did you do, wear a blindfold all the way? I mean, didn't it occur to you we were on the wrong track when we passed…" and she leans forward to peek at the map more closely, "…Bristol instead of Birmingham, or Cull… Cullompton instead of Coventry? Huh?"
"Well, you know, my geographical knowledge of Britain is actually pretty limited beyond the greater area of London… "
"So what are you waiting for?" Patsy shouts from the backseat. "Turn the bloody car around and get us to Manchester!"
This puts Eddy's mind back on the problem at hand. "Right, there's no use crying over spilled milk. It's what…a quarter to nine now. Listen, if you drive all night we should be there at sunrise."
"I don't mean to spoil your enthusiasm, Mrs Monsoon," the driver replies, somewhat coolly at the prospect of pulling an all-nighter, "but I'm afraid the car broke down and since I have no mechanist skills whatsoever, we'll have no choice but to call a towing service and have your car repaired."
"Ohhh, now that it has stopped working it is MY car all of a sudden!"
"Well… it IS your car."
Eddy considers this for a moment. "Right. Anyway… so what this means is that I'm stuck on a motorway in no-man's-land in the middle of the night together with Posh Spice and Old Spice? That's just marvellous! Oh, Claudia Bing is going to have such a ball once she hears about this!"
"You know what?" the driver interrupts her hastily. "I will call the towing service and also a cab to take the three of you to a local hotel where you can spend the night. If everything goes well, we will be on the road again by tomorrow."
"Yes, let's do that, Eddy," Patsy pipes up. "I do need a drink and a cigarette. When the car jumped like that I think my heart stopped and I'm not sure it has resumed beating yet." She taps around on her chest with her palm checking for a heartbeat but doesn't seem to find one. Everyone else has turned around to look at her bewilderedly so she shrugs apologisingly.
"Patsy, stop doing that or people will think you are a bit batty," June reproaches her.
"You'd better listen to her, Pats. After all, it's the expert talking," Eddy says nastily.
"Edwina, dear, play nicely. There's no need to be this petulant towards your own mother!"
"Excuse me for interrupting, ladies," the driver intervenes. "I just wanted to inform you that both the recovery service and a cab are on their way here. You will also be delighted to hear that there are still rooms available at a local hotel in Torquay. The cab company called and the hotel staff will be expecting you."
This calms everyone down and until the cab and the recovery service arrive ten minutes later there are no more arguments.
The cab pulls up to a big, rather old-fashioned building with white walls which doesn't exactly inspire whoops of joy in Eddy and Patsy but Mrs Monsoon remarks, "What a nice place! It reminds me of my youth… well, maybe of my middle age."
A battered, formerly white sign in front of the hotel grounds reads: "LOW FAT TWYSTER."
Eddy looks incredulously at Patsy. "Are they serious? This is the name of the hotel?"
"Oh, no, miss, it isn't," the cab driver answers. "The local children use to mess around with the letters on the sign to spite the owner. The actual name of the hotel is Fawlty Towers."
A/N: As you may have guessed by now, this is really going to be a crossover story – but I didn't want to spoil the punchline so I didn't list it as one J. I'm not sure how soon I can update though, so please bear with me.