Heather Moulson

Please excuse me talking to you from my dressing-room.  Playing at some wretched venue in Greenwich.  Nothing but bookings at the moment.  The 02 beckons, what!

 
Excuse Fang, my new dog by the way, he’s just there in case some of those fans get a bit close!

 Meanwhile, Marjorie did not know whether to be amused or embarassed at Lord Posh’s abysmal piano skills:
 

 Often, he would bang the lid down:
“Oh dash it all!  Let’s have some tea!”

 

And they would share a delightful afternoon over some Earl Grey tea and aWagon Wheel

 

 Occasionally Lavinia would join them when she got home after school, but she was impervious to his charms.  Unlike my wife.

Lord Posh, unusual for an English Toff, opened up a lot, and told them about his last wife.  A showgirl from Las Vegas, who got one of his stately homes in the divorce settlement:
“Never liked the damn place anyway!”
  

 Mary, clocking up the importance of their new guest, bitchily let it slip one afternoon:
“Begging your pardon, Sir, but Miss Lavinia has been in a detention centre, and several gang fights, your honour!”

 “Mary!  You Mare!  Get out of here at once!  One day I’ll throw you and those brats of yours out on the streets!”
 

 Lord Posh, who had barely been listening, simply imagining Mary on all fours after she’d served dinner, merely said he admired a girl with pluck!  And did these fillies all get undressed together in the dorm?  What about the baths?

Lavinia did not answer him, and Marjorie breathed a sigh of relief that Mary did not reveal her grandchild down in the kitchen.
 

Then when Marjorie entered the room, unwittingly blowing her hopes apart, I told her what Lord Posh had come to say:
“My dear.  Lord Posh has asked permission to marry Lavinia when she is 16 (and after her GCSE’s).  I don’t think she’ll be too keen though.”
  

 Marjorie‘s expression became stony-faced.  Had she hoped LP was asking me to release her from our sham of a marriage?  Did she really think anyone would do that?  Ask a husband like that?
I think she did.  

“Damned fine filly”, Lord Posh exclaimed to my wife, “Ripe for childrearing, eh?  Tried to bring it up at dinner, m’dear.  But felt the old man should know first, eh?”

“Ratscocks!”

  

 Will Marjorie ever recover from this bitter blow?
Will Lavinia actually do her GCSE’s?  
And will Paul get to West Dulwich?

Tune in same time, same channel for Episode Four!   

Meanwhile, Lavinia, now tag-free, watches “her” Alastiar from under her long lashes:

And She pounces on him one day, when he goes to wash his hands after a kitten delivery.  Mary being out at the post office, and Mrs Slag bathing the children
 

 “Alastair!”, she cried, “You belong to me!  Why did you go off with that slag, Mary?”

 It was a question that Alastair could not answer himself.  Their union had been so urgent and hurried – and their “marriage” cermony rough and sordid: 

Alastair can still recall the coldness of the place (behind that fence).

 “But whatever and whyever, Miss Lav, I cannot wed you.  You’re far too young!”
“Oh no!, ” she cried, “I cannot be denied again!  When I am 16, we will go to my father for permission to marry!”
“erm… Make it 18”, he suggested nervously.

  When Lavinia had fled back upstairs, Alastair seriously thought about the girl’s proposal.  It could be possible for the two of them to have a future.  It could be a way for him to get back Upstairs, and treat Mary like a servant again. 
 

 However, Mary (back unexpectedly) heard every word.  She was not having any of this!
Alastair was hers!!
Not that spoilt blueblooded Brat’s.
She devised an evil plan immediately!

Calling Alastair upstairs, she seduced him brutally and without mercy.
    

 “No Mary!  I beg you!”, he cried, but it was too late!

 That night in bed, Alastair bruised and sore, Mary announced that he had made her pregnant that afternoon, and they would have to be married after all.  Properly this time.  With a Vicar and everything.

Alastair ran back upstairs (even though he wasn’t really allowed up there) in tears.  However would he get away from Mary now?  He could never be with Lavinia.  He would never be Upstairs – ever again!

Meanwhile, back at the piano, Marjorie is tinkling absent-mindedly, dreaming of what might have been.  Or what will never be.

Or would it????

 

“Hello there!  My name is Lord Posh!  
 Jolly well let myself in, bally desperate to learn the piano, m’dear!  Here’s a load of money!”

To say Marjorie was hit by a thunderbolt was an understatement.  
  

 And it seemed Alistair
wasn’t the only one who could
see a way out of here!  

Our First Christmas in our new reduced circumstances was pretty grim

Despite Mary’s tempting
Christmas cake!

My wife Marjorie and I are struggling to make the best of a fragile marriage, but something (or someone) always seems to come between us…..

Can’t think why…..

 Meanwhile, Lavinia seems to have got on her feet a bit more (well, once the tag’s removed).
She went to a place in Ashford for a while with lots of other larky young girls!  Think she learnt a lot.  
The Board decided she could come back home, provided she didn’t go near sharp objects: 

“Ratscocks!”

I have to say, Marjorie really has turned a new leaf with these piano lessons.  However, I try not to hear her heavy sighs of discontent

 I also try not to notice her 
comfort eating 

 However, Marjorie is now making a big effort with her grandchild (I think)

 Which is more than can be said for that sap Alastair.  Making a new life with Mary, he truly is repenting in leisure.

 And it’s no good making cow‘s eyes at my wife, like he did all over Christmas, she won’t go near him now he’s known a servant!
(husband’s don’t count!)

 And he no longer practises medicene, he has turned to vetinary surgery.  Relatively successful, he operates from our basement, while Mary tends to his six stepchildren.

 As for me, I’ve stopped watching the old box, and have become a stand-up comedian – well, a sit-down one really (guffaw!)

There is one thing my agent doesn’t approve of – with good reason actually – and this is my “business manager”.  (Gay Ken from next door)
Hardly any business gets done, and we end up in bed. 

 “We can never have a future,” I constantly tell him, “my life is with Marjorie and Lavinia”

“They will be welcome in our new lives, Paul.  We have to stop living a lie!”
My answer is always the same:  No.

“One day, you will be mine all mine!  Cackle, Cackle!”

 Bit worried about him, actually.

End of Part One (series two)
Next week:  Marjorie encounters a thunderbolt, and Lavinia propositions Alastair.  

Same time, same channel …..  
 

There is much tension in the Amanda Ann drawing room tonight.  

 Paul began to yearn for the E! Channel

However, the next day, when Paul went out for a kebab, there came an unannounced visitor:

 “Marjorie, my love ” Alistair choked “I can no longer wait.  I have packed your bag, as I cannot live without you!”
Marjorie sighed, and pondered on her failure to seduce her enstranged husband:
“Oh, I suppose you’re right.  What am I doing just sitting around on this plastic chair?  And, by the way, I need a bigger suitcase than that!”

Lavinia (who had heard every word) tore in and threw herself at Alistair’s feet:
“No!  No!  Alistair is mine!  You cannot take him away from me, Mother! (I hate you)”

Alistair and Marjorie are horrified:
“Lavinia, please!  Tell your mother there was never anything between us!”
But she rushes away tearfully

“Marjorie, my love, please believe me, I have never laid a hand on that sweet girl.”
Marjorie knows Alistair to be telling the truth, and agrees to meet him that night outside Superdrug.  
She will tell Paul and Lavinia after supper, perhaps they would both be better off without her, if she was causing that much misery.

So later that evening, Marjorie tearfully drops her bombshell to Paul (and the dog).  Lav being out at a gangfight.

“No”, says Paul firmly.
“What?”, Marjorie splutters
This was not her ineffectual husband speaking!

“You’re not going off with that Quack!”
“How dare you!”, Marjorie spluttered.  No-one, but no-one told her what to do – (until now)

“Marjorie”, Paul said patiently, “Alistair was a bloody useless country doctor.  I’ve lost count of how many servants we lost through him!  Two minutes round here, and he’ll be struck off faster than you can say Malpractice!  Then what will you do?”

“True love will find a way,” she protested sniffily.

“I quite agree, but that love should be used here – in your home, Marjorie.  Where it’s needed the most.   You’ve returned to the nest, don’t fly away again.  Stop chasing some dream, Marjorie, make the most of your new home.”

“What’s more.  We can give love and support to our daughter.  Get her away from those dreadful girls and keep her on the straight and narrow.  With the two of us here for her, she’ll come round.”

 “And what am I  supposed to do in this dreadful little house?”
“Piano lessons”, Paul said, “I’ve been thinking about this for a while.  You’re a bloody awful player, but you know your stuff.”  

“Oh, alright.”, Marjorie groaned, “but what about poor Alistair?”
“Oh him!  I’ve sent Mary up to Superdrug to tell him to fuck off!”

“Little did Marjorie know, Lavinia wasn’t the only one who had their eyes set on Alistair.  
With his heartbreak, and love of cake, it was inevitable that he and Mary would walk off into the sunset.
She already planning her next pregnancy.
I give it a week.”

“And that, as they say, was that.  Or was it?”

That very same night, Mrs Slag announced a visitor:

“So now you know all about us.  Tune in for our Christmas Special coming shortly!”

“Goodnight and God Bless”

The End (or is it?)  

I didn’t want to tangle with Mary at all.  But I got lonely after Marjorie went off to Italy, and with Lavinia being so young, I would often talk to Mary in the late hours:

I told her things I’d never told anyone
“Yawn!” she’d reply

Then one night, she interupted me:

 “Sir, can we not just go up to your bedchamber?”

“You silly goose, Mary, ” I replied, “Whyever would you want to clean up there this time of night?”

Then Mary broke down:
“Oh Master Paul!  The other servants in town have been laughing at me!”
“But why?”
“Because all their masters have taken them to their bed.  I’m the only one who hasn’t known her employer!”, she sobbed

“Well, Mary, if you ask me, they sound a pretty rum crowd.  I’d join the local church group if I were you.”

Then Mary pulled her trump card:
“And they’re saying – you’re gay!”
“What?”, I replied, “Get across that table now!”
“Tee-Hee”, said Mary

 It was a truly awful experience.  Mercifully it was over very quickly.  

I hoped that would be the end of the matter.  But no, night after night, she’d be there in my bed, waiting for me, cake and all.  

It was a joyless experience, Mary would never have the elegance and lithness of Marjorie.  It simply made me miss her more.  

I finally nipped it in the bud when Mary started wearing my wife’s things

And the multiple births didn’t help….

And Mrs Slag, laying claim to be Mary’s birth mother, cooled things down a lot:

 
She demanded Mary went on the Pill, and not to take advantage of “Grand Folk” again.  I assume she meant me.

I think Mary has mixed feelings about being reunited with her mother.  I for one, am overjoyed.  

   Next installment:  Paul’s elation won’t last for long, Lavinia is still a cow and Marjorie – well, is just Marjorie.

Tune in same time, same channel 

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, Mary’s father disapproves of his daughter’s childrearing.  Regardless of their parentage.  Their family were simple serving folk, not decadent like them “Upstairs”

However, they were his grandchildren, and he decided to talk with that high-and-mighty Paul upstairs.

 Paul, always pleased to see retired servants from his old father’s old estate, was polite but breezy:
“Nice to see you, old man.  Well, Question of Sport awaits me!”

 “Right!  That’s it!  I’m going to tell him some home truths!”

 “Oh, still here, old man?  Shall I get Mary to fix you up with a bit of cake?”
“No, Master Paul.  That won’t be necessary.”  

“You see, I am your father!”

Paul is shocked at the news:
“My God!  How?  When?”

 “Your mother was such a beautiful woman”, the old man recalled wistfully.
“And one day, I found her sobbing in the old manor house.  Your brute of a (step) father had treated her badly once again”
I tried to comfort her and the next thing I knew:

We were rolling around in mutual ecstacy!
“Oof, you’re heavy!”, I think her words were.

We avoided each other studiously for the next nine months, until one day…..

 There you were, lying in your crib, your mother flushed with labour.  I knew instantly you were my child.”

“This is our secret, old man,” she breathed, “No-one must ever know.”
I had no choice but to agree.  I didn’t mind, as I didn’t really fancy her that much anyway.  
The next day, she was dead, and you were the next in line to the country estate.  

“Oh Lordy!”, Paul exclaims, “Does that mean I’ve slept with my sister?  (Mary)”
“No, Master Paul.  Mary was the daughter I would have had, if I could”

 “Do you remember those two lesbians who ran your – hah! – Father’s farm?”
“Yes”, croaked Paul

 “Well, Mary’s mother was a beautiful gypsy girl who lived wild on the land”

 “Then, one day, she came out of the haystack having given birth to a beautiful baby…”

” After being seduced by an evil farmhand!”

“I agreed to take her in.  My heart beat wildly for her, but by then I was married.”

“However, you may remember my wife was a bit of a battleaxe, and she turned the young girl away, agreeing to keep the child (Mary)”

“So Father!”, said Mary (who had heard every word) “Where is my true Mama?”

“Here, Mary.  It is I who was that beautiful young girl who was turned out of your father’s house”

“Mrs Slag!  Who comes in to do the “Rough” (twice a week)!”, the three of them exclaimed.
 

“Oh.  erm…Right.”, coughs Mary’s father.
 

Mother and daughter embrace:
“Isn’t it wonderful, Father?  Now you are widowed, you and Mrs Slag can be reunited!”

“Er – right, erm…I’ll be off then.  ‘Bye”
And Mary’s father quickened his step….

“Father!” Paul cries after him.


Next installment: Marjorie reveals her intentions, Paul regrets his entanglement with Mary, and Lavinia is just awful

Tune in same time, same channel

Marjorie was brought round from her fainting fit, and faces her old love:

 “Oh Alistair”, she breathes, “Why have you come?”

 “I have never gotten over you, Marjorie (from the old days)”
“I’ve not stopped searching for you.”
“But what about your country surgery?”
“I’ve given that all up.  I’m now a GP in London!”

“Whatever for?”, Majorie asks 
“Because of YOU, Marjorie.  I thought we had the Real Thing – and then you go off to Italy with that young boy!”
“Ah yes”, Marjorie says dreamily, “oh I mean…I didnt’ want to..”
“I urge you to marry me, Marjorie.  Leave Plastic Paul to his multi-adoptees, and come with me for a better life!  I will await your answer, my darling”

As Paul goes to leave…

“Why!  Young Lavinia!  How you’ve grown up!”

Lav runs to her room, in shock at confronting her childhood crush. 
“I still love him,” she cries, “I still love Alistair!
Mama can’t have him!  She can’t!”

Meanwhile Marjorie reflects, and embarks on a plan to test her true feelings.

She devises a cunning plan to seduce Paul, and find out where her true feelings lay:

 They start with a romantic meal

She then plays him the most sensual of her recitals.
Paul sits there reflectively:  he knows where all this is going.  What was it about bloody women, why did they always want to seduce him?
And it didn’t stop there either: It was “darling, I must buy this..” or “Master Paul, I fear I am with child…”
 

“Oooh, I say!”
 

“For Gods sake, Marjorie!  Uncross your legs!”
 

“It used to be THIS big!”, Paul explains

Majorie is not listening.  She fears it has to be Alistair she chooses

 Next installment, Marjorie makes her ultimate choice – or does she?  Meanwhile, Paul gets a revelation himself. 

There is a knock, and Mary lets in a new neighbour:

 “Tell your mistress that my name is Sindy Doll, and that I’m a really competitive mother.  At once, servant!”

“Fuck off!”, Mary replies

However, Mary dutifully informs her mistress (who is at home to callers) of her visitor:

“Then show her in, you dozy cow!”
(There is much friction between them)

 “Have some fucking tea”, says Mary

 “By the way, I’m also a nymphomaniac, and I swing both ways.”
“Oh I say!,” Marjorie exclaims, thinking of the wild chandelier swinging parties of her old days.

But it did not work out that way:

 “You’re not really into this, are you?”, Sindy Doll ventures.
“Not anymore, it seems”, said Marjorie, embarassed.  
“Why don’t you, and your old man, join our PTA.
We finish the meetings by nine, then we’re all in bed, if you receive my meaning!”

 Later, Marjorie reflected that life in Twickenham might not be so bad after all.  

 However, over dinner, Majorie decided not to share this with Paul, and would no longer be at home to that common Doll woman.  

However, the next day, Mary informed Marjorie once again of a visitor:

 “I told you, Mary, that I was Not At Home to that woman!”
“Oh no,” Mary said darkly, almost knowingly, “It’s not HER!”

The visitor walked in:
“Alistair!  After all this time!”
Marjorie swooned.

Next installment – Alistair declares his intentions, Majorie is in a turmoil, and Paul does sod-all.

Don’t miss part six – same time, same channel.

During the past few months, Lavinia had grown up a lot.  

However, she did not know what to do with this baby thing, so she went down to Mary, to ask the young mother’s advice:

“I say, Mary, what does one do with an illegitimate brat?”
“Why!  Give them cake, miss Lav!”
said the maid cheerfully.
Lavinia thought it best to go to the local baby clinic.  

 On the other hand, better just to leave it there with Mary, she’ll never notice.

 Like Marjorie, Lav was in no doubt that Mary’s children were her half-siblings
– or were they?  Lavinia smelt a rat!

 Meanwhile, Marjorie was taking being a grandma very badly indeed

By sheer chance, Lav popped down to the kitchen once again.  Only to be met with an unwelcome encounter…

 “‘ere Mary, give us twenty…. oh hello Posh Piece!”
“Melvin!  You bastard!” , Lav cried.

 Melvin (over a few beers), puts heartbroken Lavinia in the picture.
“Look, it was good and all that.  And your plummy voice really got me going, but Mary’s me bird and mother to me kids!”

Lav runs back to the kitchen.  
“Mary!  You little mare!  I knew they weren’t Daddy’s children!”

Mary goes pale

Lavinia runs to her father in the drawing-room 

 “Papa!  I have something very significant to tell you!”

“Can’t it wait, my pet?  The Inbetweeners are nearly on.”

She finally captures her father’s attention, and tells him of her discovery in the kitchen.
“Don’t you see, Papa?  Those awful brats are not yours.  You don’t have to include them in your will and everything”

Paul sighed: “Look, Lavinia, I knew full well they were not mine.  Especially as Mary gave birth to them only six months after our – erm – union”

“And the real truth is, my sweet, that I have grown rather fond of the little blighters.  So I’m having Melvin arrested, and the children adopted into the family.”

“And as far as the will is concerned, my pet, there is sod-all to leave anyone.  Except this house, and the plastic furniture.  Which, quite frankly, is far more comfortable than that draughty shit-hole country estate you were raised on.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, Deal or No Deal is about to start!”

“Ratscocks!”

Lavinia wakes up with a heavy heart, and goes to talk to her mother (still in bed)

“Oh?”, Marjorie says scathingly, “Still going for those drinks of water, is he?”

Marjorie had not been so self-absorbed as Paul presumed, she had seen Mary’s brats for herself.  She knew who their father was …

“But Mama!  Daddy says you had lots of drinks of waters in Italy!  Was it very hot there then?”

“Umm yes, darling.  You could say that.  Now, before I go back to bed, are you home for dinner?  Or are you hanging round McDonalds again, throwing chips at pensioners?”

“Oh, Fuck knows!”, Lav replied.  
She was so unhappy and confused – and lonely.

 She confides in her new friend, Gillian.
“Oh, I’ve done it lots of times!”, her new pal boasts.
“Done what?”, Lav asks
“You’re a scream, you are!  I’ll get you together with my mate Melvin, off the estate, he loves posh birds!”

“Oh, an estate. Super! We had one of those once!”

So, at a wild party on this estate place, Lavinia met Melvin across a crowded room (almost)

 And for the doe-eyed Lavinia, it was true love

Melvin’s ardour was hard and demanding.
“So this is what a snog is”, Lav thought

 “Oof!  Ahh!  This must be what true love is!”, Lav thinks “Oh!  Is that it?”

“How wonderful…… I think..”

Several months later:

 “Ratscocks!”

Next week:  Lavinia grows up fast, Marjorie gets out of bed, and Paul receives a revelation

Part Four: same time, same channel