Honey Bunny: 1

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My arrival in Hampshire
Ally in her Bunny outfit

Sometimes it is more important to listen to your inner voice than those around you.


Honey Bunny

Chapter 1

by Louise Anne Smithson

Copyright © 2015 Louise Anne Smithson
All Rights Reserved.

 


 
Chapter 1: Looking for a job  

Following the instructions sent to me by my Aunt Emma, I alighted from the train at Havant station, which is about five miles before its ultimate destination at Portsmouth. There were several other passengers who got off at the same time as me and so I let them sort themselves out and make for the station exit before looking for my aunt, who had promised to meet my train and drive me to her home in Waterlooville nearby. At first there was no sign of her, but after a minute or two, I caught sight of her, together with my cousin Carol, hurrying down the steps of the station footbridge.

‘Hello Alex, and welcome to Hampshire! I can’t in all honesty comment on how much you’ve grown since I last saw you, but you look well enough,’ she said as she approached me and gave me a welcoming kiss on the cheek.

‘Hi Aunt Emma; hi Carol,’ I replied to them both.

‘It’s good to see you again,’ she continued.

She did at least sound as if she meant it, which was an improvement on the somewhat frosty send-off that I’d received from my own parents earlier in the day, after yet another of our family rows concerning my future..
‘Sorry if we’re a little late, but I couldn’t find anywhere to park. I trust you had a trouble free journey?’ she continued.

‘No problem at all, thanks,’ I answered, ‘I arrived at Heathrow two and a half hours ago, took the bus to Woking and, as you suggested, then caught the Portsmouth train from London. It’s good of you to let me stay with you for the summer.'

‘That’s all right, my dear, we’ve plenty of room since Susan has left.’

(Susan is Carol’s older sister who had recently left home to go and stay with her father in Southern France.)

‘I’ll warn you, though that Waterlooville isn’t the most exciting place on this earth,’ she continued.

‘I’m sure it will be preferable to staying with Mum and Dad in Bahrain. In any event, I’m hoping to find some work in Portsmouth.’

‘I’d prefer spending my summer sipping cocktails by the side of Red Sea, to working in Portsmouth,’ commented Carol.

‘It’s the Persian Gulf rather than the Red Sea and, believe me, the attractions of that place pretty soon wear off,’ I said, ‘especially during the summer months when the temperature regularly goes over forty degrees. I wouldn’t be able to find any work there and my parents would be forever wanting to know what I was planning to do with my life.’

‘Excuse my geography,’ said Carol with a smile as she picked up the smaller of my two suitcases, leaving me to carry the other.

Aunt Emma led the way back over the footbridge towards the station exit.

‘I gather from your mother that things haven’t been so good at home recently,’ she commented.

My aunt was good-natured but could be blunt at times.

‘You know what they’re like! If only they’d just leave me a little time and space to make up my own mind about my future,’ I replied, sighing.

‘Yes, I gather that your mother was not best pleased with you when you decided not to apply for University, this year.’

‘Well I’d no idea what subject I wanted to study,’ I replied.

‘But you’re supposed to be the clever one in the family – the one who finished his ‘A’ levels a year early.’

‘Maybe, but there would be no point in my starting a university course only to decide to give it up a few months later,’ I replied.

‘So what is the latest situation?'

‘Mum and Dad have reluctantly accepted that I shall not be going to University this coming September but feel they will be able to bully me into applying for one next year. In the meanwhile, I would like to try and earn a little money during the summer and maybe do a little travelling for a while.’

I didn’t say what was really in my mind; that there comes a point when working hard and doing what your parents wanted could no longer disguise the fact that there were things fundamentally wrong in your life: things that were not going to go away merely because you had grown up. Instead I turned to my cousin in an attempt to change the subject of the conversation.

‘How have you found university, Carol?’

She shrugged.

‘Fine, I’m enjoying my course in Sociology and Criminology at the University of Portsmouth.’ I’ve nearly finished my second year so I’ve been able to live at home and save money.’

‘Mum and Dad want me to do something more traditional at Oxford or Cambridge.’

‘If you can get a place and they are willing to pay your fees, I would go for it as it will be a means of putting off making any decision about what to do for another three years.’

I felt as if I’d been putting off making decisions about my life for as long as I could remember, but I didn’t say so.

‘How do you find the work?’

‘No problem - I’ve been having a great time. I just have a couple of assignments to finish and an exam next week and that’s it until the end of next September,’ continued Carol.

‘But it is only just May now.’

‘I know, awful isn’t it,' she replied, laughing. ‘A whole summer with no responsibilities.’

By this time we’d reached the car which was parked on a double-yellow line next to the station car park.

‘Get in quickly, you two, before I get a parking ticket,’ said my Aunt.

We loaded my cases into the boot of her car and began the four-and-a-half mile drive to her home.

'I don’t think you are likely to find any summer employment in Waterlooville, Alex, but we aren’t that far from Portsmouth and there are plenty of buses. I’ll be working in town tomorrow afternoon, if you like I'll call in at lunchtime to give you a lift and show you where to go.'

‘Thanks.’

During the drive to their home, the conversation inevitably turned to my future once again.

‘So what do you want to do with your life?’ Carol asked me with a smile.

‘Ideally I should like to work in the music industry, but Mum and Dad don’t approve of that'.

‘There are an awful lot of people who would like to do that.’

‘I know.’

‘So what do you play?’

‘I play the keyboards and also sing a little. I don’t have the looks to make a living as a singer, and keyboard players are ten a penny, but maybe I could find work as an arranger or a backing vocalist.’

I knew that this wasn’t going to happen as I uttered those words.

‘Our family always was quite musical,’ commented my Aunt, ‘Did you know that Carol sings in a group as well?’

‘No, I’d no idea,’ I replied.

‘It’s only a duo, since Alice walked out on us last week,’ corrected her daughter.’

‘Why did she leave?’ asked Aunt Emma. ‘I thought you three sounded pretty good together.’

‘Apparently we weren’t good enough for Alice. She felt the group wasn’t making any progress, so has gone up to London to make her fortune,’ replied Carol.

‘She was a little bit of a prima donna,’ commented Aunt Emma.

‘You aren’t kidding, but she has rather left us in the lurch,’ Carol replied.

She then turned to me.

‘It’s a pity you aren’t a girl, Alex, because we could do with a new backing singer, but I don’t think you would fit in as one of the Honey Bunnies, do you?’

‘I guess not,’ I replied, in answer to her question, with my cheeks colouring slightly, whilst thinking to myself ‘If only I could.

‘But maybe you can help us with some of the new arrangements that we’ll need to make.’

‘I should be happy to help if I can.’

Soon after we arrived at the house and I was shown the bedroom that was going to be mine for the summer.

‘Susan has taken all of her stuff that she wanted to keep and l am storing the rest in a box under the stairs, so feel free to use any of the cupboards and drawers. I’m afraid that the furnishings are a little bit 'girly'. That’s what comes of having two daughters.

‘I’m sure I’ll be able to cope,' I replied, smiling.

~o~O~o~

The next day was a Friday and I quickly discovered that Aunt Emma was right in her prediction. There wasn’t going to be any work for me locally, although Portsmouth seemed to be a little more promising. I therefore accepted the offer of a lift in to the town after lunch and went to the local job centre where I put my name down. They were not much help but at least gave me the addresses of a couple of employment agencies and suggested that I might leave my details with them. I did as they suggested, and after the briefest of interviews at the first one I visited, I was offered a job at one of the McDonald’s restaurants in the town. I was told that I would first have to attend a basic food hygiene/health and safety course (the cost of which would be deducted from my wages) but could start almost immediately afterwards. Now that I was eighteen I would at least earn the minimum wage of just over five pounds an hour. It was a ‘zero hours’ contract but I was told that I could expect to be offered about thirty to thirty-five hours work each week, as required, between the hours of 5.00 am and midnight. This would at least enable me to contribute towards the cost of my upkeep and perhaps even provide me with a little pocket money whilst I looked around for something better. I wasn’t completely broke, Mum and Dad had given me a thousand pounds for my eighteenth birthday, although I’d promised them that I wouldn’t just fritter it away and that I would save up to get myself something special and then tell them what I’d done with it.

After my interview I got the bus back to Waterlooville and arrived just in time to help Carol prepare our evening meal.

‘How did you get on, Alex?’ she asked.

‘I start at McDonalds on Monday,’ I replied.

She gave me a patronising smile.

‘So you’ve found your first McJob!’

‘What’s a McJob?’

‘Hard boring work, poor pay, poor conditions and antisocial hours. But we’ve all done one of those at some time or another. I may even end up having to join you as soon as my exams are over.’

‘Is it really that bad?’ I asked. ‘At least it will keep me occupied and I’ll earn a little money.’

She shrugged.

‘Wait and see. At least you’ll get as much free coffee and hamburgers as you can eat! You never know, you may even find that you enjoy frying chips and flipping hamburgers.’

She then changed the subject.

‘My friend Bethany, from University, is coming over tomorrow morning and we’re going to try and rescue something from the wreckage of our singing careers. We have a two-hour gig in the function room of a pub in Portsmouth in just over a week’s time but at present we barely have enough material to fill half of that time. We’ve been rehearsing using a karaoke machine but you would be welcome to play the keyboards for us, if you like, and let us know what you think.’

‘Yes I should like to do that. Will you also need me when you come to perform?’

‘No, we should be alright for the performance, thanks. We are booked to appear alongside three session musicians who are fairly well-known locally.’

‘Yes of course’

‘By the way, Mum is going to be away for the coming weekend, staying with a friend, so we will be fending for ourselves.’

‘That’s no problem. Maybe I can get in some practice frying chips and flipping hamburgers.’

~o~O~o~

That evening I emailed my Mum and Dad to confirm that I’d arrived safely and had even found myself a job. I didn’t go into too much detail as I didn’t want to give them any more ammunition to use against me in our ongoing battle of wills. A minimum-wage job in a fast food restaurant would confirm all their fears about my ‘throwing away the opportunities that they’d worked so hard to provide for me’. There would be no acknowledgment about my own role or right to decide my future. The trouble was that I’d found the various secondary school exams I’d taken up to that point to be quite easy, and so they assumed that they'd been ideal parents. It was only recently I’d begun to lose any interest in my education and wonder what it was all for.

The following morning Carol and I had breakfast together and waited for her friend to arrive. I was then introduced to Bethany, a slim brunette, aged about twenty, with lovely long hair. The three of us spent a few minutes together discussing their programme before making a start. I quickly discovered that Carol was being unduly modest. The 'Honey Bunnies' (or at least what remained of them) weren’t bad performers. Their repertoire was a little limited, based on material that had been in the hit parade over the last few years – Adele, Christine Aguilera, Amy Winehouse – that sort of thing. Some of their material would now require new arrangements for two voices, but both Carol and Bethany were good looking and competent singers and performers. They were unlikely ever to get a recording contract, but there are far worse groups performing every weekend in clubs up and down the country. I was more than happy to play the keyboard for them and occasionally made suggestions which they seemed to accept in good part.

‘We are still going to need a couple more numbers to complete the programme. Do you have any other suggestions, Alex?’ asked Carol.

‘What about ‘Proud Mary?’

‘What’s that?’ she asked.

‘It’s a song, originally from the nineteen sixties, but there have been lots of more recent versions including one by Tina Turner. It is still quite modern sounding and I’m sure you would have heard it.’

‘Can you play it for us, please?’ asked Carol.

I did as she asked also singing the words, whilst adopting the falsetto pitch that I sometimes use as I thought this might give them a better idea of how to arrange the song,

‘Ah yes, now I recognise the tune, but how did you learn to sing like that?’ asked Carol.

‘Like what?’

‘Like a girl,’ she said, as if it were blindingly obvious.

I coloured slightly wishing that I had not done so.

‘I’ve always had a high-pitched voice,' I replied. ’I’m a tenor, but I can sing in the falsetto range.’

‘You sounded to me more like a contralto than a tenor, but a good one, all the same,’ said Beth.

‘I was just trying to sing a version in a pitch that would suit you two,’ I explained, blushing slightly.

'OK let's give it a try. You may join in as a backing singer if you like, Alex,' said Carol.

After a couple of rehearsals they were happy with the result and it became the first twentieth century song to be included in their repertoire. By the end of the afternoon, I’d made a couple of other suggestions from girl groups who had recorded during the 1960s and 1970s, some of which they knew, but hadn’t been aware of it. These could be used after a minimum of rehearsal. By the end of the day the girls were so pleased with the way things had gone that they offered to treat me to a meal rather than stay in to eat.

‘So where would you like to go?’ asked Beth.

‘Anywhere other than McDonalds,’ I replied, smiling.

'There’s quite a respectable carvery nearby, which is reasonably priced,’ suggested Carol, who was relieved that I hadn’t suggested anywhere more expensive.

Over dinner we continued to discuss their forthcoming performance and I soon discovered that Beth had taken over the role of organiser, following the departure of Alice.

‘You're a good musician and arranger, Alex,’ she said.

‘Thanks, it is nice to be appreciated,’ I responded. ‘My mum and dad see it as a distraction to my studies.’

‘We’re going to need to finalise the programme by tomorrow lunchtime and then email a recording to the musicians, so they can work out their arrangements.’

‘Won’t there be a rehearsal with the musicians?’ I asked.

‘Maybe, but they’ll decide that when they've heard the tape. Normally we just have a run-through and sound-check on Friday two hours before we are due to perform.’

‘Are the musicians any good?’ I asked.

‘Yes, in actual fact they are,’ Carol replied. ‘They're a local group with a really lame name – ‘The Pompey Players’ – named after the local football team.'

‘Oh, I see!’

‘But they’re competent musicians all the same.'

‘In that case, don’t be frightened to leave some space in some of the numbers for an instrumental solo. You don’t have to sing all the time, and all session musicians appreciate the opportunity to show what they can do. It will sound better that way and you won’t need quite so much material to fill the programme.’

‘Thanks for the advice.’

‘Would I be able to come and watch you on Friday, if I'm not working?' I asked.

‘Yes of course you can. We were also wondering whether you'd be willing to help us rehearse again tomorrow?’

‘I guess so; I’m not due to begin my work until Monday.’

‘That’s brilliant! Alex, you're a real star!’

I smiled, again pleased that my musical abilities were at least being recognised.

‘Maybe you could also think of a few more suitable titles for us at the same time.’

‘Alright, I’ll see if I can think of any tonight.’

‘Well don’t stay up too late, I’d like us to have an early start in the morning.

~o~O~o~

Once we got back to my Aunt’s house I left my cousin and her friend talking together whilst I made my way to my bedroom where I proceeded to do an internet search looking for suitable songs from the 1960s to the 1990s. I looked out for good strong songs for girl groups ranging from the Supremes to the Spice Girls. In no time at all I had come up with more than forty suggestions that were all within their vocal range. I went to bed about midnight thinking that it had been a most enjoyable day, even though I wouldn’t get to take part in the final performance.


 
Next time: An invitation to perform

Louise

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Comments

Thank you, Louise,

Lovely to see you back again,I know that I will enjoy your story.

ALISON

Glad You're Back

littlerocksilver's picture

Another interesting start to what I feel will be an interesting tale.

Portia

giggles

this could be a fun ride ...

DogSig.png

Nice story, will certain to

Nice story, will certain to catch the other chapters as they appear. Don't know about McJobs in GB, but here in the US, employees can go to college and the "Golden Arches" will help cover some of their costs. I do know several people, both men and women how have progressed up the ranks from "burger turner" and "fry maker" to Senior Management in the Corporation. It pretty much boils down as to what the employee wants to do with their life. Hugs, Janice Lynn

Great to see a new story from you

Hi Louise, I can already see that this is going to be a fun story. It's so good to see you back again. Bronwen.

Finally started reading this...

Yes, I resolved to wean myself away from the Book of Faces for at least part of each day and get back in the habit of hanging out at BCTS :)

So, one chapter in and I already have a sneaky suspicion of where this tale might be going - although of course, while we may have clues to the destination (not to mention not-too-subtle hints regarding Alex's feelings on a certain topic), the journey there is likely to be a wild ride :)


As the right side of the brain controls the left side of the body, then only left-handers are in their right mind!

I almost missed a promising story here

Rhona McCloud's picture

I've just started having been put off earlier by the title and cover. I think the family tension is very well handled and to set up shows promise of taking flight.

Rhona McCloud

The Middle East

joannebarbarella's picture

I don't much like the Gulf States but Bahrain was the place I disliked the least. Like the rest of the Gulf the summers are unbearable but the winters are actually very pleasant. Alex is quite right though; there would be no chance of a young Brit getting any work there. The local villagers work for peanuts and any jobs that they don't want or can't do are performed by Indians/Pakistanis and Filipinos/Filipinas. They are the ones who work in the bars and restaurants.
A very encouraging start. I know I am way behind but I'll try to catch up.

Great Start

I was pointed towards you by a mutual friend, who said I'd love your stories. She said your knowledge of England made the stories more enjoyable.
Great start, we can see where Alex is heading. Delicious anticipation

Cefin

Honey Bunny

Thank you Louise for reposting this great story. It's just as good the third time around

I'll second that

Podracer's picture

Though I'm not sure how many times I've passed this way now :)

"Reach for the sun."