The gormless couple are so strapped
for cash they decide they have to get better jobs or start some money-making
scheme. Now read on:
Rina had no formal medical
training but she had spent so long in the pharmaceutical field that much had
rubbed off. And, one night, sitting on the bus, she glanced at the paper of
the man beside her and spotted a small ad for a pharmaceutical rep: 'sound
knowledge of medical terminology a must'.
She bought a copy
of the paper the moment she reached the shops. Female reps in those days
were almost unknown. There were perhaps two she knew in the industry. 'But
anyway,' she thought, 'I'll apply. Another iron in the fire. I'll write the
application on the weekend.'
The next Sunday afternoon, when
weekend house maintenance was over, we had two precious hours of sunshine to
ourselves. So we went to the beach with pens, paper, dictionary, clip-boards
and my Remington Model Five portable.
On the few occasions
we'd made it to the beach, we usually took the office. And to avoid
upsetting people who merely came to swim we would retreat to a hollow in the
highest dune where we could labour unobserved. Besides, Rina thought I could
write.
'You should write, Mia,' she constantly told me. 'You
have a real gift that way.'
This I found far-fetched. Yes,
I could scribble. But couldn't everybody? So, to justify her hope in me, I
tried to write a radio serial - naively having decided that the lowest
common denominator wouldn't take much time and might even drag in
desperately needed pelf. We were ready to try anything by then.
I raised my Parker 51. Such beginnings, I thought, led on to greatness.
'It's got to be a maiden's madness thing to suck the housewives in. I'll
call it Wild Wisdom. How's that?'
'Mmm,' she said, not
listening, thinking about her application.
'It needs this
slinky, paranoid heroine - all things to all men but useless to herself.
Gillian? Solita?'
Rina ground her toes into warm sand and
sucked her pencil.'Ben Mia.'
'What?'
'I want your
attention for a moment.'
'I've got it. I've got it. Melanie!
Isn't that just too stupid for words? Melanie. What a hoot.'
'Ben Mia.'
'Mmm.'
'What should I say in this
application?'
'What application is it this time?'
'The thing I saw in the bus. I know they want a man but if we write it the
right way...'
'Melanie Strange,' I yelled. 'That's it.
Perfect name for a drama queen.'
'Melanie Strange!' She
thought it ridiculous too, so that was settled.
I scribbled
it down. 'She'll sweep through life...'
'A contract cleaner,
is she?'
'...wrecking men and blighting herself. She'll
never have a wart or bunion and her hair will always float behind her.'
'Couldn't she have some on her head?'
'And her breath will
smell of jasmine.'
'Funny diet. Does she go to the hoo haa
like everyone else?'
'No. Her bodily wastes self-combust
without any outward display.'
'How painful.'
'And her parents are rich beyond imagining.'
'Well, we know
they've already saved a fortune in nappies.'
'She'll have a
great quest in life.'
'You mean to sell soap?'
'And sell it she will. Because stark tragedy will confront her behind every
sound effect door.'
'She sounds loopier than my mother.'
'That's it! She's your mother. Beautiful. Bewildered. Cursed by fate with
compelling, ineffable beauty. And soufflé for brains.'
'Ben
Mia?'
'And she loves this elusive man. With a name like
Rock, Dirk, Brad, Brett, Chuck...'
'I hate him already.'
'But he's wasted on her.'
'Lord, he must be a sonk.'
'Because he has a heart of teak and the intelligence of a squeegee. Now what
does he do for a crust?'
'He sounds too dumb to do anything.
Perhaps he could get a job as a speed hump.'
'Or a
windbreak.'
'Perhaps he could walk behind her, holding her
hair... Ben Mia.'
'What, Rina Mia?'
'I want
you to help me with my application. Forget about Melanie for a moment.'
'An aura everyone remembers. A past she can never forget...'
'Here's the ad. See? Look.'
'He came out of the shadows and
burned himself into her heart...'
'Read the ad, Mia.'
I read the scrap of paper. 'You need some qualifications. What have you
done?'
'Let's see. In my other job I helped the sales
manager with a trade paper they put out for doctors.'
I
wrote down, 'Assistant editor of medical magazine'.
'You
can't put that,' she said. 'I only helped wrap them up.'
'Doesn't matter. You helped. That's the main thing.'
'Oh,
and I had to run round town with him, carrying bundles of stuff to the
printers. He'd always walk on the inside of the footpath because he said
that women should protect men. So I'd complain and change places with him.
And then he'd skip across to the inside again. People must have thought he
was mad.'
'Did you complain?'
'Of course I
did.'
I wrote down, 'Responsible for guiding editorial
policy'.