>“Don’t call it love / Heavens above / We got a better thing! / Don’t call it love / That ain’t enough / Just tell them you’re my everything!”
From: "Don’t Call It Love..." (Tom Snow / Dean Pitchfield); Dusty Springfield, White Heat, 1982.
Dr Fish frowned. “You’re one of those mind reading frogs now, aren’t you!?” he exclaimed, sounding as he felt a little short changed at not getting to do his favourite part of the job; the telling people what was wrong bit…
“I’m actually not clairvoyant in any way…” Horner told him. “But I have a – well – maybe I should say an EX-girlfriend who just happens to be a rather vindictive witch…”
“Good grief!!” exclaimed Dr Fish, looking quite taken aback by this revelation. “She really doesn’t like you, does she? What on earth did you do to her?”
Horner sighed. “Well, not so very much really; but you have to remember that she’s a witch and they’re very easily agitated!”
“Well, didn’t you bring her flowers? Take her out for a nice meal? Invite her on a pleasant holiday and woo her by candle light?” The Dr enquired, sounding as if he would have liked this to happen to him…
Horner gave Dr Fish to a very odd look. “Woo her by candlelight!?” he exclaimed, somewhat disbelievingly. “What do you think I am, stupid? Suicidal even?” The Doctor didn’t seem to get his point. “She’s a witch!” Horner reminded the medic. “A black witch – one who I’ve been married to for far longer than I care to remember. We split up for a few years once, but she put a love spell on me to win me back; flowers and wine and nice holidays don’t work on her – they only make her madder!”
“Oh!” Dr Fish replied – struggling for a come back. “But she must have liked you at some stage, if she put a love spell on you…
Horner sighed. He was a little tired of having to repeat this story over and over. “Not so…” he countered. “She just needed someone to help with the house work and pay the bills – she’s a very lazy woman at heart…”
“But WHY the curse, dear chap!?” The Doctor asked, still sounding completely confused. “You must have done something to warrant all this attention, surely!?”
“If you count forgetting the milk and being late for a dinner date – five minutes late – then, yes – I did…”
“Good Lord man!” exclaimed Dr Fish. “Then you should report her…”
Horner sighed and nodded his agreement. “Well that’s what I wanted to ask; I’m in the final stages of my Skin-Time and what I was rather hoping was that before I actually shed the last of my scales – which is always a very traumatic and mood altering time – perhaps I could make two phone calls? One to the police to report Katrina, for a start…”
“Of course! And the other to your solicitor, I suppose!”
“Actually no…” he replied. “I’d actually like to call an old friend of mine; I have her number – her name is Tula – Tula Swiss – she was my ex-fiancée…”
**
When Katrina had chanced her luck by asking her new yeti neighbour for a lift to the hospital, she had rather naively presumed that he’d have a car, or at very least some kind of van!
“You’re lucky I didn’t bring my Pogo-stick, dear…” Simon had teased when he’d seen the rather odd looking expression on Katrina’s face. “You’d have had to hide inside my top coat pocket or in the band of my hat…”
“Ah yes…” she had replied – momentarily lost for words. “It’s just that I’ve never ridden side saddle on a Penny Farthing before…” she sighed.
Which was fair enough; not many people had!!
“You’ll get used to it, dear!!” exclaimed the yeti, rather flamboyantly and much to Katrina’s dismay he waved his paws and his legs about flamboyantly too and she feared that the bike would topples over and that she might be flung into a ditch or worse still, a flower bed. (The thought made her retch! Ikk! The thought of being anywhere near flowers!! Such sickly things – so smelly, people always raved about them so; going on about how pretty they were when they were nothing more than weeds!)
“I’m sure I will get used to it!” Katrina agreed – wishing that she’d not given up riding her broomstick. She’d never been very good at it, to be honest, and had often ended up head over heels in a bush (or a flowerbed!!) Riding side-saddle on a penny farthing was slightly less scary than a broom-stick, at least.
“What I can’t understand is why we’re going to visit this friend of yours… I mean – I know he’s a friend and everything – but you don’t sound exactly that happy when you mention him. You say he’s been in an accident – but every time you say his name you frown – people don’t usually frown when they say their friends’ names, dear! Forgive me – maybe I’m wrong!!”
It wasn’t exactly easy getting into a proper conversation with the yeti whilst he was busy peddling the bike; he was such a Giant Haystacks sized beast – but she already knew that he would be just perfect to help facilitate the solution to her current predicament with Horner.
“You’re right, Simon!” she called. “Horner was my husband really, rather than my friend – but we split up recently – he’d been trying to hurt me – battering me with haddock – spending more time with his newt friends than with me. Not to mention all his flirtations with cod – he’s an amphibian man, you see!”
“Good grief, Katrina!!” exclaimed Simon – sounding really quite cross about this. “This man sounds like a monster!!”
“Well yes… An amphibian one…”
“No Katrina! I mean he treats you monstrously! He’s a maniac! A total psycho and he must be stopped, dear!” Simon insisted – really sounding very cross at having heard about Horner’s supposed behaviour – all of it lies, of course.
However, realising that Simon had fallen for her ruse made Katrina smile – although she was glad that Simon couldn’t see her where she sat – hugging him around the waist from behind on the penny farthing. When she spoke again she made sure that she sounded as sorry for herself as possible. “Oh Simon! I know you’re right – and yes – yes, he is a monster in all possible ways!” She concluded, adding just a little sob in the hope that this would gain her even more sympathy from the stupid great yeti.
They were nearly at the hospital now – so Katrina wanted Simon to be completely on her side by the time they reached the ward that Simon was on. “Don’t you worry, dear lady…” Simon assured her. “Horner really doesn’t deserve a woman like you showing him such loyalty and attention…”
“Oh, I know…” Katrina continued and let out another sob. “But what can I do? I’m still his wife, after all – and… And… It’s just that I love that son of a toad so much – as soon as I heard he was hurt I just had to come running…”
Simon Yeti said nothing – he rarely felt protective of people, for his own ego was so large – but Katrina he was definitely feeling complete sympathy for. “My dear…” he said determinedly. “Don’t you worry – we’ll sort this out once and for all!! This dreadful situation will be concluded in no time, I can assure you! I’ll reluctantly take you to see your ex-husband – but really – the man sounds like an utter brute and someone has to face him and tell him so and if it has to be me – even though I’m the most cowardly yeti there ever was – well, then if it has to be me – then by Jove I’ll do it – I’ll speak to him and I’ll put him right in his place…”
“Oh Simon…” sighed Katrina and inside she was chuckling away to herself, for this was exactly what she had wanted. “Oh Simon – it really is so good to hear you say that…”
**
Meanwhile, back in his ward, Horner had reached the final phase of his Skin-time and the scales were just dropping off around him. He’d managed to use the phone – but in the end he had only made one call; he’d called Miss Tula Swiss, his ex-fiancée – but decided to hold back from calling the police.
“I have my own way of dealing with this!” he decided – and he hoped that Tula might even be part of this plan.
Horner and Tula had dated for a year of so during his separation from Katrina some ten years ago now. They’d stayed friends though and Tula had recently been engaged to marry an Italian gentleman named Luigi. To be quite honest he was a little uncertain as to what her current situation was; other than that he’d recently received a brief letter saying that she had moved back to the country.
All those years ago when they had dated, Tula had been an archivist in a haunted college in Belgravia and they had both lived in the same block of flats. She’d known of his Skin-time and had been very accepting – but in the end the relationship had floundered partly due to her over-niceness and also after an incident involving an un-cooked kebab. After all that she had moved out and had gone to work for an MP in Whitehall.
Tula had been out when he called.
“Tula, honey… It’s me – Horner… I’m going through a change at the moment. I’m sorry to call you like this. I’m in the hospital in Dusty Acres and Katrina has been busy trying to kill me! Nothing changes – ey! Will you call me back…”
The pain from his skin change had got too bad at this point.
“Please ring back…” he pleaded the phone silently as he lay in agony on the bed – his new body slowly unfolding from beneath his shattered and shedding scales. “Please call me back, Tula…” he begged.
But at that point Horner passed out, and wouldn’t have heard the phone even if it had rung…
**
Tula Swiss sighed as she came in through the door of her apartment, laden with bags of rather expensive purchases from extremely expensive shops. “Go on, love! You’re allowed to splurge! You’re a successful authoress and pin-up for Supernatural enthusiasts everywhere!!” She’d had to remind herself; for indeed this was what she was, thanks to a book that she’d worked on with her Aunt – the fabulous clairvoyant, Fatima. It was just that she wasn’t used to spending that much money on herself or anyone else, for that matter – and it was months until Christmas!!
Lying down her bags, Tula noticed that her answer-phone was flashing; she was expecting a call and so casually crossed the room to take a listen:“Tula, honey – it’s me, Horner…”
Tula winced and jabbed the pause button on the message device – this was not who she’d been expecting to hear from. Although they’d kept in touch – they hadn’t exactly seen each other more than a couple of times in the last ten years – and he rarely sent a Christmas card in reply to any of the ones that she always sent each year, without fail.
He NEVER phoned, either.
EVER…
Not until today, that is…
Tula’s finger hovered momentarily over the delete button … and then suddenly she had a change of heart and pressed the PLAY button again, for old times sake…
“I’m sorry to call you like this. I’m in the hospital in Dusty Acres and Katrina has been busy trying to kill me! Nothing changes – ey! Will you call me back…”
Tula listened through the message half a dozen times more and then grabbed her coat and hat off the peg again. “Nobody kills my Horner…” she muttered under her breath. “Wife witch or no wife witch – nobody does that to dear old Fish Face!!”
There was no denying it now, Tula Swiss was on the case!
How will Tula manage to save her once-beloved Fish Face? What does Katrina Hortensia plan on doing next? Will Simon Yeti act the protective friend or will Tula get there first? And what’s more – what will be left of the old Horner once his scales have shed?!?
Fine out in the next obscenely exciting episode of DUSTY ACRES - an everyday story of people who you wouldn’t want to take home to meet your mother…
Mood music for this episode: "Don’t Call It Love..."; Dusty Springfield, White Heat, 1982.
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