16 Dec 2015

THE NEW MRS. D by Heather Hill

Four days into their honeymoon in Greece, Bernice and David Dando have yet to consummate their marriage and after having accepted his almost non-existent desire for sex throughout the relationship, Bernice finally discovers the reason; he is addicted to porn. Learning that the love of her life chooses the cheap thrill of fantasy over her is devastating but then, 'every man does it; it’s just looking, right?’ If she leaves the relationship because of virtual adultery, will she be labelled as pathological, overreacting, or even worse, frigid?
When funny, feisty, forty-something Bernice plans the adventure trip of a lifetime, she doesn’t expect to be spending it alone. But as it turns out, unintentionally contributing to a Greek fish explosion, nude karaoke and hilarious misadventures with volcanoes are exactly what she needs to stop fretting about errant husbands and really start living. But when Mr D tries to win her back, Bernice has a decision to make: is this a holiday from her humdrum life, or the start of a whole new adventure?

‘Why are you alone?’
The question came from a little girl sat at the next table with her parents –who were both engrossed in the game. She had long dark hair, green eyes and peered at me polishing off the last of my meal over small, round glasses. Pretending not to notice she was speaking to me, I ignored her and waved to get the waiter’s attention.
‘Could I have some water please?’ I said, pointing to my glass and giving him a wink, in case it was international waiter/customer language or something. After dinner and one half of a carafe of wine, I was beginning to think I might need scissors to get the crushing Spanx pants off later. And wasn’t I supposed to be cleansing myself of all this boozy living?
‘Well, why are you?’ the little girl continued to question me.
I looked at her and forced a smile. ‘Because that’s the way I like it,’ I said.
‘By yourself?’
She continued to stare without blinking, making me shift in my seat like a Mastermind contestant on their fourth pass.
‘What happens just before a man…’
‘I’ve started so I’ll finish! …ejaculates?’
‘Ooh... err... I used to know this one! Oh, it’s been a long time… Erm… Oh, pass!’
‘Evie!’ The brusque voice of the little girl’s mother brought me back to reality. ‘Don’t be so rude! I’m so sorry.’ The woman smiled at me before turning Evie back round to face her. ‘Leave the poor lady alone.’
The words, ‘poor lady’ stung a little. It was how I must have looked - a poor, lonely lady.
Sighing, I picked up my handbag and headed for the toilets. As I checked my reflection, I reaching into my handbag for some lipstick, but instead found some kind of wire coiled inside. I tugged on it and out popped a bulbous object I recognised. Oh for heaven's sake! I’d dropped the damn pelvic toner in my bag! I pulled the machine out and stared at the cone, wondering if this was a sign telling me I was to be condemned to Slack Vaginasville for forgetting today’s session. Maybe I could just nip back to the apartment after my meal and have an early one? I could phone Suzy while I was squeezing. Urgh, noooo. Wrong, wrong, wrong! Anyway, could I hold a vaginal cone in for twelve minutes without a toilet break after a half carafe of wine? Deciding against it, I shoved it back into my bag, which I threw over my shoulder, checked my hair in the mirror and hurried back outside.
As I strolled back to my table, there was a tug at my shoulder.
‘What’s that thing?’ It was Evie, and the cheeky little minx was tugging on my handbag!
Turning to see what she was referring to, I froze on the spot. To my horror, I realised she was pulling on the wire from the pelvic toner, which was hanging out of my half-closed bag.
‘Get off that!’ I hissed. ‘Don’t you know it’s rude to…’
‘Wow! What is that?’
As the entire thing came free into her hands, she stood gazing at the cylindrical bulb in wonderment. It was time to think up some very clever explanation and fast. However, I was pants at that.
‘It’s a... it’s a...’
Looking around the taverna it was clear everyone was – thankfully – focussed on the football, which by now had now kicked off.
‘It’s a mini karaoke machine,’ I lied. ‘But it’s broken, so give it back to me please.’
‘A karaoke? Oh, I love singing! Can I have a go?’
‘Well, you could but as I said, it’s broken so…’
She rolled the vaginal cone around in her hands, fiddled with the buttons on the monitor and stared back up at me. ‘How is it broken?’
‘See, there’s no music. Now if you’ll just give it to m…’
‘Mummy, look at me! This lady gave me a microphone! She wants to hear me sing! Can I?’
Her mother was still engrossed in the TV and without turning waved a hand at her. ‘Okay, that’s lovely Evie, now shhh!’
’Water for you?’
My waiter had appeared, giving Evie the chance to break away, skipping round the back of the tables holding the vaginal bulb to her mouth as a makeshift microphone.
I looked at the waiter, who was now watching her with a bemused look on his face.
‘Please,’ I said, grasping his arm. ‘I’m actually feeling a little sick. Do you mind if I cancel the rest of this order and just pay my bill?’

Heather Hill is a Scotland based comedy writer, author and mum of five (not the band). She is one of a rare kind; the rare kind being one of only 0.5% of women who are colourblind. She has been known to leave the house with blue eyebrows on at least one occasion. Her debut novel, 'The New Mrs D' is being pitched for film by a British TV comedy producer and Snipper Films.

Twitter & Instagram name: @hell4heather
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