Free Malcolm and Juliet by Bernard Beckett Page B

contention. They spent the next half hour trading sympathy while they waited for a cheesecake to thaw. And the more they shared their misery the closer Malcolm felt to his old, scientific, problem-solving self.
    ‘You know,’ he told her, ‘there has to be a way out of this.’
    ‘Oh, I just knew you were going to say that,’ Juliet shrieked, before he could qualify the statement.
    ‘Um, it’s just a matter of being creative,’ he said hopefully.
    ‘Exactly.’
    ‘We need to stop seeing the problems as problems.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘So we should, um, start by making a list. Yes, that’s what we should do. A list of all the things we have in our favour.’
    ‘All right.’ Juliet leaned forward and Malcolm saw the light he had sparked in her eyes. She really knew how to apply the pressure. ‘Well, I’m quite desperate right now, which could be to our advantage maybe.’
    ‘Okay, and I’ve got a good camera.’
    ‘I’m a good liar.’
    ‘I can be quite creative.’
    ‘I put people at their ease.’
    ‘Sometimes. I’ve got the tripod too.’
    ‘I’m a very good kickboxer.’
    ‘I’ve got loads of books on sex.’
    The final list had over fifty feel-good items on it. Malcolm wrote them out on a large piece of brown paper while Juliet finished eating the cheesecake. Then they arranged the points in groups, according to themes and possibilities. Then they talked about them, while they waited for the breakthrough to occur. Technically it was Juliet who provided the first spark.
    ‘Television!’ she screamed.
    ‘What about it?’
    ‘Don’t you see?’
    ‘Not really.’
    ‘Television. Video. Sex. Your camera! Yes, this could be perfect couldn’t it? This could solve both problems at once.’
    ‘I’m not sure I—’
    ‘Television. They have to pay heaps for programmes, don’t they? And that’s exactly what your Science Fair entry is, a programme. And it’s just the sort they like…sex, everyday people…no real storyline.’
    ‘Voyeurism.’
    It was crazy, but not too crazy. Malcolm had to admit half a chance was dangling there. ‘And we can claim that it contains banned material, that should help. Of course it’ll need some work.’
    ‘I’ll help you.’
    Their enthusiasm ran rampant, trampling the seeds of rational objections which by rights should have been given the chance to grow. Malcolm began to savour the thought of shaking free the shackles of academic rigour. This was his chance to be more creative, more blatantly popularist, and far far ruder.
    ‘You know what would just finish it off perfectly,’ Juliet free-formed as they lurched from one inspired impossibility to the next. ‘One of those fly-on-the-wall type things, where they throw strangers together and film them.’
    ‘Like on some sort of blind date you mean? I know a restaurant that owes me a favour, after I didn’t report them for food poisoning. I reckon they might let me do it there.’
    ‘So we should get a group of strangers then. How many would you say?’
    ‘Maybe just four or so. It helps to keep things simple, on television.’
    ‘I’ll be one of them. I can be bold and outrageous. They like that.’
    ‘We could use that guy Brian, from the party. He was pretty funny.’
    ‘Yes, and how about the naked statue guy? Oh yes! We’ll see people already in the film, so we have all that background. What a perfect climax!’
    ‘So that’s you, Brian, Kevin…we need another girl.’
    ‘It’s got to be Charlotte then.’
    ‘Yes, I suppose it does.’
    Malcolm felt the thrill of the new plan combine with the joy of hearing once again the name he thought he had buried. The future was back on schedule, and better still Charlotte was part of it.

Ringing
    Charlotte was first on Juliet’s phone list that night. Back home, bruised by a half hour walk through wind and rain and missing Malcolm’s peculiar brand of enthusiasm, Juliet’s belief in the project was fading. Charlotte probably won’t be home, her new