Free Radio Gaga by Nell Dixon Page A

she was supposed to be on yet another one of her diets. “I suppose so. At least they won’t try and get me doing anything that involves heights again, not after the debacle at the castle.”
    “It rules out wing walking and repainting the Forth Bridge I suppose.” Shelly grinned and cast a longing look at the biscuit tin.
    “I emailed these to Merv before Mum got here.”
    “Then I expect you’ll know soon enough. How long is your mother staying?”
    “Too long. About a fortnight. She was having a cosy chat with Ben from upstairs when I got home.”
    That got her attention. “Hunky Ben?”
    “Yeah, and he couldn’t leave fast enough when I walked in through the door. I told you he left me a leaflet on drug addiction, didn’t I?”
    She laughed and sobered when she caught my eye. “Sorry.”
    “You know she’ll interfere with everything. She can’t resist it.” My mother had been trying to remodel my life from the moment I’d been placed in her arms at the maternity hospital.
    “It’s only two weeks. She might leave sooner.” Shelly shrugged and finished her tea.
    I knew she didn’t believe that any more than I did. The last time my mother had said she intended coming to stay for a short visit she’d stayed for two months. It had taken me almost twelve months to recover, with a slight relapse over Christmas when I’d visited her during the obligatory season of goodwill.
    “I’ve got to go. I signed up for one of those free trial gym sessions. You never know I might get a hunky personal trainer.” Shelly stood and reached for her coat.
    “Good luck.” If there was anything Shelly hated more than dieting, it was exercise.
    She wriggled into her coat and draped the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll need it. I’ll call you later; let me know if you hear anything from Merv – or the Hunky Ben.”
    I showed her out of the flat before making some fresh tea.
    “Has Michelle gone already?” My mother looked up from her programme to accept her drink.
    “She’s trying out a new gym.”
    Mum raised an eyebrow and returned to viewing a computer generated image of some islands being swamped by a rising ocean. She was used to Shelly’s frequent and short-lived attempts to lose weight. It wasn’t even as if Shelly was fat, she wasn’t, she just wasn’t the shape she wanted be. She’d lost and regained the same five pounds in weight at least a dozen times in the last five years.
    My mobile vibrated in my pocket. I hurried into the kitchen to take the call as Merv’s number flashed on screen and I didn’t want my mother to overhear the conversation.
    “Hi, this is Chloe.” Which was dumb, because who else would be answering my phone?
    “Lark, got your suggestions. Interesting, very interesting.”
    My shoulders sagged with relief and I leaned back against the countertop. “Great, I’ve loads more I can…”
    “I’ll tweak them up a touch, add some va va voom, and we’ll start the voting tomorrow on Steph’s show.”
    Uh oh.
    “In the meantime I want you to get on and get an interview with a Fred Hardcastle, eight o’clock tomorrow morning, Freely Road allotments. Live broadcast. It sounded like a Challenge Chloe opportunity. This one could be an ongoing thing, get the gardeners interested. Always a popular topic, I think the Gazette might want to tie in on this one. One of our best advertisers is the garden centre.”
    Bugger, I’d forgotten all about Fred. He must have phoned into the station.
    “Freely Road, okay. Um, which options are the listeners voting on tomorrow?” I had a nasty feeling they might not be any of the ones I’d suggested, especially if Steph had seen my list and Merv had made his tweaks.
    “Revealing the results live – get back to the station by nine thirty before Steph goes off air, we’re doing a big live build up. Good for ratings.”
    I could virtually see him rubbing his hands together with glee.
    “But, don’t you think it would be better if