Read All About It

 

‘What a story’ Clarice told herself as she licked her pencil, ready to scribble some notes into her notepad.

      At such a dramatic time the journalist in her overcame any natural distress she might feel for her friend. Betsy, who, as she set down her first words, was crying hysterically and was being comforted by members of her family.

      Clarice and Betsy had known each other most of their lives, but now, both twenty, other forces were drawing them apart. Betsy had always been the romantic one; her choice in boyfriends reflected this. For her, honesty and sincerity would always beat good looks and flashy cars. Clarice on the other hand regarded men – she had never had any time for boys – as rungs on a ladder, each one taking her a little higher up the social scale. Honesty and integrity were not the qualities she prized most highly in her ‘partners’. Wealth and influence were far more important.

      Right now however it was crisis time, but also it was a chance to impress the Editor of the Daily Echo that she was capable to writing a good piece ‘on the hoof’.

Writing as fast as she could in a mixture of long and shorthand she told the tragic story of Betsy Nutts, forgetting of course to mention that Betsy Nutts was a friend. How she had at last met the man who fulfilled all her dreams; a man she described as kind and considerate, as honest as the day was long, and who constantly made her laugh. Eddie Nails was his name, and by the way - Clarice added the by-line - he was good looking as well.

      She told her imaginary readers how Eddie Nails had risen from the wreckage of a broken family to win his place at university. How he had returned to secure a good job with the local Television Company, and how he had met Betsy while doing an interview at the job centre.

      He simply swept her off her feet, while she, with a combination of good looks a warm nature and an agile mind, had an erotic effect on him.

      At this point Clarice felt a little troubled, but only for a moment. 'No time for sentiment’ she told herself before she got on with her story, for such was their effect the couple had on each other that they rather jumped the gun, and in no time at all Betsy was pregnant.

      Clarice looked across to where her ‘friend’ was still being consoled by worried guests, but was soon back to her notebook. ‘Today’, she continued, ‘should be their wedding day, but of the groom their is no sign, and the word was that he had done a runner’. She placed the the full stop with a flourish, convinced her 'readers' would like her metaphor.

A few yards away Betsy was inconsolable, while Clarice, pencil in hand, was inscrutable.

      After a few minor changes Clarice felt sure she had her story. She knew of course that it was not a ‘scoop’, but she thought it was good enough for them to allow her to use her name.

      Just one thing remained and that was a snappy headline. None of the old cliché’s would do. It had to be something sharp and to the point. Still, she had till the morning to come up with something good so quietly she withdrew, without bothering to say goodbye. ‘No need upsetting her any more.’ she told herself.

      Bright and early she was up and off, excited at the prospect of demonstrating to the Editor that she could write a story, and keen to see her piece in the next day’s issue. Only one thing bothered her, and that was the headline. Nothing she had thought of quite caught the essence of the piece, or had enough impact to grab a reader. Still hoping for inspiration she idly watched from the top of the bus, when it came to a bus-stop by a parade of shops.

      A Co-op, and a ladies hairdresser; the fish and chip shop, and the little hardware shop; a bookies and a . . . “No no, go back!” she shouted as the bus resumed its journey. Frantically Clarice jumped up and ran to the back of the bus where she was just had time to see again what had startled her. It was the hardware shop with a row of posters across its window.

DIY one had said, GET IT HERE Clarice didn't have time to read the others in detail before the bus turned a corner and the shops were gone from her sight, but she had seen enough and returned to her seat with a big smile on her face. She had her headline.

      Eagerly she waited for the rushes of the next day’s paper, and with a fresh copy crumpled under he arms, she ran the find Eddie, who was waiting for her in his brand new big red sports car.

      “What did he say?” he asked, as soon as she stopped kissing him.

      “He loved it.” She answered.

      “Let’s see then.”

      Clarice opened the paper and thrust it under Eddie’s nose, and he, showing no shame, read out the headline.                                         "NAILS SCREWS NUTTS and BOLTS".