A Very, Very Naughty Girl

Karen (showing signs of panic clutched her audio ear-plug and nodded): P-please continue Greer. We are giving you more time. Please remember this is a live interview.

Lily was clutching between her breasts and panted "Ohmigod." Sebastian ducked out and grabbed two more beers and handed one to his father with a big cheesy grin. Seth managed a pale imitation of a hearty return grin. In the town of Wainui or Wainui-by-the-sea as it had been called until 1921, many townspeople and folk in the hinterland were watching the interview, including Peter and Wendy. During that brief slowdown in tempo of the interview Wendy shuffled forward on her butt to get closer to the big screen muttering, "Ohmigod, ohmigod -- she won't be famous, she'll be fucking infamous."

Karen asked Greer was she okay. Greer was patting her brow with her handkerchief.

Greer: Yes but I'm sweating. I didn't realize publicly confessing being a bad girl could be so gruelling. Perhaps that's why authors who have flamboyant sexual experiences write flamboyantly about sex.

Karen: But hopefully crime writers don't murder to be injected with realism?

Greer: I love it Karen, a great comment. The truth is one can only go so far down that road to realism.

Karen: About these guys, who were from the M15 I guess, and your meeting with top brass at Whitehall?

Greer: Er those are your assumptions Karen; I've given no such information. Well the upshot was I was offered twenty-five thousand pounds to leave the country and not to return for two years as by then, according to poll trends, there would have been a change of Government.

Karen (confidently): You told them heroically to stick um to keep their money and you were led off to prison?

Greer: No Karen. My whole instinct told me to do that but I remembered my mum's last words before I left New Zealand. 'Greer darling, when in England do nothing to disgrace yourself, your family and your country.' I refused the money, signed papers tied to the Official Secret Act binding me to non-disclosure and was granted five days to leave the country. I tied up my affairs, er my financial affairs, and left with hours to spare, flying home on Air New Zealand."

Karen: Oh you heroine.

Greer: Don't be silly Karen. I slunk home with my tail between my legs knowing I'd been very, very naughty. If you people wish to verify what I have told you here is the card of a Mr Blakely at the Home Office who will simply tell you I was unfortunately involved with someone of significance within the Government and in the interests of national political stability I was invited to leave the UK.

Karen: Invited?

Greer: Yes. After I refused to accept the money the attitude of the officials changed and I was given coffee and told they would bend the rules and allow me to call me solicitor before I signed the papers. But I said no coffee, no solicitor but could I please have a stiff whisky and while waiting for that I was filmed signing the papers that were witnessed by high-ranking officials.

Karen: Don't you feel by talking to me about being such a bad, bad girl you may have violated the agreement and will be extradited to England to be tried in court in secret and jailed?"

Greer: No, I don't think so. I have said just enough to show two important branches of the British Government's public service in very good light and they will be pleased with me. However, put that question to Mr Blakely when you contact him. Oh, he told me all enquiries must be put in writing. I assume an email will meet that requirement with an electronic copy of a scanned genuine signature. Now, what about discussing any of my thirteen published novels?

Karen: Sorry but we're already running late with the 6:30 weather report. Thank you very much hugely popular novelist Greer Gregory who has just giving viewers a brief description of the life of a very, very naughty New Zealand girl loose in England.

The female of the duo of newsreaders came on-camera and smiled, "Well I had three years living in London during my OE (overseas experience) and have to say my affairs with guys were far too ordinary. Way to go Greer. Now with apologies for lateness here is Wanda with our weather report."

Greer was accosted by a New Zealand reporter as she left the studio and taken in a taxi to the newspaper to be interviewed.

* * *

Sebastian arrived by taxi to take Greer to the Aotea Centre for the concert. He kissed and squeezed her gently and smiled saying, "Are you okay?"

"Yes thanks. Three whiskies have helped. I feel so relieved. People can now take me for what they think of me rather than having some notion I'm pedestal material. You know I won't mind if we skip the concert. Some people there will have seen the interview. Being seen with me could be crushing on your reputation."

"Greer, for goodness sake. You are now a double heroine to me. I was beside myself in pride as I listened to you. Don't you see -- most Kiwis will love you for telling them how it is with you. In a freakish way I feel you have given a confession that is turning you into an honourable icon."

"Oh Sebbie, how sweet and how utterly preposterous of you. After my TV appearance theNZ Herald snaffled me and interviewed me extensively. I handed them a copy of a photo of Archer and me outside the cathedral after our marriage to prove at least that part of my claims was truthful. They asked could they publish it and I said yes and then the assistant editor said my account of being hauled in by officialdom and grilled and being pressured to sign no-disclosure undertakings was credible because he was aware of two other New Zealanders who'd been put through that process. I said I'm an experienced researcher and could have made that up."

"Heavens, what did he say to that."

"He said if it lied and make false claims like that then when exposed I'd really wreck my reputation."

As they entered the taxi Sebastian said, "You can forget the word 'wrecked'. Today you created the bones of a wonderful reputation and it's up to you to build on it."

They entered the Aotea Centre and people everywhere were smiling at Greer and when Sebastian went off to get her a gin and tonic women crowded around her, chattering enthusiastically. World spread and soon everything holding a gin, beer or sparking wine -- perhaps all three -- were aware there was a celebrity in the room as word that "Lady Greer Gregory is here" swept through the room. At one stage a guy in a tux came up to Greer and said pompously, "Ma'am management invites you and partner to follow me and occupy one of our VIP boxes and receive complimentary canapés and champagne."

"No thank you kind man," Greer said, in a cultured English accent with perhaps just the slightest Scottish burr. Sebastian, suppressing laughter, walked Greer proudly into the auditorium.

In the cab outside the cousin's home Sebastian kissed and cupped a breast softly, quite unlike the possessive manner most men do, the real jerks even attempting to ping a nipple with a thumb, not realizing women regard such behaviour as contemptible unless they hoped to be fucked.

As Sebastian pulled away Greer, aware of pledging to herself to take it slowly with him, murmured sexily, "Oh Sebbie, just one more of those please."

The kiss was delivered without the little grope but she couldn't complain; the second kiss lasted longer. He stepped out and said, "Oh, I almost forgot. Peter and Wendy have invited us to dinner on Thursday with an invitation to stay. I will be taking Friday off to work on something."

"You mean to say Wendy has invited us to dinner."

"Well yes but it was polite to include Peter."

"Oh how charming, I love it and must work that into one of my novels. Thank you, I've had such a wonderful evening and apologize for my notoriety drawing people to us all night."

"No problem, I enjoyed watching you with the bit between your teeth. You appear to be inspired to rise higher in manner, tone and the depth of what you say when surrounded by people interested in you."

"That happens to be true. You are very observant and analytical."

"Wow and good night you awesome lady."

The taxi whisked him away, leaving Greer with a slightly down turned mouth.

Awesome?

Lady?

Those complimentary words were expressed genuinely with his grey eyes locked on her violet ones that were arresting since she'd had her hair dyed silver. He liked her, perhaps more than liked her. She practically skipped along the path to the house.

* * *

Cousin Kate pulled open the bedroom curtains in the morning, allowing sun to stream in.

"Oh hi Kate. I had a wonderful evening thank you."

"Dah, dee, diddely-dee," Kate sang tunelessly and held up the front page of that morning'sHerald.

"Ohmigod," Greer gasped. Under the lead story about the 30331st report of carnage in the Middle East was a big, bold heading, 'I've Been a Very, Very Naughty Girl.'

Greer was handed the newspaper and told breakfast could wait. She read the lead story that was based on her interview but incorporated the naught girl bit from the TV interview. It was fair enough although making her out to be a complete slut with edges of guilt showing through. Perhaps she could hide down in Antarctica. Then she thought what which those horny guys cooped up down there on research or servicing and then grinned -- perhaps it wouldn't be so bad.

The story continued over on to page 3. Beneath the picture of her wedding were five of the worst possible newspaper reports, obviously sourced from Britain overnight, of her outrageous exploits that made it to print, exaggerated of course. She cringed re-reading the account of her opening her shirt and untying the front bow on her cute French bra when speaking to the Press Club that her rival novelist Deb Coleman had been a lying bitch alleging the only exercising Greer did was attempting to push up her tits when walking to stop them banging against her abdomen. Greer was reported as cooing and saying, "I'll now prove that lie" and pulled her bra open.

The report stated: 'Never in the history of the club used to being addressed by some of the world's greatest boring farts, including presidents of countries, had so many members fell out of their seats amid uncontrollable laughter. She was a ring-in as speaker when the Irish President was a no-show as all Irish airports were closed by fog. Greer walked accidentally into a closed door as she left, turning to wave in acknowledgement of the prolonged standing ovation. Either it was an accident or she was pissed'.

Greer really cringed she saw the photo of her and Deb Coleman caught at a Literary Awards Dinner having a hair-pulling fight while soup was being served. 'Security guards had to pull them apart,' the newspaper report stated. "Lady Gregory was hurling abuse at her tormenter. The choicest bit, and we quote, was, 'That f......defaming slut with tits the size of toenails is a jealous, lying foul-mouth bitch who is probably going through a change of sex crisis. Both ladies during went on-stage to receive their awards, apparently the 5th for Deb, the 14th for Lady Gregory.'

Oh god, perhaps readers will think that is some other Lady Gregory, Greer thought desperately. She read on and with satisfaction read a bold panel headedConformation. It stated: 'Just before midnight theHerald received as statement from Whitehall in London in response to our urgent inquiries seeking confirmation to Greer Gregory's claim on TV last night that she'd been thrown out of Britain, muzzled and told not to return for two years. The official announcement reads:In the interest of political stability in the UK all we can say is Lady Greer Gregory who calls herself Greer Gregory, author, was involved in a matter of State of unspeakable concern and with official assistance cooperated fully to leave the country after signing documents guaranteeing non-disclosure of relevant facts pertaining to her involvement in this unspeakable concern. It is confirmed Lady Greer Gregory refused an offer of compensation in return for her two-year period in exile'."

"Oh here I am coming up smelling of roses. The problem is will anyone read this boring little panel."

Over breakfast Greer took a call from Sebastian. "TheHerald spread on you was great."

"Oh good. Did you read the panel headed Confirmation?"

"Oh no, I knew people would jump over that; it looked boring."

"Damn."

"Nah, just kidding. I read about Whitehall confirming you going into exile. You are going shopping with Kate today, right?"

"Yes and returning home after lunch."

"I suggest you wear a wig and Kate's gardening clothes."

"No I'm now feeling a little prouder of myself. If I'm abused in shops then so be it."

* * *

Returning home, wearing the same black dress she'd worn on TV, Greer called in at the newspaper and handed Kitty the statement and Kitty called Jake to take her photo.

Next morning Annie let herself in and handed Greer theEC News. "I think this will gather you more kudos than even optimistic you expects. Wording under the double column photo on page three read:

Hi everyone. This is a personal statement. To the people of Wainui and environs I offer no apologies for my errant and at times irresponsible behaviour. If you can understand this, I am what I am and should make no apologies for that. In Britain I attempted to achieve balance and have distributed almost $1.13 million in NZ currency to various charities from my writing income and income from personal investments. But of course the national dailies in the UK do not report that side of my multi-facet character; they love me for my bad, bad girl image and I admit I enjoyed playing up for them.

The truth is I love being a bad, bad girl at times. But after my confession on TV1 on Tuesday evening I intend to toning down, just a bit.

I have become a wealthy woman, partly through grinding day after day at writing, hour upon hour of [F-word deleted] mostly boring research and because I believe I have years left in me to continue that slog.

Please think about this: if you live as an ordinary person your life will be that of an ordinary person. I accept many people want nothing but that while a few have broken out to succeed or fail at bigger things and many others wish they had the guts to do it.

Well whatever. My immediate prospects look very good and my new novel set in the early days of European settlement in this district is going well. Perhaps the big news for you is I am in the process of selling the garden penthouse apartment my late husband and I purchased and it almost crippled us meeting loan repayment costs but we did it and is valued at several million pounds. For no other reason than I like sport and big shows and want to leave more behind that a heap of novels and an undesirable reputation. I will remit those proceeds back here and with the cooperation the District Council and civic leaders will donate those proceeds on building a events dome somewhere in the town on publicly-held land. Announcements will be made in due course. I love been back home.

Greer Gregory

Or if you wish Lady Greer Gregory.

Or if you wish, your friend the bad, bad, girl and author.

"Well, it's what I wrote except Editor Black deleted the word fucking."

"Yes dear, well done dear. Have your breakfast and then back. I'll load my stuff into the Defender."

"Oh goodie, where are we going Annie?"

"We are going bush for eight days. I'11 tell you once we are well on our way. We are leaving our phones at home and will not be using credit cards so that ought to mean we have really disappeared."

"But why, why are we doing this?"

"Because hordes of British media people will be on aircraft coming to New Zealand to find you to unlock what they'll believe is the biggest British political scandal of this decade."

"Oh Christ, how could I be so dumb? You are brilliant Annie. I need to call Sebbie to say goodbye."

"Why are you fucking him?"

"I wish, but it's floating along nicely. I'll call and say goodbye to Wendy. Will we get TV where we're going?"

"Yes but reception is not great. There are heaps of DVDs and CDs there, most guys stuff."

"Oh a hunting lodge," Greer whispered and Annie smiled. Greer said, "Okay, okay we'll take a three-week hire in town on a box of girlie DVDs."

Annie gaped. "I can't believe that woman in the Video/DVD shop gave you all these current DVDs without charge for two weeks?"

"She's Valerie Stiles who was an excellent hurdler in her youth and coaches these days. She read theEC News about the events dome."

"Ah, as did Max at the supermarket and Leon at the butchery who even supplied the chilly-bin to cool the meat he gave us. Is the chilly bin switched on?"

"Yes," Annie said.

"I can't believe Wendy crying all over me like that as if I were going to war. Do you think she'd turning gay?"

"God Greer, give the poor girl a break. She'd pregnant and her hormones rage at times." Annie said British media might stake out Greer's house for longer than a week.

"Yeah but the bulk of those sensation-seekers will have upped and returned home by then. Butcher Leon Cole has a couple of hunting dogs, real mean bastards. I'll borrow one to keep by me. Media people know they can't operate effectively with a hand missing."

Annie and Greer returned to Wainui eight days later. During the first three days there they'd been horrified to see on TV the British media outside their houses and in the car park sitting in out in camper vans. Beer, profanities, loud voices and badly sunburned bodies, some pale Brits requiring medical treatments for serious burns, were reported much to the delight of the NZ media covering the stake-out.

Annie and Greer had been living in a comfortable and very remote hut with not even locals knowing they were there. A few hunters had passed by, stopping for a smoke and a chat over coffee and asking. "Are you ladies okay out here?"

"Yes although we are Sisters of the Planetary Church of Zeus we do have our rifles and a stun gun for protection," Annie would say, adopting an angelic smile that Greer was totally incapable of replicating. Annie would pull on earmuffs and the guys would rise and thank them for their hospitality and drift off, rather fast.

The two women arrived in town after dark and had coffee with Peter and Wendy. Wendy handed Greer her mobile phone as she was leaving and said, "The postponed diner with you and Sebastian is on tomorrow night Greer; will you be able to make it this time?"

She nodded.

They called at the home of Leon Crane the butcher and he agreed to Greer having one of the dogs for a couple of weeks. "The meanest acting one, not the one that wants to rip my hand off."

"Well in that case take Cleo the bitch. Just like women her bark is worse than her bite."

They arrived and parked at the side of Greer's house and as soon as Cleo stepped on to the front porch she bristled.

"Shit, a British media guy must be inside ratting the place looking for evidence of my unfortunate liaison with the... er with the."

"With the what?" Annie asked, leaning right over to here the hot-hot disclosure.

Greer unlocked the door, and holding Cleo on a tight chain switched on the light as Cleo sounded off a fearsome string of barks. Two guys who'd been sleep on the sofas jumped up, terrified, clutching their nuts.

"Who are you?" Greer demanded.

"Bill and Crispin," said the younger guy, partly hiding behind the larger guy. We are park rangers."

"What the fuck are you doing in my bach?"

"We have been sleeping her for eight, just as the British media began arriving and one guy or female ranger guards the house during the day. We're acting on the orders of deputy-chief park ranger Jimmy Applefield. We rangers foiled three attempted break-ins and one bitch from BBC radio actually forced a window and got in and woke us when she jammed her finger in a drawer and howled in pain. She appeared in court last Monday and was deported on Tuesday at midnight. When I gave evidence in court against her the bitch gave me the filthy one finger salute."