The Irreverent Mandy Jack

"Mandy!"

"Woops, sorry mom. Um he's Harris Walsh, editor of our newspaper."

Greg looked surprised and then smiled and said well there would be no improper behavior from the Rev. Walsh's son.

"No dad, we just had conventional sex, although plenty of it. Remember sex between two consenting adults is not illegal except for a few forbidden instances."

Rhonda said, "You had sex on your first date with that young man?"

"Yes mom. He'd been told I had a lot of catching up to do."

Her mom agreed. "Yes I can accept that."

Her father had the look of someone who'd got left behind in the conversation.

"Harris was recently inducted into my Rotary Club and is our youngest member."

Mother and daughter looked bewildered, wondering what was the relevance of that comment from Greg.

"Are Rotarians prohibited from having sex?" Mandy whispered to her mother. Her mother whispered no one had ever mentioned that to her.

After breakfast Mandy wrote her first column and invited Harris over for a swim at 4:00 and then drinks with her and her parents.

"Do they want to look me over?"

"Yes, that's exactly it. They are worried you can't have sex with me because you're a Rotarian."

"Eh?"

Mandy cut the call, almost rolling on the floor she was laughing so much.

Harris arrived at 4:10 wearing a dark suit, tugging at his tie and carrying a bouquet of flowers.

He kissed Mandy and said these flowers are for her mom.

"Why?"

"I-I don't know. It just seemed the right thing to do."

"And I agree with that Harris," said Rhonda. "Come over here and give me a kiss and for goodness sake call me Rhonda when I'm away from City Hall and not on official duty. You know Greg of course."

"Yes, we belong to the same Rotary Club. Hi Greg."

"Hi Harris. I see you have your badge on that suit but why are your wearing a suit on a casual visit late Sunday?"

"Mandy confirmed you guys want to look me over to approve of me."

"Approve of you?" Greg asked, scratching his chin.

"Um as regular date and sex partner."

Rhonda said, "Are you sure Rotarians can have sex?"

"Yeah, I asked dad and he said he does and he's sure all his Rotarian buddies are still into it big time."

"You mean having sex with Mandy?" Greg rumbled.

"Er yes, with or without your approval."

"That's fine by me," Greg grinned and Rhonda said Harris didn't require her approval. "Now go back home and change out of that ridiculous suit and return with your swimsuit. Greg and I wish to see you two young folk frolicking in the pool."

Greg said, "Do we?"

After Mandy's parents went off to watch TV after dinner Mandy said to Harris, "Any interest in reading my first column that runs Wednesday. I went in to the newspaper this afternoon as requested and was interviewed and had my photo taken. That runs tomorrow in the position where my column will appear Wednesday."

Harris smiled and said he'd like to read it. He took the copy and Mandy wandered off.

The column began:

Are you aware why you can't levitate or paint with the awesome brilliance of say Renoir with his Le Dejeuner des Canotiers (1881)?

Oh you levitate every night and you did a wonderful job of repainting the back fence? Very good. Did someone mention he or she can't levitate or paint as well as Renoir because of the lack of experience?

What a brilliant answer. I can share that frustration.

I returned home to Melrose from college with a master's in Fine Arts, 19th Century Painting. No one was interested in me at local galleries. The economic downturn meant the door was closed on new hirings and I was told I had no experience. I took that to mean even if they were hiring I would have been by-passed before of a lack of experience.

Oh dear. Nothing was said about the high standard of education I must obviously possess or was my potential assessed. So now I can expertly sympathised with those of you who've applied for a job or a promotion only to be rejected. Reasons for rejection will vary but insufficent experience will figure predominately in rejection thinking I guess. The lesson is there's not much we can do about it.

A professor once told me the key is to know the right person. For what? Well he was speaking about job recruitment so I shouldn't confuse the intended message with thought of marriage or a spring holidy at a ski resort, believing if I talk to the right person about going there I'll be taken to the ski resort. My mommy who incidentially is Mayor of Melrose warned me from a young age about people, particularly males, who proposition me, like going to a ski resort in the spring.

Actually no male has ever excited me with such a noble proposation as taking me skiing expensively. Now where were we? Oh yes, wanting a job and matching that to finding the right person. Well I did that, accidentally. And we were actually talking contract conditions before I realized I was to be a columnist on this newspaper, with you reading this as my inaugural contribution.

So everyone remember this from my experience: if you want something badly and appear frustrated in every direction, seek to know the right person to assist you. Or alternatively keep actively groping around in the hope you'll stumble over her or him as I did.

The Melrose Eagle is taking a big risk with me. I'm not a wise, experienced man aged forty-eight plus. I'm a 24-year-old female and have never written an article for a newspaper. At this point I should write A BIG RISK.

To me it's no big deal. I have a brain. I have knowledge. I am really aware of what goes on around me. I've lived in Melrose most of my life so am parochial, actually by design. I have a big mouth so am comfident I can big mouth on to paper and interest you. I'm intelligent enough to know you don't have to agree with everything I write. In fact you may agree with nothing I write. But providing I make you think and emote then I'll be doing my job. And if you say to your friends that young bitch whose started a column under her name in the Melrose Eagle is......(and state your opinion) I'll appreciate that because that means we have a dialogue going and interaction underway. And if you saw the word 'bitch' appear in the previous sentence, perhaps for the first time in such context in this newspaper, you'll have confirmation I have free rein to say anything within reason.

Well that completes waffle about why I'm being paid to write for you. So here we go...

Our city is not the only city named Melrose in this country. Nothing is going to change that. We know our original city fathers weren't village idiots in taking that name. Nathan Donald and some of his friends actually came from Melrose in Scotland so a name implant appeared logical to them. They didn't have a cell phone to call round to check if the name was unique in this country or have access to consult a national name register or to check an interactive map and lists of names on the Internet. No, all round them was isolation. And another thing, when they pitched tents and said wearily 'Let's settle here', they probably didn't think their settlement would grow and would still be around three hundred years later.

Some of you have been to the small town of Melrose, near Edinburgh. I haven't but will some day. Perhaps we should take a greater interest in our linkage with that settlement and firmly establish where Nathan Donald and any others in his party came from in and around Melrose. Our city could perhaps formalize contact.

Here's another thought: Why don't we have a monument commemorating the founding of our city by the leader of those first settlers, Nathan Donald? What do we know about him and where was Nathan Donald buried? I remember being taught about him at grade school but can't recollect seeing any photographs or hard evidence that the man existed.

Isn't it time we corrected this oversight? Future generations may be thankful we cared enough to put this right.

Now for something controversial: Do any of you actually drink our city water? I ask because I find it foul. I've watered my thirst in quite a few places and never tasted swamp water like Melrose's offering. I guess local complaints have been buried under passing time. I'd like to receive emails from you. Am I right or wrong about the liquid crap that goes into our drinking glasses from our taps?

Harris sighed and went looking for Mandy, finding her in the kitchen reading Saturday's edition of his newspaper.

"Oh hi handsome. Like what you read?"

"Well it certainly sounds like you, very readable in fact. Only I'm unhappy about the use of the word bitch and your mother is going to have a fit with you describing city water like that. It creates a bad image of the city."

"Well you're the editor. Slash and burn but don't ask me to rewrite a single word."

"Mandy please."

"You heard. May we talk about something else?"

"Yes, go ahead."

"I'd like to have sex. There's a day bed in the spa room beside the changing rooms in the pool house. Mom and dad never use the Jacuzzi after dark. They lack romance."

"You mean now?"

"Can you think of a better time?"

"I er no."

"Okay, let's go. I have coffee and supper packed. Mom will be expecting us to do this."

"Oh god, how embarrassing."

"Shhhh Harris. This is highly confidential: they also have sex."

Harris looked pained and managed a wan smile.

CHAPTER 2

Harris called Mandy on Thursday after the morning mail had been processed.

"Bad news. We've received thirty-three complains about you calling yourself a bitch in yesterday's column."

"That's good isn't it?"

"No. In publishing some of those letters and saying we received a total of thirty-three letters of complaint brings this newspaper into disrepute."

"I see. How many letters have you received about city water?"

"Why do you ask?"

Mandy laughed and said she was interested.

"More than 400 and seventy-two about our city connecting with Melrose in Scotland."

"Well there you are darling. Look at those letter volumes objectively and then form your decision about whether those bitching complainants represent only storm in a tea-cup. Oh by the way my computer mailbox was swamped. My Internet service provider advised thirty minutes ago I've received 1733 emails about city water. You should be rejoicing darling. It shows your readers will interact with your newspaper if you print challenging items. Your news editor Pamela called me earlier congratulating me for my Friday's column."

"Oh god, what's the subject?"

"Dog droppings and slack owners who need a rocket up their backsides."

"Jesus. I want you to file your columns to my computer Mandy."

"Very well but don't delay sending them through. Your newspaper is very strict about deadlines."

Almost wheezing Harris asked what was the topic of Monday's column.

"Naming babies. I think I'm pregnant."

"What!"

"Just kidding darling but naming babies is the topic. Names that city authorities refused to accept include Penis, Cunt and Daddy's Mistake."

"Oh Christ."

"I was about to add that my sense of proprietary means I won't mention the really disgusting rejected names but will mention some of the funny rejects such as Diaper Sue, Who's My Father and Sperm Rider."

The noise she heard was Harris choking. She cut the call to give him relief. She'd not told him of the screeching that ruined cheery breakfast atmosphere the previous morning when her mom read the column and reached the bit about city water.

Mandy had flared under attack that her mom was making sounded like news of the Titanic going down. People knew if their drinking water tasted foul.

"We have a program underway at huge expense to progressively rebuild filtration plants and replace some of the ageing miles and miles of reticulation pipes."

"Then call the editor, you know him, and demand he run a story on progress on water supply improvements. What is the rating of your water quality?"

"Don't you dare ask me that. Don't you dare write about that," wailed her mom.

The heat came off Mandy when Greg yawned and said, "Darling, cool down. It's only fucking water, not the Titanic sinking."

Rhonda ripped into him as if she were dealing with some misfit alleging corruption at City Hall.

"Dad you could drop me off at the hairdressers in a couple of minutes. I don't wish to be late for my appointment."

"You two are going nowhere until I've finished with you."

"Mom calm down and act your age. You'll pop an ovary."

"Bitch!"

"I bet no other mayor's daughter has ever been called that by her loving mother."

Rhonda looked appalled. "Oh darling. I can't believe I said that. Oh darling, kiss-kiss."

"Bye mom and thanks. Remember when the shit hits the fan at the council meeting use your husband's infamous words, "What's the gripe, it's only fucking water. Come on dad, let's rush."

At the salon someone said, "Ohmigod, it's Mandy Jack" as if some celebrity had entered the premises. Surprised, Mandy looked down at her T-shirt but her name wasn't on it. It was one of her father's casts off and the wording across her breasts was Dog Bay Bar which made people sound as if they were barking when reading the wording aloud.

Everyone wanted to talk to her and the salon owner had to call everyone to order and return to their chairs. She took over Mandy.

"You looked surprise people recognized you and wanted to talk to you. You've gained overnight celebrity status. Taking your mother on like that publicly is seen as being heroic. For four years she's stamped out all public comment about the foul taste of our water. People were being bullied into accepting it was the water they deserved and then along comes daughter Mandy and her vicious pen."

"I use a laptop actually."

"Well you know what I mean. Now how do you want it; completely shaved off?"

"Are we talking pussy?'

The hairdresser cackled in laughter and then everyone wanted in on the joke.

Mandy took a call from Harris who said his mom had just called him, bellowing into his ear. "I want to commission you to do a two-page feature about city water for our Saturday weekend feature section. I know you are not trained as a newspaper reporter but feel people will read avidly what you say. I'll get an experienced and helpful photographer assigned to you."

"Okay."

"What no objections."

"None. My mom will see it as redemption if I find the council really is grappling with a huge problem."

Harris said the newspaper had published progress articles.

"But you want me writing the big picture, brining everything together using my words and my conclusions?"

"That's exactly it."

"It will cost you seventeen hundred dollars."

"Why that amount?"

"Because I need money and I thought writing two pages and the research sounded to me like seventeen hundred bucks so gave you that figure."

"Half that amount would sound about right."

Mandy said sweetly, "Then get someone else who writes better and is on salary to get you and your newspaper back onside with my mother."

"Er seventeen hundred bucks sounds spot on darling."

Mandy chuckled and said Harris was really so clever.

* * *

That afternoon Harris was trembling as he began reading Mandy's latest submission titled, 'To Shave or Not to Shave'.

He finished reading in a sweat but all was well. Only an oblique reference to shaving between the legs had been made and discussed generally as 'harvesting hair off male and female genitalia'. He had to admit it was brilliantly covered.

After dinner that evening he watched with his parents as usual the program, Tonight's Personality.

B B Jones as the presenter styled herself filled the screen. "Tonight we reveal some of the thoughts of a dynamic woman in our midst who produces the new thrice weekly column in the Melrose Eagle, Mandy Jack."

"Isn't that the Mayor's daughter who you've been dating?" asked his mom who unfortunately for Harris was as sharp as a tack.

B B Jones answered for Harris. "Mandy is Mayor Jack's only child and shares her mom's good looks and acid tongue."

Harris suggested switching to another station, but fending off post-dinner sleepiness his father sat up and said he wanted to see this. "This is the woman who called herself a bitch."

"Shhh," Lisa said. "Let's hear what the young woman says."

B B: Are you abrasive by nature?"

Mandy: A little, aren't you?

B B: Well this interview is about you. Why are you a columnist instead of holding down a real job?

Mandy: That's easily answered. The invitation to write a column was the only job offer I received in fifteen months of scouting for a job.

B B: Who hired you?

Mandy: The editor Harris Walsh.

B B: Are you now having an affair with Mr Walsh?

Mandy: Mr Walsh and I date, yes.

B B: In your position doesn't dating and having an affair mean the same thing?

Mandy: I tend to think having an affair is something one has with a married person and that I don't do. Suffice to say Mr Harris and I date.

B B: So how did this coziness between the columnist and her editor begin?

Mandy: I sometimes played with Harris at his home when I was a little girl.

B B: And?

Mandy: When I returned to the city from college we bumped into one another. I appeared to dazzle him with my word power and complicated concepts and he asked if I wanted to write a column for the Melrose Eagle. I accepted. In case you were wondering we had not dated at that point.

B B: Haven't some of your published comments upset people?

Mandy: Even experts in literature have difficulty predicting what writing will upset people and then why are not other people upset. It almost defies analysis because it is highly driven by emotion, personal prejudice, misunderstanding, etc.

B B: Is that answer an example of your complicated concepts?

Mandy: Oh come on, that was me speaking simply.

B B: Is it your intention as a columnist to upset people?

Mandy: No. My intention is to confront readers with thoughts and concepts to make them think and react but not to manipulate them to react in any particular way. If they react it simply means I've used journalism as a vehicle to get through to them. If I produce no reaction then I ought to be fired for failing to stimulate my readers.

B B: Is it true that letters to the editor of the Melrose Eagle have increased tenfold since your columns began appearing?

Mandy: I've been told my columns have generated letters, phone calls and emails but that percentage figure increase is news to me. I personally received almost four and a half thousand emails about the quality of city water. I invited emails but never again. The response put my mailbox out of action but my Internet provider fixed the problem by temporarily hugely increasing my mail box capacity.

B B: Ah yes, that stinging attack on city water. My understanding is that greatly upset your mother who is Mayor of our city.

Mandy: Yes.

B B: Yes what?

Mandy: Yes but my comments were written to stimulate reader reaction to drinking water quality. I realized it would upset my mother but I was not playing politics. At breakfast next morning when mom read my comments she hit the roof but my dad cooled things down saying it was only [bleep] water, not something on the scale of the sinking of the Titanic.

B B: What an odd thing for your father to say.

Mandy: I don't think so. As a nuclear family we communicate effectively and in ways we achieve clear understanding. As I indicated, that ridiculous comparison was sufficient to cool mom down. She'd been given perspective.

B B: This latest column on bodily shaving, from the head down. Why did you write that?

Mandy: Because to my knowledge and the research I did, no other newspaper had published such an article. They leave that to women's magazines.