She's Ever So Good, Part 2 [Hot Fuzz fic]
Title: She's Ever So Good, part 2 of ...?
Characters: Joyce Cooper, Leslie Tiller
Combos: Joyce and Leslie
Word Count: 2800 ish for this bit
Rating: Hardish R, I guess?
Disclaimer: Don't own `em.
ConCrit: Sought.
Summary: Joyce wants to keep Leslie's green fingers right here in Sandford.
Warnings: Tenses a-jumble, inadvertent Americanisms, women over50 60 70 having the temerity to exist and get it on.
part one
( Joyce decided against any heat in the tumble dryer; )Joyce decided against any heat in the tumble dryer; the glue on those googly monkey eyes was none too secure. She ran through the possibilities and contingencies rapidly in her head as her hands automatically worked. She needed to check that the camera in the Castle Suite had a fresh videotape to it, in case Danny came back for a tender reconciliation. She wondered whether Angel would be quite as gung ho about imposing the Law as written if That Sort of Thing were still illegal. Probably would, the little fascist.
She didn't give a tinker's cuss what Danny got up to discreetly. Not that he hadn't been a damn fool in his time: Doris Thatcher wasn't the only one to scrummage with a rugby player while parked on that layby. She knew that, but no one else did except for his now-married teammate. And in recent years, Danny had kept it decently inactive, invisible, or at least well out of the county.
But a romance between Sandford policemen would bring it into the limelight. Bernard, on the night shift at the monitors, had reported how Angel had been coaxed into Danny's flat, and that he hadn't emerged until they both barreled blearily out at dawn. Joyce sensed the affection behind Angel's exasperation today at the fete. Not passion, perhaps, but there was Something there between them, and she prided herself at heading off Somethings at the pass, as Frank might say.
Perhaps removing an eye, an ear, a leg from the monkey would further their rift? No, for all Danny's boyish bloodthirst, he wasn't the sort to dismember a cuddly toy, and Angel would likely be suspicious. Perhaps bringing them together would be more productive? It might distract Angel from his dangerously persistent investigations, and keep Danny from drunkenly ramming his car into the fountain again. (Bernard kept matching stones and mortar to hand for repairs, and used them all too often.)
But she didn't know, exactly, how Angel with his Lon-don ways would behave, if successfully wooed, and that disturbed her. She was accustomed to knowing the personalities through and through and thus, knowing what what would happen. (The psychology of the individual, as that clever Mr. Wodehouse put it.) Might he resist all public displays but then turn around and register for civil partnership? She thought that would, after all, be acceptable to the Best Village judiciary board - the three men on it were That Way, of course, and of course decently behaved in public, as she thought Angel would also be.
But Danny already gazed at Angel with transparent adoration. If anything came of it, a smitten Danny would be - what was that term? `Gay as a window'. Joyce did not restrain a slight smirk and snort of amusement as she set the monkey in Angel's room and made sure the camera's line of sight wasn't blocked. Annette had already reported him staring at Angel's lips, and well South of there, whilst at the shop. Never one to restrain himself, he might break down Angel's reserve as well. And even if Angel resolutely trained Danny away from public indecency, the damage would already be done.
Joyce was well aware that the judges of the Best Village award had as broad and far-flung a gossip-detection net as she did, and that the most important ratings would not appear on the adjudicators' clipboards. Any rumors of policemen not only Like That but Flaunting It - well, those brown guileless eyes and big eager hands could sink all of NWA's efforts for Sandford, next year if not this.
If only she could read this outsider with her usual comfortable certainty. She knew the citizens of Sandford. Generations of knowledge, she practically breathed the breath of the lives around her. (And then there was her Stormy Day cache of choice scandalous footage, besides.)
His foreignness, his opacity was another mark against Angel: there were many. But she, for one, still hesitated to vote for his vanishment. The police force could only lose so many Sergeants before someone made a bit of a fuss.
She wondered if Frank was aware of what she was now fairly sure was budding romance. She rather doubted it. The Buttermans had always had a positive talent for missing the most desperately significant things under their noses. She remembered Irene's obvious despair, and later, Frank's utter bewilderment when they found her mangled Datsun Cherry.
Joyce took a moment to pray for God's mercy on Irene. She wasn't clear on whether her taking her own life was a mortal sin, and wasn't sure if the Anglican church was quite definitive on the matter, either... Shooter had sort of waffled with vague allusions to compassion for the individual's personal torment. Poor, poor Irene.
Still, it's an ill wind that blows nobody any good, Lord... the NWA had come of all that, surely a mitigating factor... Irene might be regarded as their patron saint, even a martyr of sorts for their cause. Please, Lord, forgive her her trespasses, if indeed she did wrong.
Joyce poured a tiny tipple more brandy out for Leslie and herself and called her attention back to what her old friend was saying (at some length), and the problem that Leslie herself now presented. It appeared that she remained ignorant of the sterner measures of the NWA's Caring Community Greater Good Subcommittee. Which would be quite the ideal state, of course, except that Leslie apparently thought she would be allowed to sell up and leave town. And for Buford Abbey, of all places.
==========================
Leslie - ... Eve, god rest her, might have given at least a tiny hint of how much my land is worth!
Joyce - Well she hasn't worked for you for some time.
Leslie - Well I suppose so. What is it - six, seven years? (shaking her head)
Joyce - (dryly) Ten.
Leslie - Joyce darling, whatever happened to the twentieth century?
Joyce - (a series of short laughs that jump up in increments to span about an octave and a half)
I feel I'm only up to about 1984 myself, dear, I'm afraid I couldn't tell you!
Leslie - (with a significant glance) I guess I haven't, hadn't, done much for her lately, true.
Joyce - (nearly spluttering on her brandy) You didn't!
Leslie - (chuckling with girlish evil) Of course not! I just liked her as scenery, she is - she was, god rest her - lovely to look at. Until she began to talk at least.
Joyce - (in an undertone) Or laugh.
Leslie - Not that she was much of a help, sneaking out early to have it off with that nasty Butcher bwoy.
Joyce - Which one?
Leslie - The nasty one with the beard, I'm always careful to get my cut of meat from the other.
Joyce - They do trade back and forth every year or so, did you not realize?
Leslie - (her mouth opens wide and then she covers it with her hand, while smiling incredulously) Oh! Oh!! Go on!
Joyce - (nodding slightly) Yes, Bernard noticed it, they always come back from holiday with one very short beard!
Leslie - I wouldn't have thought them that clever! So I don't know which one I happened upon banging her up the arbor!
(Joyce laughs, amused but also uncomfortable)
Leslie - She was only the slightest bit embarrassed.
Joyce - Ah! (shaking her head) The shameless way she carried on with Blower.
Leslie - (a touch of sadness, mixed with reproof at Joyce speaking ill of the dead.) God rest them.
Joyce - ... Amen.
(Joyce stands, putting away a file or two, some paperwork from the hotel accounts, to fill the moment. She sits again and places her hand over Leslie's on the table.)
Joyce - ...I'm so sorry, dear, that we couldn't do the fancy dress contest this year.
Leslie - (squeezing her hand slightly. Her tone is light, but a bit laboriously so) Oh, well, we haven't teamed up for a while, now, have we, I didn't expect it, really, anymore.
Joyce - It's been so busy
Joyce and Leslie - With the Watch.
Leslie - Yes.
=================
1959 The year they had upped the annual fete fancy dress contest ante. Somehow, they had seized the time to work up an actual performance, a lip sinc to Doris Day's Pillow Talk. [link is to a youtube recording of the song] A quarter of the town had gotten over to Cheltenham or Bristol to see the picture, and very likely half of them owned a Doris Day record. It was essentially a given for the blue ribbon.
They got themselves up in pajamas and robes, quite like to those in the movie. Joyce's hair was already pretty similar to Dor's Day's, when she did it up with all the curlers and spray, as she much preferred but rarely had the opportunity to do. Leslie had slicked hers back, puffed up at front, then added a bit of boot blacking, and was well enough like Rock Hudson to be identifiable. Bernard had grudgingly helped with detaching the telephones from their walls to use as props.
(They start on opposite sides of the stage, facing away from each other, holding pillows as if sleeping standing up. With each phrase, they come a bit closer.)
Pillow talk
Pillow talk...
(They get laughs at the lines that "Rock Hudson" unexpectedly takes "must be a pillow-talkin' boy for me", limp wristed as in the movie where he plays homosexual to lure Doris into wanting to prove him otherwise.)
We hope she's right, she'd better be right, there must be a boy
(Without quite making contact, Joyce somehow could feel the presence of Leslie's strong back, inches away. Finally turning out to face the audience, sleeves of their robes just touching)
There must be a boy
There MUST be a boy!!
(Then almost, but not quite, looking each other in the eye)
There MUST!!
(Then hanging up simultaneously with a gentle click. The crowd applauds heartily. Joyce, curtsies to the crowd as Leslie bows, basking.)
======================
1959 (The pub, at the post-fete congratulatory convening) Joyce has a blue prize ribbon pinned to her costume, as does Leslie, who is finishing off a half-pint, their heads together.
Joyce - (speaking over her shoulder to Bernard, as she practically shoves Leslie out the door) We're going to plot how to pull it off again next year, Bernard!
(Bernard gives an acknowledging wave, mustache deep in the foam of a pint.)
(They stumble around the church, in the dusky gloaming, in a light mist. They're a bit tipsy, and in some part of her mind Joyce notes that it's much easier to walk on the moist ground in slippers than in heels.)
Leslie - How are we to top that next year?
(Doris Day pushes Rock Hudson up against the well-shadowed wall by the churchyard.)
Joyce - (huskily) A syncronized dance number?
(She presses against Leslie)
Joyce - Ending with a passionate kiss.
(Dusty Springfield's "Just a Little Lovin" [link to youtube of the song, for a soundtrack to this section] begins, the opening string instrumental quiet in the background under the spoken lines)
Leslie - (stagily, imitating Rock Hudson, in the spirit of Hollywood banter) I see you're keen to start rehearsals.
Joyce - We do have a title to defenmmph.
(Leslie presses up into a kiss, slipping her thigh between Joyce's )
Just a little lovin'
Early in the mornin'
Beats a cup of coffee
For starting off the day
1969 (same spot, ext. church) Dusty Springfield (Joyce), pressing her palm flat against Leslie's chest and gripping her hair to pull her head to one side, runs her tongue up the arched neck of Janice Joplin (Leslie) , getting a bit of feather boa that she has to wipe away, grimacing without amusement, though Leslie laughs.
Just a little lovin'
When the world is yawnin'
Makes you feel wake up feeling
Good things are coming your way
1950 (same spot, ext. church) Joyce as Disney's Cinderella, Leslie as Margo Channing from All About Eve, just clinging to each other around shoulders and waist, and breathing hard.
This old world
Wouldn't be half as bad
It wouldn't be half as sad
1978 (a few feet away, in a sheltered doorway of the church, as the rain is pissing down) Joyce, as a rose, traces along Leslie (a hollyhock)'s collarbone with a finger, evoking a shiver, as she slides her hand down Leslie's side.
If each and everybody in it had, yeah
Just a little lovin'
1958 (interior of a house.) Joyce, in everyday garb, is holding her hand to the brow of a wan, dark-circled eyed child, who is falling asleep. Leslie, dressed as Zorro, is leaning in the doorframe. Joyce rises, walks, with a small nod to her.
Just a little lovin'
Early in the mornin'
That little extra somethin'
(outside, the garden shed) Leslie standing, with mask on, front of her costume open, Joyce, kneeling on a gardening stool, running her tongue up the curve of the underside of her breast.
To kinda see them through
Nothing turns the day on
Really gets it dawnin'
1989 (Leslie's shop, out of sight of the big windows.) A clock is visible in the background, just after midnight) Joyce, as Marlene Dietrich in a tuxedo, shirt already open, is unzipping Leslie's trousers, in costume as Garbo as Queen Christina. She leans in for a kiss and they stop, exasperated by the big collar thing that Leslie has on, Leslie laughing while fumbling with the fastenings, Joyce merely impatient.
Like a little bit of lovin'
From some lovin' someone
like you
1965 (Churchyard again, this time around the corner of a crypt) Joyce, dressed as Maria from The Sound of Music, has her hand up under the habit of Leslie, as the Mother Abess, whose head is tossed back in an estacy almost worthy of St. Teresa.
[horn solo...]
1953 (On the top of the church tower) Joyce, as Tinkerbelle, argues with Leslie, as Peter Pan, against one of the walls, kissing her angrily. Her purse, a little clutch with a metal handle clanks against the stone and chips off a bit.
1941 (yard outside the church) Leslie, 6, in a hastily assembled St. George costume made of scrap metal and old clothes, which will be donated for the war effort after the fete, stands in the center of a crowd. She stares shyly out as an older woman gently pulls on her arm to urge her to move along and allow the next contestant on. Joyce, 9, as Boadicea, got up in old sheets and garden trimmings, prepares to enter the `stage' area, but Anne Aaronson steps the hem of her trailing gown and she goes sprawling. Joyce turns to rise, furious, but the anger is only visible for a second, and then she scrambles to her feet, laughing.
This old world
Wouldn't be half as bad
It wouldn't be half as sad
1997 (Interior of Leslie's apartment over the shop) Leslie as Dolly the sheep is half-lying back on the pillows of her bed, looking very receptive, and Joyce, as a china Arcadian shepardess/genetic engineer, has the hook end of a shepharding crook latched into the sheep costume and pulls the velcro fastenings open abruptly. Leslie gives her a laughing, head shaking look that conveys how simultaneously ridiculous and exciting this is to her. Joyce starts speculatively running her fingers over the smooth straight end of her crook, and Leslie covers her mouth in amused, incredulous nervousness as Joyce licks it.)
If each and everybody in it had...
Just a little lovin'
Early in the mornin'
1974 (In a refreshment tent at the fete, surrounded by a crowd.) Leslie as Katisha and Joyce as Yum-Yum from The Mikado, in yellowface make up, and somewhat vivid, slightly psychedlic versions of Japonaiserie for the kimonos. Leslie is doing one of her prolonged monologues, Joyce raises her fan and taps Leslie's lips lightly, and there is just a moment of a charged look before Joyce drops her eyes demurely.
Just a little lovin'
When the world is yawnin'
2004 (Church fete, in a tent with a stage/platform for the fancy dress contest.) Leslie and Joyce are in everyday clothes, Leslie in the audience, Joyce holding a clipboard with the contestant roster, and looking on with dismay as top prizes are awarded to a pair on the tarts and vicars theme. A man, her grandson, Thomas Cooper, as a pregnant nun, and a woman, Sylvie Paver, as a bishop with an erection visible under the robe.)
(Leslie and Joyce catch each others' eye, Leslie with amused dismay, Joyce a very cold version of that dismay.)
Just a little bit of lovin' ah
Oh, in the morning
(Joyce looks at Frank Butterman, also standing in the audience by the edge of the stage, dressed as a Sherriff as usual, exchanging a grim, purposeful look. Joyce gives the slightest nod.)
(Shift to an accelerating sequence of quick cuts, still bopping back and forth through the years and the fancy dress themes that they have donned)
Nothing turns the day
1957 (Joyce's bathroom.) They are both shedding `cannibal' outfits that are a strange combination of polynesian and cartoon african, bones in ponytails and shrunken `heads' strung around their necks, and are giggling in dismay, at the smearing of the blacking-up they have all over their bodies.
on, Really gets
(Bathroom, overlooking bath.) Leslie is kneeling in a few inches of sudsy water, leaning forward, forearms against the rim of in the bath, soapy and partially washed off. A clean flannel is crammed in her mouth, and she is rubbing back against Joyce's thigh, who kneels behind her. Joyce is mostly scrubbed off, but is getting rapidly schmutzed up again as she reciprocates the rubbing, sliding action. Joyce begins pinching Leslie's nipple as a knock at the door causes their heads shoot to up in alarm.)
it dawnin'
1999 (Leslie's flat above the shop) Joyce, as Disney's version of Cinderella's fairy godmother, seated on the high, stiffly upholstered chinz-covered couch, sets down a cup of tea, narrowing her eyes, with a trace of a smile emerging, as Leslie as Disney's version of Snow White's evil stepmother, somewhat nervously, sits down on a small padded stool, which she then lowers using a pneumatic valve at the side, until her head is much closer to Joyce's lap level. Joyce gives her an amused and impressed glance, mouthing "Wonderful." Leslie, reassured, lets her hands slide up Joyce's skirt, tongue following.
Make a little
1967 (Behind the shed in Leslie's mother's garden, by a bower heavy with morning glories, which are closed, now, of course, in the dark.) Joyce, as an 'Indian-Indian raja-ess', in brownface, black wig and a sari, which has become partiallly unwound and is trailing on the ground, and the rhinestone glued to her forehead has come off and landed in her cleavage. Leslie, as a `Red Indian' similar makeup plus `war paint' and same model wig, braided differently, has her back against the shed, and Joyce has both her hands trapped with her left hand. Leslie's fringey trousers are pooled around her moccasins. Joyce is lightly, tormentingly, rubbing the handle of Leslie's fakey tomahawk against the 'brave's' crotch.
bit of lovin'
1995 (Leslie's flat, dark bedroom, just enough light to make out). Joyce, as Jessica Fletcher of Murder She Wrote is lying back, slacks and pants off and legs parted, eyes screwed shut, breath heaving, arms spread and gripping at the sheets. Her prop typewriter is on the side table. The bed is high, and there's a chest on one side and a chair on the other to rest her feet. In a chair placed so that she can lean between Joyce's legs without straining, sits Leslie as Miss Marple, face buried, tongue and fingers busy.
It's so
1970 (Church grounds) Joyce, as Elizabeth Taylor-esque Cleopatra, stares with quiet fury and a very blank face at Leslie, as the historical Cleopatra (Macedonian greek, and quite possibly blonde), walks away across the lawn, laughing with a handsome woman dressed as Hawkeye.
good, it's so good (fading out)
1948 (the yard at the side of the church, in the dusk) Joyce, as Alice is being chased by Leslie, as the White Rabbit. The camera follows them as they run. As Leslie catches up to Joyce, Joyce turns and semi-tackles the younger girl, just as the image blurs to a moving cut across a gravestone, back to
1959 (behind the church) as Doris Day and Rock Hudson)
Leslie - (breaking the kiss) I have it - Next year's winning strategy - Full frontal nudity!
Joyce - (a shocked and dismayed intake of breath, held for two moments, before an exhalation, dissolving into giggles, her eyes still uneasy, holding a note of sincere disapproval) Oh, you are awful!
===========================
mini homage-o-meter
[1] Pillow Talk, from the movie of the same name, starring Doris Day and Rock Hudson.
[2] Blue pajama ensembles from Pillow Talk:
[3] "Just A Little Lovin" from Dusty In Memphis
[4] Dusty Springfield, also nifty fan site
[5] Janice Joplin
[6 ] Disney version of Cinderella
[7 ] Bette Davis as Margo Channing in All About Eve
[8] Guy Williams as Zorro, probably from The Sign of Zorro (1958)
[9] Dietrich in a Tux (right) from Morroco
[10] Garbo, as Queen Christina. Leslie's costume combines the standing collar of Christina's formal attire with trousers and boots from the hunting scene.
[11] Dolly the sheep
[12] Think Boucher's arcadian shephardess (right) with a lab coat and test tube added. Joyce's artistic grandson suggested the genetic engineer idea and Dolly as the specific sheep part of this ensemble. Joyce made sure that this youngster left Sandford right quick, though he didn't need much prompting.
[13] Angela Lansbury as Jessica Fletcher in Murder, She Wrote
[14] Angela Lansbury as Miss Marple, in The Mirror Crack'd
[15] Alice in Wonderland and
[16] the White Rabbit (from the original Tenniel illustrations)
Characters: Joyce Cooper, Leslie Tiller
Combos: Joyce and Leslie
Word Count: 2800 ish for this bit
Rating: Hardish R, I guess?
Disclaimer: Don't own `em.
ConCrit: Sought.
Summary: Joyce wants to keep Leslie's green fingers right here in Sandford.
Warnings: Tenses a-jumble, inadvertent Americanisms, women over
part one
( Joyce decided against any heat in the tumble dryer; )Joyce decided against any heat in the tumble dryer; the glue on those googly monkey eyes was none too secure. She ran through the possibilities and contingencies rapidly in her head as her hands automatically worked. She needed to check that the camera in the Castle Suite had a fresh videotape to it, in case Danny came back for a tender reconciliation. She wondered whether Angel would be quite as gung ho about imposing the Law as written if That Sort of Thing were still illegal. Probably would, the little fascist.
She didn't give a tinker's cuss what Danny got up to discreetly. Not that he hadn't been a damn fool in his time: Doris Thatcher wasn't the only one to scrummage with a rugby player while parked on that layby. She knew that, but no one else did except for his now-married teammate. And in recent years, Danny had kept it decently inactive, invisible, or at least well out of the county.
But a romance between Sandford policemen would bring it into the limelight. Bernard, on the night shift at the monitors, had reported how Angel had been coaxed into Danny's flat, and that he hadn't emerged until they both barreled blearily out at dawn. Joyce sensed the affection behind Angel's exasperation today at the fete. Not passion, perhaps, but there was Something there between them, and she prided herself at heading off Somethings at the pass, as Frank might say.
Perhaps removing an eye, an ear, a leg from the monkey would further their rift? No, for all Danny's boyish bloodthirst, he wasn't the sort to dismember a cuddly toy, and Angel would likely be suspicious. Perhaps bringing them together would be more productive? It might distract Angel from his dangerously persistent investigations, and keep Danny from drunkenly ramming his car into the fountain again. (Bernard kept matching stones and mortar to hand for repairs, and used them all too often.)
But she didn't know, exactly, how Angel with his Lon-don ways would behave, if successfully wooed, and that disturbed her. She was accustomed to knowing the personalities through and through and thus, knowing what what would happen. (The psychology of the individual, as that clever Mr. Wodehouse put it.) Might he resist all public displays but then turn around and register for civil partnership? She thought that would, after all, be acceptable to the Best Village judiciary board - the three men on it were That Way, of course, and of course decently behaved in public, as she thought Angel would also be.
But Danny already gazed at Angel with transparent adoration. If anything came of it, a smitten Danny would be - what was that term? `Gay as a window'. Joyce did not restrain a slight smirk and snort of amusement as she set the monkey in Angel's room and made sure the camera's line of sight wasn't blocked. Annette had already reported him staring at Angel's lips, and well South of there, whilst at the shop. Never one to restrain himself, he might break down Angel's reserve as well. And even if Angel resolutely trained Danny away from public indecency, the damage would already be done.
Joyce was well aware that the judges of the Best Village award had as broad and far-flung a gossip-detection net as she did, and that the most important ratings would not appear on the adjudicators' clipboards. Any rumors of policemen not only Like That but Flaunting It - well, those brown guileless eyes and big eager hands could sink all of NWA's efforts for Sandford, next year if not this.
If only she could read this outsider with her usual comfortable certainty. She knew the citizens of Sandford. Generations of knowledge, she practically breathed the breath of the lives around her. (And then there was her Stormy Day cache of choice scandalous footage, besides.)
His foreignness, his opacity was another mark against Angel: there were many. But she, for one, still hesitated to vote for his vanishment. The police force could only lose so many Sergeants before someone made a bit of a fuss.
She wondered if Frank was aware of what she was now fairly sure was budding romance. She rather doubted it. The Buttermans had always had a positive talent for missing the most desperately significant things under their noses. She remembered Irene's obvious despair, and later, Frank's utter bewilderment when they found her mangled Datsun Cherry.
Joyce took a moment to pray for God's mercy on Irene. She wasn't clear on whether her taking her own life was a mortal sin, and wasn't sure if the Anglican church was quite definitive on the matter, either... Shooter had sort of waffled with vague allusions to compassion for the individual's personal torment. Poor, poor Irene.
Still, it's an ill wind that blows nobody any good, Lord... the NWA had come of all that, surely a mitigating factor... Irene might be regarded as their patron saint, even a martyr of sorts for their cause. Please, Lord, forgive her her trespasses, if indeed she did wrong.
Joyce poured a tiny tipple more brandy out for Leslie and herself and called her attention back to what her old friend was saying (at some length), and the problem that Leslie herself now presented. It appeared that she remained ignorant of the sterner measures of the NWA's Caring Community Greater Good Subcommittee. Which would be quite the ideal state, of course, except that Leslie apparently thought she would be allowed to sell up and leave town. And for Buford Abbey, of all places.
==========================
Leslie - ... Eve, god rest her, might have given at least a tiny hint of how much my land is worth!
Joyce - Well she hasn't worked for you for some time.
Leslie - Well I suppose so. What is it - six, seven years? (shaking her head)
Joyce - (dryly) Ten.
Leslie - Joyce darling, whatever happened to the twentieth century?
Joyce - (a series of short laughs that jump up in increments to span about an octave and a half)
I feel I'm only up to about 1984 myself, dear, I'm afraid I couldn't tell you!
Leslie - (with a significant glance) I guess I haven't, hadn't, done much for her lately, true.
Joyce - (nearly spluttering on her brandy) You didn't!
Leslie - (chuckling with girlish evil) Of course not! I just liked her as scenery, she is - she was, god rest her - lovely to look at. Until she began to talk at least.
Joyce - (in an undertone) Or laugh.
Leslie - Not that she was much of a help, sneaking out early to have it off with that nasty Butcher bwoy.
Joyce - Which one?
Leslie - The nasty one with the beard, I'm always careful to get my cut of meat from the other.
Joyce - They do trade back and forth every year or so, did you not realize?
Leslie - (her mouth opens wide and then she covers it with her hand, while smiling incredulously) Oh! Oh!! Go on!
Joyce - (nodding slightly) Yes, Bernard noticed it, they always come back from holiday with one very short beard!
Leslie - I wouldn't have thought them that clever! So I don't know which one I happened upon banging her up the arbor!
(Joyce laughs, amused but also uncomfortable)
Leslie - She was only the slightest bit embarrassed.
Joyce - Ah! (shaking her head) The shameless way she carried on with Blower.
Leslie - (a touch of sadness, mixed with reproof at Joyce speaking ill of the dead.) God rest them.
Joyce - ... Amen.
(Joyce stands, putting away a file or two, some paperwork from the hotel accounts, to fill the moment. She sits again and places her hand over Leslie's on the table.)
Joyce - ...I'm so sorry, dear, that we couldn't do the fancy dress contest this year.
Leslie - (squeezing her hand slightly. Her tone is light, but a bit laboriously so) Oh, well, we haven't teamed up for a while, now, have we, I didn't expect it, really, anymore.
Joyce - It's been so busy
Joyce and Leslie - With the Watch.
Leslie - Yes.
=================
1959 The year they had upped the annual fete fancy dress contest ante. Somehow, they had seized the time to work up an actual performance, a lip sinc to Doris Day's Pillow Talk. [link is to a youtube recording of the song] A quarter of the town had gotten over to Cheltenham or Bristol to see the picture, and very likely half of them owned a Doris Day record. It was essentially a given for the blue ribbon.
They got themselves up in pajamas and robes, quite like to those in the movie. Joyce's hair was already pretty similar to Dor's Day's, when she did it up with all the curlers and spray, as she much preferred but rarely had the opportunity to do. Leslie had slicked hers back, puffed up at front, then added a bit of boot blacking, and was well enough like Rock Hudson to be identifiable. Bernard had grudgingly helped with detaching the telephones from their walls to use as props.
(They start on opposite sides of the stage, facing away from each other, holding pillows as if sleeping standing up. With each phrase, they come a bit closer.)
Pillow talk
Pillow talk...
(They get laughs at the lines that "Rock Hudson" unexpectedly takes "must be a pillow-talkin' boy for me", limp wristed as in the movie where he plays homosexual to lure Doris into wanting to prove him otherwise.)
We hope she's right, she'd better be right, there must be a boy
(Without quite making contact, Joyce somehow could feel the presence of Leslie's strong back, inches away. Finally turning out to face the audience, sleeves of their robes just touching)
There must be a boy
There MUST be a boy!!
(Then almost, but not quite, looking each other in the eye)
There MUST!!
(Then hanging up simultaneously with a gentle click. The crowd applauds heartily. Joyce, curtsies to the crowd as Leslie bows, basking.)
======================
1959 (The pub, at the post-fete congratulatory convening) Joyce has a blue prize ribbon pinned to her costume, as does Leslie, who is finishing off a half-pint, their heads together.
Joyce - (speaking over her shoulder to Bernard, as she practically shoves Leslie out the door) We're going to plot how to pull it off again next year, Bernard!
(Bernard gives an acknowledging wave, mustache deep in the foam of a pint.)
(They stumble around the church, in the dusky gloaming, in a light mist. They're a bit tipsy, and in some part of her mind Joyce notes that it's much easier to walk on the moist ground in slippers than in heels.)
Leslie - How are we to top that next year?
(Doris Day pushes Rock Hudson up against the well-shadowed wall by the churchyard.)
Joyce - (huskily) A syncronized dance number?
(She presses against Leslie)
Joyce - Ending with a passionate kiss.
(Dusty Springfield's "Just a Little Lovin" [link to youtube of the song, for a soundtrack to this section] begins, the opening string instrumental quiet in the background under the spoken lines)
Leslie - (stagily, imitating Rock Hudson, in the spirit of Hollywood banter) I see you're keen to start rehearsals.
Joyce - We do have a title to defenmmph.
(Leslie presses up into a kiss, slipping her thigh between Joyce's )
Just a little lovin'
Early in the mornin'
Beats a cup of coffee
For starting off the day
1969 (same spot, ext. church) Dusty Springfield (Joyce), pressing her palm flat against Leslie's chest and gripping her hair to pull her head to one side, runs her tongue up the arched neck of Janice Joplin (Leslie) , getting a bit of feather boa that she has to wipe away, grimacing without amusement, though Leslie laughs.
Just a little lovin'
When the world is yawnin'
Makes you feel wake up feeling
Good things are coming your way
1950 (same spot, ext. church) Joyce as Disney's Cinderella, Leslie as Margo Channing from All About Eve, just clinging to each other around shoulders and waist, and breathing hard.
This old world
Wouldn't be half as bad
It wouldn't be half as sad
1978 (a few feet away, in a sheltered doorway of the church, as the rain is pissing down) Joyce, as a rose, traces along Leslie (a hollyhock)'s collarbone with a finger, evoking a shiver, as she slides her hand down Leslie's side.
If each and everybody in it had, yeah
Just a little lovin'
1958 (interior of a house.) Joyce, in everyday garb, is holding her hand to the brow of a wan, dark-circled eyed child, who is falling asleep. Leslie, dressed as Zorro, is leaning in the doorframe. Joyce rises, walks, with a small nod to her.
Just a little lovin'
Early in the mornin'
That little extra somethin'
(outside, the garden shed) Leslie standing, with mask on, front of her costume open, Joyce, kneeling on a gardening stool, running her tongue up the curve of the underside of her breast.
To kinda see them through
Nothing turns the day on
Really gets it dawnin'
1989 (Leslie's shop, out of sight of the big windows.) A clock is visible in the background, just after midnight) Joyce, as Marlene Dietrich in a tuxedo, shirt already open, is unzipping Leslie's trousers, in costume as Garbo as Queen Christina. She leans in for a kiss and they stop, exasperated by the big collar thing that Leslie has on, Leslie laughing while fumbling with the fastenings, Joyce merely impatient.
Like a little bit of lovin'
From some lovin' someone
like you
1965 (Churchyard again, this time around the corner of a crypt) Joyce, dressed as Maria from The Sound of Music, has her hand up under the habit of Leslie, as the Mother Abess, whose head is tossed back in an estacy almost worthy of St. Teresa.
[horn solo...]
1953 (On the top of the church tower) Joyce, as Tinkerbelle, argues with Leslie, as Peter Pan, against one of the walls, kissing her angrily. Her purse, a little clutch with a metal handle clanks against the stone and chips off a bit.
1941 (yard outside the church) Leslie, 6, in a hastily assembled St. George costume made of scrap metal and old clothes, which will be donated for the war effort after the fete, stands in the center of a crowd. She stares shyly out as an older woman gently pulls on her arm to urge her to move along and allow the next contestant on. Joyce, 9, as Boadicea, got up in old sheets and garden trimmings, prepares to enter the `stage' area, but Anne Aaronson steps the hem of her trailing gown and she goes sprawling. Joyce turns to rise, furious, but the anger is only visible for a second, and then she scrambles to her feet, laughing.
This old world
Wouldn't be half as bad
It wouldn't be half as sad
1997 (Interior of Leslie's apartment over the shop) Leslie as Dolly the sheep is half-lying back on the pillows of her bed, looking very receptive, and Joyce, as a china Arcadian shepardess/genetic engineer, has the hook end of a shepharding crook latched into the sheep costume and pulls the velcro fastenings open abruptly. Leslie gives her a laughing, head shaking look that conveys how simultaneously ridiculous and exciting this is to her. Joyce starts speculatively running her fingers over the smooth straight end of her crook, and Leslie covers her mouth in amused, incredulous nervousness as Joyce licks it.)
If each and everybody in it had...
Just a little lovin'
Early in the mornin'
1974 (In a refreshment tent at the fete, surrounded by a crowd.) Leslie as Katisha and Joyce as Yum-Yum from The Mikado, in yellowface make up, and somewhat vivid, slightly psychedlic versions of Japonaiserie for the kimonos. Leslie is doing one of her prolonged monologues, Joyce raises her fan and taps Leslie's lips lightly, and there is just a moment of a charged look before Joyce drops her eyes demurely.
Just a little lovin'
When the world is yawnin'
2004 (Church fete, in a tent with a stage/platform for the fancy dress contest.) Leslie and Joyce are in everyday clothes, Leslie in the audience, Joyce holding a clipboard with the contestant roster, and looking on with dismay as top prizes are awarded to a pair on the tarts and vicars theme. A man, her grandson, Thomas Cooper, as a pregnant nun, and a woman, Sylvie Paver, as a bishop with an erection visible under the robe.)
(Leslie and Joyce catch each others' eye, Leslie with amused dismay, Joyce a very cold version of that dismay.)
Just a little bit of lovin' ah
Oh, in the morning
(Joyce looks at Frank Butterman, also standing in the audience by the edge of the stage, dressed as a Sherriff as usual, exchanging a grim, purposeful look. Joyce gives the slightest nod.)
(Shift to an accelerating sequence of quick cuts, still bopping back and forth through the years and the fancy dress themes that they have donned)
Nothing turns the day
1957 (Joyce's bathroom.) They are both shedding `cannibal' outfits that are a strange combination of polynesian and cartoon african, bones in ponytails and shrunken `heads' strung around their necks, and are giggling in dismay, at the smearing of the blacking-up they have all over their bodies.
on, Really gets
(Bathroom, overlooking bath.) Leslie is kneeling in a few inches of sudsy water, leaning forward, forearms against the rim of in the bath, soapy and partially washed off. A clean flannel is crammed in her mouth, and she is rubbing back against Joyce's thigh, who kneels behind her. Joyce is mostly scrubbed off, but is getting rapidly schmutzed up again as she reciprocates the rubbing, sliding action. Joyce begins pinching Leslie's nipple as a knock at the door causes their heads shoot to up in alarm.)
it dawnin'
1999 (Leslie's flat above the shop) Joyce, as Disney's version of Cinderella's fairy godmother, seated on the high, stiffly upholstered chinz-covered couch, sets down a cup of tea, narrowing her eyes, with a trace of a smile emerging, as Leslie as Disney's version of Snow White's evil stepmother, somewhat nervously, sits down on a small padded stool, which she then lowers using a pneumatic valve at the side, until her head is much closer to Joyce's lap level. Joyce gives her an amused and impressed glance, mouthing "Wonderful." Leslie, reassured, lets her hands slide up Joyce's skirt, tongue following.
Make a little
1967 (Behind the shed in Leslie's mother's garden, by a bower heavy with morning glories, which are closed, now, of course, in the dark.) Joyce, as an 'Indian-Indian raja-ess', in brownface, black wig and a sari, which has become partiallly unwound and is trailing on the ground, and the rhinestone glued to her forehead has come off and landed in her cleavage. Leslie, as a `Red Indian' similar makeup plus `war paint' and same model wig, braided differently, has her back against the shed, and Joyce has both her hands trapped with her left hand. Leslie's fringey trousers are pooled around her moccasins. Joyce is lightly, tormentingly, rubbing the handle of Leslie's fakey tomahawk against the 'brave's' crotch.
bit of lovin'
1995 (Leslie's flat, dark bedroom, just enough light to make out). Joyce, as Jessica Fletcher of Murder She Wrote is lying back, slacks and pants off and legs parted, eyes screwed shut, breath heaving, arms spread and gripping at the sheets. Her prop typewriter is on the side table. The bed is high, and there's a chest on one side and a chair on the other to rest her feet. In a chair placed so that she can lean between Joyce's legs without straining, sits Leslie as Miss Marple, face buried, tongue and fingers busy.
It's so
1970 (Church grounds) Joyce, as Elizabeth Taylor-esque Cleopatra, stares with quiet fury and a very blank face at Leslie, as the historical Cleopatra (Macedonian greek, and quite possibly blonde), walks away across the lawn, laughing with a handsome woman dressed as Hawkeye.
good, it's so good (fading out)
1948 (the yard at the side of the church, in the dusk) Joyce, as Alice is being chased by Leslie, as the White Rabbit. The camera follows them as they run. As Leslie catches up to Joyce, Joyce turns and semi-tackles the younger girl, just as the image blurs to a moving cut across a gravestone, back to
1959 (behind the church) as Doris Day and Rock Hudson)
Leslie - (breaking the kiss) I have it - Next year's winning strategy - Full frontal nudity!
Joyce - (a shocked and dismayed intake of breath, held for two moments, before an exhalation, dissolving into giggles, her eyes still uneasy, holding a note of sincere disapproval) Oh, you are awful!
===========================
mini homage-o-meter
[1] Pillow Talk, from the movie of the same name, starring Doris Day and Rock Hudson.
[2] Blue pajama ensembles from Pillow Talk:
[3] "Just A Little Lovin" from Dusty In Memphis
[4] Dusty Springfield, also nifty fan site
[5] Janice Joplin
[6 ] Disney version of Cinderella
[7 ] Bette Davis as Margo Channing in All About Eve
[8] Guy Williams as Zorro, probably from The Sign of Zorro (1958)
[9] Dietrich in a Tux (right) from Morroco
[10] Garbo, as Queen Christina. Leslie's costume combines the standing collar of Christina's formal attire with trousers and boots from the hunting scene.
[11] Dolly the sheep
[12] Think Boucher's arcadian shephardess (right) with a lab coat and test tube added. Joyce's artistic grandson suggested the genetic engineer idea and Dolly as the specific sheep part of this ensemble. Joyce made sure that this youngster left Sandford right quick, though he didn't need much prompting.
[13] Angela Lansbury as Jessica Fletcher in Murder, She Wrote
[14] Angela Lansbury as Miss Marple, in The Mirror Crack'd
[15] Alice in Wonderland and
[16] the White Rabbit (from the original Tenniel illustrations)