Foggy Cobbles

[RitaLittlewood]

Originally written between May 2003 and the 26th August 2007.

Part 1

Weatherfield, Manchester and the police were called after neighbours heard screams. When they arrived, they found the body of a man lying in a pool full of Status Quo CDs, beaten to death with the latest edition of the Weatherfield Gazette. But how did this poor man come to this grisly end? It all began six months earlier....

Les Battersby was in debt. He was always in debt but this time it was worse than ever. He'd pawned the taxi, which didn't make Steve McDonald too pleased so he was sacked, demanding he either got it back or gave back the money to buy a new one. Poor Les was stuffed. There was pounding on his front door. He thought someone was banging in time to Quo, then saw someone was outside so took his Pot Noodle to the door as he answered it. "Yeah?" he asked, stuffing some of the food in his mouth.
"We've come for the money or the taxi," one of the men stated. "Or we break your legs."
Les was shocked and nearly choked. "Yer can't break me legs!" he exclaimed. "I'm very attached to them!"
"Well you won't be if you don't do what we say," the other man said as he moved closer.
Les was petrified but hoped he wasn't showing it. "I'm not afraid of you."
The first man sniffed. "Smells like you are," he remarked. "We'll let you change your trousers as soon as we've concluded our business."
Les was feeling a lot of discomfort. "I'm getting it back today. Come back later and you'll have it."
The men gave each other a knowing look then nodded. "We'll be back in one hour. Don't disappoint us by coming up with the goods. We haven't done a leg breaking for years." With that they walked away and Les shut the door before rushing up the stairs.

A short while later, Les left by the back door. He was feeling very pleased with himself that he'd conned those two thugs until he heard them shout from the other end of the ginnel. Trying not to disgrace himself again, he ran like the clappers, falling through the door of a sprawling old mansion on the posh side of the town.
"You're late," he heard a voice say.
He looked up to see a fairly short balding man wearing a tank top with a pen hanging around his neck. "Eh?"
"You were expected here hours ago," the man continued.
Les slowly pushed himself up. "I was?"
"Madame is getting impatient," he went on much to Les's confusion. "Though I'd have thought you'd have dressed properly for the occasion."
"Max!" Les heard a woman yell. "Is he here at last or what?"
The man went through to the back while Les took the opportunity to peek around the doorframe and saw no sign of his pursuers.
"Yes, Madame," he yelled back. "And when are you going to stop calling me Max? You know only too well it's Norris."
"Whatever," the woman dismissed. "Just get his backside up here now."
Norris looked at Les. "Well, you heard her. Up the stairs."
Les felt like he'd stepped into some sort of loony bin, but reasoned anything was better than broken legs. He carefully made his way up and saw a woman in black waiting on the landing. He also noticed it was pretty gloomy despite the blazing sunshine outside. "Is this what undertakers are wearing these days?" she asked.
"Er... yeah," Les bluffed. "Try and make the ordeal less formal."
The woman gave an audible sigh. "Well, I suppose it'll have to do. It's this way." She began to walk towards the bedroom.
"There's a dead body in here?" Les screeched.
The woman stopped. "Yer in the wrong business if yer squeamish," she remarked. Les was too shocked to move so she dragged him practically kicking and screaming. "There," she said, pointing to the bed.
"A bin liner?" Les asked.
"It's a raincoat," the woman snapped.
"Where's the body then? Underneath?" Les asked again.
"It IS the body," she told him. "I were very fond of that raincoat. Loved it many a year. So I expect yer to give it a decent send-off. After all, that's what Max is paying yer for."
Les felt like laughing but thought better of it. They were both obviously escaped loonies, he decided. Still, if money was involved, he'd do anything. "Whatever you say, lady," he said. Suddenly Norris entered the room.
"What do you want, moron?" the woman barked.
"I'm afraid there's been a dreadful mistake, Madame," he panted after running all the way. "I don't know who this man is, but he's not here about the body."
The woman was visibly shocked. "What??" she said, her voice building up slowly to a crescendo. "Then who the hell are yer and what yer doing in me boudoir?"
"You invited me," Les replied.
"GET OUT!" she yelled.
He was about to go when something dawned on him. "Hang on."
"Max, get this imbecile out of me sight this second!" she ordered.
"Wait a minute," Les said. "I know you from somewhere. Ah. Got it. You're that singer Reet Littlewood! You used to be famous!" Reet didn't know whether to be flattered he'd remembered or pissed off for the used to be famous remark. "You were a big star."
"I AM a big star," she cried. "It's the records that got small."
"That's true," Les concurred. "You can even get 3-inch CDs."
Reet glared at him. "That's NOT what I meant, moron."
Les was desperate not to leave in case the thugs were out there somewhere so wracked his brains trying to think of something to say to prevent being chucked out. Trouble was, it wasn't that easy without a brain. Then he thought of something. "I was a massive fan of yours."
"WAS?" Reet raised an eyebrow.
"Am. Am," he corrected. "I've got all your records," he went on.
"I never made any records," she replied through gritted teeth.
"Er... what I meant was, I, er... would've had all your records if you made any," he stammered.
Reet nodded. "Well you'll be pleased to know I'm making a comeback so will finally get those records made."
"Great!" he said, forcing a smile.
"So, what do yer do when yer not pretending to be an undertaker?" she asked.
"I'm a songwriter," he lied.
Reet beamed. "Really?" Les nodded. "Excellent. Come downstairs with me and yer can tell me what you think of the ones I've written myself."
He watched her glide down the marble steps convinced she was insane. But it got him off the streets and gave his legs some breathing space so gladly followed.

Downstairs Reet was stretched out on the chaise longue surrounded by piles of sheet music. "Read this," she demanded, thrusting some paper at him as he entered the room. He crossed to her and took it, trying not to laugh as he read the lyrics she'd written. "Well?" she asked impatiently before swigging vodka.
"Er... yeah," he said.
"In't it marvellous?" she gushed. "I'll be number one with that. She noticed his reaction. "What?"
"Nowt," he lied, knowing two of those had ended.
She downed some more vodka. "Max!" she yelled at the top of her voice. "Get me intravenous NOW!!!!!!!" She turned her attention back to her guest. "If there's summat wrong, tell me."
"Well..." he began as he sat.
"Did I give yer permission to sit?" she asked, eyebrow raised.
He quickly stood. "Sorry."
"So yer should be," she told him. "Don't forget yer in the presence of greatness."
"Hardly likely to if you keep telling me, am I?" he snapped.
"Not my fault yer so thick yer need constant reminding," she snorted.
Les was near the end of his tether. The thugs and broken legs suddenly seemed a more enjoyable alternative. "Right," he said firmly. "You wanna know what's wrong with this?" She nodded. "Then I'll tell yer," he continued. "It's crap!" Reet was visibly shocked. "Number one?" he scoffed. "Wouldn't even get to number a zillion and one!"
Reet was getting irritated. "MAX!" she yelled again. "Where's me intravenous, yer lazy peasant?"
"I'm here, Madame" Norris puffed as he pushed the drip into the room. "I've only got one pair of hands, you know."
"Not for much longer if yer don't do as ordered!" Reet barked. "Attach me. I'm getting very dehydrated."
"Don't take it out on me just because your favourite raincoat's moth-eaten," he replied as he stuck the needle in her arm. "Though I never knew moths could eat plastic. Must be these genetically modified ones."
"Oh, shut yer wittering and release the vodka," she demanded. He turned the valve and she smiled as she felt the alcohol pump through her veins. "That's better," she sighed. "Yer can go now, Max."
"Gladly," he said then returned to the kitchen to get his kicks from the latest edition of 'Nosey Bastard Weekly'.
She was calmer now. "So," she said to Les, "yer say yer write songs?" He nodded, wary of what she'd say or do next. "Then perhaps yer can help me. I'll pay the going rate. I'm doing this for me true fans who've never deserted me."
Les thought for a second then agreed. "It's 500 quid a day."
Reet felt like she'd been kicked in the stomach at the thought of parting with so much money. "That's fine," she croaked. "Yer can take those to the guest suite and get cracking while I answer me trillions of fan mail."
Les didn't like the idea of staying in a house full of care in the community patients but knew it was that or broken legs. Plus he had the benefit of as much cash as he could wheedle out of the daft old bat. "Okay."
"MAX!" Reet screeched so high the glass in the room shattered.
"What is it now?" Norris asked impatiently.
"Take him to the guest suite pronto. He's going to help me with me songs," she said cheerfully.
Norris rolled his eyes. "Whatever. This way." With that he led Les out and to a grotty back room with holes in the walls, floor and ceiling. "You sleep here."
"Here?!" Les cried. "It's a rathole!"
"Take it or leave it," Norris sighed. Les thought for a minute and didn't want to give up all that money so easily. "Okay. Now go away and leave me in peace."
"Gladly," Norris said then went back downstairs.
Les pulled a face as he touched the sodden bedclothes. His thoughts were interrupted by sounds from outside. He crossed to the window and watched the funeral of a much-loved and much-missed raincoat. "Bonkers the lot of them," he said to himself. "Oh well. At least I'll make a few quid out of it."

To be continued.....

[RitaLittlewood]

Part 2

The following morning Les woke up to find the room looked even more disgusting in daylight, and all his belongings had mysteriously arrived and been unpacked as he'd slept. He went downstairs in his dirty underpants, completely forgetting to put some clothes on in front of his host, and marched into the lounge. "Oi," he said. "What do you fink you're playing at?"
Reet looked him up, then down, then up, then down then up again. "What are yer talking about?"
"All my fings up in the room," he explained.
"Oh, that," she dismissed. "I thought yer'd like something familiar around yer."
"But how did you know where I lived?" he asked.
"I read the script," she told him. "Now, put some clothes on, have some breakfast and we'll get on with the task at hand."
"What task?" he asked.
"The songwriting," she reminded.
"Ah," he said. "Okay." Then he went back upstairs.
"How typical," she said to Norris. "I finally get a real man in the house and he dresses like that. Things have got to be done about him and pretty sharpish."

Over the next few weeks, Les had been busy bluffing his way into conning as much cash out of Reet as possible before doing a runner. During this time she had bought him loads of posh clothes and fancy jewellery he'd already planned to pawn once he was back to normality, though quite enjoyed the lazy life. All he was required to do was eke out the task in hand and live the life of Riley. Occasionally he would have to suffer filmed footage of her singing appearances and pretend to enjoy it as well as putting up with her weird friends whenever they came around to play Twister. He would've preferred poker but she was having none of it. "Where's the fun in that?" she'd shrieked. "Touching each other up while trying not to dislocate anything at our age is far more exciting." Well he certainly hated being forced to join in while she touched him in places he'd rather she didn't - like anywhere. He had the use of her old Model T car, which was a cranky old thing at the best of times like its owner. He'd asked Norris why she didn't get something newer only to be told, "Madame feels they don't make cars like they used to." Well she'd got that right considering modern cars would actually start. While Les was having midnight drives as Reet slept and meeting up with his old friends, she was getting increasingly jealous and was far from asleep. Norris sensed what was going on in her mind and decided to confront their lodger when he returned one night.

Les pulled into the garage gone three in the morning. As he got out of the wreck, he spotted Norris in the corner. "Watcha, Norris," he greeted. "What's up?"
Norris looked very serious. "Madame is getting very upset with your constant disappearing when you think she is asleep."
"But she IS asleep," Les countered. "Her snoring rattles the whole house. You ought to do summat about that before the place collapses around yer ears."
Norris took a step closer out of the shadows. "Madame is only pretending to be asleep. When you have gone, she cries so much I have to attach the drip to rehydrate her again."
Les slammed the car door which then promptly fell off. "I fought she told me I could come and go as I want."
"That is correct," Norris replied. "But she is very highly strung and she gets worse when every man she loves dumps her."
"She don't love me," Les snorted.
"I'm rather afraid she does," Norris confided. Les panicked. "And when she is upset she can do terrible things to herself," Norris went on.
"Is that why there's no door handles?" Les asked.
"No," Norris said. "There are no door handles because she's too tightfisted to buy any."
Les sighed with relief. "I fought you were gonna say it was because she tried to kill herself."
"Well, she hasn't done it so far," Norris admitted. "But there's a first time for everything."
Les got worried. "Well I ain't gonna be blamed for her actions. I'm outta here as soon as possible, mate. Leave her to all her fan mail. She'll be more than happy."
"That wouldn't be such a good idea," Norris said slowly. "You see, I write all those letters to Madame. She has alienated all her fans."
"Well, that's nowt to do with me," Les replied.
"I don't think you understand, Mr Battersby-" Norris began.
"Oh, I understand perfectly, mate. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to bed. I'll be away from this nuthouse tomorrow as soon as I've slept off me hangover." Les barged past.
Norris worried more about his mistress's mental state if she ever found out about Les's behaviour or if he told her about him writing her fan letters.

Les awoke after 1pm. He pushed himself out of the bed and went downstairs giving Norris a knowing glance as he passed him.
"Sleep well, dahling," Reet asked as she got up and greeted him.
"Fine, fanks," he replied. "Don't suppose you've got any aspirin?"
"Of course I do," she said then clapped her hands. Les winced. "Max!" she yelled.
Norris appeared. "Yes, Madame?"
"Get Les dahling here some aspirin, would yer?" she said, not taking her eyes of Les.
"Certainly, Madame," Norris said then left.
Reet threw her arms around Les's midriff and held him tightly. "I was so worried yer were ill when yer didn't get up for breakfast."
"Just a headache," he lied.
She looked up at him. "Where did yer go last night?"
"Er..." Les said, her question catching him on the hop. "Just for a drive. Couldn't sleep."
Reet didn't believe a word of it but decided to pretend she did. "Oh, my poor baby," she purred as she stroked his thinning locks. "Well, I hope yer going to smarten yerself up for tonight."
"Tonight?" he asked.
"It's our New Year's Eve party. Don't tell me yer've forgotten," she told him.
"No," he lied again. "Course not."
She let him go. "Good. Party starts at ten. I'm off to get meself ready."
He looked at the clock. "But there's just under nine hours to go," he pointed out.
"Ah, yes," she smiled. "But a girl needs plenty of time to make herself look gorgeous." And with that, she blew him a kiss and wafted up to her boudoir.
"Nowhere near long enough fer you, lady," he muttered to himself as Norris re-entered the room. "What do you want?" Les snapped.
"Your aspirin, sir," he replied.
"Oh yeah. Sorry," Les said as he took the painkillers, wishing it was a hundred as he thought of the boring party ahead.

To be continued....

[RitaLittlewood]

Part 3

Les sat on his bed for as long as he could get away with rather than attend that party with Reet and her weird friends. Norris entered the room. "Oi!" Les yelled at him. "Haven't you heard of knocking first?"
"Don't be so ridiculous," Norris scoffed. "Only Madame's door needs knocking on."
"Yeah, while Madame needs knocking off," Les spat back. "Ever fought of it?"
"No, I most certainly have not!" Norris said.
"Ah. You're not in her will, huh?" Les suggested.
"I wouldn't know," Norris replied nonchalant. "Now, I'm here to take you downstairs to the party. Madame is getting very wound up at your absence."
Les thought of how he'd be out of there soon. "I'm coming," he sighed, grabbed his jacket and followed the servant down the great stairs.

When he arrived he was surprised to see a buffet, an orchestra and only himself and Reet. "Where's the others?"
Reet rose majestically and crossed to him. "There are no others," she breathed down his ear. "This party's for you, my dahling."
He swallowed hard. "Me?" he squeaked.
"Yes," she put her arm through his. "What do we want anyone else around for?"
Protection? he thought.
"Come and sit by me," she led him to the chaise longue, stretched out and pulled him close to her. He felt sick. Her perfume was making him gag and she looked like the living dead with that heavy, dark make-up on her pale face and that fright wig.
"Why the band then?" he asked. "Wouldn't a record or two have done just as well?"
She pushed him off. "No it most certainly wouldn't have done!" she yelled. "How am I supposed to sing to a record, idiot?"
"You're gonna sing?" he stammered.
"I most certainly am," she beamed.
"Right, I'm outta here." He got off the floor and headed for the door.
Reet sat up. "Where yer going?"
"As far away from you as possible so I can have a REALLY good booze-up!" he shouted.
"Don't lie to me, Leslie Battersby. I know you're going to that other woman yer've been taking midnight drives to see!" she barked back.
"If there WAS another woman, who can blame me after being stuck here with you all these weeks? I need human companionship not a mummified walking corpse!"
She rushed after him. "Yer'll regret this. Yer see if yer don't," she warned.
He turned at the door. "I don't fink so. See yer, Reet." He left slamming the door behind him.
"Yer'll be sorry!" she yelled then ran up the stairs.
Norris couldn't help overhearing since he had the kitchen door slightly ajar so he could listen clearly. "Uh-oh. Here we go again," he said to himself.

Les arrived back at his old house and let himself in. Kirk and Fiz had organised a rave in his absence and were shocked to she him come through the door.
"Les!" Kirk said.
"Ooh, 'eck," Fiz mumbled.
"What you doin' here? We thought you was dead," Kirk continued.
"Or wished I was," Les replied as he looked round. "What have yer done to me house?" he demanded.
"Don't yer like it?" Fiz piped in.
"Like it?" Les was really annoyed. "I hate it! Change it back at once!"
"But, Les," Kirk said. "The shops are shut."
"Oh," Les was still angry with Reet and her slave and realised it wasn't fair to take it out on Fiz and Kirk. After all, they were having a proper party. "Well, soon as the shops open again then." He put his arm around Kirk's shoulder and hugged him tightly. "Ooh, it's great to be back with normal people."
"Where've yer been, Les?" Fiz asked.
"Yer wouldn't believe me if I told yer. But it were a proper nightmare," he told them.
Just at that moment, the phone rang. Kirk answered it. "Yeah? Okay. It's fer you, Les. Someone called Norris."
"Tell him you've never heard of me," Les instructed.
"But I've just told him he can speak to yer," Kirk replied.
Les sighed and snatched the receiver, glaring at Kirk. "What d'yer want, Norris? What? I'll be right there." He hung up. "Gotta go. See yer soon." He dashed out the door before Fiz or Kirk could say anything else.

Les arrived back at Littlewood Towers and skidded on the waxed floor until he crashed into the wall. "Where is she?" he demanded to know of Norris.
"Upstairs. The doctor's with her now," Norris said gravely.
Les pushed himself up. "What happened?"
"After you left, she tried drowning herself in a bathful of vodka but ended up drinking it all instead. She is in a very bad way," Norris told him sadly.
"I'm not surprised after drinking that amount. I've seen how big her bath is, remember? It's the biggest swimming pool I've ever seen," Les remarked.
They looked up as they heard the doctor make his way down the stairs. "How is she, doctor?" Norris asked.
"She should make a full recovery," he told him. "In time. I'll let myself out. Good night and Happy New Year."
Norris breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness for that."
"Yes," Les agreed, wishing she had snuffed it but secretly glad she didn't since he knew he would be responsible and also didn't want to lose his cash cow. "I'll go up and see how she is." He was waiting for Norris to object but when he stayed silent, accepted his fate and slowly trudged up the stairs.

Reet was lying in bed with just a table lamp on over the other side of the room. She heard the door creak open and close.
"Reet?" Les called gently.
"Go away," she slurred.
"It's dark in here," he observed. "Run out of bulbs?"
"Of course I haven't!" she yelled. "Max sees to all that. Hic."
Les made his way across towards the bed and promptly tripped over a chair. "Flamin' hell! Yer could at least have a bit more light in here, yer cheapskate!"
"Get out! Hic," she sobbed.
"I ain't going nowhere," he told her as he got to his feet. "I'm gonna put some more lights on."
"Noooooooo!" she wailed. "I don't want yer to see me like this. I'm such a mess."
"So what's new?" he retorted. "Don't stop yer making me look at yer every day, does it?"
"Clear off!" she demanded. "Get back to yer fancy woman. Hic."
"What fancy woman?" Les asked.
"The one yer keep swanning off when yer think I'm asleep to see," she snapped. "Hic."
"Do yer honestly fink if I had a fancy woman I'd be stuck here wiv you?" he laughed.
"What are yer doing here now for then? Hic," she said. "Hoping I were dead and left yer summat in me will?"
"I-" he began, mentally imagining her vast wealth in his hands.
"Cos yer can forget that," she interrupted. "I'm gonna be cryogenically frozen and leave all me money to meself so I can enjoy all that accumulated interest in a hundred years time."
Bugger, he thought. "Of course I'm not here for yer money," he lied.
"What are yer doing here then?" she asked again.
"When Norris rang me-" he said.
"His name's Max!" Reet insisted.
"Okay," Les sighed. "When Max rang me and told me yer'd tried to top yerself, I was worried about yer. I've become very fond of yer, Reet. And I don't want yer doin' yerself in cos of me. I'm not worth it."
"Damn right yer aren't!" she remarked.
Les moved closer and sat on the side of the bed. "Reet..."
"Go away," she ordered. "Hic."
"Now yer know yer don't really want me to do that," he said quietly as he took her hands and removed them from her face. He felt bile rising as he saw her face but resolved to be brave. "I love yer, Reet."
"Love me?" she snorted. "More like yer love all the clothes and trinkets I give yer. Hic."
"Sod all that," he told her, trying to be as convincing as he could. "Take them all back. It's you I want, Reet, and only you."
She looked up at him through her thick, smudged mascara. "Do yer really mean that?"
"I wouldn't say it if I didn't," he lied again.
"Oh, Les, dahling..." she breathed and pulled him closer until his lips met hers and they snogged passionately...

To be continued....

[RitaLittlewood]

Part 4

Several months later and spring had well and truly sprung. Reet was living blissfully with Les, it being good having a man around who wanted her gorgeous body rather than her money or because she used to be somebody. He, on the other hand, hated the woman and the entire set up but did his duty as long as it saved him from the thugs, she kept buying him things he could pawn and there was a chance of being named in the will. "It's time to release my songs to the world," she announced one day and he cringed at the thought. He just nodded and carried on listening to Quo on his top of the range Walkman.
The phone rang and Norris dutifully answered it as Reet rushed in dragging a reluctant Les behind her. "Littlewood Towers. Granada Studios?" Reet beamed at Les on hearing those words. "Yes? Certainly." He hung up.
"Who was that?" Reet asked impatiently.
"Someone's secretary," Norris told her. "I didn't catch the name. Silly girl mumbled."
Reet was practically breathless with excitement. "It's got to be the chairman. He's the only one at Granada who'd ring. I knew he wouldn't forget me. What did he want?"
"To talk to you about something, Madame," Norris replied.
"Bring the car round at once, Max," she ordered. "And make sure it's well stocked with vodka!"
"Certainly, Madame," he said flatly, bowed and went to the garage after a quick detour to the cellar.
"Who's this chairman bloke?" Les said. "A rival?" he jokingly added.
"Yer don't have to worry yer pretty little head about uncle snookums," Reet cooed as she tickled him under the chin.
"Uncle snookums?" Les wondered.
"He's not me real uncle," she explained. "But he were very good to me many, many years ago."
"What does he want to see yer now for?" Les asked feeling threatened all of a sudden his life of idleness and luxury would be taken away from him.
"How would I know?" she shrieked. "Perhaps he's got a part for me. Come on. Max is waiting, as is uncle snookums." She dragged him outside and into the car. "Granada studios, Max and put yer foot down!"
"In this museum piece?" Les chuckled. "Might blow up if it goes over 5 miles and hour."
"Oh, shurrup," Reet scowled.
Norris released the handbrake and off they went towards Salford. Reet guzzled her vodka then tapped on the glass partition. "Yes, Madame?"
"Stop at the nearest off licence, Max," she ordered. "The vodka's run out. Yer didn't put in enough as usual."
"Sorry, Madame," he replied. "I thought it would be since it's only a 10 minute drive."
"Well, it in't," she snapped. "Hurry up! I can't see uncle snookums if I'm dehydrated, peasant!"
"No, Madame," Norris sighed and pulled over. "Discount off licence as requested."
"Not requested, idiot," she corrected. "Demanded. Les, dahling. Pop in and get me 5 crates, there's a good boy. Max, give him some money."
Norris did as he was told and Les got out, wondering if he could swipe some of this cash without her knowing. "I want a receipt!" he heard Reet yell and inwardly cursed. He wandered around the shop and asked a shelf stacker for the 5 crates.
"Hello, Les," a familiar voice said.
He turned round. "Hiya Fiz. What you doing here? Is Kirk with yer?"
"No," she said. "Kirk's come down with some sort of lurgy so I'm here getting him some medicine and thought I'd get meself summat while I were at it."
"Best sort of medicine to get yer on yer feet again," Les smiled.
"Shouldn't that be, best sort to lay yer flat on yer back?" she frowned.
"Yeah, suppose it should be," he chuckled.
"Where yer been, Les?" she asked. "Yer disappear for weeks, pop up on New Year's Eve for a while then begger off again."
"You don't wanna know," he said flatly.
"I do," she replied. "Otherwise I wouldn't be asking."
"Let's just say I'm trying to get some money sorted," he told her. "The way things are going, I'll be well minted and back before you know it." He hugged her tightly, glad to see a friendly face but his face fell when he saw Norris enter and let Fiz go.
"What's up?" she wondered.
"Nuffin," he lied.
"Les..." Norris said. "Madame is getting impatient."
"That old bag's ALWAYS impatient!" Les barked.
"Who's Madame?" Fiz frowned.
"I told yer, yer don't wanna know," he said sadly. "Tell her I'm coming."
"And how many times have you told her that?" Norris remarked. "No wonder she gets impatient."
"I'm not discussing me sex life with you," Les said embarrassed.
"Perhaps not," Norris continued. "But Madame does all the time and says you'll never be a patch on Alan Bradley."
"Alan Bradley?" Les snorted.
"Now there was a REAL man who never had any trouble pleasing Madame," Norris added wistfully.
"You told me her tried to kill her," Les pointed out.
"He did," Norris replied.
"Obviously sick of her nagging, demanding, being impatient and never satisfied!" Les remarked. "I know the feeling."
"They had a very passionate love life," Norris defended. "And him trying to kill her had nothing to do with any of the reasons you claim."
"What were it then?" Les chuckled. "Some sort of kinky sex?"
"Certainly not!" Norris cried. "Enough of this or I'll send Madame in to drag you out where it hurts."
Les grimaced at the thought. "Here's yer money," he said as he handed it over. "You pay. I'll be along as soon as I've said goodbye to my friend."
"You'll be along as soon as I've paid," Norris said firmly then went to join the queue.
"Who were that?" Fiz gasped.
"Never mind," Les dismissed. "I've gotta go. Remember me to Kirky."
"Yer not gonna disappear again, are yer?" she asked.
"I have to. I'm sorry. Nice to see yer again though, Fiz. Hopefully it won't be so long next time," he said sadly then followed Norris out like an obedient puppy.
Fiz crossed to the window to have a look at this Madame and was disgusted when she spotted the old woman snog Les passionately as he got back in the car and the chauffeur drove off. "My Kirky will NEVER believe this," she said to herself.

A few minutes later Norris pulled up at Granada studios and switched the engine off. "Now what, Madame?"
"Open the flamin' door, peasant!" she yelled. "I've got to see uncle snookums."
Norris sighed heavily as he got out and opened her door.
"What about me?" Les asked.
She cupped his chin in her hand and stroked it affectionately making him feel ill as he felt the rough leather of her skin. "Yer wait for me here. I probably won't be long but yer never know with uncle snookums."
"And what am I meant to do just sat here? Apart from getting a numb bum," he wondered.
"Don't worry, darling," she purred. "I'll make it up to yer later." With that she gave him a passionate kiss, winked and got out, heading inside.
Les wiped his mouth roughly. "Ere, Norris. Got any disinfectant and a very large bucket?" Norris ignored him. "Sod this. If the old bag comes back before I do tell her I've gone to the bog." With that he let himself off and disappeared.

Meanwhile inside, Reet was struggling to get past reception.
"But I had a call from uncle snookums," she repeated for the umpteenth time. "I keep telling you I've GOT to see him!"
"And I keep telling you he's resigned," the receptionist said through gritted teeth. "There's a temp in charge because no one wants the job."
Reet rolled her eyes. "I'll see him then," she sighed heavily.
"Do you have an appointment?" she was asked.
"Are yer totally dense?" she shrieked? "How could I have an appointment when I came here expecting to see me old mate uncle snookums?"
"If you carry on behaving like that I'll have security throw you out," the girl warned.
"This would never have happened when uncle snookums was in charge," Reet said. "Can't yer phone and ask if the temp'll see me?"
"All right. But I'm not promising anything," she replied as picked the receiver up. "Name?"
Reet was stunned. "Surely yer know who I am." The girl shook her head. "I'm the famous and world-renowned Reet Littlewood."
"Never heard of you," the girl told her, her face a blank.
Reet nearly collapsed in shock. "Everyone's heard of me!"
"Not me," she said. "I'll ask my great-granny when I get home."
That did it for Reet. "Great-gra...." she gasped then collapsed in shock.
Norris had seen the events from outside, called Les then dashed inside. "What happened?
Les entered and saw her lying prone and motionless on the floor. "Snuffed it at last?" he asked hopefully.
Norris shook his head. "Just out cold."
"Damn!" Les cursed. "I knew it were too good to be true. That old cow'll outlive us all."
Norris looked up at the receptionist. "What happened here?"
"Search me," the girl shrugged. "I just said I'd never heard of her and would ask my great-granny."
Les couldn't help laughing at that. "If yer've got a great-great granny, yer should try asking her an' all."
Norris stooped and grabbed her head. "Get hold of her legs. We'll get her back to the car and take her home."
"You expect me to carry her?" Les shrieked. "Hey, love. Got a forklift around here?"
"She's not that heavy," Norris defended.
"Then yer can manage her yerself. See yer in about ten hours when yer've got her in the car. Just don't start complaining when yer back goes." With that he was gone again.

As Norris struggled with Reet, Les was busy catching up with some old friends.
"Hey, Fiz!" he called. "Kirk!"
"Are you going to disappear as soon as you're told to?" she asked.
"More than likely," he told her solemnly. "Me life isn't me own with that millstone round me neck."
"Who is she, Les?" Kirk butted in before Fiz could speak.
"Don't ask," Les sighed.
"When are you coming home?" Fiz said, covering Kirk's mouth with her hand.
"Soon," he said optimistically. "I just need the fleece the old crone out of a few more quid then I'll leave."
"Fiz said you snogged her," Kirk added.
"Can I help it if I'm a stud muffin, even when it comes to dried up old prunes?" Les replied. "But I don't enjoy it. Who would? I think of my Cilla every time I have to touch it. How is she anyway? Missing me as much as I'm missing her?"
Kirk shrugged. "No idea, mate. She ran off to Vegas after you vanished. Probably been deported as soon as she arrived."
Les was crestfallen. "How could she do that? I shouldn't be surprised after what yer told me, Fiz. What about Chesney?"
"We're looking after him," Fiz said.
"Les!" Norris called.
Les looked round and sighed. "Oh well. Back into me nightmare. See yer soon."

Norris bristled when he noticed Fiz stroking Les's face and giving him a kiss. "You better hope Madame doesn't find out about you two," he warned as Les neared.
"What are yer going on about now?" he frowned. "If yer mean Fiz, she's a friend. Not that it's any of yer business."
"She better be," Norris said. "You know what Madame's temper is like when she's jealous."
"Woken up yet, has she?"
Norris shook his head. "Still out."
"Sure she's not dead?" he asked hopefully.
"Hardly!" he chuckled. "Constitution of an ox."
"Weighs and smells as much as one an' all," Les quipped. "She won't be happy she never got to see her uncle snookums."
"Nor what they really called the house about," Norris said.
"Oh aye?" Les's curiosity was aroused. "Anything good?"
"No. They wanted to use it for a Halloween special called 'Scary Houses and Even Scarier Occupants'," Norris told him.
Les burst out laughing. "Very appropriate!"
"She must never know," Norris insisted.
"Okay, okay," Les ceded. "I won't say a word. Unless I'm provoked. So yer better get her treating me better or I'll tell her about that and everything else I know."
"Dahling?" they heard weakly from inside the car. "Comfort me, dahling. I'm hurt."
Les closed his eyes. "If I have to stay round you two much longer she'll soon know the meaning of being hurt. Just remember what I said, Norris." He opened the car door and got in. "I'm here, sweetheart," he forced himself to say and tried not to shudder and she practically suffocated him as she pulled him tightly to her.
Norris closed the door. "Think you can threaten me, do you, Leslie Battersby? I'll show you," he mumbled to himself, looking daggers at Les, while he turned the cranking handle then got in and drove them home.

To be continued....

[RitaLittlewood]

Part 5

Several days later, Reet was in pieces. She clutched the latest issue of the Weatherfield Gazette and couldn't stop crying.
"How could he do this to me?" she wailed.
"He's an ungrateful swine, madame," Norris told her, pleased his plan had worked.
"It must be a mistake," she then said, worrying Norris. "Someone set him up. Someone who wants me all to himself, perhaps?" She looked directly at Norris, eyebrow raised in that threatening manner of hers.
"Why would I be jealous?" he blustered. "What we had is past."
"What yer wished we had more like," she snapped, eyes narrowed. "Don't yer think I know all about yer fantasies where yer claim yer me ex-husband? All me lovers told me, yer know. I NEVER have ex-husbands. I have rich dead ones!"
"We're not talking about me," Norris said, trying to get back to the original subject.
"Yes we are," she stated. "Yer've been against Les since the start. I saw the way yer looked down yer nose at him. I'm surprised yer never went cross-eyed."
"Confront him about it then if he's so innocent, Madame," Norris suggested.
"Oh, do yer worry, peasant. I certainly intend to do that," she replied firmly.
"Then you'll find out for yourself how untrustworthy he is and is only using you. He'll be out on his ear in no time," he said with confidence.
"And if it's NOT true, peasant," Reet growled, "it's YER who'll be out and not on their ear! Now, where is he?"
"In his room, Madame," he said, trying not to get too excited at the prospect of Les being kicked out without a penny.
Reet downed five bottles of vodka before standing. "Right. Now we'll see who's the liar, peasant." She swept out and marched to Les's room, hoping deep down her Les would never betray her like that. She opened the door and was shocked to see him packing. "What yer doing?" she screeched.
"I always knew yer were fick," he spat back, "but this is the fickest yet." He pointed to the bag on the bed. "This is a bag," he continued in a patronising tone. "This is me stuff. I'm putting the stuff in the bag and clearing off. Simple enough explanation for yer or do yer want me to draw yer pictures?"
Reet fell against the wall. "Yer going to her?"
"Her who?" he asked.
"HER!" she yelled, throwing the paper at him.
He took it and laughed. "That's me mate Fiz. Kirky's girlfriend. Not a bad picture of me mind."
She dashed over to the bed and clutched him tightly. "But yer can't leave me! I won't let yer!"
"And what are yer gonna do?" he laughed.
"I can do plenty," she warned, eyes narrowed.
"Plenty of boozing," he said. "Which is all yer capable of cos let's face it, love, yer a lousy singer and even worse lover."
"But yer love me!" she wailed.
"I used yer, yer stupid old bag," he growled, pushing her to the floor. "Why do yer fink I stayed as long as I did? Yer body? Had to try and stop meself frowing up every time I even had to look at yer, never mind doing owt else. It was yer cash and I wanted and now I've got quite a good chunk of it, ta very much." He zipped the bag and slung it over his shoulder.
She grabbed his legs as he began to walk away. "I won't let yer go!"
"Get lost, yer old cow," he snarled as he kicked her off before heading out of the room.
Reet seethed. She picked up the paper and chased after him, finally catching up with him by the manky pool. "I'm Reet Littlewood and NO ONE walks out on me, especially with me cash!" With that she began to batter him with the paper. "Max were right," she yelled with each blow. "Yer nowt but a peasant!" As Les fell into the pool, she dropped the paper and returned to his room, looking around. She spotted some things he'd left behind, snatched them up, opened the window and hurled them out at his prone form. "I'll take me cash back and yer can take these!"
"Ow! Watch it, Madame!" Norris yelled from the patio.
"Don't get in the way, peasant! That rat needs sorting!" she hissed.
"The rat's dead, Madame," Norris pointed out.
Reet stopped. "He can't be. I haven't finished with him yet."
"I'm afraid he is and I'm going to have to call the police," he told her.
"The police?" she gasped. "Get everything back I gave him then chuck him out with the rest of the rubbish."
"But when they find him they're bound to come here and ask questions," he explained. "It needs reporting."
"No one even knows he were here," she chuckled. "It's quite safe."
"His friends, Madame," Norris unhelpfully replied.
Reet's face fell. "Oh. Well can't we say he left weeks ago?" Norris shook his head. "Yer can't call the police. They'll lock me up and can't do that. I'm a star! I'm Reet Littlewood!" She turned away, a tear rolling down her face. "I'm Reet Littlewood," she said in defiance softly to herself, "and no one can touch me."

Norris didn't need to call the police for a short while later they arrived to investigate the scene while Reet trilled happy to herself in her boudoir. She was interrupted by a knock on the door which creaked open.
"Madame?" Norris said warily.
"How many times have I ordered yer not to interrupt me singing, peasant?" Reet barked.
"I'm sorry, madame," he grovelled. "Only there's someone here to see you."
Reet's face lit up. "Fans?"
"Police," he told her.
"Police fans?" she asked hopefully.
Norris shook his head. "They want to talk to you about Les Battersby."
"Who?" she asked innocently.
"Leslie Battersby," a policeman interrupted as he pushed past Norris.
"Never heard of him," she replied as she downed more vodka.
"The body in your pool," he stressed.
"There's a body in the pool?" she gasped. "Max, call the police quick!"
The policeman looked at Norris. "Is she...?"
"Quite," Norris nodded.
"Max, call the police," she urged. "The man says there's a body in me pool."
"I AM the police, madam," he told her.
"Oh thank goodness yer here," she said. "Did yer know there's a body in the pool?"
The policeman rolled his eyes. "Yes, madam," he sighed in frustration. "That's why we're here. We want to ask you some questions about your relationship with the deceased."
"Len?" Reet blinked innocently.
The policeman looked puzzled.
"Madame's first husband," Norris explained.
"Not Len," the policeman told her, growing more annoyed by the second.
"Alan?" she asked.
"Not Alan, whoever he is," the policeman growled through gritted teeth.
"Former lover," Norris said. "Conned her out of seven thousand pounds, stole the deeds to her house then tried to kill her."
"I'm beginning to understand how he felt," the policeman noted. "Not Alan."
Reet frowned. "Ted?"
Norris caught the policeman's expression. "Madame's second husband."
"How many men has this woman killed?" the policeman said in exasperation.
"Oh she didn't kill them," Norris quickly pointed out.
The policeman looked blankly at him. "You surprise me." He turned his attention back to Reet who was admiring herself in the mirror while downing more vodka. "Leslie Battersby."
Reet stopped and slowly put her bottle down. "Leslie Battersby," she mused. "Now where have I heard that name before?"
"He was your lover," the policeman snapped then composed himself. "And now he's lying dead in that pool."
"He's dead?" Reet gasped. "In the pool?"
The policeman put his head in his hands and felt banging his head against a brick wall was an easier option.
"Eh, who said he were me lover?" she barked. "Do I look desperate?"
The policeman stopped himself answering that one.
She glared at Norris. "Were it Max? Cos if it were, take no notice of him. He always were jealous cos I keep telling him to jump off the nearest cliff when he tries owt."
"We have witnesses, Miss Littlewood, who have seen you and the deceased together on numerous occasions," the policeman told her.
"Len?" she asked.
The policeman threw his notebook and pen in the air. "I give up!"
"Nice chatting to yer," Reet said. "Want me autograph before yer go?"
"No I do not want your autograph!" the policeman yelled.
Reet was taken aback by his reaction. "How dare yer talk to a star like that! Yer clearly an escaped loony. I'm loved all over the world! Max, see this peasant out." She picked the vodka bottle up again and swigged. "Embrace me, my sweet embraceable you," she sang to her reflection. "Embrace me, you irreplaceable you..."
"Wait downstairs," Norris said quietly to the policeman. "I know how to get her out."
"Good luck," the policeman said as he picked up his notebook and pen and left.
"You and you alone bring out the gypsy in me," Reet continued singing.
"Madame," Norris said nervously.
"I love all the many charms about about you," she went on, ignoring him.
"ITV have just been on the phone," he said.
"Don't be a naughty baby. Come to mama, come to mama do. My sweet embraceable you." She stopped when what Norris said permeated through her head and turned to face him. "ITV did yer say?" He nodded. "What did they want?"
"They're planning a new music show and hope you'll be the star," he lied.
"I AM a star!" she screeched. "I hope yer told them that."
"Of course, Madame," he nodded. "They said you will sing constantly throughout it. They want you to go to their office so they can discuss money."
Reet's eyes lit up. "Money?"
He nodded. "They're willing to offer you millions only you have to go right now or they'll hire Antony Cotton."
"But he's not a star!" she shrieked. "He can't even sing and in't fit to lick me diamond encrusted shoes! Give us a chance to put me face on."
"But Madame," he began, "they can't wait that long. They sent a car which is waiting for you outside. It has to be now."
"I can't go looking like this!" she cried. "I must look me best for me fans!"
Norris was tempted to ask what fans but bit his tongue. "I explained all that to them but they say they don't care what you look like. Are you willing to risk losing millions just so you can do your panda eyes?"
Reet threw the empty bottle at him. "Watch it, peasant, or yer'll be next in that pool!"
"They'll only wait half an hour, Madame," he went on desperately. "Then it will be Antony Cotton. All those millions going to him instead of someone who deserves them."
Reet glanced at her reflection dreamily. "Millions...." She snapped out of it and got up. "What yer stood there for? Get me shiny mac!"
Norris grinned as he left the room with Reet following, salivating at the thought of all that money.
"Miss Littlewood?" the policeman said.
"Are yer from ITV?" she asked impatiently.
"Er..." He looked at Norris. "Yes we are. Are you ready?"
Norris helped her on with her coat. "Ready as I'll ever be. Take me to the millions!"
And so Reet was carted off for the murder of Les Battersby. But did she stay locked up?

The End

Patsy