A Very, Very Naughty Girl

"For what purpose?"

Kitty smiled reassuringly, "To go with my interview you in our small newspaper Lady Gregory."

"Very well but if the word 'lady' appears in your article I'll storm into your office and haul you out into Main Street and tar and feather you. Do you understand Kitty?"

"Yes Greer," Kitty said bravely. "But what if the editor inserts the title over my protests?"

"Who is the owner-publisher and probably editor?"

"Shaun Black."

"Ah, Shaun took over his father's business. Tell him Kitty, and excuse my language, if he does that I'll be in to rip out his balls."

"Yes ma'am, I mean Greer," Kitty said turning white.

Jake was ready to take the photograph.

"Please advise me about my pose Kitty. Tell me if I have enough breast top showing or do you want more and for fuck sake don't allow me to show any hint of a double chin."

"God you are a pleasure to work with Greer," said the girl aged nineteen or twenty. "Mom asks to be remember to you. She was Eileen Hansen."

"Ah Eileen, our sports mistress and was so hugely popular because of her amazing manner. I loved her and used her as one of my role models."

"Who mom?"

"She's around fifty now darling and beginning to slow down. When I first met her entering high school in Form Three she was very athletic, glamorous and exciting. You ought not underrate your mother. Okay, let's get this farce on the road."

Greer took them to her bach for lunch.

"I thought with your huge success as a writer you'd be living in a palatial residence in the town?" Kitty said, clearly carrying on her interview.

"Darling when I was huddled in dank and inadequately heated digs in London that was all I could afford on my writing scholarship, a blanket over my shoulders tapping out my first novel on an old Imperial typewriter I dreamed of being at this bach where I grew up over summers and most weekends, where even in winter it was often near freezing but never bleak. Even after my marriage to wealthy Archer Gregory and moved into our palatial apartment I still dreamed of summers back here at the beach. But that early depravation and later luxury living added dimension to my life and therefore to my writing."

"Will you write here, about New Zealand?"

"Yes, I commenced two days ago writing about this very beach set in the mid 1860s. My working title is 'Back at the Beach' because that is what my feeling is being back here. The commercial title will be nothing like that but I don't want to think about that."

"Greer this is a lovely lunch and I really don't wish to spoil my time with you but I'm not the reporter I want to be unless I push this. Please understand."

"Okay, yes."

"Yes what?" asked Kitty uncertainly.

"I withdraw my threats about any use of my title. You can quote me as saying this: Through my marriage to the eldest son of a Marquess who took his father's subsidiary title, the Earl of Rymer, I carry the title of the Countess of Rymer and normally would be addressed as Lady Rymer. But it was my preference not to use the title when I first married because I didn't want people thinking I married for the title. I had been assured people would think the worst of me and so I wanted to make it quite clear this young author from New Zealand was not a social crawling bitch. From there I decided to leave the title in abeyance permanently, despite people in the know always tagging me with the title that dies with me when I die"

"Um do you want me to quote that phrase 'social crawling bitch'?"

"Certainly Kitty; I'm telling you how it was. Well my publisher suggested it would be advantageous to my book sales to write as Countess Greer Gregory. I said to Mac my publisher that if he made any attempt to do that I'd leave him spiked with my shoe through his groin and break my contract and move to another publisher. I can't really say if that threat worked but that issue has never again been raised between us. You must understand Kitty I write to the image I see myself as, a girl walking barefoot through the sands of this beach composing stories in my head. It could have been catastrophic for me as an already established author to begin visualising me being a courteous, correct speaking and never swearing countess. Ohmigod, no woman true to her heritage would even think of making a switch like that."

Kitty said she probably could think of dozens of females who would.

"Darling, I did preface that comment with the words, 'No woman true to her heritage'. Now I didn't serve wine because you'll be driving and young Jake is still a teenager. Is this the end of this entirely unnecessary interview?"

"Ah just a brief recount of family details and living in town and here at the beach."

Next morning Greer's neighbour on the seaward side came running, red-faced and carrying a tabloid newspaper. She knocked shouting, "Lady Gregory, Lady Gregory... quickly come and see this... it's all about you."

Greer left her laptop and invited Mrs Fabish in. Mrs Fabish who'd merely waved a greeting until now appeared ready to curtsy. "Go pour two coffees please Annie while I read this bullshit."

"Yes ma'am."

"Cut the crap Annie or else I'll call you Mrs Fabish."

"Yes ma'am."

Greer groaned. Oh what had she done allowing the crappy local newspaper to interview her. She was unaware that a copy of the interview with a digital copy of the pictures of her in bikini and posing alongside the stack of her thirteen novels and holding her premier award for writing had been sent to newspapers throughout the country.

To her surprise Greer found the article difficult to fault though she thought it was inappropriate to blast the photo of her in a bikini all over the front page. Christ she was an author, not a long-in-the tooth beach babe.

She went to the town with documents and various legal papers for her appointment with Wendy at 10:00.

The receptionist jumped to her feet and said brightly, "Good morning Lady Gregory."

Greer squinted a little at the name-tag and said, "Good morning Lisa. In future please address me as Greer and that goes for everyone. Please pass the word."

"Yes certainly Lady Gregory."

"Lisa!"

"Ohmigod, yes Greer. Please don't impale me by the groin with your shoe."

People in the room overhearing that looked aghast and when Greer laughed, Lisa laughed and everyone joined in. The noise brought Wendy from her office and she replicated Greer's voice rather well: "Don't you dare call me Lady Gregory otherwise I'll peg you still in your panties to the clothesline."

The screaming laughter brought Peter and his client out. He identified who it was and said, "Hi Greer, you bikini uncovered you brilliantly."

For some reason the entire office thought that was hilarious so Greer fled towards Wendy's office yelling, "Everyone, please call me Greer."

"God two minutes in our offices and you've already established yourself as our most revered client. How do you do it?"

"Sheer personality?"

"Add outspokenness and inventiveness with a touch of theatrics and eccentricity and I could be tempted to accept that."

"Oh are you also a novelist darling?"

Wendy collapsed on to her chair, shaking with laughter.

* * *

At 6:00 each morning as Greer had done since the day after buying her vehicle, she drove the eleven miles into town to undertake her fitness regime on the gym circuit and she finished by swimming sixty lengths of the pool. After fresh squeezed fruit juice and a low-fat muffin after showering Greer was ready to take on the world. She drove home leisurely, waving to the beach folk who had waved to here, en route to deliver kids to school and/or to go to work.

At 10:00 Greer headed back to the town. Kitty was talking to the only other person in the small newsroom when the receptionist escorted Greer to Shaun Black's office. If Greer had noticed Kitty in the room she didn't display any recognition.

The senior reporter sitting beside Kitty said, "Oh God, the bitch is here to complain about your interview and for the newspaper for placing the bikini pic on the front page instead of the one of her with her novels."

"I-I don't believe so and please don't call her a bitch. She's just such an adorable person. Life just flows from her."

"Gawd, you are talking like a lesbian."

"Shut you mouth or I'll fill it with your broken teeth."

"Gawd Kitty, what's got into you?"

"I'm adopting Greer as my primary role model."

"Oooh, it's Lady Kitty I presume," said Shelley Cross.

"Right Shelley..." Kitty dropped her slapping hand on hearing laughter from behind Shaun's closed door.

"She probably was seduced by Shaun in their final year at high school."

"You mean Shaun was capable of tailing a babe with all that class?"

"From what I gather from mom she was guy-shy when it came to dating but was one of the boys if it was fighting, or swimming out to the reef at the beach or scaling the cliffs of McLeod's quarry."

"A real tom boy?"

"It appears so. Mom said in their final year Greer won the school dux award, the Buxton Literary prize, the athletics award and when the seventh form voted on their choice of the person most likely to succeed in life Greer won 90% of the vote."

"Cor, one hot chick eh?"

"It may interest you to know she said nothing about those awards to me and I'd all but asked what awards did she win and she said could we move on. I took that to mean she was embarrassed about winning no awards."

"What a sweet darling. I really can picture her being embarrassed at going up for those awards, thinking there were more deserving classmates."

"That's exactly what mom said she'd felt that day -- except for the Buxton Lit Award. Mom said Greer worked for that from day one and staff believed she'd could have taken it when in the 4th, 5th and 6th forms had the award not been restricted to seventh formers. She did English lit at university where she won a writing scholarship that gave her residency in England for three years."

"Quickly," Shelley warned. "Look busy; Shaun's door has opened."

They looked up when Shaun had reached the stairs and stood aside to let Greer go down first. Greer waved and said, "Hi Kitty -- I like your hair up like that. Up for business, down for play don't you think?"

"Thanks for that awesome tip Greer."

Shaun returned to them five minutes later and Kitty was relieved to see him looking anything but angry.

"It was so great catching up with Greer again," he smiled.

"Did you remember shafting her?"

Shaun shuffled and then said, "Christ Shelley, you can't ask a guy a question like that about any woman let alone a celebrity."

"For what reason did she drop in?"

"To tell me in her opinion Kitty is showing the talent to become a top journalist opinion and to berate me for putting the bikini pic on the front page and enlarging it. She asserted she recognizes that showing an author can relax just like anyone else may have been my intention but who'd want their newspaper front page filled by an aging woman of thirty-three almost unclothed. I said I bet letters to the editor over that front-page pic would run five to one in favour and she said looking at me blandly, "Have you ever received six letters from readers in any one week Shaun? I said yeah and she said bullshit and we had a good laugh."

"Isn't she something Shaun?"

"Yes Kitty, she's tops. She was a favourite of your mother you know."

"I didn't until mom told my this morning. Shaun I believe she's on track to become a legend in this town. This town has produced no real celebrities that I can recall from reading district history."

"You might be right. I've agreed to publish a paragraph on the front page on Thursday signed by me that following publication of our lead article in Tuesday's edition, author and returned local resident Mrs Greer Gregory wishes to make it known if anyone addresses her using her ladyship title in her presence they are likely to be hung in their panties or underpants on the clothesline. If they only have a tumbler dryer, guess what? She says even children are welcome to call her Greer."

Shelley brayed, "She's wrapped you around her little finger. God what she wants you to write is funny."

"Yeah, and it may also interest you to know she'd donated five hundred bucks to our annual Easter Bunny fun morning we organize for kids."

"Gawd you were right Kitty. Greer certainly doesn't have a finger up her bum."

Shaun growled, telling Shelley not to be so foul-mouthed. "You've earned your next grading rise almost on the strength of that one article Kitty, effective from next pay day."

Greer had worked through to almost 2:00 am Thursday morning and was pulled from sleep just after 7:00 by a phone call.

"Hi you thieving bitch stealing my line."

"Pardon me but who is calling?"

"It's Wendy you idiot calling about your plagiarism in stealing my creative line about hanging up bad people in their panties."

"Borrowing your line yes but it has to be original to be plagiarism doesn't it? Anyway I owe you two a dinner. Friday night, any time you wish."

"Oh darling, 8:00 for drinks will be fine. You've stirred up the town so much we've had an exceptionally busy week. Have you seen the local rag?"

"No but I expect my near neighbour Annie Fabish will be in soon about my panel on the front page."

"Which one, the one featuring plagiarism or the one from the editor crowing about the record number of letters theEC News has received."

"What seven letters?"

"No you idiot -- Shaun has published four pages of them, picked from the ninety-seven received at the time the newspaper went to bed."

"Went where?"

"It's a newspaper term. I think it means the same as going to press."

"But theNews is fully computerized and is imaged straight to plate. Those old terms surely don't apply?"

"Well in my book going to bed means the pages have passed from editorial and production to plate-making. Anyway how do you know about this hi-tech stuff?"

"One of my heroines ran a newspaper that changed from hot-metal to so-called cold type which really means photo-imaging. I had to do the research so I knew what I was writing about."

"Ohmigod, tell me about the titles you research before writing about your heroines' hot sex?"

"Oh I don't read up on that; I just invite a couple of likely lads to visit me at night."

"Gawd Greer, you are a fucking liar."

They laughed and when the call cut Greer fell back to sleep to be shaken awake an hour later by Mrs Fabish who knew which flower pot the spare key was kept under on the porch and now thought she knew Greer well enough to barge in.

"Ohmigod, you sleep in the raw?"

"Yeah Annie so no coming on strong to me."

"Well actually I have been involved in that since my late teens."

"Get away from me you big lesbian bitch!"

Annie hurriedly took two steps back and looked mortified until she caught the grin. "You bitch Greer, you scared the crap out of me just then. God I don't think I've ever known such a livelier woman than you. You're like a cheeky tom boy who's never quite grown up."

"Oh Annie I'm sorry to have startled you. If you must know I had a super hot time when I first arrived in London and joined a group of female writers not realizing all were partial to a bit of pussy."

"Oh no, don't tell me... I'll only repeat what you've told me."

"That's excellent Annie -- when I suddenly gain heaps of new female friends I'll know you have been putting it about, verbally."

Annie groaned and said she needed to sit down. Greer jumped out of bed, pulled on a pair of panties and a flimsy dress and said she'd put on a bra later. "Now let me see what the rag has to say about me."

The only adverse letter was from funeral director Tony Corban. Greer told Annie he was sour because her father won the men's championship at Spreydon Bowling Club for thirteen straight years and then left the club, allowing Tony to win his first senior title. Greer read out that letter.

Who does this Miss Greer Walsh think she is, taking up the entire front page of my local newspaper to flaunt her body at us like that? Okay she may have married an earl and has come home as widow Greer Gregory but I see no need for her to rub our noses in it. I bet she is doing this to try to sell more of her novels. Please return your front page to the top news page in your esteem newspaper Mr Editor.'

Editor's footnote: Greer statement she was married to an earl checked out independently as being correct. We have received fifteen letters, mainly from women, but not published due to insufficient space, the consensus being what a great body Greer has for a thirty-three year old. I must say before the first letter about the article arrived Greer had expressed disappointment to me that I used that pic on the front page. For you information Mr Corban at the last count two months ago international sales of Greer Gregory's novels, mainly paperbacks, stood at 9,833,213. I obtained that figure from her publisher in the UK.

"Ohmigod, ten million novels. You are in the mega sales category. Why didn't you tell Kitty the reporter you have sold almost ten million novels instead of saying you've been successful with sales?"

Greer lowered her eyes and Annie said, "Ohmigod, no way are you shy but I can see you can be modest."

Greer ploughed through the letters with great interests from correspondents who were not only fans of her as an author but others included her former ballet tutor, Kitty's mom, her pony club tutor, a former captain of the surf club who described how young Greer always 'pulled beyond her weight' and amassed thirteen individual rescues where without her intervention their might have been drownings and several former schoolteachers. Perhaps the letter Greer liked most from Mrs Angus (83):

I was circulation manager forEC News for thirty-four years and looked up copies of my old records to refresh my memory. Greer Walsh as she was then delivered our newspapers every Tuesday and Thursday for almost four years, from our minimum starting age of eleven years. Even at that age she had the nous to pre-enrol and with a vacancy on my novels I started her without authority seven days before her eleventh birthday so she probably is our youngest delivery person ever. Greer finished with a perfect attendance record. That suggests to me if she were sick she made her deliveries and returned to her sick bed. When her family was holidaying at the beach Greer came into town with her father to complete her newspaper round and would bike all the way back to the beach. I also point out Greer was the only child delivery person of twenty-one minors on the payroll who turned up during that dreadful cyclonic storm twenty-one years ago. The records show Greer personally delivered newspapers on four rounds and our newspaper personnel and I delivered all other areas. Greer refused to be interviewed and photographed so we could report her story in the newspaper but Mr Black, father of theEC News' present owner-publisher-editor, was so proud of her that he drove out to the beach next day to find Greer who was helping her father to clean up after The Great Storm to personally hand Greer a $100 note in recognition of her outstanding service to the company. It doesn't surprise me to find Greer is making a big name for herself as a resulting of knuckling down to writing novels. Neither will it surprise me one day to hear Greer is to be celebrated as one of the top citizens of this town ever. I'm glad you have returned to us Greer and I'm sorry you lost your husband in that tragic accident at his workplace.

"God Mrs Angus, what a lovely letter," Greer sniffed. "I must visit you. I wonder how she knew about the death of my husband Archer?"

"It was theEC News that broke the story to unmask you," Annie said proudly. "I understood from Gavin my husband who does IT troubleshooting for the newspaper company that as soon as Shaun the editor saw your name as the widow and you were described as a novelist he knew it must be you. He made urgent enquiries and received the information he wanted but you refused to be interviewed by anyone so he couldn't flesh out the article as he stated in the newspaper. Ask Shaun or Kitty to supply you with a copy of the stories -- there were several of them. Until then New Zealanders had assumed author Greer Gregory was an Englishwoman."