VERONICA'S TEST

VERONICA'S TEST

By Bob French

The door slid open with a hiss and the young man stepped back to allow the pretty looking woman onto the bus.  She smiled her thanks at him and went to the back of the bus and sat down.  The traffic in and around Rayleigh was light and they had soon left suburbia behind them.

          As she glanced aimlessly out of the window at the beautiful Essex countryside, a feeling of apprehension crept over her as though she was being watched.  When her senses had reached a state where she was starting to feel uncomfortable, she stole a quick glance around the bus, only to catch a young man looking at her over his newspaper.  She briefly returned his gaze with a smile and felt herself blush.  Without thinking she quickly pretended to rummage through her handbag, only to find as she returned to the upright position that he was still looking at her.  

          The bus slowly pulled into Chelmsford Bus Station and he left the bus, but not before taking one last glance back at her.  She felt a smile creep across her face as their eyes met.  Then he was gone. 

          As the luxury coach twisted and turned its way through the countryside she felt pleased with herself that someone had actually noticed her.  Forty minutes later, the X30 pulled up outside the terminal at Stansted International Airport.  All of a sudden panic took hold of the travellers, followed by a mad rush to the front exit as though the rear of the bus had suddenly caught fire. 

          When her surroundings had fallen silent; she slowly got up, adjusted her skirt, picked up her red handbag and made her way forward.  The cool fresh air, which had a hint of aircraft fuel, rushed up at her as she carefully stepped off the coach.

Satisfied she had made it safely down the steps, she took a deep breath, adjusted the grip on her handbag and walked through the large glass doors into the vacuum of the main airport concourse; her high heels clicking as they made contact with the marble floor. This was a new venture for her in her quest to gain more confidence and overcome her shyness.  She had visited Lakeside and Blue-water, but was aware that people who frequented those places were more interested in shopping than people watching.  Standsted was the real test.  People with time on their hands, people watched.  If she could get through the first hour or so, then she knew she would be ready.

There was a queue at the Costa Coffee Bar, so continued to casually walk further along the arcade until she found what looked like the airport lounge.  It was quieter there and she could sit down and enjoy the view.  A waiter, a tall dark haired boy, who spoke with a heavy Italian accent approached her and asked if he could take her order.

“I think I will have a Latte please.”  She saw the expression change on his face, so coughed politely to clear her throat. “With a jam doughnut.”  He smiled and thanked her.  When he left, she made a mental note and reached into her handbag for her mouth spray.

It didn’t take long before she had joined the dozens of bored passengers, with time on their hands, to start to stare at passers-by. A couple of women walked by and she carefully analysed their clothes, then stole a quick smiled as she watched them disappear into the crowd, pleased that she had worn the right clothes.

A muffled roaring sound made her turn and stare out of the panoramic full-length windows at an aircraft taking off into the wide blue sky to some exotic and wonderful place she thought.  It held her imagination until the clunk of a china cup and saucer on the table brought her back from far away and she looked up at the young waiter.  She smiled at him, realising that he had doused himself with some aftershave and combed his hair.

“Three pounds fifty madam.”  He held her eye contact for a second too long, then she noticed, as he slid the bill across the table, that he had written his telephone number on the bottom of it.  Feeling herself blush again, she fumbled in her handbag; paid the young waiter and pocketed the receipt. Her confidence was getting stronger and it made her feel good.  The coffee was too hot and the jam doughnut stale, but after finishing it, she returned to watching the people walk aimlessly past the lounge

Just after mid-day she began to feel anxious.  She knew it would come sooner or later and her previous experiences had proven a little frightening.  After putting it off for ten minutes, she finally plucked up enough courage and made her way to the toilet.  If there was one thing she disliked; it was being confined in a small perfumed filled room with a group of load mouthed women all shouting at once. ‘Maybe it will be different at an airport,’ she thought but was instantly disappointed as she pushed the inner door open.  The smell nearly took her breath away as the mixture of body odour and perfume hit the back of her throat.  The women in there were all tussling for space in front of the large mirror.  No one noticed her as she quickly found a cubical and closed the door; carefully inspecting the toilet seat before making herself comfortable.  The screeching from the women continued until she heard the door swished, then silence, which was pleasing in a way.

Confident the toilet was empty, she made her way to the row of basins and began inspecting her clothing and adjusting her hair a little when she heard the door swish again.  Glancing at the mirror she saw a smartly suited young woman enter and quickly move towards the basins.  ‘Twenty fiveish, business exec,’ she thought. The young woman leant against the basin and hastily emptied the contents of her handbag onto the side of the basin. A quick glance at the various containers told her that this young woman shopped at the expensive end of the make-up market

“Off to somewhere nice?”  The question caught her off guard as the young exec brushed her cheeks with her rouge brush.

“No just seeing someone off.  What about you?”  She caught the look in the young girls face.  It was her eyes; they were sad. She didn’t speak for a few seconds, then turned and looked at her in the mirror.

“Monaco for a dirty weekend.”

“Oh, lucky you. I wish I was young again.”  The young exec turned, folded her arms and leant against the basins and studied the tiled floor.

“No, it’s not fun.  He’s married with three kids and a large house in Kingston.  I’m just his plaything.”  She leant across and put her hand on the young girl's sleeve and gently squeezed it.

“I’m sorry my dear.  Do you think he will ever leave his wife and family?”  The young exec gave a sigh.

“He keeps saying he will, but I don’t think it will ever come to that.”

“What’s your name dear?”

“Jillian, and yours?”

“Veronica.”  She paused for a second then turned to Jillian. “Then why not leave him.  You have your passport and a return ticket?”  Jillian looked up with a frown. “Simple really. Once you’ve got settled into your hotel, tell him that you are going out to get some fresh air; grab your suitcase, tell the reception that you are booking out and then go off and find another hotel and enjoy yourself.” She could see a faint smile creep across her face.

“Thanks, Veronica.  You’ve just opened my eyes.” Gave her a peck on the cheek, scooped up the discarded make-up containers into her handbag and made her way to the door, then turned.

“By the way, you’ve got lovely hair.” The door swished and she was gone. The toilet was silent again as she once again tried to inspect her make-up.  ‘Time to move on,’ she thought and calmly made her way back out into the brilliant sunlit concourse.

The Airport Bar was nearly empty as she swivelled onto the stool and leant back against it; carefully crossed her legs and staring out at the moving masses.  Suddenly someone caught her eye.  He was middle-aged, dark hair and deep brown eyes.  He looked out of place in his heavy black leather three quarter length coat.  She thought nothing of it and carried on observing the swarms that moved in all directions; some purposefully, other with no real place to go.  A leggy blond slid in next to her and ordered a Pink Dragon and turn to observe the crowds.

“Look at them; the world has gone mad.  Everyone rushing here or there.” She spoke with a hint of a German accent and took a nervous drink. The intruder’s approach threw Veronica for a second, then she thoughtfully nodded.

“Yes, everything is done at a rush these days. It’s a wonder they grow up properly at all.”  She nodded at a group of young school children being ushered through the busy crowds by their teacher; ‘probably off on an end of term school trip,’ she thought.

“Where you headed to?”  The blond had turned and was searching her face with her deep blue eyes. Quickly thinking she said;

“I just saw off my children on their school skiing holiday.” The blond held her gaze and nodded slowly.

“Can I ask you a question?”  The young blond leant forward and placed a hand gently on her thigh.  It made Veronica jump but she controlled her reactions quickly.

“What eye shadow do you use?” 

“Sorry.” She felt the fear drain within her and smiled. “Oh, yes…. It’s Blue Horizon.”  She paused to see if the blond knew the brand.  “By Max Factor.  It’s nothing special really. You can get in Boots.” The blond smiled, finished her drink and without another word stood, adjusted her short skirt and left.  When she turned back to the bar she made eye contact with the barman.  He could see the confused look on her face and came over.

“It’s alright Miss. She’s from the vice squad, just checking the area out.  Jimmy the DCI.”  He nodded over her shoulder to where the man in the black leather three quarter length coat stood.  “Is doing his rounds.”  She quickly glanced over her shoulder to see the leggy blond quickly say something to the man then walk away.  Their eyes met for a brief second, then he seem to lose interest in her and turn away. She raised her eyebrows and smiled.  ‘A prostitute,’ she thought; finished her drink, then got up and made her way back out into the main concourse.

The ride home was uneventful and when she reached Chelmsford, she had made her mind up.  She was going to do it, and got off the bus.  ‘Somerset is nice this time of the year,’ she thought and with that, started to walk towards the railway station and a new life.

That evening a Mrs Mildred Frampton from Rayleigh had called the police to complain that her husband had not come home from work.  It was noted that none of his clothes were missing and once the preliminaries had taken place the police started to ask around the local area only to discover that Mrs Frampton was an obnoxious, antagonising bully of a woman who degraded her quiet husband at every opportunity.  ‘No wonder he left her.’ seemed to be the standard reply to those being interviewed.

Later the same evening a pretty looking woman booked into the Chesterfield Arms in Taunton.  As she stood in front of the mirror in her room, she smiled at herself; dropped her red hand bag, kicked off her high heel shoes and pulled off her wig and rubbed the short light blond hair. She held her gaze for a minute then spoke quietly.

“Well Veronica, say good bye to David Frampton.”

Copyright Bob French