Beyblade Fan Fiction ❯ Evra's Big Mistake ❯ Chapter One ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Rei's Neko_gurl: Hey hey there. I just suddenlt got the idea of a new story today in English for this new fic and came home and just had to write it.
Jiana: She almost ran over one of the examiners in her hurry to get home.
Rei's Neko_gurl: Did not. Looks at Jiana. Okay maybe I did, but it wasn't on purpose.
Jiana: Yeah right. Any way, Rei's Neko_gurl doesn't own Beyblade, just the unrecognised characters in this fic.
Rei's Neko_gurl: Enjoy.

It was the first day of April. Seeing the reception desk temporarily unmanned, Evra snatched up the ringing phone.

'Fenn Lomax salon, how can I help you?'

'Hello.' It was a male voice. 'I need a complete restyle.'

'We do have a long waiting list,' Evra warned, uncapping a biro with her teeth. 'Could I have your name, please?'

'Duncan Goodhew.'

Over the phone, she heard gales of backround laughter.

'Oh ha ha, well done, very good,' Evra recited dutifully. 'If only Eddie Izzard was as witty as you.' She rolled her eyes at Bex, the salon's glamorous receptionist, now racing back from the loo.

'Who was that?' said Bex as Evra hung up.

'A big wally. April Fools' Day, don't you just love it?'

Grabbing her coat and rummaging in the pockets, Evra dragged out one green woolen glove and one pink leather one. Well, imitation leather.

Bex's manicured brown eyebrows went up.

'Lunch break already? It's only half past eleven.'

'Dogsbody duty.' Making sure she wasn't being watched, Evra pulled a face. 'Cigarettes for Alice Travistock. And a box of herbal tea bags. And half a dozen first-class stamps. That woman, honestly, I don't know why she doesn't write out her whole week's shopping and pack me off to
Sainsbury's and be done with it.'

'And when you've finished that,' Bex suggested helpfully, 'you could valet her car.'

'Pop her washing round to the laundrette.'

'Mow her lawn.'

'Fill out her tax return.'

'Clean her loo's,' Bex blinked innocently, 'with her own toothbrush.'

'Evra, are you still here?' Fenn Lomax, emerging from the VIP room, shot her a look of disbelief.

'Sorry, Fenn, no, Fenn I'm gone.' Evra jammed her gloves on, getting three fingers stuck in one thumb-hole. She grinned at Bex and made a dash for the door. 'Be back in ten minutes, okay?'

Fenn called after her, 'Make it five.'

Since Fenn had landed himself a regular slot on the hugely popular TV show It's Morning! his client list had blossomed beyond recognition.

As the show's producer had pointed out, he was a seriously attractive heterosexual hairdresser. How could he fail?

The female producer had been right.

With his dark brown shoulder-lenght hair, thickly fringed hazel eyes and come-to-bed smile, Fenn had a way with women and with scissors that had done his business no harm at all. No longer buried in the back streets of Bermondsey (special rates for pensioners on Mondays and Wednesdays), he had been catapulted upmarket to the altogether glossier pavements of Knightsbridge's Brompton Road (special rates, never). Celebrities queued up, for months sometimes, for the privilege of shelling out two hundred and fifty pounds and being able to boast to friends, journalists . . . well, anyone who'd listen, basically, that theirs was a Fenn Lomax cut.

Nowadays you could spot his clients a mile off, thought Evra, teetering on the edge of the kerb as a chauffeur-driven limo pulled up inches from her toes. The snow had all but melted now, leaving only squelchy dregs, but the woman emerging from the back of the limousine was kitted out in enough fur to see her through a hike across the Antarctic. Gingerly, in her fur-lined boots, she picked her way through the slush.

Well, it was an awfully wide pavement. All six feet from the car to the apricot-tinted-glass and brass doors of the salon.

And if you were going to get yourself chauffeur to run you around town, it made sence to economise in other areas, Evra acknowledged, recognising the famous romantic novelist as she removed her dark glasses. That must be why the stingy, face-lifted old hag had only tiped her thirty pence last week.

The stamps and the cigarettes weren't a problem, but the Grapefruit Zingg herbal tea bags with extra ginseng took longer to track down. By the time she'd bought everything, Evra was already fifteen minutes late.

He was there, sitting in his usual spot outside the shoe shop. Experiencing a horrid qualm of guilt, Evra wondered if she could cross the road so he wouldn't catch sight of her, or simply rush past pretending she hadn't seen him.

Then again, perhaps she should just explain that she was in a tearing hurry and didn't have her purse on her right now, but if he hung around for another hour or so, she'd see him later.

Hung around for another hour or so, Evra thought with a shudder. Crikey, patronising or what?

Poor chap, as if he had anywhere else to go.

Oh, but he looked so cold, so utterly miserable and chilled to the bone.

Too late to try and avoid him now anyway, she realised. He'd spotted her.

'Hi,' said Evra, feeling rotten already. His blanket was damp, soaked through with slush. 'Look, this isn't my lunch break, I'm just picking up a few things for a client, but I'll definately be back before two.' Inwardly, she cringed. Oh, help, why did a perfectly good reason have to come out sounding like a feeble excuse? He didn't want one of her sandwiches in two hourd' time, he needed something to warm him up now.

'Okay.' The man, who was probably in his early thirties, nodded and managed a faint smile. 'Thanks.'

He never begged, never asked for anything. Just sat there, with his greasy twp-toned hair falling over his face and his dark eyelashes half shielding his eyes, as he watched the rest of the world march on by.

Evra had never given him money in case he was a drug addict. The thought of her spare cash being injected into the nearest collapsed vein made her shudder. At least he couldn't fit a prawn sandwich into a syringe.

But today the circumstances were different. And there was a Burger King just across the road, selling hot drinks. What's more, Evra remembered, Alice Travistock had given her a ten-pound note to go shopping with . . .

'Here.' Hurriedly she fumbled in her coat pocket for change and thrust seventy pence into his hand. 'Buy yourself a cup of tea. Thaw out a bit.'

'That's very kind.'

Heroin cost more than seventy pence, didn't it?

Worried, needing to check, Evra said, 'You don't do drugs?'

Anothe rfleeting smile, accompanyed this time by a shake of the head.

'No, I don't do drugs.'

Except . . . well, he would say that, wouldn't he?

Evra gave herself up, she had to get back. Ugh, this weather, her feet were going numb.

'Okay, see you later.' She flexed her icy toes. 'Ham amd tomato or prawn with mayonaise?'

The man on the pavement shrugged.

'I don't mind. You choose.'


'Sorry I'm late.' Panting, Evra burst into the VIP room. 'Harrods was packed and the woman infrount of me at the counter had a funny turn. Never mind, back now. Here we are, Mrs Travistock.'

Fenn was putting the finishing touches to Alice Travistock's French pleat. Not believing the funny turn story for a minute, he watched Evra empty her pockets of stamps, cigarettes and change.

'Take the towels out of the tumble dryer,' he said, 'and give Corine a hand with Lady Trent's highlights.'

Evra wondered if Alice Travistock might say thank you, but getting a cigarette out of it's packet and into her heavily lipsticked mouth was evidently more important. She watched the expensive silver lighter go click and the tendons of Alice Travistock's skinny neck stick out like trapeze wires as she sucked in the first lungful of--

'Evra. Towels.'


Five minutes later, Evra was dutifully passing rectangles of silver foil to Corinne when Fenn and Alice Travistock emerged from the VIP room into the main area of the salon.

As Fenn beckoned her over, Evra clearly saw coins glintting in Alice Travistock's hand.

Hooray, tip time!

Then again, maybe not. The expression on her freshly powdered face wasn't exactly brimming over with gratitude.

'I gave you a ten-pound note,' Alice Travistockannounced without preamble, thrusting her out stretched palm under Evra's nose. 'And this is how much you handed back. Do you think I'm incapable of adding up?' she demanded stroppily. 'You've short-changed me.'

'God , sorry, I forgot!' Evra clapped her hand to her forehead. 'I meant to give it back, make up the difference, then Fenn told me to sort out the towels and I--'

'And you thought you could get away with it.' Alice Travistock always spoke with a plum in her mouth. Now she sounded as if she was spitting out the stones. 'Swindler. Thief.'

'I am not a thief!'

Fenn closed his eyes.

'Evra, what did you do withMrs Travistock's money?'

'Gave it to someone.'

Frowning, Fenn said, 'What? Stop mumbling, talk properly.'

Evra lifted her head. Oh Lord, he wasn't looking happy.

'I gave it to a homeless person so he could buy himself a cup of tea.'

'My money!' squawked Alice Travistock. 'You're telling me you gave my sixty pence to a filthy scrounging beggar? For crying out loud, girl, are you mad?'

So much for boasting aboout her ability to add up, Evra thought mutinously.

'He isn't a beggar.' She couldn't let it pass, somebody had to defend him. 'He never begs! And it wasn't sixty pence either,' she concluded, 'it was seventy.'


Evra loved hairdressing, despite the abysmal rates of pay for trainees. She was happy working in Fenn's salon, she adored cutting hair -- on the rare occasions when she got the chance -- and she really enjoyed the contact with the clients.

The big drawback was having to carry on being nice to them when they were being horrible to you.

'I'm not a thief,' she told Fenn when he had reimbursed his outraged client from the till, apologised profusely and shown her out of the salon.

'I know that. But you aren't exactly Mensa material either,' Fenn pointed out, 'are you?'

'She's a hag! That woman spends her life boasting about all the charity commities she's on. How can she be so mean?'

'Hardly the point. Alice Travistock is our client.'

'She's a stingy old battleaxe,' Evra muttered.

'Stop it. Now listen to me,' Fenn consulted his watch. 'Bex has to see her dentist at one o'clock. I'll need you to take over at the desk for a couple of hours.'

'You mean . . . work through my lunch break?'

Horrors! Evra's dark eyes widened in dismay. She was already ravenous.

What's more, she remembered guiltily, I'm no tthe only one.

But it was no good. Fenn was giving her one of hisserious, I'm-the-boss looks.

'I think that's fair, under the circumstances. Don't you?'


Dawn watched the checkout girl pick up each item in turn, pass it over the scanner and send it on its way along the conveyor belt. Like the prizes on The Generation Game, minus the cuddly toy.

Packet of chicken breasts.

One lemon.

Pint of milk, semi-skimmed.

Shrink-wrapped bouquet of broccoli.

Small carton of hugely expensive new potatoes.

Pregnancy testing kit.

The Generation Game. Very apt.

Dawn held her breath, wondering if the girl would glance at her in a secret, knowing way, but when she looked up all she said in a bored voice was, 'That'll be fifteen pounds seventy. Got your clubcard?'

It clearly took more, these days, than a few chicken breasts and a pregnancy testing kit to arouse a checkout operator's interest.


Back at Special Occasions -- perfect gifts for every occasion -- Dawn hung the Tesco carrier on her coat hook and locked herself in the tiny downstairs loo.

Her fingers shook as she tore the cellophane wrapping off the testing kit. The words on the accompanying leaflet danced infrount of her eyes.

Oh, help, this is it, this is serious.

Right, can't afford any mistakes, thought Dawn, feeling sick already. Treat it like an exam, read the instructions slowly and carefully.

Concentrate, concentrate, and for goodness' sake stop this stupid shaking.

The sudden hammering on the door almost catapulted her off the loo seat.

'Dawn? That you in there?'

Well who else was it likely to be? thought Dawn resignedly.

'Um . . . yes.'

At least she hadn't been in the middle of some tricky form gymnastics involving pipettes and mid-stream flow.

'Okay.' Bruce, her boss, sounded impatient. He had never understood why any woman needed to spend longer than thirty seconds in the loo. 'Keep an eye on the shop, would you? I need to make a phone call.'

'Two minutes,' Dawn called ou tin desperation.

'What?'

She couldn't not find out now, the suspense was killing her almost as much as her need to pee.

'Just give me two minutes, okay?'

Outside the door, Bruce shook his head in bewilderment. Women and their inner workings, it was all a mistery to him.

'Okay.'

Out in the shop, the bell above the door went ding, heralding the arrival of a customer. Relieved, Dawn heard the sound of her boss's retreating footsteps. She couldn't possibly pee onto a stick with Bruce lurking just inches away on the other side of the toilet door.

The crucial stream of urine was duly passed. Dawn closed her eyes and began to count.

'Oh, good grief,' Dawn whispered, the words almost drowned out by the thudding of her heart. Pulling open the neck of her angora sweater and peering down at her stomach, she said in an unsteady voice, 'Hello.'

Out in the shop, Bruce was wrapping up his customer's purchase, a wildly expensive yellow and white Italian vase. When Dawn eventually reappeared, looking pale, he said, 'Dawn, before I forget. Bit of a do on at the golf club this evening. Verity and I were hoping to get along for an hour or two, but the blasted babysitter's let us down. Any chance of you riding to the rescue?'

Having ridden to the rescue before, Dawn wasn't fooled for an instant by his jovial tone. Like cat years, Bruce's idea of an hour or two generally ment seven or eight.

'Bruce, I'm sorry. I can't'

Taken aback wasn't the word for it.

'But you said you didn't have anything on tonight.' His tone was accusing.

Be brave, stand your ground, don't let him bully you into it.

'That was this morning.' Dawn spoke as firmly as she dared. 'I do now.'

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Rei's Neko_gurl: Well do you like it? Hope you do but for now I have to study for Biology. Ja Ne XDXD xxx