Please Sir (1) One The Perfect Dream - a dream that you are loathe to wake up from, knowing that reality will never be as blissful and happy. Veronica had just experienced the perfect dream. Opening her eyes, she stretched languorously, let out a baby sigh of delight, and let her full mouth curve into a contented smile. If only dreams were truly an indication of reality, she thought to herself - if that particular dream was predicting what her future would be like, then she was in for a treat. But of course, she�d never believed that dreams meant something - in her mind, they simply depended on what happened to be in her subconscious when she went to sleep (either that or what she had eaten last night - cheese usually provoked a rather scary reaction, for example). And recently, the only person in her mind was Dave Michaels, and the only thought she had was of getting it on with him. She pushed her thick mane of curls back from her face and opened her mouth in a wide yawn which stretched her facial muscles to the extreme. In spite of the fact that she had been disappointed to find that her new romance had been a figment of her imagination, she still felt relatively contented. The September sunshine was streaming through a crack in the curtains, she felt well-rested for a change and . . . She glanced cursorily at the Teletubbies alarm clock beside the bed (her own alarm clock had broken last week, and she was using one that belonged to the seven year old next door until she had time to get to Argos and buy herself a new one). Her mouth dropped open as she noticed exactly what time it was. . . . and she was late for work. Again. Half an hour later, Veronica rushed through the double doors leading into the main office of the Garnsburgh Herald, the local , virtually unread paper. The newsroom was buzzing with activity as casually dressed journalists scurried back and forth, desperately trying to make the deadline for that week�s issue of the paper. However, a tangble hush fell as Veronica stumbled in. Sarah Devlin, Veronica�s one and only real friend at the paper, brushed past her, murmuring: �Your mum is sick.� �What?� Veronica hissed back out of the corner of her mouth, staring around the room, mortified as she realised that most of the room�s residents were staring back, some faces unfriendly, others amused. As far as she knew, her mum had been fine, although she�d not exactly had a chance to study her in any great detail as she�d rushed past the living room clutching a slice of half-burnt toast, horrified as she realised she was almost an hour late. For the third time that week. �She seemed okay when I left the house.� �She�s not really sick.� Sarah stopped and turned back, her face puzzled. �That�s just what I told Eddie, okay? God, Veronica, you�d better wake up properly or you�re going to be in deep shit.� Thank God Sarah had come up with another excuse for her lateness. When it had happened on Monday, Eddie had given her a total bollocking in front of the entire newsroom, reducing her to a tearful gibbering wreck. On Wednesday, after noticing that Veronica hadn�t turned up and desperate to prevent another temper tantrum, Sarah had informed Eddie that Veronica had phoned to say that the bus had been cancelled at the last minute and she would have to walk in, thus rendering her a little late. Eddie seemed to have swallowed that particular excuse, but Veronica was positive she would not get off so lightly this time. She walked nervously to her desk in the centre of the room and pulled out her chair, avoiding all the eyes that bored into her back and made her feel hopelessly incompetent. After a moment, normal feverish activity returned to the office, and she finally exhaled in relief that she was no longer the centre of attention. �Veronica, bit of bad news.� Veronica looked up to see Jerry Allan hovering above her - he was one of the other few people who bothered to give her the time of day. His grey eyes looked pensive. �Eddie said I�d to tell you to go in and see him when you finally got here. And he put a lot of emphasis on the finally, if you know what I mean.� Yeah, she knew what it meant. Eddie was pissed at her. Crossing the room to Edward Johnson�s office, she considered just walking out on the job the way she always dreamed of doing, avoiding this confrontation, but she needed the job way too much. She had this job for one reason and one reason only - the Garnsburgh Herald had been the only paper willing to take her on. After leaving one of the best universities in Scotland with a very good honours degree, she�d naively expected that she had a world of journalistic job offers just waiting to drop at her feet. Unfortunately, after handfuls of harrowing interviews and subsequent rejections, she realised that this was not the case. Very few papers seemed willing to take her on, when they could take on Oxbridge graduates with years of experience on prestigious papers (which may or may not been legit - some of them clearly had enough money to buy themselves references from top editors. Or perhaps they had got hold of some incriminating photographs.). They didn�t want a Veronica Davidson, a girl who was enthusiastic, a hard worker and had the skill to be a bloody fantastic journalist - but lacked the confidence to take the initiative and push herself forward into the limelight. By the time she�d reached the interview for this job, she�d been so desperate for a job that she had bluffed her way into the position, claiming contacts that she did not have, persuading her best friend Kate�s father (the editor of a Scottish tabloid) to give her a reference, and putting on an act that somehow convinced Eddie that she was the most confident person in town. She had certainly stood out from the other applicants (who had been none too impressive) and Eddie had almost immediately decided she would make a good junior journalist on the paper. She loathed the job with a passion bordering on the extreme - she longed to be writing articles which would be of great importance to the world, in-depth investigative pieces that would blow the lid off various industries, and make her a household name throughout Britain and someday, maybe, the world. Instead, she was stuck covering the social life of Garnsburgh, mainly fetes and charity events which were of no interest to anyone except those directly involved in the event. Hardly the stories she�d always dreamed of writing. She desperately wanted out of this dire job, but could honestly see no exit through which she could run. Metaphorically speaking of course, as the fire exit was five paces to her right as she reached Eddie�s door, and she could have ran through that, although it would have set off the most dreadful alarm bells. �Ah, Miss Davidson.� Eddie flung open the door before she had a chance to knock, glaring malevolently at her as he gestured her inside and slammed the door shut. Veronica instantly began to shake, expecting the worst. She hovered just inside the door as he brushed past her and returned to the plush, comfortable chair behind his desk. �Sit!� he snapped. She sat on the uncomfortable chair opposite him, feeling her knees knocking together uncontrollably. He simply stared at her for a long time and her nerves increased, something she would have previously thought to be impossible. She forced herself to keep her chin up and meet his eyes squarely. The thought struck her, not for the first time, how ridiculously pretty his long lashed, dark blue eyes were, especially considering the fact that, eyes excluded, he was an unattractive man with a hooked nose and rather menacing face. And his present silence only served to add to the menace. �So, late again.� It was a statement, not a question. �What�s the excuse this time?� �My mum was sick.� �Oh yeah? And what�s wrong with her?� Bugger. Had Sarah made up an actual illness or not. She wished she had checked Sarah�s side of the story more thoroughly, and found out. Some investigative reporter she would make! �Um - didn�t Sarah say?� �Yes, she did.� Eddie�s face was thunderous, but Veronica was sure there was a trace of amusement in there somewhere too. One thing she�d realised about him almost instantly was that the guy�s bark was a hell of a lot worse than his bite. It still didn�t stop her from being utterly terrified of him though. �I just want to see if your stories match.� �Just the cold.� Veronica crossed her fingers behind her back and prayed silently. Please let the cold have been common enough to have been said by Sarah too. There was a long silence and she stumbled over her words in an attempt to fill it. �You know, she needed me to go and get her some aspirin and cough syrup, that sort of thing.� What a lousy excuse, she thought inwardly, especially when she still didn�t know if she had even got the right illness. His face relaxed slightly. �Well, you�ve confirmed what Sarah said.� Veronica�s heart started to beat again, but he hadn�t finished. �I still don�t believe you though.� He stared her down and she gulped nervously, but for once, he didn�t yell. �I have too much work to get through to deal with your terminal lateness, so I�m just going to tell you what needs done and you can go and do it. ASAP. Am I clear?� �Yeah.� Veronica snapped into obedient posture. �What do you want me to do?� He handed her a sheet of paper with two addresses on it. �We need two hundred words on the opening of the new theatre at eleven this morning, with some quotes from the mayor. Then, you need to get some quotes from teachers at Our Lady�s Academy about the guy who streaked across the playground at lunchtime yesterday - Cara needs some more quotes for her article, just more about how shocked they were by it, things like that. Jerry will be going with you to both places to get accompanying photographs.� �Okay.� Veronica stood up, groaning silently to herself. More of the same. It might have been good if she�d actually got to write the article about the streaker - after all, that was the one exciting thing that had happened in their town since the dawn of time. �I�ll get right on it.� �And if you could also take a look at Alexia Santana�s column at some point today and let me know what you think of it. Its a sort of scandalous one today, about abortion. A bit serious for her, and although it�s not particularly shocking, I thought since you were Catholic, you would be able to work out if it�ll have your community up in arms.� Veronica tried to ignore the way he said �your community� with slight distaste lacing his words, trying not to take offence. Eddie�s slight sectarianism wasn�t something she should take personally, she told herself, she was sure he liked her despite her religion disagreeing with him. �Yep, sure.� She smiled. �But you do realise that people will always take offence at things, and with subjects like abortion, there is just no predicting what people might say.� �Of course I know that,� Eddie stormed. He passed her a copy of Alexia Santana�s abortion piece. �Oh, and Veronica, I won�t be in tomorrow or all of next week since I am finally taking a well-deserved holiday, but I would like you to come and see me first thing a week on Monday. Nine am, and if you�re late, I will seriously be forced to reconsider your position on our news team. Alright?� �Yeah. And sorry about today. It won�t happen again.� Veronica slipped through the door before he could change his mind and fire her. Although, maybe that was what this meeting was going to be about. She wouldn�t be surprised if he was simply delaying her sacking because he needed these extra tasks carried out so urgently. That was the kind of arsehole Eddie was. �This is your old school, right?� Veronica nodded in confirmation. She and Jerry were walking through the gates of Our Lady�s Academy, kicking their way through some early-falling leaves on the large driveway. �I think that�s why Eddie asked me to get the quotes for him. I know who hasn�t already been asked about the whole streaker incident, and I know where to find them.� �Plus you seem to be the general dogsbody around the office.� �Well, what do you expect?� Veronica asked bitterly. �As Eddie points out continuously, I am only a junior journalist. I can�t be afforded the same rights as everyone else, I�m simply not in their league.� Jerry patted her arm comfortingly. �Things will change,� he said in a vain attempt to placate her. But it wouldn�t work. Veronica was as depressed as hell about her job, she wished desperately that she could find something else - something that would give her the recognition that she truly deserved. Realistically, she knew she had to pay her dues before reaching the dizzy heights of fame - but anywhere would be better than the Garnsburgh Herald. At least one good thing was going to come out of today�s crappy assignments, she thought, smiling secretly as she glanced down at the slip of paper in her hands, where she had scrawled the names of the various teachers who hadn�t as yet been spoken to. She had chosen the most interesting teachers, the ones who would be most likely to say something worth printing. But it was the last name only that she was interested in. She and Jerry entered the building and strolled along the corridor to the administration office, so that Veronica could check the location of the various teachers they needed to track down. Methodically they worked their way through the list, as quickly as possible, as it was interval and they wanted to get it finished before the teachers had to be in a class. But the bell had rang by the time they reached the penultimate name on the list, Miss Quentin. After knocking on her door and getting a massive row in front of a class full of first years because she had forgotten to say �Excuse me Miss�, Miss Quentin eventually recognised her as one of her favourite ex-pupils and came out into the corridor to chat to them. She was as insane as she had always been, Veronica had always been sure they had only kept her on at the school because they felt sorry for her. �The streaker? Oh, the man who ran naked through the playground yesterday. Oh yes. I thought that was quite funny really, you know, a bit of light entertainment in a job where the only amusement I usually get is reading the essays of imbeciles. Do you know what this boy wrote in his essay about his last holiday, he wrote . . .� �Um, Miss Quentin, we�re talking about the streaker?� Veronica prompted gently, wondering if they�d be able to salvage anything this woman had said to use as a quote. She seriously doubted it. �Oh yes, well I was too far away to tell if he was good looking or not,� Miss Quentin said thoughtfully, stroking her slightly whiskery chin with her wrinkled hand. �But he was certainly well endowed, I could tell that from far away, which is certainly saying something . . .� �Somehow, I think that�s all we have to ask you,� Veronica smiled, wiping her eyes which were still a little teary from her embarrassment (even worse than getting a row from your boss was getting a row from your old teacher in front of 30 kids who were 10 years younger than you). She exchanged a look with Jerry - if they tried to publish any of those comments, parents would think the school was encouraging paedophilic behaviour and the pupils would be dragged out of there faster than you could say �Gary Glitter is training to be a teacher.� �Nice to see you again, Miss. Bye.� �That is one sexually frustrated old woman,� Jerry commented as they trekked back down the corridor. �I couldn�t believe the things she said - she looked so sweet. Where have we still to go.� �Just one more.� Veronica pretended to check her slip of paper, although she knew the final name. �Dave Michaels. He�s on the next floor up.� Her stomach was fluttering with millions of little butterflies. She tried to control the shudder of anticipation and noticed that Jerry was looking at her strangely. �You�re not cold, surely?� he asked, his eyes puzzled. �No, just got a chill. Guess someone walked over my grave,� she replied with a casual shrug. �Let�s go and get this over with,� she added with forced nonchalance. �It must be nearly lunchtime by now. After this, I say we go and get a roll and sausage from that burger van along the street. What do you think?� She was taking the stairs two at a time in her eagerness to reach her final destination. �Slow down, Roni,� Jerry complained. �I have all these cameras to lug about, I�m not Superman.� �Oh, don�t be such a whiner,� Veronica teased, feeling a lot happier all of a sudden. She lifted her hand and knocked lightly on the classroom door before poking her head around it and smiling at Dave. �Have you got a minute?� she asked politely, trying desperately to control the waves of lust running through her veins. He smiled in recognition. �Hi Veronica,� he replied. �Just give me a minute, ok?� He turned to the fifth year Higher English students and fixed them with a stern look. �I�ll be back soon, don�t dare do anything I wouldn�t do.� �So we�re pretty much free to do as we please then?� A pretty blonde girl called out cheekily. A murmur of amused appreciation rippled through the class and Dave gave the smartmouth a warning glance that shut her up instantly. Then he followed Veronica out into the corridor. �Official business, huh?� He took in Veronica�s notebook and Dictaphone and Jerry�s cameras. �Let me guess - the streaker, right?� �Yep, we�re getting opinions on it. What did you think?� �I think security needs to be tightened in schools,� Dave said frowning. �Anyone can walk into a school or playground off the street. And look what is happening around us - all the shootings in schools - Columbine High in America, Dunblane Primary School here. . .� �Yeah, but if you think about it, in the case of Columbine, it was pupils who were involved in the killings. Pupils who belonged to the school. How can tighter security stop situations like that. Are you planning to frisk all the pupils before they walk in the door?� Veronica asked. �Well, no. Anyway, in the case of the streaker, no frisking would be required.� Dave smiled in spite of himself. �I just think that it is incidents like yesterday that gives this school a bad name. An even worse one than it already has, that is.� All three smiled at this, knowing all too well of Our Lady�s bad reputation. �I think that�s all we need, eh?� Jerry asked, snapping Dave�s picture. Veronica made a mental note to snag a copy of that photograph later on if she possibly could, because Dave looked soooooo gorgeous that day. �Okay.� Veronica glared at the top of Jerry�s head as he bent his head over his camera - he wasn�t the bloody journalist, what right had he say when to finish an interview, especially when it was one of the few chances she got to chat to this gorgeous hunk of a man. If you could even call him a man - in Veronica�s humble opinion, he fell more naturally into the God status. �Thanks so much Dave, I really appreciate you taking the time to make some comments.� �That�s alright, Roni, it was a welcome relief from King Lear. As I�m sure you remember.� Dave�s blue eyes twinkled merrily at her and she smiled mutely in reply. �See ya.� He disappeared back into the room, looking unspeakably sexy. Veronica turned around and once more found herself the focus of Jerry�s curious gaze. �What?� she snapped. �Oh nothing,� Jerry shrugged. �You just never gave the impression that you knew him.� �So?� Veronica�s eyes flashed angrily at him, clearly signalling him to shut up while he was ahead.
Copyright © 2000 Paula M Shackleford |