by Lucy Appleby
"If you don't knuckle down and pull your socks up, young lady, I see a dismal future for you," glowered Mr Topping over the top of his spectacles. "Exceedingly dismal."
Polly flicked her pony tail and grinned cheekily at her form tutor. As today was the last day of school and she was taking a whole year out before getting a job, she didn't care about anything the old goat had to say.
Mr Topping frowned and gave an exasperated sigh. Of all the class, this girl was the sharpest and could have excelled at anything she chose to. She had real talent, yet preferred to waste her time doing anything but schoolwork. Well, he had done all he could for her; and now it was all down to her. It was a pity that corporal punishment was no longer allowed in schools, as many of his more recalcitrant pupils would have benefited from a good bottom warming. He deposited a maths exercise book on Polly's desk and moved on to the next pupil.
The whole class were euphoric and the atmosphere was electric. It was tradition to finish school at lunchtime on the last day. Everyone was busy swapping emails, phone numbers and addresses.
"Got any plans, Pol?"
"Nothing definite. I'll just hang around for a while, then maybe go abroad - Spain or Greece - somewhere nice and hot with plenty of nightlife."
"Cool," said Ben.
"Bloody brilliant. I can't wait to get out of this dump."
"Send me a postcard." Ben handed her a card with his address on.
"Sure will."
At twelve noon, the class piled out of the form room for the last time. Some of the girls cried with emotion, but not Polly - she was first in the queue out of the door.
"Bye, Toppy!" She turned her head and waved cheerily at Mr Topping.
He smiled at her and raised his hand in a wave. And when the last pupil had left the room, he moved to the window and watched them congregating outside the school gates, before going their separate ways.
Polly was in the midst of a throng of excited girls. There was much hugging and kissing, and then the group broke up and dispersed in different directions. Polly strode ahead on those wonderful long legs, the June sun shining on her blonde hair. Mr Topping watched until she was out of sight and wondered just what her future would be. It was clear that air-headed mother of hers would give her no encouragement other than to lavish money on her and leave her to her own devices; and as the girls father had walked out some years ago, there was no authority figure to curb her wilful ways. The girl needs discipline, thought Mr Topping. Good, old fashioned discipline. He sighed, shook his head, gathered up the pile of papers from his desk, and left the room.
Two weeks later, Polly was bored. She wandered disconsolately round her room, and then went to the kitchen to make coffee. Her Mother was there, gossiping with Helga from next door.
"Hi Polly," smiled Helga.
"Hullo."
"Polly, love - nip back upstairs and fetch my black handbag, will you. It's on the bed. We're off to the bridge club shortly."
Polly's Mother carefully applied a silky red lipstick and blotted it carefully with a paper tissue. Polly returned with the handbag and put it on the table.
"Thanks. What are you going to do for the rest of the day?"
"Don't know yet," shrugged Polly.
"Here - take this." Mrs Marshall rummaged in the handbag and produced fifty pounds which she handed to her daughter. "Some spending money for you. Buy yourself something nice."
"Oh, thanks. Will do." Polly stuffed the notes in the pocket of her jeans. She had bought something nice with the fifty pounds her Mum had given her the day before, and the generous handouts were beginning to loose their former appeal.
"See you later, love. I'll probably be late again. There's plenty of food in the freezer for dinner, or you can phone for a take away."
"Sure. Bye, Mum."
Polly stirred her coffee and nibbled the edge of a biscuit. Her three best friends had all got summer jobs to help fund their university courses starting in September. There was always Laura, but she was such a swot. No, not Laura. She wasn't in the mood for swotty Laura. There was no point phoning Katie as she was on holiday for two weeks. She phoned Karen instead, but got her voicemail. Damn.
Polly left the house and slammed the door behind her. She wandered around aimlessly for a while and ended up outside the newsagents on the main road. Going inside, she bought a magazine, a can of coke and a chocolate bar, and then paused to scan the headlines of the local paper. There was nothing of interest, but maybe the section on pubs and clubs would list something she might want to go to later in the evening. Tucking her purchases into her shoulder bag, she crossed the road and headed for the park.
It was practically deserted, with only a stray dog for company who was only interested in Polly's chocolate bar. After demolishing it in two swallows, the dog wagged its tail and ran off to see who else he could rob. Polly stretched out on the soft turf adjacent to the shrubbery, drank her coke and browsed the magazine. It was full of the usual stuff - ads galore, fashions, best deals on mobile phones, the latest gossip about celebrities, relationship problems. She flicked through the glossy pages and felt uninspired, and then turned her attention to the newspaper.
The page opposite the What's On section caught her eye. One ad in the personals column had a big bold headline which read: Are you young, attractive, and bored with your circumstances? Do you have a sense of adventure and fun? Yeah, that's me, thought Polly, and read on. An organisation called Walter Smythe Associates were recruiting personnel for a cruise ship which would be setting sail in two weeks time for a six week trip to the Aegean sea, where it would be sailing around the Greek Islands, including Kos, Rhodes, Zante, Thassos, Patmos, Hydra and others.
Wow. This looks great, thought Polly. The lucky people selected would get their own cabin, free board and a hundred pounds a day, plus tips, and lots of free time to soak up the sun and party till dawn. There was a telephone number to ring. Polly fished her mobile out from her bag, and dialled the number. It was answered quickly; a woman's voice, crisp and business like.
"Good afternoon, Walter Smythe Associates. Miss Pringle speaking."
"Hello," Polly was suddenly tongue tied.
"How may I help you?"
"Er, I'm calling about the job on the cruise ship."
"Excellent. We still have two vacancies. May I take some details?"
It all went smoothly. Polly gave Miss Pringle her name and address, date of birth, and her exam results at GCSE and A-level. For the first time in her life, Polly wished she had better grades. Still, Miss Pringle didn't seem to mind a few D's.
"Everything appears to be in order, Polly. You sound exactly the sort of person we are looking for - though we would like to see you of course, before formally offering you the position. Are you free the day after tomorrow to attend an interview in Leeds?"
"Yes, I can do that. Thank you."
Polly was euphoric. She scribbled down the name of the hotel and the time she was required to attend, and when the call was over, she leapt to her feet and jumped about, waving her arms wildly.
The train arrived in Leeds on time and Polly took a cab to the hotel. On departing the cab, she flung a ten pound note at the driver who pocketed the generous tip and zoomed off looking for the next fare. Announcing her arrival at the reception desk, Polly explained she was here to see Miss Pringle from Walter Smythe Associates.
"Oh yes. They're expecting you. Take the lift to the top floor, and you'll find them in the small committee room to the left of the lift."
A few moments later, Polly stepped into the lift and surveyed herself in the mirror. She had taken care with her appearance and wore her hair long and straight. Her pink top contrasted well with her blonde locks and the charcoal grey mini-skirted suit. Her bag and shoes were of grey suede, the three inch heels were easy to wear, and elevated her legs wonderfully well. She had opted for light and natural makeup, a shimmer of pink gloss over her lips, and a touch of kohl around her eyes to give them more definition. She looked quite striking. Smiling and confident, she strode purposefully out of the lift and knocked at the door of the committee room.
"Come in," said a familiar voice.
Miss Pringle rose from her chair to greet Polly. So did the man next to her. Polly shook their hands and seated herself on a wide leather chair.
"Thank you for coming, Polly," said Miss Pringle.
"I've been looking forward to it."
Miss Pringle smiled. She was a tall dark haired woman. Her features were singularly unimposing, with small narrow eyes, a long nose and thin mouth set above an angular jaw line, and yet this woman exuded an air of authority and presence. Her hair was worn in a tight knot at the top of her head, which did nothing to soften her features. But her smile was kindly.
"This is my associate, Mr Peter Barker."
"Pleased to meet you, my dear," smiled Mr Barker. His round face beamed jovially as he assessed Polly's appearance. "You look very smart indeed. Doesn't she, Miss Pringle?"
"Indeed. Most impressive," replied Miss Pringle, making a note in a notebook.
"You will take tea? Or coffee perhaps?" queried Mr Barker.
"Coffee would be nice. Thank you."
As she sipped the coffee, Polly was aware that her hosts were both regarding her rather intently. She felt slightly uncomfortable.
"Now Polly, while we take a look at your CV and your final school report, we would like you to take a little test for us."
"A test?" Polly quailed. Oh dear. It had all been going so well. She didn't like the sound of a test.
"Nothing to worry about - you'll sail through it, I'm sure. Follow me, dear, and I'll give you the papers to work on."
Mr Barker ushered Polly into an adjoining room. It was tiny and windowless, containing just a coffee table, a desk and a chair
"Here you go. Take a seat, and have a go at this. You have half an hour. I will come back for you at 3.30. Good luck, Polly."
Mr Barker placed a sheaf of papers and a pen on the desk and exited the room. Polly grimaced and looked at the test. To her great relief, it wasn't too bad at all - basic stuff - maths and English and general knowledge, plus a section for her to say why she wanted the job. She picked up the pen, nonchalantly chewed the end, and began to write.
Half way through the exercise, she was disturbed by a sequence of sharp loud retorts. Puzzled, Polly put down her pen and looked around. The door to her room was open a fraction. She opened it a little more and peeked out into the committee room. There was no sign of either Miss Pringle or Mr Barker, although they were obviously coming back as their paperwork, coats and briefcases still remained.
But the noises continued. They were coming from behind the closed door at the opposite end of the committee room.
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