Beyblade Fan Fiction ❯ Evra's Big Mistake ❯ Chapter three ( Chapter 3 )

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

Rei's Neko_gurl: Wow. Chappy number three. I've just got so many idea's for this fic.

'Look, I'm really sorry about yesterday,' said Evra. 'I got into all kinds of bother with a customer and ended up having to work through my lunch break, otherwise I'd have---'

'It's okay, doesn't matter. You don't have to apologise.'

Evra blinked icy rain out of her eyes and rummaged through her bag. If her fingers were frozen she couldn't imagine how his must feel.

'Ham and tomato today, is that alright? And I thought these might come in handy.' Digging deeper, she unearthed a pair of tan gloves and a black knitted scarf.

'They're great. Thanks very much.' He smiled up ather. 'Did you knit this?'

She rolled her eyes.

'God, no, picked it up in Oxfam. I couldn't knit to save my life.'

'Well, thanks anyway. Very warm.'

He had a nice voice. Evra watched him wrap the scarf around his neck and slide his fingers into the gloves. She ruffled her own hair, unexpectantly embarrassed. All of a sudden she felt like a boss maiden aunt forcing her nephew to try on his least favorite Christmas present.

And be suitably grateful.

Damn, she wished she hadn't given him the stupid things now.

'Better get back.' Hurridly, she consulted her watch. 'Don't want to get into more trouble.'

'These are expensive gloves.' He was peeling one back at the wrist, reading the lable. 'Harvey Nichols, it says here.'

'I didn't buy them,' said Evra, anxious to get away. When his dark eyebrows went up, she added, 'Don't worry, I didn't steal them either.'


The phone rang in the salon an hour later. Evra, busy sweeping up hair, dimly heard Bex, at the desk, exclaim happily, 'Oh hi, yes we do still have them, we wondered who they belonged to!'

Another two minutes elapsed before Bex tapped Evra on the shoulder.

'Evra, that was a client on the phone. Any idea what's happened to those gloves that were left in the cloakroom? He's dropping by this afternoon to pick them up but I can't find them anywhere. D'you know if Fenn put them in his office?'

'Oh hell.' Evra straightened up and let out a groan. For three and a half weeks the gloves had lain unclaimed on a shelf in the cloakroom, and now . . . well, sometimes life was just to unfair.

'What do you mean?' Bex was instantly suspicious. 'Oh hell what?'

'They went to a deserving cause.'

'Don't tell me, you gave them to that tame tramp of yours.' Bex guessed at once by the look on Evra's face. 'Oh, you are hopeless. What on earth am I going to say to the client when he turns up?'

'Um . . .?'

'And Fenn is going to kill you.'

'He won't.' Evra spoke with more conviction than she felt. 'I asked him if I could have them. He said it was okay.'

Well, he had. Kind of. The only niggling drawback was, Fenn had been pretty busy at the time. And although technically he had said yes, Evra couldn't help thinking he had meant yes, she could have the gloves if nobody turned up to claim them within, say, the next six months.

Rather than the next six seconds.

She bit her lip.

'Well, if Fenn said it was okay,' Bex said, 'that's fine. He can make his grovelling apologies when the client turns up. Mabey he'd even like to pop alnog to Harvey Nickols and buy him a new pair.'

Evra winced.

'After all,' Bex continued remorslessly, 'those gloves cost about two hundered quid.'

They were great friends. She was extremely fond of Evra, who was dippy and good-hearted. The trouble was, Evra was getting herself into . . . well, trouble. She had a habbit of making mistakes.

'Well?' said Bex.

'Okay, okay,' Evra groaned, thrusting the brom into her hands. 'Just cover for me. If Fenn asks where I am, tell him I'm in the loo. I'll be back in two minutes.'

As she raced to the door, Bex called after her, 'Honestly, the muddles you get yourself into.' She broke into a broad grin. 'I'm glad I'm not you.'

Me too, thought Evra as she pelted hell for leather up the Brompton Road, I wish I wasn't me either.

Oh God, this was going to be awkward.

He was stil there, thank goodness. When he spotted her running towards him, he nodded his head and raised one hand briefly in greeting, waggling his fingers to show her he was stil wearing the nice warm gloves.

'This,' said Evra, 'is so embarrassing.'

'What's wrong?'

Her teeth began to chatter with cold and shame. It was still raining and she'd dashed out without her coat.

'The gloves. They . . . er, belong to someone. And . . . um, well, now they want them back.'

Dear God, what must he think of me? Playing Lady Bountiful one minute, and all but stripping him naked the next.

He didn't even blink.

'Okay.'

'Sorry,' said Evra with an air of desperation. 'I feel terrible.'

'And I keep telling you, no need to apologise.' He peeled off the gloves and held them out to her, smiling faintly as he did so. 'They weren't really me, anyway.'

'Thanks.'

Feeling a complete heel, she took them from him.

'Do you want the scarf back as well?'

'No! Stop,' she almost yelled in alarm as he began to unwind it from around his neck, 'you can definitely keep the scarf!'

'That's okay then.' Relieved, he patted it back into place. 'Actually, I prefer the scarf.' His dark eyes registered self-deprecating amusement. 'It's much more my style.'


As she burst through the tinted glass door to the salon, Evra heard a male voice saying, '. . . at least now I don't have to buy a new pair.' In the nick of time she shoved th egloves under her T-shirt.

Bex, who was trying to impress him with (a) her chest and (b) her dazzling repartee, visibly exhaled with relief when she saw Evra and the odd-shaped bump protruding beneath her own, considerably smaller, breasts.

'Mission accomplished.' Evra murmered when they met up seconds later in the cloakroom. Producing the gloves with a flourish, sh ewaggled them in frount of Bex, like cow's udders.

'Yhis is known as a skin-of-your-teeth experience. He's in a rush.' Bex grabbed the glove, wafting them suspiciously under her nose. 'Gos, if he knew where they'd been.'

Evra looked offended. 'I had a shower this morning.'

'Not you, you idiot. Homeless Herbert. It's probably weeks since he saw a bar of soap.'

Evra followed her out of the cloakroom.

'Great, thanks.' The man took the gloves, then frowned. 'They're warm.'

He looked at Bex. Bex, stumped, gazed bak at him.

'It's cold outside,'Evra chimed in helpfully. 'As soon as you rang, Bex put them on the radiator to warm them up.'

Relieved, Bex nodded vigorously.

'That was nice of you.' He grinned at her.

'Bex's as thoughtful girl,' said Evra. 'Single, too,' she went on, barely wincing as beneth the desk a stiletto heel jabbed into her foot. 'She'd make someone a wonderful wife.'

When the client had left, Fenn beckoned Evra over to him.

'So the gloves have been claimed?'

'Mmm. Lucky he came back before I ran off with them.'

'Very lucky.'

Fenn kept a straight face as he returned his attention to the hair he was cutting. Did Evra think he was blind and stupid?


'What's that smell?' Evra wrinkled her nose as she burst into Florence's living room. 'It's all in the hallway . . . crikey, it's even stronger in here. Ah, you've had a visitor.'

'I have been visited,' Florence solemnly agreed, as Evra eyed the teapot and two cups and saucers on the table. 'By Elizabeth.'

'Poor you. What was it this time,' Evra shrugged of her coat, 'more raffle tickets?'

Elizabeth Turnbull, their next-door neighbour, was a divorcee in her mid-forties who devoted half her life to charity fund-raising and the other half to squirting on perfume. She was a nice enough woman, if a bit on the bossy side. Overpowering in every sense of the word.

'Worse.' As she spoke, Florence pushed a couple of stiff white invitations across the table. 'Tickets to a cocktail party, if you please. Twenty quid a head, but they've rustled up a few celebrities,' she raised her asymmetrically pencilled eyebrows, 'so apparently it's a bargain. You get a free glass of champagne and the chance to hob'nob with the rich and famous. And, of course, it's all in a tremendously good cause.'

'I'm sure it'll be tremendous fun, too.' Evra, in turn, mimicked Elizabeth's strickt tones. She glanced at the gilt-edged invitations, each one admitting two guests. 'Actually, it might be fun. You could do with a night out.'

'Oh, I'm not going.'

'Why on earth not?'

'The party's being held in a third-floor flat. No elevators in the building.' Drily Florence added, 'No Stannah Stairlift either. The only way I'd get in is if a helicopter dropped me through the roof.'

'So you paid eighty pounds for tickets and you aren't even going to turn up?' Evra shook her head, bemused. 'Honestly, and you call me a soft touch.'

Florence shrugged. She had her caustic-old-battleaxe image to think of.

'It was the only way to get rid of Elizabeth before the stench of that godawful scent of hers started dissolving the carpet. Anyway, I'll give one of the tickets to Verity and Bruce. The do's being held on their wedding anniversary -- those kind of meet-the-celebrity functions are right up their street.'

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Rei's Neko_gurl: PARTY! I love parties, because you can dress like a pirate! But any way got to go seeing as it's almost midnight. Bye.