The Train, Sarah Bourne [dark books to read .txt] 📗

so he was rich. But he’d have to not be a wanker like the doctors who came to the nursing home. They all thought they were God’s gift and treated the patients and the staff like they were shit on their shoes. Well, except for Dr Malone, but he was at least sixty and wore a corduroy suit straight out of the seventies. And he wasn’t being retro and cool. And Dr Bell was nice too, but she was a woman.

Alice noticed the countryside giving way to the urban sprawl. Somewhere out there was the man for her. He’d find her, claim her as his soulmate. Shame the scenery was so ugly; miles and miles of houses and gardens, factories, parks, high streets with their tired-looking shopfronts, graffiti, abandoned shopping trolleys in a muddy canal, worn-out people dragging themselves to the stations or onto buses for another day at work. She almost understood why the man had jumped in front of the train. But her Clifford Brown would make everything seem okay. With him, life would take on new meaning, colours would be more vibrant, each day would be a new adventure.

She made her way to the toilet to freshen up. She was beginning to get nervous. It was going to be a big day. The biggest day of her life.

As soon as the train came to a stop Alice was out the door, jogging along the platform. She’d had an idea when she was trying to do her make-up in the train – instead of battling with the swaying and getting eyeliner all over her face she’d get her make-up done at a department store, pretending she was going to buy their products. It would take longer than doing her own, but she reckoned it would be worth the time.

She needed to get to Oxford Street so she jumped on the Victoria line and emerged a few minutes later at Oxford Circus. She didn’t get to London much. She’d have liked to, but it was expensive, and she was always short of money. She scanned the busy road, but couldn’t remember which direction Debenhams was in. She stopped a woman with a shopping bag and asked. She mumbled something at her in an incomprehensible language but a turbaned Indian man who had overheard her question pointed down the road.

‘Debenhams,’ he said. Alice thanked him and turned towards the department store.

Five minutes later she was browsing the beauty section, awed by the choice, the lighting, the sheer opulence of the place. All the surfaces sparkled, light bounced off mirrors polished to diamond brightness. Women in the uniforms of Clarins, Clinique, Lancôme, and all the other posh brands were beautifully made up, hair perfect. They stood at their counters, idly waving dusters over their displays or turning their products so they all faced the same way. Alice took her time, now she was here, to make her choice. She’d applied her own foundation and blush, she just needed dramatic eyes, for which she needed a youngish sales girl who looked bored and so would welcome the distraction of making someone up. She also had to have a certain look herself, so that Alice knew she’d understand what she wanted.

At the Urban Decay counter, she found her girl.

‘Hi,’ she said, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. She felt intimidated in this place with these people who acted like they’d been born there.

‘Can I help you?’ The girl smiled.

Alice relaxed a bit.

‘I’ve got an important event happening today, and I’ve come out without my make-up. I was wondering if you’d, you know, do it for me?’

The sales girl’s smile fell. ‘Like for free?’

Alice bit her lip and said nothing. She’d humiliated herself in this Mecca of beauty. She was shocked to feel tears welling, and turned to go before she embarrassed herself even more.

‘What’s the event?’

Alice told her.

‘OMG – that’s fantastic! Of course I’ll do it. Got nothing else to do anyway. Monday’s are always so quiet. What are you wearing – not what you’ve got on, I hope.’

Alice pulled her outfit from her bag.

‘Great. Love the top. Good colours. I’ll make sure your make-up matches.’

Alice wanted to hug her. ‘Really?’

‘Yep. But if my boss comes, I’m just doing a demonstration and you’re going to buy something. Now, what sort of look are you after?’

Alice explained what she wanted: dramatic, but not too out there, sexy but not tarty.

‘I’m Alice, by the way,’ she said.

‘Debbie, pleased to meet you.’

As Debbie did her eyes, they chatted. Debbie, it turned out, had always wanted to be a make-up artist in movies.

‘It’s just so competitive, I don’t have a chance. I don’t know anyone in the industry.’

When she’d finished, she held a mirror up. Alice gasped. She’d been transformed. Debbie was a magician.

‘Wow, thanks so much.’

‘Don’t thank me – take my number and let me know how you go! Good luck. I’m so excited for you. And jealous.’

Alice pulled her phone out, punched in Debbie’s number and looked at the time. She went cold all over. Having her make-up done had taken longer than she’d thought, and now she’d have to rush to get there on time. And she still had to change. Taking a few deep breaths, she decided to change when she got to the venue rather than traipsing across London in her gear.

‘Here, take this. It’s a sample, but you might need to do your lipstick again. Hey, and if you could put a word in for me at all…’

‘Course I will. You’re an angel, Debbie. Laters.’

Alice walked quickly back to the station. She wanted to run, but thought it might make her sweat and her make-up might slip. Her heart pounded. Consulting the Tube map and her instructions for how to get to the venue, she made her way to the Central line platform deep in the hot bowels of the station. She arrived on the platform as a train was pulling out and had to wait