A Date with Audrey Hepburn

by Alyson Faye

A shorter version of this story appeared in Alyson’s flash fiction collection, ‘Badlands’, Chapeltown Books, Jan 2018.

The tube doors smacked shut behind the slim brunette in the chartreuse green coat, trapping Audrey Hepburn’s head in the gap. Ebbonnie struggled and tussled. Her handbag had her in a choke hold around the neck. The doors snapped hungrily again. Open. Closed. This time they nibbled Audrey’s tiara.

With a final tug Ebbonnie wrestled the life-size cardboard figure inside the carriage and fell back against a seat. Audrey, in her little black dress, stood propped, drunkenly, against a window. She looked perfectly groomed, whereas Ebbonnie was a sweaty mess.

‘Got your hands full there, love.’ The bloke opposite smiled.

He’s got nice eyes, Ebbonnie thought, but more on autopilot, not really interested. She’d not been herself since ‘the Darren fiasco.’ That was one ‘ex’ who was staying in ex-ile.

‘What are you doing carrying this Fair Lady around?’ He nodded at Audrey, his mouth crinkling, as though he’d told a joke.

‘It’s for my boss’s party. Part of the deck core.’

Tube Guy looked confused. Then he laughed. ‘Oh right. Funny.’

Ebbonnie wondered what he meant? She glanced out of the window. ‘Nearly my stop. Hammersmith. Gotta go.’

She tried to haul Audrey upright. It turned into a battle, as Audrey resisted.

‘Here let me give you a hand. It’s not often you get to grips with one of your idols. I’d have Breakfast at Tiffanys with her any day.’ He laughed.

Ebbonnie being polite, smiled back, wondering who this Tiffany girl was? His girlfriend? His ex?

Tube Guy grabbed Audrey by the waist, and spun her around, making it look easy, as though they were partners on ‘Strictly’.

The train came to a halt, with the usual judder. Audrey’s foot caught on Ebbonnie’s tights.

‘Do you fancy going to see Audrey in 3D?’ asked Tube Guy, beaming. ‘She’s at the BFI. They’re showing a season of her films. We could OD on Audrey.’ More chuckling. More flashing Persil white teeth.

Ebbonnie stood beside him, nonplussed. She couldn’t help admiring Tube Guy’s muscle definition in his tight T-shirt. But she didn’t want to admit that Scream was more her type of film. She’d never heard of this Audrey Hepburn he kept going on about. She’d Google her later.

Ebbonnie followed Tube Guy, with Audrey slung under his arm, onto the platform. She stood watching, whilst he took a series of selfies, posing with an arm around Audrey’s waist. Ebbonnie thought they looked a cute couple. She couldn’t help but notice that Tube Guy didn’t want her in the pics.

It had been a long day. Carting the cardboard figure on and off the Tube had turned into a nightmare. Audrey towered over Ebbonnie’s five foot three, and the tiara was a health and safety hazard.

Ebbonnie’s feet were throbbing, her tights were snagged and her brand-new Shellac had chipped. Right at that moment, she didn’t feel very friendly towards Audrey, or her boss. Tube Guy’s charms and chat were wearing thin too.

‘Perhaps you could take er . . . ‘Audrey’ round to my boss’s address?’ Ebbonnie handed Tube Guy a card, praying hard. ‘He’ll be ever so thrilled. He said they were all waiting on Audrey to show up. I’ll follow you both in a taxi. There wouldn’t be room for the three of us in one cab.’

‘Really? Great, I’d love to.’ Tube Guy looked thrilled.

Ebbonnie watched him trot off to the taxi rank, at double speed. Audrey disappearing with him into the crowds.

Ebbonnie sighed, then turned and headed in the opposite direction towards the nearest Be At One Bar. She would have one or even two for the road.

Bio:
Alyson lives in the UK, with her family and rescue dog, Roxy. Her stories and poetry have appeared in many anthologies, most recently, Grendel Press’ ‘Uncanny Tales’, #141 Space and Time. Fairy Tale Magazine, and on The Night’s End Podcast. She swims, sings in a choir, loves old movies and is often out on the moors with Roxy.