THIS STORY IS NOT SUITABLE FOR READERS UNDER 12
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Chapter 10: Death of a Prime Minister
It needed to be done urgently so Velma decided she’d catch the last train to London that night, at 22.03. The friends had decided that Muriel would clock in with Velma’s phone and log-in details for her 10pm cleaning shift, in order to leave no written record of Velma’s absence.
Velma grabbed a wig and some make-up from her bottom drawer – she’d be a goth this time – and got herself ready. She had to be sure no one saw her leaving the flat when she was disguised, that’s why she would normally slip on her disguises somewhere en route. But this make up was going to take a long time and she needed good lighting, so she had to do it at home. The obvious answer to making sure she wasn’t seen leaving home was to transform into the bat or the mist. For some unknown mystical reason, however she was dressed before morphing into her alternate forms, she would be again when she reverted. The only problem, then, was that she couldn’t take anything else with her.
But that didn’t matter too much. Muriel had her phone anyway, so all she needed was a ticket and Andy would help with that.
At 21:45, while Muriel walked to work, Andy walked Sammy to the station and paid £84.40 cash for a single to London. Then he sat on a bench at Platform 4 and read his book. Meanwhile, the Velma Mist slid under the door of the Ladies toilets which opened a moment later as Velma the Goth walked out. Then she walked back in because it’s always a good idea to go for a pee before you get on a train.
Five and a half minutes after that, she sat down next to a man she pretended not to know, and a dog who pretended not to know her. Andy put away his book and walked Sammy to the station exit. Velma put her hand on the ticket he’d left behind and nonchalantly picked it up as the station announced the imminent arrival of her train. She would be in London at 00:23.
Velma transformed into mist in the toilets of King’s Cross Station and then made fast progress over the three-and-a-bit miles to Downing Street. It was four minutes to one. She knew that members of the government and the civil service would likely be home in bed but there were still plenty of staff on duty inside and around the government buildings. Of course the armed guards at the front of Number Ten did not hinder her so getting under the door was no problem at all. But, once inside, she had to be careful to stay close to the floor, hoping not to get noticed by the night shift of admin and security staff.
She kept still under a desk in the first busy office she came to, listening to staff conversations until she was satisfied that there was no late night cabinet meeting and the Prime Minister was indeed at home in the flat above Number Eleven.
Pleased to discover the PM sleeping alone, she demisted and stood close to the bed. The bleached blonde, crimped and back-combed wig topped off a startlingly good gothic disguise which included enough face paint, strategically applied, to confuse any facial recognition software that might subsequently be used.
The PM’s phone was on his bedside table. She tapped his shoulder with it, gently at first but when it didn’t rouse him she tapped it on his forehead. He lifted his hands to his face as if to swat away a fly.
“Wake up Prime Minister,” Velma spoke low so as not to be heard outside the room. “You need to make a phone call.”
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Come back tomorrow to see what happens next – unless you want to read it now 😀
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