A WAG Abroad. Alison Kervin

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СКАЧАТЬ years ago. I found them eventually, after hiring a team of crack shoppers and personal stylists. I turn to tell the shoe-bomb lady about this, in the hope that it will encourage her, but as I do she emits a loud scream, four people dive to the floor and someone falls to his knees and starts reciting the Lord’s Prayer.

      ‘Seize that woman,’ says a small burly man in an ill-fitting jumper, rushing to the lady’s side and pointing right at me. He hits a big red button on the machine and screams for assistance.

      ‘Help! Help!’ he cries, in a not altogether masculine fashion. It reminds me of my husband Dean when I last took him to the dentist.

      Shoe-bomb woman howls as a major alarm wails through the airport, and people in uniform come tearing across from all directions, many of them armed.

      ‘Oooo … how exciting,’ I say, looking up at Dean and giving my daughter Paskia-Rose an entirely unwelcome hug. Three policemen with vicious-looking dogs are sprinting towards me. I feel like I’m on a movie set or something. Dean’s not quite as impressed.

      ‘What the fuck have you got in your bag?’ he asks, as the alarms grow louder and the panic in the airport rises to fever pitch.

      But I can’t answer above the sound of screaming and shrieking. Those who are still standing hurl themselves onto the floor. Suddenly I’m being thrown down next to them in the most undignified and unladylike fashion.

      ‘I’m wearing next season’s Chloe,’ I scream, trying to pull my teeny-weeny, pink mini-skirt across my lady place as I fly backwards through the dirt and dust.

      There’s not a flicker of compassion or concern on the man’s face. Does he have no idea how hard it is to get hold of Chloe four months before it hits the catwalk?

      ‘Get up!’ he growls. ‘Follow me!’ He speaks in a real Arnold Swarzenegger-type voice that, despite everything, makes me want to giggle.

      I turn to Dean and say, ‘I’ll be back,’ in a similarly stern fashion, but realize immediately that this is a big mistake.

      ‘Ah, funny girl,’ he says, leading me towards a severe-looking woman with tightly cropped brown hair who is snapping on latex gloves. ‘Let’s see just how funny you’re feeling after this.’

       An hour later

      Not funny at all, actually. Not in the least. My sense of humour deserted me entirely as I was forced to endure the horror of a strip search conducted by a woman with no highlights and bad taste in knitwear.

      ‘What is the problem?’ I asked, as she ordered me to remove my clothing.

      ‘I think you know what the problem is,’ she said before searching everywhere you can imagine. Finally, when she was happy that I wasn’t concealing anything that might constitute a threat to national security she told me to get dressed, and sat down in the chair opposite me.

      ‘You look tired,’ I said because she did, poor love. ‘Have you been working too hard?’

      ‘Something like that,’ she said, as I slipped on my skirt. Then she sat upright. ‘Can I ask you something personal?’

      ‘Yes,’ I replied.

      ‘Would you mind telling me where you get your bikini line done? I think the stars and stripes flag looks great.’

      Oh, so she’s human after all. I gave her the name of the beautician whose handiwork with sequins, glitter and jewels she was admiring, and continued to dress.

      ‘Does it hurt?’ she asked.

      ‘It doesn’t hurt a bit,’ I reassured her. ‘It itches though, and you find jewels in the strangest of places, but it’s worth it. Is it for a special occasion?’

      The woman smiled and took off the gloves, flicking the glitter off them as she did so and removing an electric blue star from one of the fingers. ‘A date. Tomorrow night,’ she confided as she led me through the door.

      ‘Wow. Have fun,’ I said. ‘Make sure you ask for Mallory when you call that number. She’s the best.’

      ‘Thanks,’ she replied warmly, then she switched on her more formal self. ‘I’ll leave you with Mr Matthews.’

      ‘Tracie Martin?’ asked a tall, cross-looking man who wouldn’t know a fashionable bikini line if it jumped up and bit him.

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Take a seat, please.’

      On the table in front of us were a small replica gun, dagger and hand grenade.

      ‘Do these belong to you?’ he asked.

      ‘Yes,’ I told him. ‘I’m going to Los Angeles. It’s quite a dangerous place. Have you not seen all the films? Everyone carries a gun out there.’

      ‘Not everyone,’ he said. ‘And certainly not anyone who doesn’t have a licence for one. Even if you have a licence, you can’t take them on a flight.’

      ‘But they’re only pretend ones. They’re only to scare people away if they try to attack me. What if a baddie is on the flight and tries to take control of the plane and crash it into Disneyland or something? If none of us has any weapons, what are we supposed to do? Let him fly us to certain death? I don’t know about you but I don’t want to die in a head-on collision with Minnie Mouse or some other fanciful Disney character.’

      I was rubbing the tips of my fingers together as I spoke. I do that when I’m nervous. It helps to calm me down. I thought Mr Matthews could do with trying it, the poor bloke looked as if he was going to explode.

      ‘I can’t let you take these on the flight,’ he said.

      ‘Just the one?’ I suggested.

      ‘No.’

      ‘OK, I’ll leave them here then,’ I said, but I have to say I was mightily disappointed. The gun was a beautiful accessory. It had an exquisitely carved wooden handle.

      ‘You’re free to go, Mrs Martin. Enjoy your flight.’

      ‘Thank you,’ I said, and I walked back out to Dean feeling wholly deflated by the experience. What a bloody fuss! If I was going to start bringing down aeroplanes, would I have put the weapons in my hand luggage? No, I’d have put them somewhere altogether more discreet.

      ‘You awright love?’ said Dean, rushing over to hug me.

      ‘I’m fine,’ I replied. ‘They just fussed a bit about my weapons, but it’s OK now.’ I looked over at Paskia-Rose who had gone all pale. ‘I thought they were going to throw you into jail,’ she whimpered. ‘We’ve been really worried.’

      ‘There’s nothing to be concerned about,’ I said. ‘I’m back, and we’re all off to LA.’

      ‘If we haven’t missed the flight,’ said Dean. ‘Come on, we’re gonna have to run like the clappers to get there in time.’

      Dean and Pask went tearing through to the departure gate in their comfy flat shoes and matching Luton tracksuits. СКАЧАТЬ