Ten minutes later I'd turned the clock back fifteen years to become a gawky teenager in a navy gym-tunic, complete with white blouse, blue tie, straw hat, and ribboned pigtails. I paused by the mirror, and after getting into the mood with a few girlish giggles I made my way demurely to Table 9 where I spotted Allen, eagerly awaiting my arrival.
But again I felt hopelessly ill-briefed. Should I recognise him as the same man I'd shaved earlier, or was I expected to act out a new role with total conviction, pretending to be someone quite different? Whatever Allen's expectations, I certainly didn't want to disappoint him.
"Hi," I greeted him with a coy chuckle. "See? I've regressed back to my childhood."
"A happy childhood, I trust? You look nice," he added. "Very nice indeed."
"I hope it's what you wanted. I've done the best I can, though I warn you - I never went to university. My aunt didn't believe in spending money on that sort of thing, so I've got no formal qualifications at all. In fact I even feel guilty being dressed as a prefect, as if I've got stacks of A-levels. Though it wasn't my fault I couldn't stay on. Sorry - I'm rambling. I guess it's because I feel embarrassed about being here."
"Me too," he said. "Did I mention this is actually my first visit?"
"Mine too," I echoed. "I'm what they call a trainee."
"I do happen to know that," he nodded, "though I'd never have guessed from the way you're acting. I'm glad you chose blue."
"It's a popular colour," I grinned, wondering whether all my responses were being overheard in the Control Centre. "What else should we should talk about?"
"Why not carry on from where we left off?" he said. "You were asking why I decided to come here. I don't think I got around to telling you."
"That's because they keep interrupting to make us play silly games. Not that I mind, of course. But I'm glad you asked for me again. Thank you. So why DID you choose to spend the weekend here?"
"I really only came for the day," Allen admitted. "You might say I'm giving the place the once-over, on recommedation from a friend. However, I'm sorely tempted to stay till tomorrow evening. I'm finding more to do here than I'd expected."
I told him I found the whole set-up quite mind-blowing, and described how I'd spent the last half-hour dressed as a cheerleader.
"But I made a rotten job of it," I confessed. "I feel much more comfortable dressed like this. I'm glad you asked for a school outfit."
"To be fair," he said, "it was a random choice. I'm not wildly into gym-tunics, though you play your part very well. I merely wanted another chance to sit with you, that's all, no matter what you wore."
"That's okay," I smiled. "We're here to please the customers - sorry, clients."
Allen looked disillusioned. "I suppose you're bound to talk like that when you're on duty," he said, "though I'd much rather know you as a real person. I long to hear about your hobbies and interests, what you've done in life, and where you've been. In fact, there's so much we could talk about, I don't know where to begin. Okay, how can I put this without it sounding cliché? From the moment I first saw you, Jennifer, I knew there was a quality about you that - well, it's almost as if we've been friends in a past life or something. Do you know what I mean?"
"Like destiny? Not altogether, but I'm happy to listen if you want to tell me more. I'm sure we can talk about anything you like, can't we? Ask me whatever you want to know."
"Now you're sounding rather artificial. There's no need. Never mind whether anyone's listening. Relax and tell me about some of the jobs you had before you came here."
"Oh, this and that," I replied. "They were all mundane jobs which got me no further up the social ladder than a waitress in a seedy Acton café."
Allen grinned. "I think I know the place you mean. Acton, that is. I often pass through Acton on my way to Heathrow. I fly a lot, you see, in fact I lead a very busy life, which is why I've been looking forward to today. I'm still hoping we might get to know one another really well. I'd like that very much."
"Oh, so would I," I said, "but you'd better hurry. I'm only here for one weekend."
"And where will you be after that?"
"At home," I smiled, "drinking endless cups of coffee, writing endless letters and waiting for the postman. I'm a full-time job-hunter. I'm only here on probation, and I think they've already decided I'm no good."
"Rubbish! Jennifer, you're a natural. Unpretentious, kind-hearted - you take the time to care about people. I'd say this place was crying out for a girl like you, someone truly genuine who isn't forever acting out a fictitious role."
"But that's precisely what we're supposed to be doing. I'm a schoolgirl, remember? My headmistress likes to watch from her study window, and I'll be sure to get detention if I don't behave in class. You do realise I'm only sixteen?"
He grinned. "Is that all?"
"Well, I might squeeze in a seventeenth birthday if you insist, but girls don't wear outfits like this at university - at least, I don't think so. I never got the chance to find out."
"Which is why you felt better employed as a waitress? A job you performed well, I'm sure, but a waste of your talents. I mean, you have a charming manner. You're unassuming, delightfully friendly, and you speak nicely too. You have a good way with words. I reckon at the very least you'd make someone an ideal personal secretary."
"Me?" I laughed. "You'll have to wait for my exam results before you make rash predictions like that. But I'm not in your league when it comes to getting a job. For starters I've never flown from Heathrow. Stansted once, but that was years ago when I went with a couple of friends to Majorca. Can't afford it now - I've just thrown all my inheritance into buying a place in Ealing."
"I don't suppose you'd care to give me the address?"
"I don't think we're allowed to divulge details like that," I said. "Besides, I'm talking nonsense. It's all fantasy! Whoever heard of a schoolgirl owning her own home?"
"That doesn't matter," he laughed. "Jennifer, my love, we're here to enjoy ourselves, not to get bogged down by silly rules."
"Nevertheless, it's best I acknowledge the rules while I'm still on probation."
"You're still worried that someone's listening?"
I put a finger to my lips, while Allen made a pretence of searching under the table for hidden microphones.
"Great!" he sulked. "So now we can't talk about you, and I doubt if you want to hear about me. What else is there?"
"I think we are allowed to discuss your hobbies and interests," I said. "Tell me again what made you decide to come here and what you'd like me to do for you. They do all sorts of weird things here for clients, you know, in fact one of my friends has just had to go to the plaster room - she's reckons by lunch-time she'll end up mummified."
"Lunch-time? Yes, I suppose it must be getting on for midday. It's hard to tell when they take away our watches and deprive us of sunlight. You realise this place is deep underground? A limestone cave - quite natural, of course - and very common in the Mendip Hills."
We both stared up at the rocky limestone ceiling.
"I don't think we're meant to speculate on where we are," I cautioned him. "Let's concentrate on what you'd like me to do."
"Well, let me see," he grinned. "Am I allowed to hold your hand?"
I said I saw no harm in that, so we held hands.
"Do you think it's okay if we sit a little closer," he asked, "maybe arm in arm, the way we were at breakfast? I truly enjoyed that."
I confessed I'd enjoyed it too, so we sat even closer together.
"Are what do the rules say about giving schoolgirls a gentle kiss?"
"Setting aside any thoughts of child abuse," I said, dropping gladly into my role, "I reckon that if I were someone's daughter going away to boarding school, and you were this girl's loving father waiting to see her off at the station, it's quite possible she'd be feeling sad - in which case, I'm sure it'd be okay to comfort her, at least until the train arrives."
We spent maybe a whole hour waiting for that train. It brought back painful memories of being loved and comforted in the days before my parents died. Yes, I decided, with the right partner this could be a fun-place after all - but was it necessary to confine our fun to this awesome cavern? Didn't my man in brown say something about longer-term relationships?"Your train's taking a long time," breathed Allen, fondling my hair and smiling - true affection, I felt sure, unless he was merely amused by my ribbons.
"Are you sure we're on the right platform?" I asked. "What if it this train doesn't run on Saturdays?"
"As I said, I'm prepared to alter my plans and stay a bit longer. That'll give us both an opportunity to talk about ourselves - and maybe confess to a few things."
"Confess what?"
He shifted awkwardly. "Well, in one way, I have been deceiving you."
"Don't tell me, you've got a fetish about schoolgirls in uniform."
"Well, no - at least, no, I hadn't. But seeing you dressed like this, I must admit bare legs have their attractions. For a start, they look far more natural."
"Ah, but it can get very cold in winter," I told him. "It's all very well for you boys in your long trousers, but we girls freeze at our bus-stops, even in nylon stockings. That's why lots of us nowadays wear thick tights - much warmer - though I suppose, being a man, you'd prefer it if we all wore sheer stockings and suspenders."
Allen shook his head. "The way you are suits me just fine," he said. "Jennifer, I hope you don't think I'm rushing things, but this may be my only chance to put my case squarely and talk openly about things. I'm most anxious to make a good impression, Jennifer, because I really do like you. Can you digest this much frankness, or would you prefer we while away the rest of the day with small-talk?"
I looked up into his face, so full of kindly concern. Gone were all thoughts of where I was or why. My mind dwelt solely on the sheer contentment of nestling in Allen's arms. It reawakened a long-lost sense of security that enveloped me like a snug baby's blanket.
"Allen," I murmured, barely conscious, "just keep talking. Say anything you like - I shan't mind."
"Is that because you're still hoping to get a job here, or because you really mean it?"
I was quite sure my voice must have sounded as if I were drunk or under some deep hypnosis, because that's how my brain felt.
"It's because any job I apply for," I murmured in my dream, "has to be an honest job where I can be my honest self. I'm not at all sure about this place. It seems everything I do is scrutinised by a hidden committee who'll decide whether or not I'm any good. Can't you feel them now, watching both of us? I want to be a success, naturally, but I also need to be completely straight with everyone I meet. It's all very well wearing silly costumes and taking on different roles, but I wouldn't want to be dishonest or deceitful with anyone - especially you."
"Nor me with you, Jennifer, though I'm sadly out of practice at convincing girls of my best intentions. You see, there are several things you'll soon need to know about me and the job I do, but I'd hate you to get upset or feel disillusioned when you find out. I'd say we're at a very vulnerable stage in our relationship."
Our confidences came to an abrupt halt with the arrival of lunch, brought to our table by a mini-skirted waitress whom I recognised as Ursula. First she delivered two bowls of soup, and glared at me as if I'd deliberately wriggled my way out of doing any work. She returned a minute later with club-sandwiches, and a bottle of Beaujolais which she banged noisily on the table to express further disapproval.
"It's all right," Allen advised her politely. "Jennifer's my daughter and she is over eighteen."
Whatever Ursula's opinion of me, I could have taught her a trick or two about being a waitress. It seemed we were each being asked to perform tasks for which we were thoroughly ill-suited.
"I detect the American influence here," said Allen, oblivious to my feelings of guilt. "I remember the first time I had lunch in the States, and hadn't got used to the accent, the waitress tried to ask if I wanted soup or salad." He giggled like an amused child. "I thought she was telling me there was a super salad, so I kept nodding and made a complete ass of myself in front of three other executives. Luckily we were able to laugh the moment off, and everyone put it down to jet-lag. Then the very next day I naively ordered three sandwiches, never dreaming each one would consist of a whole French loaf nearly two feet long. Embarrassing! And here I am, reverting to small-talk - equally embarrassing. Have a glass of Beaujolais, it's my favourite."
He carefully poured two glasses, and we savoured it together.
"I can't imagine you being embarrassed," I said. "You seem so confident, as if you've truly got your act together. You seem to know precisely where you're heading in life. I don't, not yet."
"It's not often I confess my shortcomings, Jennifer, even to friends. But you're different. And you say you won't be returning here after tomorrow?"
"Here today. Gone tomorrow. Unless, of course, they decide to lock me up and throw away the key, in which case you'll have to come and rescue me. When are you actually leaving?"
"At the very latest, soon after Sunday lunch. Why?"
"Seriously, Allen, if I don't come down for breakfast tomorrow or say a proper goodbye, it'll be because they've conspired to keep us apart. I mean it! After we raised our veto cards this morning and we went our separate ways, I found myself locked in a room that felt just like a prison cell. Now I've got an eerie sense of foreboding. There's something about this place that really scares me, Allen, even when I'm with you."
"Jennifer, if need be I would come and rescue you from the depths of Antarctica," he took delight in assuring me. "Especially if I knew your poor little legs were freezing."
This notion may have given him a moment of pleasure, but I was sure I'd spoken too candidly for my own good. I looked again for hidden microphones.
"This is a very strict school," I said quietly. "The nuns here punish us severely if any of us are caught misbehaving."
"Then Daddy will have you transferred to a more friendly school, an exclusive private school where you're allowed to be your true, natural self. You can wear pretty summer dresses, any colour you like, with grown-up stockings if you wish - only, please, not those hideous fish-net things - if there's one feminine fashion I cannot abide, it's fish-net stockings."
I nodded my agreement. "Especially on girls with flabby legs! Tell me more about my new school. When does term start?"
"Oh, soon," he said, taking a firm hold of my hand. "In fact, let's make it right now. And this time, my love, it's the height of summer, so wear something light and comfortable."
It took me less than four minutes to scamper upstairs and change into what I considered ideal, a green gingham school-dress. I didn't waste time looking for stockings or tights, but hurried back to our table, confident that Allen would be delighted.
But to my dismay he was gone. Not only had he vanished without a word, but his seat was now taken by Carol who eyed me with transparent distaste.
"Huh! A quicker change than last time, though I don't recall authorising it. You simply decided for yourself to wear something without permission, is that it?"
I said I hadn't realised prior approval was needed.
The dragon stood up and folded her arms.
"Think, girl. Suppose one of our clients demanded a particular outfit which was no longer free because some junior upstart had taken it into her head to sneak upstairs and borrow it? Next time, you get my consent, is that clear? Besides," she added with a sneer, "your man evidently got tired of waiting, so I suggest you hurry back at once. Dawn's up there and she's sure to need a helping hand."
Up in the wardrobe department I found Dawn stark naked, standing with her back to the door. As I approached she turned and flung her arms across her chest.
"Don't you ever knock?"
I quickly apologised, saying I'd been sent there by the dragon to offer whatever assistance she might need.
"That's okay," she sighed. "Sorry to be jumpy. I had a narrow escape earlier, and my next assignment's hardly one I'm looking forward to. But times are hard, and a girl has to earn a living. You look good - who's that for?"
"No-one," I said gloomily. "I'm waiting for my next assignment. How did you make out in the plaster-room?"
She closed her eyes. "Don't remind me. Praise be to God for the Rescue Squad! Meanwhile, it's on with the show. Sorry about the nudity, but if I go by the rules, underwear's not allowed. Men can tell, you know, by the feel. So it's into the costume as Nature made me, or I risk losing my bonus. We're talking several hundred pounds here, less commission of course, but even a hundred would suit me nicely. The fact is ... oh, shit!"
"What's wrong?"
"Skip it! Do you mind covering my back with talc?" She handed me a large canister. "Use plenty - there's no extra charge."
"What's up?" I persisted, puzzled by her sudden change of manner. "Is there something you want to talk about?"
Dawn snatched the tin from me and moved quickly away.
"I'm a very experienced listener," I assured her. "I've devoted half my life listening to lonely old men who wander in for a measly cup of coffee, and then spend two hours trying to chat me up or complain about the wife. I reckon nothing would shock me now, so feel free - say whatever's on your mind."
"I said skip it," she barked. "You know your trouble, Jennifer? You talk too much. Far, far too much. Understand what I'm saying?"
Dawn sat on a bench, inching her way into blue rubber leggings.
"Sorry," she continued softly, "but there's things about this place you clearly don't yet understand. No offence, eh?"
The warmth of her smile managed to dissolve any damage caused by her tongue.
"Now for the tricky bit," she said, standing up. "I can manage this lark on my own till we get to the shoulders. Then I need an extra pair of hands or I end up pulling every muscle in my body."
As she began unrolling the rest of her outfit, I noticed it had long sleeves and a very high collar. "See this narrow neck-piece?" she said. "We've got to yank that up over my bust and shoulders. Sometimes I think childbirth must be easier than getting into this contraption."
I voiced appropriate concern and asked if she often wore such outfits.
She nodded, breathing with some difficulty as she wrestled her way into the suit. "But not this heavy-duty stuff. However, my man downstairs insists nothing else will do, and he's the kind of chauvinist who was put on this planet to make the rules and be obeyed. God knows how his..."
She broke off and put a finger to her lips.
"You think someone's listening?" I whispered. "Even up here?"
Dawn placed her flat palm over my mouth and pointed urgently to my identity tag.
"You get what I mean about this being a fun-place?" she continued with a meaningful stare. "Ready for the strong-arm stuff?"
After a tense struggle we eventually got Dawn into her suit, and she stared back at me with the eyes of a trapped prisoner.
"Bloody hell!" she murmured. "The things I do for England, and I'm not kidding. Never mind, Dawn girl, think of the money."
"What happens when you want the loo?" I asked.
"Carry on wanting."
"And how long before you get rescued?"
"As long as it takes," she replied, and with a resigned sigh she made her way below.
What was I supposed to do now? I'd been reprimanded for daring to use my initiative. Should I simply act dumb and sit waiting for Sunday evening?
I peeled off the green dress and looked around for my tracksuit - but it was nowhere to be seen. Either some employee had mistaken it for her own, or it had been carted away as part of the laundry. Great! With basic initiative frowned on, it seemed my only option was to return to the arena in my bra and pants, and hope the Rescue Squad spotted me before I bumped into George Owens.
In hindsight, I recognise this now as my Moment of Truth. It had become glaringly obvious that Intimate Breaks wasn't the place for me, not if it meant being scolded by smug superiors, treated with disdain by fellow employees, and generally regarded as a mindless sex-slave.
The word 'slave' struck a familiar chord too - the very word used when Diane tried to warn me against getting involved. If she and Cliff were genuine reporters, what stark truth did they know about this place, a truth that naive Jennifer Bewley was only just beginning to unravel?
And why did I sense that in Allen alone I'd found the one person I could safely confide in, the one reliable friend into whose hands I would willingly entrust my very existence?
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