The Red Shoes

It’s freezing in here! Juliette thought, although she wasn’t sure whether the shaking was from absolute terror or the fact she had nothing on but her birthday suit and was hiding in a corner of the living room, next to the chimney breast hoping the cobwebs were long abandoned. Oh god please don’t let her catch me, I’ll never live it down! And I really don’t fancy getting my head kicked in with my tits hanging out. So there she stayed barely daring to breathe in case she was caught out.

“Whose shoes are they?” screeched a female voice. “Um, one of the punters must have left them behind” came the feeble answer. Oh shit, oh shit, why didn’t I hide my shoes? Why the shitting shit did I leave them there? I’ve had it now. I’ll be paraded around the village. No one will ever speak to me again. “Are you honestly trying to tell me some woman came into the pub, walked upstairs and left her shoes behind?” came the woman’s voice again. “Just what kind of idiot do you think I am?” “Err no, I mean they were left behind downstairs and I brought them up here for safekeeping.” “Bullshit did you, you’ve got a woman in here haven’t you?!” she screamed as Juliette could hear her on the move, looking around the flat to see where this mystery floozy was hiding, ready to tear her limb from limb.

Please don’t let her find me, I’ll be good from now on, I’ll never do anything bad again, just don’t let her find me! Juliette prayed to whoever was listening. Her leg started to go numb but she didn’t dare move, just in case. She could hear doors being slammed and stomping on stairs and started to feel slightly more calm as the sounds were moving away. After what felt like 3 long days in a dust ridden cubby hole, just as Juliet thought her legs might be stuck in the bent knee position forever like an abandoned Barbie doll destined to look like she was stuck on the loo for all eternity, she heard an almighty SLAM as the woman left the pub in a rage of epic proportions.

Juliette straightened up her stiff legs and limped off to find her clothing quicksharp. Her knickers were inside out but she didn’t have time to care as she shoved last nights dress over her head, screwed up like a shitty old dish cloth grabbed the disloyal shoes and her handbag and ran out of the pub without looking back hoping nobody would notice her walk of shame. She ran through her own front door and breathed a sigh of relief that although it had been close she had gotten away with it.

Back at home she breathed a bit easier knowing she hadn’t had her hair ripped off her scalp by the raging girlfriend. Why hadn’t he said he was already with another woman? What a slimy scumbag. Chalking it up to experience she got on with her usually unexciting life and put it to the back of her mind. The Friday evening after Juliette was looking forward to letting down her hair after a hard working week. She was meeting her friends in the pub, she took her time getting ready to the tunes of Pete Tong with a sneaky glass of Martini borrowed from her Dad’s cabinet. A slick of lipstick, no jacket – they were for wimps of course – grabbed her purse, slid her feet into her shoes and clattered off down the road into her local.

She caught the eye of her friends and smiled as she stepped through the door and her shoes caught the eye of the girl stood at the end of the bar talking to the barman, she did a double take, “I recognise those shoes you little shit!”  Juliette heard the girl screech and the collective gasp from the pub as she turned around and ran as best she could on those stupid red shoes.

Julie x (2)

One thought on “The Red Shoes

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.