Drama Queen.

Fido gingerly skipped onto the bus. Juliana followed; her slender six-foot frame, exquisitely clad in flowing fur and beautifully cut trousers, floated on board. With a dazzling smile she bought her ticket and glanced at the other passengers. There weren’t many, but they all looked at her, as she knew they would. With slow, regal steps, she followed her pet to the standing area near the front, where she arranged herself in a nonchalant pose, Fido at her feet. She preferred to stand; it was difficult to get in and out of the cramped seats and the clumsy struggle it involved, spoiled the sophistication of her sleek performance. Besides, doubled up, she looked like every other middle-aged woman and she was too proud of her statuesque appearance to hide it. She heard a whispered: “Isn’t that … ?” She couldn’t catch the name, but ever since she appeared as a ‘Glamorous Granny’ in the local paper, she was regularly recognised. With an elegant, almost butterfly like movement, she looked at her watch, then stared out of the window at the passing cars. The bus was filling and soon she would have to fend off people trying to give her their seats. She closed her eyes for a moment, re-arranging a lock of hair to hide the scars on her forehead. People sometimes asked why she hadn’t had her face lifted and the scars removed, but she hated the idea. Her lines and scars belonged to a naturally ageing face. No unnecessary surgery for her, thank you very much.
“Are you all right?”
She opened her eyes at the sound of the worried voice, and looked into a pair of startlingly blue eyes. And looked again.
“Peter? Peter Holden? Is that you?”
Surprise flashed in the blue eyes, and an eyebrow shot up.
“It is you! I’d recognise that eyebrow anywhere!” Her soft pink face glowed with pleasure as she scrutinised him. “You haven’t changed at all. Do you still live in New York?”
“Yes, but erm … ”
“Your father did really well with that basketball team of his, didn’t he? We were so sorry to see him go. But of course, if you want to make it big, you have to be in the States.” Juliana enjoyed Peter’s confusion; she hoped he would not jump off at the next stop.
“I’m sorry, but I still can’t … “
“Do you remember Spotty Jones?”
“Spotty? Sure. I worshipped him; the way he outwitted even the most experienced players! Dad tried to get him to the States. He could have been a mega star, but he declined. Father was very disappointed, couldn’t understand … “
“The macho world surrounding basketball in New York put him off.”
“You know Spotty?”
“Oh yes, I knew him.” She smiled, remembering how Peter had a teenage crush on the star player and always copied whatever Spotty did, following him like a devoted puppy.
“Please tell me. Tell me about Spotty. And yourself,” he added quickly.
“Soon after your family left, Spotty quit the team, dropped out of school and lost all contact with his friends.”
Peter frowned: “I didn’t know. He never answered my letters.”
“No, he was too confused, didn’t know what to do ... where to go. To cut a very long story short, he was reduced to begging in the streets, living in hostels or worse. Then his grandmother died and left him her money. That was the end of Spotty. He disappeared … “
“What happened?” he asked, concerned.
Juliana did not hear him and gazed over his shoulder, lost for a moment.
“Do you remember his real name?” she said.
“Wasn’t it Jonathan?”
“No, Julian. Julian Jones, who had always known that he should have been Juliana. Juliana Jones, in high heels and rippling furs; with a devoted companion who never leaves her side”
Spotty’s dazzling smile lit up Juliana’s face when she saw him gulp.
“Don’t worry,” she whispered, playfully patting his cheek with a manicured finger, “you never were my type, but you must come to dinner before you return to the States.”

The End.