Donna Joy Usher - Chanel 01 - Cocoa and Chanel (2 page)

I howled harder for poor Dad and Hilda, and I’m sorry to say, also for myself. I mean what the hell was I to do? I had an addiction to bad boys, a passion for fashion and I was living in Hickery which had neither.

I let Mum make me a nice cup of tea (her words) and some bacon and eggs while I contemplated my woes.

***

That afternoon I was in a queue at the grocery store, my head in the latest
Vogue
magazine and trying desperately not to think about the Police Force, when I became aware that someone behind me was sniffing disdainfully. I glanced sideways, groaning when I saw Ellen, my ex-boss and my ex-boyfriend’s mother.

‘I must say, I didn’t think you had it in you,’ she said.

‘Had what in me?’

‘The guts.’

‘Everybody has guts in them Ellen, otherwise we wouldn’t be able to digest our food.’

‘Don’t be a smartass. Believe it or not I’m trying to give you a compliment.’

I didn’t believe it but I gave her a good eighty percent of my attention. The other twenty was ogling a photo of a Lisa Ho dress.

‘I thought it was all talk – you breaking up with poor Tommy cause you wanted to leave Hickery and he didn’t.’

It had been all talk. The guy was as boring as bat shit; there was no way I would have taken him with me.

‘But now I find out that not only are you leaving but you’re going to join the Police Force.’

She said it almost reverently.
Geez
, what was it with the population of Hickery and their fascination with the police?

‘Of course, I don’t think you’ll make it. I hear the training is quite gruelling.’ She gave me a small insincere smile. ‘I do hope you don’t get accidentally shot by another student or something awful like that.’

The way she said it left me in no doubt that not only did she hope that I did get accidentally shot during training, but that she wished she could be the one to do it.

‘Oh, it’s so kind of you to be concerned,’ I said, smiling sweetly, ‘but I’m sure I’ll be all right. Give my love to Tommy.’ I added the last bit so I could watch her face turn bright red, then I collected my groceries and left.

I chewed it over as I walked home. There were definite advantages to joining the Police Force. I mean what sane, single, straight woman wouldn’t want to be surrounded by a sea of men in uniform? And I had always wanted to leave Hickery; I just hadn’t found the right reason. Maybe joining the Police Force wasn’t such a bad idea. Maybe this was it.

I stood outside the house I had grown up in and had a vision of myself in 20 years’ time, still living with Mum, still talking about what an exciting life I was going to lead; waiting for that life to come find me. And then 20 years later again, old and embittered now, still single because I’d never found anyone good enough for me in Hickery. In that moment I realised if I wanted an adventurous life I was going to have to create it.

I decided then and there to go for it. Perhaps it wasn’t the life I had dreamed of, but it was a damn site more interesting than where my current one was headed. And besides, it would fix my Lenny problem, and if it meant never having to see Ellen again, it was worth leaving town.

***

The New South Wales (NSW) Police application form was causing me some difficulties. The first few questions had been easy enough (Name – Chanel Smith, Age – 24, Address – 56 Swallow Crescent, Hickery), but then they had gotten trickier. I mean they wanted to know what colour my hair was. That changed from week to week. I had, on occasion, been known to match the colour of my hair to my shoes and handbag. If I put down one colour now, would I have to be that colour when I went for the official interview?

I decided to come back to that one and continued my way down the form.

Eye colour?

Green

Height?

165cms

(Without my high heels.)

Weight?

60kgs

(In the morning, naked, when I hadn’t had pasta the night before.)

Skin type?

What did they mean by that? Did they want to know what season colours matched my skin type? After a brief conversation with Mum – who was a little confused as to why I was filling it out when I’d already been accepted – I wrote olive, and continued down the form.

Religion?

I wasn’t sure I believed in God. I mean, present day excluded, he didn’t seem to have ever shown any sort of interest in me, and I had considered him with the same indifference. In the end I wrote down Anglican.

Have you ever been convicted of a felony?

I searched my iPhone dictionary for the word felony and then wrote no.

Have you ever bought unsolicited drugs?

My mind twitched nervously away from the small amount of pot Becky and I had bought as teenagers. Surely that didn’t count – I hadn’t even inhaled. And then of course there were the two Viagra pills I had bought on holidays in Thailand with Becky. She had dared me to do it, and they still sat in the top drawer of my bedside table. Finally concluding there was no possible way they could ever find out about those I wrote no and continued.

Why do you want to join the Police Force?

Well the truth would never do. I tapped my pen against my teeth while I thought about it. Finally writing down – I want to do the best for my country that I can and I feel I can achieve this by becoming a police officer. I was quite proud of the answer.

I returned to the hair colour question and, deciding it wouldn’t hurt me to stay the same colour for a little while, wrote blonde. I had been considering some caramel foils, but I figured that would still classify.

After I had mailed it I slouched on the couch while Mum cooked me dinner. Becky was coming around with chocolate and ice-cream to watch movies later on and I was looking forward to telling her about my plans.

Predictably, her blue eyes filled with tears when I told her I had filled out the application form.

‘So you’re really going?’

‘I think so,’ I said. I mean there was always a chance they wouldn’t accept me.

‘I’ll miss you.’

‘Come with me,’ I said. ‘Think of the fun we could have.’

She looked for a few seconds as if she were really contemplating it, and then she shook her head.

‘Bobby?’ I asked.

‘He’s talking about getting married,’ she confirmed.

‘What do you want more – babies and marriage, or travel and excitement?’

She smiled at me. I already knew the answer to that. Becky had always been more domesticated than me. She had done most of my home economics assignments at school (all the ones I had passed) and had been dating Bobby since the ninth grade. He was a nice enough boy – a little boring by my standards, but I was sure he would make her a good husband.

‘Maybe I won’t get in,’ I said.

She dashed her arm across her face, mopping up her tears and said, ‘I always knew you’d go on without me.’

‘It’s not like you’re dying.’

‘You know what I mean. You’re not meant for this town. You’re bigger than this.’

It made me ponder what it was that everybody else seemed to see in me. Was it a good or bad thing?

‘Even if you don’t get into the Police Force you’ll leave to do something else.’

The thought of not being accepted into the Force made me realise that I really wanted to get in. Apart from the fact that blue was an excellent colour for me, I was craving the excitement the Police Force would bring. Now that I had embraced the idea, the thought of not getting in was totally unacceptable.

***

My phone rang on Monday night, disturbing my contemplation of the state of my toenails. I picked it up without checking the caller identification, expecting it to be Becky; so I was surprised when a male voice said my name.

‘Speaking,’ I said, shifting the phone up under my chin so I could rifle through my nail-polish bag with one hand and pat Cocoa with the other.

‘This is Chanel Smith of 56 Swallow Crescent Hickery?’

‘Yes,’ I said, holding up a bottle of hot pink polish for Cocoa’s approval.

‘We have received your application and want to know when you can start?’

‘Pardon?’

‘You did send in an application to the NSW Police Force?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘You haven’t changed you mind?’

‘Of course not.’ I hadn’t had time to change it. I had only posted it the day before.

‘Excellent.’

‘What, that’s it? I’m in?’

‘Pretty much.’

‘Don’t I have to do an interview?

‘Nope.’

‘A fitness test?’

‘Your BMI looks good.’

‘A psychological evaluation?’ I had been reading up on the process on Google and was pretty sure all of that was standard.

‘You sound sane to me.’

‘Oh. When do you want me to start?’

‘How’s next Monday?’

I know I had fully embraced the idea of joining, but now that the prospect loomed I found myself back-pedalling. And then I thought of my life here, and how the most exciting thing that would probably happen to me this week was the hot pink polish I was about to apply to my toes, and I found myself saying, ‘Of course.’

‘That’s the spirit,’ the man said. ‘I’ll email you the details and we’ll see you on Sunday afternoon at the barracks in Goulburn.’

‘Ok.’ I was stunned by the sudden turn of events. Cindy was going to kick my butt all the way to Goulburn and back for the short notice, but hey – what else could I do? If I didn’t seize the moment, it may never come again.

I heard the click of the recruiter hanging up and felt a huge smile form on my face. I was going to go to Goulburn and I was going to ace the training and I was going to be the best damned police officer I could be. And if I didn’t? Well it didn’t really matter – because that’s what I was going to tell everybody anyway.

***

Cindy had, as predicted, been livid when I’d handed her my four days’ notice. The red of her face had reflected in her blonde highlights giving her an evil glow. I had decided at that point it was best to vacate the premises.

I didn’t have a lot to pack – just my clothes and shoes, a few photos of home, and at the last minute I stuck the Viagra tablets in the zip pocket of my vanity bag. It wasn’t that I wanted to use them; I just didn’t want Mum finding them.

I stocked the cupboard with dog food for Cocoa, trying very hard not to think about the fact that I wouldn’t see him for the next few months. I was going to miss his fluffy body nestled up against me at night. I knew if I thought about it too much I might change my mind.

And then suddenly it was Sunday morning and time to go. It seemed like half the town had come to wave me off. The locals from The Brimstone had even made a banner wishing me luck – which would have been sweeter if it hadn’t said Good Luck Channel.

I hugged Becky and Mum goodbye and pressed Cocoa to my chest, breathing in his doggy scent. Oblivious to anything bad happening, he wiggled around in my arms till he could reach my ponytail, which he promptly began to chew. Before I could cry, I handed him over to Mum and hopped into my old red bomb. Then I backed out of the driveway and headed for Goulburn.

Two nano-naps and five coffees later I finally reached Goulburn. The temperature had risen the closer I got and I was sweating profusely when I pulled up in front of the reception building at the Police Academy. Freezing air flowed over me as I entered and I went from toasted to frosted.

‘This is the Police Academy isn’t it?’ I said, smiling brightly at the woman sitting behind the reception desk.

She pushed her glasses down her long nose and stared over them at me. ‘It’s the School of Police Studies,’ she said primly.

‘Where you learn to be a policeman?’

I guessed by her lack of any sort of answer that I was correct in my assumptions.

‘Hmm – well I’m Chanel Smith.’

‘Chanel Smith.’ She glanced down at the paperwork in front of her and started shuffling through it. ‘Aren’t you cold?’ she asked, stopping to stare at my bare legs. I noted she was wearing a turtleneck long sleeve sweater.

‘Freezing,’ I admitted, my teeth starting to chatter. ‘It’s boiling outside.’

I was wishing that she’d stop staring at my legs and start looking for my paperwork. Finally after what felt like a year but was probably only five minutes, she handed me a folder, a key and some directions to my accommodation.

‘Read that tonight,’ she advised me, before turning her attention back to the stack of paperwork.

I managed to navigate through the Academy, one hand on the wheel and one on the map. Finally I pulled up in the car park of the building that was to be my home for the next eight months. Throwing my backpack on, I gripped my suitcase in one hand and the folder in the other. I negotiated my way up the stairs and along the corridor till I found my room. Breathing a sigh of relief, I lowered my bag onto the single bed squashed into the corner of the small room. A wardrobe and a desk with a chair were its only friends.

‘Hiya.’ The squeaky voice gave me such a fright that I banged my head on the wardrobe door. ‘Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.’

I turned to view the owner of the shrill tones. A short girl with a big smile stood in the doorway. She was almost as wide as she was tall. I felt a grin twitch the corners of my mouth, partly in response to her own and partly at the thought of her doing an obstacle course. It was going to be interesting.

‘I’m Susie,’ she said, holding out a hand.

‘Chanel.’ I grasped her small chubby hand in my own and beckoned her into the room with my other arm. ‘So where do you live?’ I asked.

‘Right next door. Guess we’re neighbours hey.’

‘Guess we are. Have you been here long?’

‘Got here this morning.’

‘So have you worked out the lay of the land?’ I asked.

‘Ooohh,’ she said admiringly, ‘you already sound like a policewoman.’

I resisted the urge to tell her that she sounded like she had been sucking on a helium balloon.

‘I’ve met a few of the other girls. They all seem nice. Except,’ she stopped and looked over her shoulder before whispering, ‘except Nastacia.’

‘Nastacia?’

‘Nasty Nastacia.’ A horrified look on her face, she clapped both pudgy hands over her mouth. ‘I can’t believe I just said that.’

I decided I was going to like Susie. ‘So this Nastacia isn’t very nice?’

She closed the door and continued in a conspiratorial voice. ‘She thinks she’s better than the rest of us. Of course she is,’ she admitted ruefully.

‘How is she better?’

‘Well she’s going to be a proper policewoman.’

‘A
proper
policewoman? What the hell are we going to be?’

Susie giggled before continuing. ‘We got in because of the change in policy. I mean I’ve wanted to be a policewoman my whole life but look at me.’ She gestured at her rounded body. ‘I was never going to get in.’

‘And what about Nasty?’

‘She’s doing her Bachelor of Policing at the University of Western Sydney.’

‘Huh?’

‘It’s a three year degree. This is her final stage.’

I was perplexed as to why you would do a three year degree when you could do an eight month course and end up with the same job. ‘She’s dirty that we got in so easily?’

‘Uhuh. I better let you unpack,’ Susie said, gesturing toward my unopened back pack.

‘It’s okay,’ I said, ‘why don’t you stay and keep filling me in.’

She perched on the lone chair causing it to groan in protest. I winced, hoping it would withstand her weight. ‘Well,’ she began, ‘there are twenty of us, and then there are another thirty men in our intake; although some of them are more boys then men, especially in comparison with the Riot Squad.’

That got my attention. ‘Riot Squad?’ I stopped my unpacking and looked at her.

She nodded her head as she giggled, her brown eyes sparkling with mischief. I decided I was going to like her a lot. ‘They’re training here over the next few months. I saw them at the canteen today.’

‘And?’

She fanned herself and pretended to swoon.

‘Oh boy,’ I said. Riot Squad – I bet there were a lot of bad asses amongst that lot.

My daydreaming was disturbed by Susie letting out a shrill little scream. ‘Is that a Louis Vuitton?’ she asked, staring longingly into my wardrobe.

‘Got it for my 21st,’ I said. ‘The whole town pitched in.’ I plucked it off the shelf and handed it to her, watching in amusement as she ran a finger reverently over the surface. ‘The rest are knock-offs,’ I admitted, gesturing at the other handbags squished together. I mean really, how did they expect us to fit all our clothing in one teeny little wardrobe. ‘I got them in Thailand last year. But don’t tell anyone and I’ll let you borrow them.’

‘Cross my heart,’ she said as she placed Louis back in my wardrobe.

‘I don’t know how I’m going to fit everything in,’ I finally admitted ten minutes later. The wardrobe was stuffed and I still had clothes on my bed.

‘I don’t know where you’re going to fit your uniforms,’ Susie said.

‘Uniforms?’ Shit, I hadn’t even thought of having to fit uniforms in as well.

‘We get them next term.’

‘Well it gives me a few weeks to sort it out.’

I compromised by putting my winter clothing in the suitcase under my bed. When it cooled down I could do a clothing swap.

‘It’s dinner time,’ Susie informed me. ‘If we hurry we can get a seat near the Riot Squad Boys.’

Not needing any more coaxing than that I followed her out the door. We ran into a few of the other girls on the way down and Susie introduced me to the ones she knew.

The Riot Squad Boys were queued up at the buffet when we entered the dining hall. A hushed silence fell over our group as we paused to appreciate the view. That they were buff was obvious – even from where we were standing. That they were cute was undeniable, but it was the feeling of danger they possessed that attracted me the most. They were like a group of wild animals pretending to be domesticated. I shivered in delight.

We filled our plates and took a table as near to them as was possible with the gaggle of other students already present. ‘Who’s the one at the head of the table?’ I whispered to Susie, trying not to stare.

‘That’s Rick.’

‘Rick.’ I rolled the name around my mouth. Delicious.

Rick’s muscles bulged delectably with the minor movements created by his eating. With his dark skin and the set of his puppy dog brown eyes I was certain there was some Latin American in his ancestry.

‘Next to him are Tom, Mike and John. That’s the only names I’ve got so far.’

‘Considering you only got here today that’s pretty impressive,’ I said.

A tall, blonde woman entered the mess and strode over to the buffet table. Susie flicked her head in her direction and screwed up her face.

‘Nasty?’ I guessed.

She nodded her head. The woman took a seat at a table near us and speared a piece of broccoli with her fork. She didn’t seem at all interested in the riot squad. I waited for her to glance in our direction so I could smile – no need to get off on the wrong footing if I could help it, but she finished her meal without so much as one look and then disappeared as quickly as she had arrived.

The boys left far too quickly as well, leaving us to eat our dessert by ourselves.

‘So what happens tomorrow?’ I asked. I hadn’t had time to read my information yet.

‘Parade at seven,’ Linda, a tall red head, said.

We were meant to wear office attire for the first few months so I had come well prepared. I inspected myself the next morning, smoothing down my black skirt, admiring the way it set off my red high heels.

There was already a group of students clustered near the edge of the parade ground when I turned up. I joined them, looking around for the girls from the night before.

Before I could find them a man in uniform marched towards us from the other side of the parade. He was big, in a tall, solid way, and sported a bristling moustache. ‘Well don’t just stand there,’ he yelled, his moustache quivering, ‘form up.’

We staggered onto the bitumen and made two lines.

‘You look like a group of lost hikers,’ he bellowed. ‘Form up, 10 abreast, five deep.’

I rushed to the back of the pack – quite a feat in my high heels – and was standing there feeling smug when the students in front peeled away like some sort of organised bomb burst, regrouping behind me until I was standing smack bang in the middle of the front row.

Bugger
. The man walked up and down in front of us, ominously slapping a short stick into one hand.

‘I’ve seen packs of monkeys form up faster than you lot,’ he growled. ‘From now on you will form up in the same order, every day until training has finished.’

‘Even weekends?’ I blurted out before I could stop myself.

‘Miss…’ He stared at me, smacking his stick into his left hand more and more vigorously until I realised what he was after.

‘Smith,’ I supplied.

‘Miss Smith, you will form up here every morning, in rain, hail and snow, until I tell you you can stop.’

It snowed in Goulburn? Good grief, I was going to have to get some fur-lined boots.

He turned his attention back to the group. ‘I am Sergeant Moores. I will be your training sergeant for the duration of your stay here. If I say jump, you will jump. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Yes, Sergeant,’ Nastacia said in a militant voice.

‘Do I make myself clear?’ he asked louder.

‘Yes Sergeant,’ the rest of us echoed.

He went on for about half an hour, advising us what he expected of us as police officers in training – parade every morning, room inspections and marching practice. I breathed a sigh of relief when he finally said, ‘dismissed.’ But then he added, ‘Miss Smith come here.’

The rest of the students fled the parade ground heading for our first class, while I hobbled over to him. I hadn’t expected to have to stand for so long in my killer heels.

‘What are you wearing?’ he said.

‘Office attire Sergeant.’

‘That’s not office attire,’ he snarled, pointing his stick at me. ‘You look like you’ve gone under cover in the red light district.’

I would have been pretty offended if I hadn’t seen all the
Police Academy
movies. I knew what he was up to with all his blustering and wielding of the blunt weapon; he was trying to break my spirit.

‘What would you prefer me to wear Sergeant?’ I asked, glancing nervously at his stick. Was it legal for him to use that thing on me? I was going to have to read my information pack.

‘Pants and sensible shoes.’

‘Aye aye Sergeant.’ I gave him one of my friendliest smile.

He didn’t return it. Instead, one of his eyes twitched a few times as he scowled at me and his face started to turn red.

A vast amount of experience has taught me that when people’s faces go red they’re normally about to start screaming at me. I tried to think of a way to stop the imminent onslaught but there was nowhere to go from my aye aye comment. So instead I braced, as if in a gale force wind, and waited. He let out a low growl, his moustache bristling with the movement of his mouth, and I noticed something yellow – egg yolk? – matted into the hair.

I know I wouldn’t want to walk around all day with food on my face and everybody sniggering behind my back so I said, ‘You’ve got some food in your moustache.’ I pointed to the left side of my mouth hoping he would realise I meant his right not his left. That can get pretty confusing.

His eye twitched harder as his lips worked around words that didn’t make it out of his mouth. I was starting to wonder if he was having an epileptic episode when he snarled, ‘Get to class Miss Smith.’ He had an impressive ability to make my name sound like a rude word.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully apart from when I fell asleep after lunch during a documentary on the history of the Police Force, and the trainer humiliated me in front of the group. I mean seriously, I defy anyone to stay awake through an hour of that drivel, especially with a full stomach.

The next day I wore black pants and flat shoes. Sergeant Moores made some snide comments about the shoes but the boys, who seemed to have two left feet, preoccupied most of his wrath with their inability to stay in step during marching practice.