Kelly put her arm fondly across Gladys’ shoulder. They’d been mates since last January, when Kelly was hired at Maple Lodge Poultry Processing Plant. Gladys was an old pro, having five years under her belt. She was a vacuum girl and held the record for most chicken guts sucked out in an hour. Gladys took Kelly ‘under her wing’ and gave Kelly the fast track into the hierarchy of the processing line. Thanks to her, Kelly only spent one week on the steam end, plucking stray quill feathers before being promoted to an eviscerating machine.

As they strolled along the high street this Saturday night, Kelly was drawn to a travel shop window. They gazed longingly at passionate pink sunsets, sapphire blue water and white beaches.

‘Can you imagine us on a beach in Majorca?’ Kelly reflected wistfully.

Gladys replied critically. ‘Why are you always wishing? You’re imagining yourself thinner, or that the supervisor is glancing at you. You’re always longing for what you don’t have. Get real! If you want something, make it happen.’

‘Sure Gladys, we’ll book it for January and with our £200-a-week job we’ll go to Jamaica. We could put a box of frozen chickens in the boot and sell them for three quid each to our family and neighbours. If we took a box a night, that’s twelve to a box and £3 a chicken x five days a week… Geeze Gladys, that’s £180 a week!’

‘There is no way you would get that past John!’ said Gladys.

Kelly lost faith immediately.

Gladys curled her lip at one corner and half-closed her left eye, giving Kelly the sarcastic expression that was her trademark.

‘Mark my words, Kelly, we’ll be going to the seaside this year, and it won’t be Great Yarmouth. Leave it to me.’

They stopped by the disco but felt conspicuous. The crowd was at least ten years younger, and the music was pounding. They left before the Ibiza anthem was even finished.

Kelly tried to console. ‘Never mind those tarts, and don’t let them bring you down Gladys.’

They caught the bus to the other side of town to the flat they shared. Kelly lay awake listening to Gladys’ snores. She thought about her frozen chicken smuggling plan … and could not quite see it happening. It was visions of hot sun and tepid water that sent her to dreamland.

ONE WEEK LATER

The emergency siren was deafening and the line supervisor came running. The queue of suspended chicken carcasses came to a swaying halt. Fifteen heads covered in white hats tilted to the right, straining to see what the hold-up was. Kelly glanced at her watch. Who was the ‘careless Cathy’ at five minutes till shift change? The mild curiosity became serious alarm when she saw Gladys being carried along on the stretcher!

Kelly ran after the safety team. ‘Gladys! Gladys what has happened?’

No response. Kelly followed them into the first aid room and peered in horror over the supervisor’s shoulder as he opened the bloody towel. Two of Gladys’ finger tips lay like mangled pieces of chicken guts.

‘Bloody hell!’ Kelly gasped.

TWO WEEKS LATER

The fragrance of hibiscus was intoxicating. Grasping the straw between thumb and forefinger, Gladys sipped the Pina Colada. Kelly lovingly smoothed tanning lotion on Gladys’ ample sun-burned thighs.

‘Are you in any pain Gladys?’

‘It is amazing what £20,000 can do to ease the soreness.’

‘Some people would wrap you in a white jacket and put you away if they knew that you did what you did deliberately’

‘Would you rather have been caught stealing boxes of frozen chicken in the boot of the car?’

‘I doubt that I could have done that.’

‘So, we wouldn’t be basking in the sun then, we would still be sweating our arses off at Maple Lodge sauna for old hens!’

‘Don’t you miss your fingers, Gladys?’

‘About as much as my hairnet and white coat.' Then she gave Kelly the rude gesture saved only for bouts of road rage on the M25.

‘My two critical digits are still in fine working form.’ She grinned at Kelly and took another sip of her Piña Colada.