THE BLEEP TEST

The imposing wrought iron gate of Hendon Training College loomed large.

Mocking her.

Daring her to enter.

Ava Mitchell stood rooted to the spot, swamped by apprehension.

I can do this, she told herself, repeating the phrase in her mind like a mantra.

Her angular face, framed by fringed blonde hair, scrunched up as she squared up to her nemesis. Her beryl-blue eyes flicked over to the field, where a troop of recruits were circling the track in single file.

With her mind still impaled on the horns of a dilemma, Ava debated whether she'd made the right decision.

She swallowed hard.

She'd placed her whole career in jeopardy.

To chase a pipe dream.

Taking a deep fortifying breath, Ava stepped forward, crossing the threshold. She threaded through the familiar compound, jammed with a complex of buildings. Unlike other recruits, she didn't need directions to the Induction Centre. She'd been around the block before, she reminded herself with despair.

Ava strode into the spacious gym and headed straight to the changing rooms. She emerged five minutes later, her lithe form sheathed in a black sports bra, matching calf-length tights and crisp plimsolls.

The only people in the cavernous space was a huddled group standing off to the corner, clad in gym kit. By their shifty, nervous stances, she pegged them as her fellow tryouts and padded over to join them.

A sullen, beefy Instructor stormed into the gym.

He lumbered toward them and stood before the group, gripping a clipboard in his spade-sized hands. Looking like he'd been hewn out of a sturdy oak, veins roped on his bulging arms, which strained against a tight polo shirt stencilled with his name -- Dave Ratliff.

'Listen up,' Ratliff growled in a gravelly voice. His piercing grey eyes bored into their souls as he took a long moment to scan each of their faces with a scorching gaze.

'If you look down the far end of the gym,' Ratliff continued with a sweep of his arm, 'you'll see a blue line with cones on either side. That's the start of the fifteen metre line.' He swept his arm the other way. 'Another blue line marks the end of the fifteen metre distance.'

Ava's pulse spiked.

She'd rejoiced when the Met had scrapped the pesky obstacle course, after it got the best of her the year before. But the 'Bleep Test' that replaced it tied knots in her nerves. None of her colleagues back at the station knew she'd turned up to try out for police recruitment. Not a single soul knew that she harboured ambitions of being more than a police staffer toiling at the Crime Desk.

Except Marjorie, the office snoop.

She'd seen an application form for the fitness test on Ava's desk. Badgered with questions, Ava had been forced to confess all. Marjorie had called her crazy when she'd blown off a crucial interview that would've fast tracked her to Head of Department. 'Quit being an idiot chasing a school girl fantasy,' Marjorie had spat. 'I'd chop my arm off for this chance. Blow it, you'll regret it. Mark my words.'