One Foot Onto the Ice (4 page)

Chapter Five

Jenna had spent the forty-five minute coach trip up to the resort chatting
away to Daisy Button, discreetly dropping in the odd question about who her
best friends were, who she was sharing a room with, and what she was most
looking forward to about the week ahead. None of the answers managed to quell
her concerns about the little girl. It was obvious that Daisy Button didn’t
want to be here. Jenna had tried to question her about the phone call, but
whenever she mentioned anything to do with her home or her family, Daisy
clammed up.

Once the coach arrived at the snowy resort, Jenna had continued
her charm offensive, managing to secure the largest room for Daisy and the girl
she was sharing with, Margaret Beauchamp. A rather uppity Margaret Beauchamp
had made a real song and dance in the reception area of their small guest house
when the room names were finally read out. It was two to a room and Margaret
Beauchamp had requested to stay with Prudence Frinton-Smith, but Prudence
Frinton-Smith had requested to stay with Cordelia Buckingham and because Cordelia
Buckingham had requested Prudence Frinton-Smith in return, Margaret Beauchamp
ended up with Daisy Button who hadn’t even bothered to fill in the secret
ballot on the coach on the way over. The girls had all been instructed to
settle into their rooms before a light supper at seven and an early night at eight,
ready for the action packed week of skiing ahead.

****

Susan, Jenna, and Marcus were sitting on the tall stools at the bar
in the guest house’s dining room, which also doubled as a breakfast room, an
activity room, and a general meeting room. It was 8.15 p.m. and they were fully
aware that the night might be long. The first evening of any trip was always
the hardest with the students full of excitement, intent on room hopping and sharing
the stash of sweets that were left over from the coach journey. Eugenie
Rohampton had packed her powerful iPod docking station and Mariah Carey’s
Beautiful
was sounding out from the ceiling.

“My turn,” said Marcus sliding himself down from the padded seat.
“This will be their final warning. I’ll confiscate it if I have to go up again.”

Jenna twisted her cold bottle of Bud between her fingers. “Is this
your first ski trip, Marcus?”

“Rules are rules. It’s 8.15 p.m. They should be settled in their
rooms by now.”

Jenna shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry too much. We have the guest house
all to ourselves and the owners have experienced far worse than this. I often
find the girls need to let off a bit of steam after the long journey over.”

Marcus puffed up his chest, making his mustard corduroy trousers
ride up even higher around his ankles. “We are St Wilfred’s All-Girls School.
We set our own standards.” He tilted his head towards the ceiling. “Plus this
dreadful song includes expletives.”

Jenna took a swig of beer. “It doesn’t! It’s Mariah’s new one.
It’s brilliant. Look, you’re my eighth school of the season and every single
one of them had a song that the kids played over and over again.” She smiled.
“By the time we reach the disco on Friday I guarantee you’ll be getting down to
it. Hey, you could sing the part of Miguel.”

Marcus pulled on the corners of his moustache. “I’m sorry, Jenna,
are you actually based with us all week?”

Jenna smiled. “Yes, isn’t it great?”

“Splendid,” said Marcus through gritted teeth. He clipped his shiny
heels together and turned to leave, suddenly stopping and pointing at the
ceiling. “There! Expletives.”

Jenna gently joined in the chorus, grooving her shoulders and
pointing at Susan as she sang. “
You’re beautiful, good lord you’re freaking
beautiful
.”

Marcus placed his hands on his hips and scowled. “Freaking
beautiful? We should not be encouraging this, and I don’t think we should allow
songs that take the Lord’s name in vain.”

Jenna placed her bottle back down. “Last week I had Grimsby Comprehensive
School and their song was Eamon’s
Fuck It
.”

Susan choked back some of her lager and lime.

“Well really,” snapped Marcus, pulling on the door and marching up
the stairs towards the noise.

Susan placed her drink back on the bar and looked at her old classmate.
“You haven’t changed, Jenna James.”

“Me?” said Jenna with false innocence.

“Yes, you! You always were smart enough to figure out how to be cheekily
endearing.”

Jenna raised an eyebrow. “You think Marcus finds me endearing?”

Susan found the confidence to maintain their eye contact. “I’m not
talking about Marcus.”

Jenna studied Susan’s face. She’d changed so much over the past
ten years from someone you’d barely notice, to someone you’d glance back at,
trying to work out what it was that had made you look again. She had something.
There was something intriguing about her. Jenna smiled, trying to pinpoint the
attraction. “You look so different.”

Susan was conscious of the almond shaped eyes examining her. “You
don’t.”

“Ha! Is that a good or a bad thing?”

“Good in both of our cases I think,” laughed Susan.

Jenna puzzled again. “It’s your bone structure. You’ve developed great
facial bone structure.”

Susan flushed. “Really? You think that’s my best bit? My bones?”

“Yes, high cheekbones.” Jenna smiled. “But they’re always so red.”

“What are?”

“Your cheeks.”

Susan fanned her face. “It’s just been a hard day. I’ve not calmed
down yet.” She dropped her head and played with her tall glass, staring through
the pale brown liquid. “I still can’t believe what I did. Leaving poor Daisy
Button behind. I’ll never forgive myself. Ever.”

Jenna shrugged her shoulders and took another glug of beer. “No
harm done. She wasn’t aware, and nor were the other students. Just try and
forget about it.”

Susan reconnected with the smiling eyes. “I feel such a fraud. I’m
the lead teacher on this trip. I panicked. If you hadn’t been here it would
have ended so differently. I’d probably be locked up in some French prison cell
right now.”

“Oh stop it,” laughed Jenna. “Put it out of your mind.” She lifted
her bottle and drained the last bit of beer. “There really was no harm done.
Just box it off and move forwards.”

“Really?”

Jenna nodded. “You have to. You can’t spend your life worrying
about what ifs or beating yourself up about past mistakes. You always have to look
forward if you want to succeed in life. No one’s perfect”

Susan smiled. “You seem pretty perfect to me.” She sighed. “You’re
calm in a crisis, you laugh off people like Marcus, and you always manage to
say the right thing. I could learn a lot from you, Jenna.”

Jenna smiled at the string of compliments. “If it makes you feel
any better then you can owe me one.”

Susan nodded. “Good. Because I do. I really owe you for this.”

“Right, well while I’m in the good books, let me offer you another
nugget of wisdom.” She shook her head slowly, swishing her brown bunches from
side to side. “You really shouldn’t date a man whose trousers are too short for
him.”

“Ankle grazers are fashionable, aren’t they?”

Jenna laughed, “You can’t buy mustard coloured corduroys that are
intentional ankle grazers!” She suddenly noticed the glint in Susan’s eye.
“Ooo, you’re a bad woman, Susan Quinn, you were joking.”

“Marcus and I aren’t really dating.” Susan took a tentative sip of
her drink. “You just got me all flustered back at the coach.”

“Uh huh,” nodded Jenna. “So I’m endearing and I have the ability
to fluster.” She pretended to fan her face. “You’re not trying to flirt with
me, are you, Susan Quinn?”

Susan straightened in her seat. “Of course not.”

“Hey, I’m only joking. Just because we get on the same bus doesn’t
mean we have to ride the same ride.” Jenna laughed. “But it’s true what they say;
most lesbians
are
connected in one way or another. I bet if we talked
for long enough we’d find the missing link.”

Susan frowned. “I’m not a
lesbian
.”

Jenna laughed before she noticed Susan’s serious face. “You’re
not?”

“No! Whatever gave you that impression?”

“Oh.” Jenna paused. “Sorry, I just thought—”

“Thought what?”

“I just thought … Sorry. Maybe I assumed incorrectly.”

“You did.” Susan looked genuinely perplexed. “Why would you assume
something like that?”

Marcus strutted back into the room catching the end of their
conversation. “What are we assuming, ladies?”

Susan patted his tall chair too enthusiastically, signalling him
down and angling her legs closer to his side. She noticed the sweat on his brow
and spoke with sympathy. “Did they give you a hard time?”

Marcus seized on Susan’s closeness and apparent concern and placed
a sticky palm on her knee. “Heavens no! I say stop and they stop.” He lifted
his glass of sangria with his other hand and took a slow, noisy sip, turning
the corners of his ginger moustache a deep shade of red. He placed the glass
back down and licked the brittle hairs on his top lip. “Though I do find it
somewhat difficult to ignore the miniscule items of nightwear on display.” The loud
music suddenly sounded out again.

Susan moved herself backwards. “Marcus, you can’t say things like
that. And it looks like they didn’t listen hard enough.”

Marcus guffawed and talked even louder, trying to play down the
fact that Mariah was
freaking beautiful
once again. “I’m being
tongue-in-cheek. Why would I be drawn to Eugenie Rohampton’s ample bosom, or
Champagne Willington’s pert behind when I have my very own princess sitting
right beside me?”

Susan tried not to shudder as she lifted her tall glass of lager
and lime, quite unsure of what to say.

Marcus continued to drown out the music. “So, what were you ladies
assuming when I was away? Let me guess.” He fingered his ginger sideburns. “How
I got to be so handsome, intelligent and witty? Or how I’m tackled up like a
tripod?”

“Oh, Marcus, please.” Susan had had enough. “Comments like that
just aren’t appropriate.”

Marcus laughed loudly. “It’s banter. Teachers banter on school
trips.” He lifted his glass of Sangria and tapped it against Susan’s glass in
an attempt to lighten the mood. “The banter between teachers on school trips is
the stuff of legend.”

Susan lost her cool. “What is all this
stuff of legend
nonsense,
Marcus?”

Marcus looked wounded. “We’re making memories.”

“What?”

Marcus adjusted himself in his seat and addressed the two women. “Tell
me one of your favourite school day memories.”

“Why?” asked Susan.

“Both of you, please, just do it. Just give me one memory. I’ve
been at St Wilf’s for seven years now and this is the first trip I’ve been on.”
He nodded his head. “Please, give me a school day memory.”

Jenna and Susan both seemed to pause for a moment, before they responded
in unison. “The Isle of Wight.”

Jenna laughed. “Twelve years old.”

Susan continued. “Missing the ferry back because Primrose
Carter-Taite got herself stuck in the luggage conveyor.”

“My point exactly,” nodded Marcus. “You don’t remember your maths
lessons, your chess clubs, or that boring professor continually telling you to
tuck your shirt in. You remember your school trips.” He smiled
enthusiastically. “We need to give these ladies things to remember.”

Susan shook her head. “No. Children make their own memories. It
wasn’t Madam Fisher or Professor Richards who encouraged Primrose to ride the conveyor
all the way to the bag-drop shaft.”

Jenna bit her bottom lip. “No, it was me.”

“Really?” Susan couldn’t help but laugh. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
She held Jenna’s gaze before turning back to Marcus. “But my point is, we must
all
behave in a professional manner at
all
times. Exactly like we do at
school.”

Jenna suddenly pictured what Professor Ramsbottom might be like
when his classroom door was shut and he was teaching a small group of post-pubescent
young ladies.

Susan continued. “I’m the lead teacher on this trip, Marcus. I’ve
been on the past five school ski trips, albeit as a support teacher to Madam
Fisher—”

Jenna cut in. “Our Madam Fisher? She’s still skiing?”

“Yes, she was. She retired from St Wilf’s last year.”

“I wouldn’t expect her to still be standing, let alone skiing.
What was she? Seventy?”

“Thereabouts,” smiled Susan. “Look, I just want to get this right.
I want this trip to go without a hitch.”

Marcus closed his eyes and took a seductive intake of breath.
“Isn’t she simply magnificent? So autocratic. Exactly what we need.” He tapped
his own upper thigh. “Gentle discipline.” He turned to Jenna. “Was Susan as
breath-taking as this when she was at school?”