by Kiki Archer
“Everything okay, mon amie?” asked Marcus, bringing a distinctive smell of shit back to his seat.
Susan stammered.
“It’s fine,” said Jenna. “I’ve left my phone at the services. We’ve only been on the road for ten minutes. The driver’s turning back around.” She handed the stack of lift passes to Marcus. “Is there any chance you could hand these out?”
Marcus’s annoyance that the CEO of Club Ski could do something as pedestrian as lose her phone was instantly overshadowed by the titillating task ahead. He rose to his feet and sashayed up the aisle, fingering his ginger moustache and speaking seductively. “Well, well, well, aren’t we a lucky bunch? Looky here. It’s Pamela Anderson!” He grinned a creepy grin. “Willamena Edgington, come on up.”
Jenna squashed in next to Susan and spoke quietly. “She’s too distinctive to be missed. Stay calm. We’ll find her.”
“What must you think of me?” gasped Susan shaking her head and tapping her nails together.
Jenna leaned to the right as the coach took the unplanned exit and made a full circle on the roundabout, quickly re-joining the traffic on the main carriageway. “All I’m thinking about right now is little Daisy Button,” she whispered, gripping the lonely lift pass as tightly as she could.
Chapter Four
“But Mummy I don’t want to be here. I want to be with you.” Daisy Button was sobbing into the service station payphone’s grubby receiver. “Please just come and get me.” She lifted her thick prescription glasses and rubbed her watering eyes, now unable to see anything at all. “I’m scared.” Daisy dropped her glasses back down onto her nose and her eyes reverted to the size of saucers. “No, Mummy. I haven’t told anyone. I won’t. You told me not to. But, please can I come home? I just want to come home.” She sobbed. “I don’t want to be here.” She pulled at the cold metal cord and peered at the display. “No, I bought a phone card. I’ve got fifteen minutes left on the call.” Daisy glanced around at the bustling concourse area, looking, once again, for familiar faces. “I need to know you’re okay, Mummy.”
“Daisy Button!” The shriek was one of dramatic relief. Susan Quinn raced to the payphone and knelt on the dirty tiled floor, gently taking hold of her student’s shoulders. “Is that your mum on the phone?”
Daisy nodded.
“Can I talk to her?”
Daisy shook her head.
“I need to talk to her, Daisy. I need to explain.” Susan nodded in reassurance and slowly unpeeled Daisy’s clutched fingers from the receiver. “Mrs Button. This is Madam Quinn from St Wilfred’s. I need to assure you that—” She took the phone away from her ear and looked at the display. “She’s gone.” She looked at the receiver. “That’s strange. It sounded like she hung up.”
“Are you all waiting for me, Madam?” asked Daisy. “I’m sorry, I might have lost track of the time. Is everyone on the coach?” Daisy Button’s white cheeks were flushed with speckled colour.
Susan started to reply. “We were half-way up—” But Jenna cut in. “Hi! I’m Jenna. I’m your ski guide for the week. No, you’re not late at all. We’re just rounding up the last few.” Jenna rustled around in her pocket and drew out a two euro coin. She handed it over to Daisy. “Any chance you can grab me a Ritter bar from that machine?” She pointed towards the entrance. “If you chose my favourite flavour I’ll let you have half.”
Daisy shrugged. “What’s your favourite flavour?”
“Guess.” Jenna watched the little girl head despondently towards the battered vending machine and quickly turned her attention to Susan. “She’s got no idea we left her behind. Get back to the coach. Tell them I need another five minutes to find my phone. Be spontaneous. Get the girls off for a group photo or something. Take them over to that big French flag behind the coach so I can get Daisy back on without anyone noticing.”
Susan couldn’t concentrate. Her heart was racing. “I’m not spontaneous.”
“Pretend!” shouted Jenna, pushing her towards the doors.
****
Susan hurried across the tarmac, guilt and relief mingling in a strange cocktail of panic. She climbed up the coach’s steps two at a time and clapped her hands loudly. “Ladies, ladies! Madam James needs a further five minutes to find her phone. They say they have it in lost property.” She realised she was waffling so she tried to step it up a gear. “Let’s go crazy! Let’s take our first funny group photo.”
“No thanks, Madam,” said Francesca Hamilton with a mouth full of sweets.
“They’re all settled,” added Marcus, turning another page of his well-thumbed Ernest Hemingway novel.
Susan jumped into the seat next to her colleague and placed a hand on his knee. “Marcus. I have a secret. I’ve always dreamed of being that fun loving teacher held horizontally in a wacky school photo.” She nodded. “You know the type I mean? Me lying across the students’ arms? All of us in front of some important landmark or other.” She realised how ridiculous she sounded given the fact they were parked up in a bog standard French motorway service station. “We could have a practice now. I’ll need someone strong like you to support me.”
Marcus looked up, and then down again at Susan’s baggy lilac fleece, instantly aroused by the prospect of finally knowing for sure just what was hidden under all of those layers. He reached into his backpack for the school camera and turned to face the group. “Madam Quinn’s right. Let’s go crazy! Hop off the coach, ladies. Let’s seize the moment and get snap happy.”
****
Jenna delved even deeper into her pockets and fed another collection of euro coins into the machine, unsure how much longer she could carry on the ooo, it’s a new flavour, I must try it, charade. She glanced out of the service station window, relieved to see the group from St Wilfred’s finally trudging off the coach and heading towards the large French flag. “I think that’ll do.” She smiled, bending down to retrieve the eight bars of square shaped chocolate. She pointed at the mint variety still stacked in the centre of the machine. “But I’m sorry, Daisy. That one’s my favourite. Looks like these will all be for me.”
“That’s fine,” whispered Daisy.
Jenna stayed crouching and looked up at the little girl, puzzling at her distance. “How come you were on the phone to your mum for so long?”
Daisy’s eyes darted away. “I’m not meant to talk about it.” She looked to the floor and scuffed her worn shoes together. “Am I allowed to go back to the coach now?”
“Sure.” Jenna stood up and placed her arm around Daisy’s shoulder guiding her towards the revolving doors. “But I need to tell you something. I’m absolutely thrilled and I can’t believe how lucky we are.”
Daisy squinted as they stepped into the dazzling sunlight. “Why?”
Jenna balanced the chocolate bars in her right hand and reached into her pocket with her left. “I’m thrilled that we have Gwenn Stefani on the trip.” She handed over Daisy Button’s lift pass. “You’re a dead ringer.”
Daisy studied the plastic card. “Am not.”
“Are too!”
Daisy started to smile. “You think so?”
“Definitely.”
Daisy looked up at her new friend. “I might try one of those Ritter bars if that’s okay?”
Jenna nudged the little girl and smiled. “We’ll have to sit together then. I don’t want Professor Sheep’s-Bottom scoffing our stash.”
Daisy laughed and slipped her hand into Jenna’s, skipping slightly as they increased their pace. “I’ll show you where I’m sitting.”
****
“That’ll do, thank you!” shouted Susan to the French truck driver who had been snapping away on the school camera.
Marcus tightened his grip around Susan’s right tit. “Just take a couple more,” he urged, trying to lower Susan’s body against his erection.
Susan wiggled her feet that were clasped tightly in Champagne Willington’s hands. “Set me down, please, ladies.”
“Wi
th pleasure, Madam,” nodded Champagne, releasing her teacher rather clumsily and heading, with a surge of other girls, straight back to the coach. Champagne waited for a couple of the younger students to climb aboard before turning to her best friend. “So, how did it feel then, Priggy?”
Priggy Bunton-Chatsworth had red cheeks. “What?”
She whispered. “Finally touching Madam Quinn’s arse.”
“It was harder than I thought. More muscly.”
Champagne laughed. “I was joking! Christ’s sake, Priggy, you’ve actually thought about it? You’ve actually spent time debating what her arse would feel like?”
“Haven’t you?” shrugged Priggy.
Marcus interrupted the conversation and placed his hands on the girls’ lower backs. He guided them forwards. “Up we get, ladies.”
Champagne and Priggy immediately jumped up the coach’s steps, getting as far away from Professor Ramsbottom’s wandering fingers as they could.
Susan was the last to board, bright red from embarrassment, nerves and humiliation, sure that Marcus had actually tried to tweezer her nipple. She felt sick.
“Shall I do a head count, mon amie?” Marcus nodded towards the middle of the coach in Jenna’s direction. “It looks like the chief’s back.”
Susan glanced at Jenna sitting and chatting with a smiling Daisy Button and couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt more gratitude or relief. “Thank you, Marcus. That would be kind.”
Marcus inhaled proudly, noticing the deep satisfaction in Susan’s voice, assuming she was totally spent from his manly touch and reminding himself to repeat his forthrightness whenever possible.
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 be
ating 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.”
