One Foot Onto the Ice

by Kiki Archer

  “Yes, I told you, how you were always top of the class, winning awards—”

  “No, something else.”

  Jenna frowned. “Like what? Did I miss something?”

  Susan thought about it for a second then smiled. She took a deep breath and turned back to the mountain, this time hiding a different sort of embarrassment.

  “I thought you were great at school, Susan. You were too smart to be friends with someone like me though.”

  Susan spun back around. “As if! You were too cool to be friends with someone like me.”

  Jenna reached back into the zipper on her sleeve. She handed over the small silver hip flask. “Shall we toast to being friends?”

  Susan took the offering, twisted the lid, and laughed. “Why ever not?”

  “Better late than never,” said Jenna, watching her old classmate take a swig of the sweet tasting liquor.

  “Ooo, it’s good,” giggled Susan.

  “What are you two drinking?” hollered Priggy Bunton-Chatsworth from ten metres below.

  “None of your business, you nosy parker,” shouted Jenna, discreetly taking the flask from Susan and slipping it back into her jacket pocket.

  “Shouldn’t you two be talking about boys,” shouted Susan, trying to join in the fun.

  Jenna looked at Susan and spoke slowly. “You know Priggy’s gay, right?”

  Susan almost choked back some of the brandy. “Good heavens, no.”

  Jenna nodded. “She is, and she has quite a big crush on you.”

  Susan turned back around and looked down at the pretty girls chatting away on the chair below. “She isn’t.” She shook her head. “She doesn’t.”

  Jenna nodded more slowly. “She is and she does. She told me and I heard her.”

  “Heard her what?”

  “Talking to Champagne about you. She’s not shy about it. You should be flattered.”

  Susan shifted in her seat. “You’re wrong. But if you’re right then it makes me feel terribly uncomfortable.”

  “Don’t sweat it. Everyone had a crush on their teacher. Who was yours? Mine was Madam Rigby.”

  Susan coughed lightly. “Just because you’re of that persuasion, doesn’t mean everyone else is.”

  “Oh Susan, it was going so well.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing. Relax. Tell me about Marcus. Are you tempted?”

  Susan, against her best efforts, laughed. “You always manage to get people on side, don’t you?”

  “Do I?”

  “Yes. You were like it at school. That’s why everyone loved you.” She looked down at the wide piste and studied the skiers carving their own tracks in the snow. “Marcus wants to take me out on a date, but I’m not so sure.”

  “Is there someone else?”

  “No.”

  Jenna watched Susan’s eyes as they followed the path of an elegant skier gliding gracefully over the white powder. “Has there been someone else?”

  Susan looked back up. “What do you mean?”

  “Past boyfriends or girlfriends that are still on the scene?”

  “Why would you say girlfriends? I’m not gay, Jenna. How many times am I going to have to tell you?”

  Jenna lifted a gloved hand in apology. “Just keeping your options open. Boyfriends then. Tell me about your past boyfriends.”

  Susan craned her neck trying to see past the chair in front of them. “Is this lift much further?”

  “Yes,” smiled Jenna, pleased to have this time alone. “It’s the longest in the whole area.”

  “Remind me not to sit next to you if we catch it again.”

  Jenna laughed. “You had a good sense of humour at school. I remember that now. You were very dry. You often cracked jokes without the person realising. But I spotted it and it always made me smile.”

  “You think you’re observant?”

  Jenna nodded. “Very.”

  “Tell me then. Three good things about Marcus.”

  Jenna laughed loudly. “See, that’s what I’m talking about. You’re funny.”

  “Two then.”

  “Stop it.”

  Susan smiled. “He’s a good guy, underneath it all.”

  “What? Under the bravado, the uncomfortable sexual innuendos, and the ginger moustache? Not to mention those curly, slightly damp, orange bum pubes.”

  “He’s my best offer.”

  Jenna pushed her tongue inside her cheek and nodded to the chair below them. “Maybe not.”

  Susan tutted. “You need to stop that. It’s not at all appropriate. I read a book about that once. A student and her teacher. It was all highly improper.”

  Jenna laughed. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop it. Tell me your type. I’m sure I can find you a ski instructor who fits the bill.”

  “I don’t have a type.” Susan shifted in her seat. Her bottom had started to freeze. “What about you? Tell me about you.”

  Jenna laughed. “Stop deflecting. What did your last boyfriend look like?”

  Susan looked ahead, relieved to see the mound of snow finally approaching. “I’ve never had one,” she said, lifting the safety bar and sliding away from her seat.

  Chapter Eight

  A pink-haired Amber was standing next to Jenna at the small bar in Sylvie’s dining room. She’d brought over the students from Mossyside Comprehensive for a friendly first night quiz. The ski guides often found activities such as swimming or ice skating too energetic for the tired students after their first full day of skiing, so they paired up for some light hearted inter-school brain bashing instead. At the moment the score was twenty–nil to the girls from St Wilfred’s and the mixed-sex group from inner city Manchester were starting to get annoyed.

  “Can’t we ‘ave a TV round?” shouted a girl decked out in a shiny silver tracksuit.

  “Yeah, or a round on drum and bass?” added another, hand on hip in a diamante onesie.

  “Grime! Let’s ‘ave a round on grime music,” shouted a teenage boy with a wide-peaked cap and thick gold chains.

  Amber whispered under her breath, “See what I have to put up with?”

  Jenna addressed the room full of students. “No problem. Give us ten minutes to come up with the questions.” She checked her watch. “But this’ll have to be the final round. Let’s make it double points to even it up a bit.”

  Francesca Hamilton snapped, “That’s not fair!”

  Susan, who’d been standing at the back of the room keeping an eye on proceedings, looked shocked. “Excuse me, Francesca, we don’t holler like that, thank you very much.”

  “Thank you very much,” mimicked the girl in the silver tracksuit.

  Jenna jumped to Susan’s defence. “Careful. I’ll deduct points for cheekiness.”

  “We ain’t got no points, Miss,” huffed the girl, pulling the zip of her tracksuit top higher around her chin and plonking herself back down on her chair. “Can we at least ‘ave some questions on TOWIE?”

  Jenna nodded. “Perfect. We’ll have a TV and music round to finish off.”

  Francesca lifted her hand. “Can we have some questions about Hercule Poirot and Miss Marple as well?”

  Amber tried not to smirk. “Don’t worry, we’ll have all sorts.” She turned her back to the group and whispered quietly to Jenna. “Your weeks must be so much more pleasant than mine. If only I got schools like this.” She raised her eyebrows. “But I guess it’s because of your background, you being all hoity-toity and whatnot.”

  “I’m not hoity-toity,” said Jenna, reaching behind the bar for a fresh piece of paper and signalling for Marcus and Susan to join them.

  “You must be if you went to St Wilfred’s. Club Ski have never given me a private school. I always get the comprehensives.”

  “You’re great with the inner city schools. The kids are brilliant. They’ve got character, look at them.” Jenna tilted her head towards the girl in the diamante onesie who was now straddling the boy with the gold chains and wi
de-peaked cap. “That one’s full of life.”

  Amber grimaced. “Eugh, look, he’s pulling her bottom in closer. What I ever saw in men I’ll never know.”

  Marcus crept up to Amber’s ear and whispered. “Your pink hair was a bit of a giveaway.”

  “Pardon?” she said, discreetly trying to step away from his strange smelling breath.

  “I’m assuming, from your previous comment, that you’re an anti-male, feminist lesbian?” Marcus moved in closer and pulled on the corner of his moustache. “Your tall pink hair, wrist tattoo, and lack of make-up give it away.”

  “My colleague, Amber, isn’t a lesbian,” Jenna’s voice was hushed, “and she certainly isn’t anti-men.”

  Amber sucked on her bottom lip and nodded. “I think I am actually, on both counts.”

  Susan joined the group and unzipped her lilac fleece. “It’s getting hot in here with all these bodies.” She looked at Jenna’s blank piece of paper. “I’m not sure how much help I’ll be with these questions. I watch Time Team on a Sunday and that’s about it.”

  Marcus took a dramatic deep breath. “We have a lesbionatra in our mix.”

  “Lesbionatra?” Amber puzzled. “I’m sure the French word is lesbienne.”

  “It is,” confirmed Jenna, “but you’re not.”

  Amber nodded. “I am. You of all people should know that, Jenna.”

  Marcus looked at Jenna. “Was it in her CV? I assume you vet for factors like that. But you know what the world’s like nowadays. Equal-opps gone crazy. Is that why you give her the inner city schools?” He lifted his nose to the riff raff, who were actually behaving very nicely. “They’ll be more au fait with the social misfit types.”

  “What?” spat Jenna, Amber, and Susan in unison.

  Marcus took a visible step backwards. “Ooo, sisters are doing it for themselves, it seems.”

  Susan’s eyes were on stalks. “You simply can’t say things like that, Marcus. For goodness sake. One of our girls is a lesbian.”

  Marcus looked shocked. “On the trip? From St Wilf’s? No! I don’t believe you. Who could that be?” He glanced around the room at the clusters of students all positioned around the long tables. “We don’t. We can’t have.” He spotted Daisy Button sitting alone in the corner. “Ahh yes. I should have known. That little girl seems to have an array of issues.”

  Susan followed his stare. “Marcus, stop assuming.”

  He shrugged. “It’s probably for the best. I can’t imagine any red-blooded male being attracted to her pale skin, white hair and pinkish eyes.”

  Susan gasped, totally exasperated. “It’s not Daisy! She can’t help the way she looks!” She paused, aware how dreadful her comment sounded and decided to clarify. “Daisy’s a very pretty albino.” Susan reddened, she was making it worse. “Oh look, Marcus, it’s not her. She’s only eleven.”

  Jenna interrupted Susan’s flapping. “Studies show that most people are actually aware of their sexuality by the age of eight.”

  Marcus lifted himself onto his tiptoes and stretched out his crotch. “I was kissing Marie FitzGerald in the playground at age eight, and you don’t want to know what we got up to at aged nine.”

  Susan shook her head. “Stop being so inappropriate, Marcus.”

  Jenna stepped towards the nearest free table and pulled out two chairs. “Can we just sit down and figure out some questions on grime?”

  Marcus pushed in front of Susan and Amber and sat himself down first. “What’s the name of the gastrointestinal virus spread by not washing hands?”

  Susan was still standing, looking completely perplexed. “What on earth are you talking about now?”

  Marcus tapped his fingertips together. “If they’re not sure, we could give them a clue. It begins with N.”

  Jenna walked around the table pulling out the other chairs. She signalled for Amber and Susan to sit down. “Is this your grime question, Marcus?”

  “Yes. And we could also ask them what parasite lives in the intestine of cats.”

  “Stop it, Marcus.” Susan was getting increasingly frustrated.

  “What?”

  Jenna took Susan’s arm and gently guided her to her chair. “It’s fine, don’t worry.” She looked at Marcus. “The answers are Norovirus and worms. How about we save those for the bonus round?” She dropped her pen onto the blank piece of paper and looked around the table. “Who’s heard of Wiley, Skepta and Devlin?”

  Marcus raised an eyebrow. “New strains of the flu virus?”

  Susan pushed her chair back out and stood up. “I need a drink.”

  Marcus rubbed his hands together. “Ooo, see if old Sylvie will make me a Cinzano cocktail.”

  Jenna pushed the blank piece of paper towards Amber and stood up to follow Susan. “Maybe use those three as an opener for the genre of music they fall into, then go more mainstream with Tempa T, Tinchy Stryder and Tinie Tempah.”

  “Aha,” said Marcus, “you’re talking about that American boy band 3T. I once saw a documentary on Michael Jackson. They’re his nephews, aren’t they?”

  Jenna looked at Amber. “I’ll leave that with you. Beer?”

  Amber nodded. “In one of Sylvie’s HUGE tankards, please.”

  Jenna walked to the bar and perched herself on the stool next to Susan. “Are you okay?” she asked.

  Susan was shaking her head. “He’s under my skin. Literally. I can feel him crawling around every time he speaks.” She looked back over to the table where Marcus was yanking the pen and paper away from Amber. “I never imagined I’d be speaking like this of a colleague. I’m just so sorry about what he said earlier. It’s inexcusable.”

  “What? Thinking Tinie Tempah was one of Michael Jackson’s nephews?”

  “Who? No.” Susan frowned. “Even I can’t claim to know the first thing about grime music, but I do know that his comment about lesbians was inappropriate. I can file a complaint if you want.”

  Jenna shrugged. “No. This social misfit’s handled much worse than that.” She put her arm around Susan’s shoulder and twisted her towards the gentle buzz of the room. “Look. The kids are behaving themselves, we’re getting a beer, the skiing was great today, and the forecast for the rest of the week is glorious. What’s not to enjoy?”

  Susan glanced down at the hand on her shoulder. “Do you realise what a tactile person you are?”

  Jenna immediately removed her arm. “Sorry.”

  “No, it’s fine. I just wish I was as bright and breezy as you.” She looked back over at the teacher’s table. “How can you just dust off his ridiculousness?”

  “Life’s too short. It’s too short to be dragged down by others.” Jenna paused. “You control your own moods. You control your own destiny. Just smile and love life. That’s what I do.”

  “C’est la vie,” said Sylvie, shuffling over with the three large tankards of beer and one small cocktail complete with fluffy umbrella. “He’s a silly man.”

  Jenna frowned, teasing the elderly French host. “Have you been listening in, Sylvie?”

  “Ah oui,” smiled Sylvie, “you girls are sensible not wanting to get all oh lá lá with zee male species.”

  Jenna laughed. “Susan’s straight.”

  Sylvie furrowed her heavily creased brow. “Non, non, non, non.” She waved her hands together in an invisible attempt to draw the two women closer together. “Belle, belle.”

  Jenna laughed again. “Sylvie, stop it.”

  The old French woman sucked her teeth and shrugged. “Vous êtes superbe ensemble.”

  Susan translated. “She thinks we look great together.”

  “I know.” Jenna slid herself off the stool and gathered the drinks together. “Don’t read anything into it. She’s a terrible tease.”

  “Right, of course,” said Susan. “I wouldn’t be your type anyway.”

  Jenna put the drinks back down on the bar and looked carefully at her old classmate. “Now what makes you say that?”

  Susa
n couldn’t meet the intense stare. She lifted a tankard and took a sip of beer instead. “I haven’t got pretty designs shaved in the back of my funky pink hair and I don’t have any tattoos.”

  Jenna raised an eyebrow. “Are you stereotyping like Marcus?”

  Susan flustered. “No, I didn’t mean that all lesbians look like that, I just meant she’s your type. Isn’t she? She sounded like you two were maybe,” Susan paused, “you know what I mean, you were maybe…”

  Jenna was going to make her say it. “Amber and I were what?”

  “You know.” Susan looked around. The students were all still chatting quietly. “You were a couple?”

  “We had sex,” said Jenna matter of factly.

  Susan didn’t know where to look. “Right, sorry, I shouldn’t pry.”

  Jenna nudged Susan’s shoulder. “Relax! I’m teasing you! I’ve had a thing with most of the female ski instructors at Club Ski; it’s no big deal.”

  Susan managed to look up and whisper. “How can you be so open with it?”

  “With what?”

  Susan mouthed the word, “Sex.” She coughed and spoke slightly louder. “Sexual conquests.”

  Jenna laughed and checked her watch. “Okay, here’s the plan. We’ll finish off the quiz, put Marcus on bedtime duty, and us girls can stay up and have a good gossip. There’s so much more I need to find out about you.”

  “Amber too?”

  “Yes, Mossyside are staying in The Tavern over the road. She won’t be needed once the quiz is finished. Not all ski reps are as giving as me. We officially go off duty at the end of the evening activities.” Jenna paused for a moment, thinking about Susan’s question. “Unless you’d rather it was just us?”

  “No, no, Amber seems great,” said Susan too quickly.

  Jenna smiled. “Okay, good.”

  “Right,” nodded Susan, sliding off her stool and making her way back to the table with the drinks. “Let’s see what questions they’ve come up with.”

  “All done!” nodded Marcus with pride. “I’d like to lead this, ladies,” he said, standing up, tapping the side of his glass with the pen, and calling for attention. “Fingers on your buzzers for the final round.”