* * *
Sarah had been sceptical when Wendy had suggested they attend women’s self-defence classes.
“It’ll be a laugh,” Wendy suggested, pointing to the advert in the local paper. “It’ll keep us fit. Besides, you're always hearing terrible things about women being attacked at night.”
“Yes,” Sarah agreed, “but I hardly think a few weeks of you and me doing judo are going to scare off some crazed knife maniac.”
Wendy had been insistent, and they’d gone along to the classes in a dusty, cold church hall just off the city centre. At first Sarah hadn’t been able to take it seriously, but after a couple of sessions she found she actually enjoyed the holds, the throws and the general rough and tumble.
“You’re a natural,” the instructor told her. “Have you ever thought about taking up one of the more robust martial arts? Karate’s supposed to be really good.”
So when the sessions ended and Wendy went back to pottery classes and step aerobics, Sarah joined the local karate club.
Although it had been tough at first fighting against a lot of big, hairy, sweaty, muscle-bound men, she gave as good as she got and the class adopted her as a mascot. The men were secretly proud that she could kick and punch as hard as any of them.
That was three years ago and she’d gone religiously twice a week, gaining in strength, skill and confidence. It was a matter of great pride to her that she’d worked her way up through all the grades to black belt.
Now tonight, she’d had her crowning glory – she’d faced other black belts in the southern regional competition. It had been testing but she’d fought hard. Earlier, as she’d collected her prize she’d thought it was the best night of her life.
But now, she understood how wrong she was. It was the worst – most terrifying – night of her life.
An Ugly Way To Go - and other Quintessentially Quirky Tales Page 8
