by Archer, Kiki
“Oh, sorry, I’ve not got them on me. I’ve given them to Lisa. She’s already down at the ski gard—”
“Thanks,” shouted Jenna, pushing out of the double doors and crossing the hall to the heated boot room. She stepped inside and pulled her heavy Rossignol ski boots from the shelf in the corner, sitting down on the bench and kicking her feet free from the padded Moon Boots, shoving them into the firm plastic instead. She tightened the buckles and clipped them closed, grabbing her skis and poles from the rack as she left. The sun almost blinded her as she stepped out onto the crunchy snow, but she managed to drop her skis and pull out her glasses without wincing too much. She pushed the glasses onto her nose and fixed the ends under her ski hat, stepping into her bindings and tightening her scarf like a pro. It was one of those mornings that was bright, yet cold, and Jenna knew the weather had the ability to go either way. You could be skiing the slopes in a short-sleeved vest one minute, and wrapped up the next. She stabbed her poles into the white ice and pushed off quickly, heading down the small slope towards the ski garden. She skied straight, standing tall and breathing in the crisp fresh air. She had plenty of time before her lesson, but what she really needed was time with Susan. Time to make this right.
“Wowzers, Jenna! You’re the first one here. I certainly didn’t expect that after last night!” Club Ski instructor Lisa was laying out piles of fluorescent vests for the groups of young children expected to arrive in the next twenty minutes or so.
“Please tell me I behaved?” Jenna used her poles to unclip the back of her bindings and step down onto the snow.
“Behave? You?” Lisa laughed. “Oh bless you, you have no idea do you?”
Jenna felt a surge of panic well up in her stomach. “What did I do?”
Lisa dropped the vests and reached out to rub the sides of Jenna’s arms. “You spent the whole evening like a love struck puppy telling everyone how happy you were. How you’d met the woman of your dreams. How you were going to marry her by Christmas.”
“Stop it!”
“You did!” said Lisa, laughing. “Bless you, Jenna, you were so sweet. But you did keep trying to sneak home, so I think they started giving you doubles.”
“That’s why I can’t remember anything!”
“You make the party, Jenna. You’re the fun-est friend we’ve got.”
“Can you tell that to Susan?”
Lisa frowned. “That you’re fun? I’m sure she knows that already.”
“No! That I was talking about her all night and that I got my drinks spiked.”
“I’m not sure they were quite spiked. By midnight you were lining up the shots all by yourself.”
“Please Lisa, I’m in the dog house. I forgot to text when I got in. She’ll be really worried. I feel absolutely dreadful.”
Lisa laughed. “Get her on the line then.”
“No, that’s just it, my phone’s dead. I’ll have to take one of the Club Ski ones out today.”
Lisa reached down into the large red back pack and pulled out an old-fashioned Nokia. “Charged and ready to go. You want me to dial her for you, Romeo? Your hands are shaking a bit.”
“Sure,” said Jenna. “The number’s…” Jenna closed her eyes as a shiver of emptiness washed through her. “Oh bugger,” she said, with a groan.
Chapter Ten
Susan looked up from her marking and stared out of the large window that overlooked the acre in front of the school. She was sitting at one of the modern workstations in the old-fashioned library, still cross that the governors hadn’t managed to adapt the longstanding wooden desks, choosing instead to rip them all out and replace them with these workstations that were more suited to modern office blocks. Susan stretched her neck and looked up at the rows of tall bookshelves overflowing with novels, journals, reference books, and encyclopaedias. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a student up a ladder. They were obviously too busy plugging their laptops, tablets, and other electrical devices into these new sockets on these new workstations.
Susan sighed to herself. She must be getting old. She checked her watch again. 3.00 p.m., that would make it 4.00 p.m. in Morzine. She wasn’t getting old. It was simply her bad mood making her cynical. The same bad mood that was making her comments harsher than usual on the Year Ten general studies papers she was marking. The bad mood that had suppressed her appetite at breakfast and lunch. The bad mood that was completely self-inflicted. Caused by her own stupidity and inability to act cool. Jenna was right to give her some breathing space. No one wanted a wailing banshee for a girlfriend.
Susan closed her eyes and thought of a plan of action. She could wait until Jenna calmed down. But what if Jenna never calmed down? What if she never heard from Jenna ever again? Susan kept her eyes closed and shook her head. No, she would have to make the first move. But what could she do? Phoning was a definite no. Sending a text was a definite no. Maybe she’d email. Susan nodded. Yes, an email that was calm, thoughtful, and apologetic. That would work, wouldn’t it? Susan shook her head. No, Jenna would probably delete it before reading.
“Madam Quinn, are you having a fit?” Priggy Bunton-Chatsworth was crouching down and peering closely at her teacher’s closed eyes and shaking head.
“Of course she’s not having a fit, Priggs.” Champagne Willington bent down next to her friend. “You’re not having a fit are you, Susie?”
Susan opened both eyes and immediately moved backwards in her chair. “Why are you two so close?” She blinked a couple of times. “And Champagne, I’d like it if you could refrain from calling me Susie now that we’re back in school.”
“Oh no,” said Champagne, huffing, “Jenna’s gone and you’re turning back into the old version of you.”
“I like both versions of you, Madam Quinn,” said Priggy, maintaining her eye contact.
“I don’t have two versions, girls. I’d just like to reinstill that appropriate level of respect now we’re back in school.”
“We respected you on the ski trip,” said Champagne. “We respected your cool clothes, your cool girlfriend, your—”
“Stop please, Champagne.”
Champagne pulled up a chair and sat down. “Are you upset?”
“I’m upset that my Year Ten general studies classes haven’t applied themselves in this latest essay.”
Priggy pulled up a seat on the other side of her teacher and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Champs didn’t mean that.”
Susan coughed uncomfortably and tried to shake herself free. “Girls. Our ski trip was wonderful, but now we’re back in school you need to remember the boundaries. We all need to knuckle down and focus on the job at hand. You have your exams around the corner, and I have to make sure all of my classes are up to speed.”
“She’s upset, Priggs.”
“I know she is, Champs.”
“Girls, I’m not upset.”
“Was it the photos?” asked Champagne. “It must be hard seeing her having all that fun while you’re here all alone with your marking.”
“What fun?”
“The party last night.” Champagne laughed. “Hugo puts the funniest captions on his posts.”
“What posts? What party?”
Champagne and Priggy shared a nervous glance. “You’re on Facebook, aren’t you?”
“No, why? Is Jenna?”
Champagne failed to hold back a giggle. “She was last night.”
Priggy giggled too. “All over it.”
“That one on the bar!” Champagne was laughing now. “What was Hugo’s caption?”
Priggy was holding her nose and snorting back the giggles. “Tequila covered tits—”
“—and I still prefer todgers,” finished off Champagne.
Susan wasn’t laughing. “Who had tequila covered? What did you say?”
“Umm,” Champagne took hold of herself. “No, Hugo just posted some pictures.”
“Hugo the ski rep?”
“Yes,” nodded Champa
gne.
Susan was frowning. “You’re friends with Hugo?”
“Yes, I added him. I added Lisa, too.”
Priggy smiled. “I even added old Sylvie from the guest house, but she doesn’t post much apart from French food recipes.” She scrunched up her nose. “I might delete her.”
“We’re friends with Amber too,” said Champagne. “Remember her with the pink hair? She was looking after Mossyside Comp and Mischa and Phats.”
“Amber?” Susan glanced down at the phone Champagne had been clutching the whole time. “May I, umm, may I see?”
“My friends list?”
“No, the photos.”
“Just add me. I’ll send them through. We need to go. We were only cutting through the library to get out onto the acre.”
“I’m not on Facebook.” Susan tried to sound casual. “It won’t take a minute will it?”
Champagne stood back up and returned her chair to the workstation. “Sorry, we’re Skyping Mischa and Phats from the front of the school.”
Priggy nodded. “They said they wanted to see our hood, to see how different it was to theirs up in Manchester. We thought a Skype from the bottom of the acre with the school in the background would work best.”
Champagne tapped her phone. “We can come back up afterwards if you like though. Or we can show you in class tomorrow?”
“No, no, it’s fine.”
Champagne patted her teacher’s shoulder. “Keep smiling, Susie. She’ll be back before you know it. And we’ll let you use our phone to spy on her in the meantime if that’s what you really want.”
“Bye Madam Quinn,” said Priggy.
“No, I don’t …” Susan tailed off as the girls disappeared around one of the tall bookshelves. “I, umm …” Susan dropped her eyes to her papers. “I, umm …” She shook her head and whispered to herself. “Tequila covered tits?”
****
Jenna waved goodbye to her group of execs and slid through the snow to the brightly coloured ski garden. The day had actually been great fun, and her small group, consisting of three middle-aged men and one twenty-something woman, were all amiable and well-motivated, not to mention confident skiers, which meant they were able to cover nearly all of the slopes from the Chamossiere area over to La Rosta. The views of Mont Blanc had been incredible and for a split second Jenna had been able to forget about her current excruciating situation. But it was literally just that, a split second, before her stomach plunged again and she remembered the horror of her mess. Susan must be in such a panic, wondering what on earth had happened to her and why she hadn’t called.
Jenna pulled the crappy black Nokia from her pocket and slid to a stop at the small white picket fence that surrounded one side of the ski garden where masses of tiny toddlers were slowly shuffling around in a line. She signalled to Lisa who was pointing the leader of the line in the direction of a small slope and a giant red animal that looked like a cross between a fox and a squirrel. The toddlers started to pick up speed before whizzing into the creature’s bottom and out of its front with giggles and whoops of laughter.
Lisa acknowledged Jenna’s waving hand and sent the line off towards the magic carpet before skiing quickly to the fence. “How’s the head?”
“The head’s fine,” said Jenna, “but the heart’s broken.”
“Oh stop it you softy. Did you manage to get through?”
Jenna handed the phone over. “No. This bloody thing doesn’t have the internet, and it won’t let us dial premium 118 numbers. I was going to Google the school’s number and see if I could contact Susan that way.”
Lisa glanced back at her group, all still shunting their way up the small slope on the flat escalator. “What about lunch? Why didn’t you head down into the village and nip to that internet café?”
“My skiers were too good. We ended up staying near the top. We ate at La Rosta and you can hardly get a phone signal up there, let alone 3G.”
“Didn’t any of your execs have a phone you could borrow?”
“Lisa! I tried all this. Don’t make me feel bad for not trying.”
“I’m not.”
“They’re all ‘de-stressing’ apparently. They’re bankers for some top firm and have agreed on a phone-free week.”
Lisa smiled. “I bet that lady slips you her number.”
“What lady? Jade? No. She’s not interested.” Jenna shook the image of the pretty blonde out of her mind. “I’m not interested. I love Susan and I’ve got some huge making up to do.”
“Get out of here then,” said Lisa, pointing up the slope towards the ski rep chalet.
Jenna used her poles to unclip her skis and stepped down onto the snow that was now really slushy. “I’ll walk up. I need some time to plan my response.”
“You’ve had all day to plan your response.”
“No, I’ve had all day to panic.”
“And look at Jade.”
“No!”
“Come on, Jenna, you can’t tell me you haven’t enjoyed spending the past six hours in the company of that blue-eyed beauty. I’m straight but I spotted her.”
“Why do people always do that?”
“Do what?”
“Add in the fact they’re straight when they compliment someone of the same sex.”
Lisa sucked on her lips. “I was doing more than compliment. She’s hot. I mean seriously hot. Those lips are to die for, and their colour, they’re just so perfectly pink.”
Jenna nodded. “I couldn’t work out if they had some sort of stain on them or if they were naturally that—” She stopped herself. “What am I doing? I’m going. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Jenna reached down and picked up her skis, clipping them together and lifting them onto her shoulder.
“You’ll see me tonight. It’s Shot-Sunday down at Maimie’s.”
“I’m giving it a miss,” said Jenna.
“See you at Shot-Sunday,” shouted Lisa, turning back around and re-joining her group.
Jenna started her hike up the hill, slamming the tips of her boots into the snow for extra support. The temperature was dropping and she could feel the chill on her cheeks. She exhaled heavily and thought of her plan of action. She’d drop her ski gear off in the boot room and dash back to her bedroom to plug in her phone. She’d take a quick shower whilst it was charging, before throwing on some comfy clothes and settling down on the bed for the make or break phone call. Jenna nodded to herself. Everything would be fine. Susan would understand.
Chapter Eleven
Susan dumped her general studies exam papers on the worktop in the centre of her small apartment. She hadn’t been able to concentrate in the library and knew what she had to do. She had to see the photos. One way or another she had to see them. What if Jenna had got so drunk that she had ended up in A&E? What if she had slipped from some bar and was now trapped, locked in until opening time this evening? Susan reached down and picked up her laptop bag. She lifted it to the counter and quickly removed its contents. They must be mistaken. Jenna wouldn’t pose for pictures. Not those sort of pictures anyway. She paused her thought as the screen lit up, and clicked on Google Chrome. Within seconds she was typing www.facebook.com into the browser. She thought it best to start all over again so she entered her name and email address into the sign up box. She confirmed her password as StWilfreds, the same as all of her other passwords, added her birthday and clicked on the female button. Susan held her breath and signed up, only to be told her email address was already in use. She rolled her eyes and thought back to when she’d first joined, vaguely remembering it was during her PGCE year here at St Wilf’s under mounting pressure from the other PGCE student, Barbara Hooty. Barbara hadn’t lasted a term, probably due to the influence of Facebook, thought Susan, re-entering her email address into the members sign in section instead. She closed her eyes and thought what her password might have been. Let’s try StWilfreds, she thought, entering the text and immediately accessing the account that had been inactive for th
e past six years.
Susan gasped in horror at the profile picture staring back at her. She was six years younger with a pudding basin haircut and a sprinkling of spots. Susan peered in closer, wondering what on earth that badger jumper was all about. Crikey, she thought, clicking on the home button and seeing the timeline flash up, why were all of her old posts showing up? Susan scrolled down. Actually there were only three. The first said: Hi Facebook, I’m new. The second said: Still figuring this out. The third said: Not a clue what I’m doing, someone help me please. Not one of the posts had been liked or commented on.
Susan scrolled up to the friends button and clicked on the link. The one friend she had had, whom she assumed was Barbara Hooty, had deserted her, and now she was all alone. Stop it, she said to herself, mind back on the task at hand. She moved the cursor to the white search box at the top and entered Champagne Willington’s name. One result flashed up, and from the small jpeg of hair and pout Susan knew it was St Wilfred’s very own J-Lo look-alike. She clicked on the profile. Nothing was visible on Champagne’s timeline apart from a green add friend button. She didn’t want to do that, so she clicked on Champagne’s friends list instead. Again nothing was visible. “Drat,” said Susan under her breath. She tried Priggy Bunton-Chatsworth. One result flashed up, and from the slightly plump face and cheeky grin it was obviously the one and only Priggs, as Champagne so lovingly called her.
Susan clicked on Priggy’s timeline, surprised when a stream of photos and updates appeared. There were screen shots of Priggy’s Skypes with Mischa, and lots of rainbow themed posters declaring her love for life and her love for lesbians. Susan continued to scroll, feeling incredibly embarrassed that she was able to see such personal posts. She looked at the small grey globe that kept appearing and moved her cursor over it. A box flashed up saying: Shared with: Public. Wow, thought Susan, so anyone can see this? She clicked on Priggy’s friends list and felt her heart quicken when she realised they were all visible. She moved to the search friends box and typed in Hugo’s name. Two results flashed up. Hugo Bunton-Chatsworth, possibly an uncle or much older brother, and Hugo Fabian, the ski instructor they’d all met two weeks ago. Susan clicked on the smiling jpeg, holding her breath in preparation for the tequila tit shot. “Damn,” she said as the screen went blank with nothing visible apart from the green add friend button. Susan dropped her face into her hands. “What am I doing?” she cried.
