Barbara Erskine - The Warrior’s Princess

‘Oh God! What’s happened to me?’

The words hung soundlessly in the room as she stared back at her reflection. Staggering slightly, she made her way to the door of the bedroom and clinging to the frame, she peered through. There on the coffee table in the living room were two wine glasses, stained with the dregs of red wine. The empty bottle was lying under the table. Whoever had been in the flat with her the night before, there was no one there now; nor in the kitchen, nor in the bathroom. The front door was closed. With shaking hands she examined the locks. No one had broken in. Whoever had been in here with her had not forced an entry. She must have asked them in.

She had been at the end of term party at school, that much she could recall vaguely. Beyond that, nothing. What had she had to drink while she was there? Where had she gone after the disco? Who had she been with? She could remember nothing.

The end of term disco had been in full swing when she had arrived. The sixth form college sports hall was a whirl of spinning lights and the noise astronomic. She stood in the double doorway, open to the humid air of the summer night, reluctant to step inside. She wanted to clap her hands to her ears, she wanted to turn and run, anything but plunge into the heavy mass of perspiring bodies with the overpowering smell of cheap scent, aftershave, stale tobacco, weed, sweat and booze. They hadn’t managed to frisk all the kids then. But what was the point. They were selling drink inside the hall and half of them were legally allowed to drink anyway.

‘Hi, Jess!’ A figure emerged out of the heaving darkness. Dan Nicolson, her head of department, stepped out onto the tarmacked parking area outside the hall and gave her a weary grin. ‘I’m getting too old for this!’ His lurid T-shirt belied his words; this was the one night of the year he let himself be seen at the college without more formal attire.

She laughed. ‘I’ve always been too old for it, Dan. Since the day I was born. You’re looking very cool.’ His short mouse-coloured hair had been brushed to stand upright, his brown eyes were hidden by a pair of designer shades. ‘I hear you’ve drawn the short straw. You’ve got to stay to the bitter end?’

‘And tear the copulating kids apart!’ He glanced heavenwards. ‘Unless I can persuade someone else to do it. Can I get you a drink?’ He pushed the glasses up onto the top of his head.

She nodded. The wave of noise coming out of the doors was too loud to fight. What it was like inside she could imagine all too well, but she had promised she would come and she had promised someone a dance. Ashley. Ash was her most promising pupil, the most promising for years. Destined to get Grade A in every subject he was taking, this young Jamaican was someone in whom she had invested a huge amount of time and effort and she could see him even now in the distance with his mixing desks on the stage, cranking up the volume. All she had to do was make sure he had seen her there, wave, raise her thumb in acknowledgement, shrug to show that there was no need to dance, something that was anyway all but impossible in that wall to wall crowd, then she could slip away.

As Dan disappeared towards the bar somewhere in the depths of the hall, another colleague appeared at her side. ‘Hi, Jess!’ Will Matthews grimaced at the noise. ‘We’ll be in trouble for this with the neighbours.’ He gestured towards the doors of the hall with a half-empty bottle of lager.

She and this tall, good-looking blonde-haired man had been an item for most of the three years she had taught English literature at North Woodley Sixth Form College in south London. Most, but not now. Will was senior master in the history department. He also coached basket ball, squash and athletics. In an open-necked blue shirt, jeans and a heavily engraved and studded leather belt he was, she noticed, the target of several pairs of lustful eyes amongst his teenage girl pupils.

She and Will had been a perfect couple in so many ways, but there had always been something between them that was not quite right. Will’s ambition, perhaps; his assumption, engendered courtesy of an adoring mother and two younger sisters, that he was irresistible, his tendency to assume that his work, his career, his opinions all took precedence over hers, his probably unintentionally patronising attitude to the study of literature as a career and to her undoubted talent as a water colourist. That had all rankled with her and when he had asked her to move in with him she had realised that on top of all those irritations, she couldn’t bear to lose her independence, however much they loved each other. That had started them on the slippery slope towards the break up.

There wasn’t another woman, at least she had never heard that there was anyone. It was purely his refusal to compromise and acknowledge her autonomy that had finally come between them, ended their relationship over the course of two or three short weeks and left her angry and uncomprehending and Will unhappy and bitter. After their acrimonious parting they had avoided each other completely, hard to do within the college, but still perfectly possible if they both worked at it. Which they had done. Until now.

‘Come on, Jess. What about a dance for old times’ sake?’ He grinned at her winningly.

She frowned. ‘I don’t think so, Will.’

‘Oh, come on. To show there are no hard feelings? End of term. Good results, please God! Then you need never see me again!’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Why? Are you leaving?’

He laughed. ‘You wish! No, but I promise I shall avoid you next term like the plague itself.’

She fought the urge to smile back. That smile of his had always been her downfall. It was too charming; too persuasive; too attractive by far. She had to fight it. ‘Let’s go on avoiding each other now, Will, shall we? Excuse me. I need to say hello to Ash.’ Not letting him see the longing inside her, the temptation which was still so strong, she gave him a strained, apologetic shrug and turned away. Taking a last breath of fresh air she plunged into the seething mass of dancing bodies, leaving Will staring after her.

As soon as he saw her Ashley stood back from his music mixing, nodded to his younger brother Max, on stage beside him, to take over and leaped down from the stage. ‘Come and dance, Jess!’ He was laughing, his handsome face running with perspiration, his bright shirt soaked, his hands reaching for hers, pulling her fists up into the air, then releasing her, positioned and ready for the dance as he gyrated, hips swivelling in front of her. She shouldn’t laugh. She should reprimand him for calling her Jess, but what was the point? School was over in every real sense. Exams were finished. The night was hot and enticing and all these young people were enjoying themselves. Surely she could let her hair down too. She danced with Ashley, she danced with several other pupils, and she danced with Brian Barker, the Head of the college, and finally, she was at last unbent enough to dance with Will – it had seemed too much effort to refuse. She drank Dan’s fruit punch. Then some more with a shot of staff-only extra-bite! She danced with Dan again and then with Ashley one last time. It was in the early hours that the disco broke up at last after a second visit from the police.

Ashley had been waiting for her outside the hall.

After that she remembered nothing. Making herself a cup of coffee with shaking hands, she sipped it slowly. Who would she have asked in to share a glass of wine so late at night? There had been no other relationship after Will. She fancied no one, especially not any of her colleagues at school. Not now. She was not the type to ask a casual acquaintance to come back with her and fall into bed with him. And no one, absolutely no one she knew would have hurt her and left her in this state.