One Foot Onto the Ice (8 page)

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
wide-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?”

Susan 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.”