Dark hall. Wainscoating. Our footsteps ticking across the wooden floor. Faint impression of a grand staircase and wooden bannisters. Hall spacious, shadowy recesses. We'd fallen asleep so we'd missed the grand drive through the forest, the distant howls of wolves, the first flakes of snow. The tall pine trees and the The police had taken pity on us and driven us all the way. I'd woken up cold, fighting bone- deep exhaustion as they'd bundled us out of the car, and into the sharp night air up some stone steps and through the heavy doors. Jemima was still sleeping on her feet as they escorted her upstairs like some over worked soldier in the trenches (men marched asleep many had lost their boots).
The room was dark but we could hear the deep breathing of the ten other sleeping girls. I pulled the thin, scratchy blanket up to my chin in the creaky narrow bed, Jemima already breathing deeply in the sunken bunk above, and thought 'this is my life. Seventeen years old and I'm in prison'. How far I had descended. I had been the most bold and daring girl in school.
And among the most popular. Sandy's birthday barbecue. The prom. Friends galore. Where were they now. No one had contacted me since it had happened. Mum had made me delete all my apps it was so upsetting. I knew the friendships didn't go very deep - even when I was telling them all they were my best friends- even when we were taking out the trampoline during the winter assembly when the whole school were in the hall listening to some professor done on and on about something. Now I had this twit Jemima and ten strangers who were probably mortal enemies.
The morning came, blue and white through the windows and the sleeping girls awoke.
YOU ARE READING
The Salad Dressing and Other Disasters
General FictionThis is a collection of humorous, semi autobiographical stories, describing misadventures at School, University and early working life. It's a litany of all the silly things that can happen to you when you feel completely out of your depth...
