Summer was opening its lazy embrace upon the British countryside, lashing the hedgerows and crops and quaint old farmhouses with sunshine and warmth and a general feeling of contentment. The old building that housed the anarchic St. Trinian's school for young 'ladies' was certainly not missing out on the glorious mid-year weather, either, and neither was it's inhabitants. If an outsider were to be brave enough-or stupid enough- to venture down the drive today, it might take a lot of convincing to make them believe this was the same school they read about in the papers. Even Kelly Jones had to admit, it was strange seeing the school so peaceful, and it was an oddly welcome change.
From her perch on the cushioned windowsill, she could see a good part of the school grounds through the glass. The hockey team had abandoned their game and sat in the goals, fanning their faces from exhaustion. When she noticed a figure sprawled out in the middle of the pitch, several hockey sticks propped up against it, she was concerned; until she noticed the unmistakable frizzy hair of Matron and relaxed. Most of the school had congregated down on the lower field, where Miss Maupassant was setting up a Barbeque with the Bursar- though he was doing a lot more staring and drooling than helping load the charcoal. Kelly's attention was finally drawn to a group of Fourth Formers who were stretched out on the fine-trimmed lawn not too far from the window, their eyes closed to shield them from the light. The dark-haired girl ran a finger over her lower lip in slight distress as she worked her brain to remember the names of the girls. None sprang to mind.
It had been a long time since she was part of the school. Years, even. She had stopped counting. A lot had happened since she first paid her old school a visit.
The most obvious change had been Annabelle. They were close back then, they always had been; Annabelle needed someone to cling onto and Kelly sensed strength and potential in her younger counterpart. Even so, she would never have guessed that now, seven years since the scared, easily intimidated Annabelle Fritton washed up on St Trinian's doorstep, the two would be sharing a relationship. Kelly and Annabelle. You never heard one name without the other. It had been tough at first; Kelly had laughed like an idiot when Annabelle tried to kiss her ('Annabelle Fritton? Kissing me? Oh, the wonders never cease!'). Annabelle often felt a sort of inferiority complex around her older partner. But it worked. God knows, it worked. And neither of them would change a thing.
Camilla had fallen ill late the earlier summer and found herself in no fit state to run the school any longer. She had grudgingly taken leave until she recovered; she undoubtedly would recover. If she was any sturdier she'd have to be made of steel. Much to everyone's surprise and/or resentment, she had 'loaned' the post of Headmistress to Annabelle (just as her own aunt had before her) who nervously accepted. There had been murmurs in the staff room about her incompetence, but deep down they all knew she could do it, and do a bloody good job of it, too. Camilla wasn't too bummed about not being at the school, for Geoffrey had volunteered (yes, volunteered, not forced/blackmailed/kidnapped!) to stay by her side until she got better. She was chuffed, to say the least.
Kelly had kept up her work as a spy until she had found it was keeping her away from home for too long, at which point she promptly quit. Both her employers and Annabelle begged her not to, but she reassured both that if it wouldn't allow her to be around the people and places she loved, she didn't want it. Quitting MI7 wasn't as easy as she let on, and at some point things would get difficult again, but for now she allowed herself to bask in her own freedom. She was still looking for a new career; Roxy had jokingly suggested that she modelled lingerie, but Annabelle's fiery gaze had shut her up.
Roxy had left St Trinian's with the same sort of reputation as any other ex-head girl. The first years of her reign had sobbed and clung to her waist as she promised them she'd visit. To Kelly's annoyance, she upheld this promise far better than she had herself. She remembered, in particular, one evening when the rock-chick had dropped by after releasing her brand-new single and the school had crowded around any tv they could find, awaiting the Official Top 40 to announce the chart results. Roxy's face of humiliation was priceless when she came in at number 11, beaten to the top ten by the Banned of St Trinian's who sat rather pleased with their new placement at 9.
With this year being Annabelle's first as Headmistress, she had the power to choose the next head girl. She deliberated over this for weeks until she finally came back with a solution, which when whispered in Kelly's ear, caused both girls to beam in delight. Tania and Tara became the first Head Girl duet in the history of the school, and no-one argued with the decision. Those who disagreed were probably bound with ropes in the corner of some disused classroom along with some government members and bank workers, anyway.
Kelly gave a contented sigh that fogged up the glass slightly. The years had been tough but everything had ended in smiled and laugher, and… With the tip of her fingernail, she doodled an umbrella on the misted window and wrote her and Annabelle's names downwards underneath it in improvised kanji- something she had learnt whilst working in Japan. She gave a fleeting smile to the disappearing picture, then turned her head to where her girlfriend sat, writing furiously on several sheets of paper.
"Annabelle?" She cooed, "You nearly done with that?" When she got no response, she knitted her brow momentarily, and then decided to take a different approach. She kicked her heel-clad feet upwards so they balanced against the vertical wall of the alcove created by the window, causing her skirt to fall back loosely around her hips.
"An-na-belle…" Every syllable was stressed for the effect, her voice purposefully pitched low. The brunette raised her head from her paperwork curiously, only to find her cheeks reddening at the sight that met her eyes,
"Kelly! I'm working, stop distracting me!" She whined pitifully. Kelly stuck her tongue out in response,
"You've been busy all day" Kelly groaned.
"How was your day, then?"
"Pretty boring. I helped Miss Cleaver with a hockey lesson earlier, though."
A spark of jealousy flickered across Annabelle's eyes, but it was quickly extinguished,
"One of the first years asked me something earlier"
"Oh, yeah?" Kelly leaned forward, intrigued.
"Yeah. She asked me if I was a man in drag" Annabelle pouted.
Kelly's face was unreadable for a moment, her dark eyes still enquiring, before the first year's jest dawned on her, and she broke into laughter, "Oh, really? Ha, that's a good one!"
Annabelle looked hurt, "Wha-What? I… I don't look like a transvestite, do I?"
The older girl wiped at the corner of her eye, "No, silly, it's just… Ah, never mind. I'll explain later. If it helps, you look mostly woman to me." Her remark was met with a bottle of TiPex being launched at her head, which missed and exploded on the wall behind her, "Oi, careful with that stuff! It takes days to wash it out of my hair!" Kelly warned, dodging another bottle, "Oh, this is war!
Annabelle gave a high-pitched squeal and leapt from her desk and Kelly's hands grasped at whatever stationary she could find, throwing them across the room at her girlfriend. Annabelle retaliated by reaching for a pillow from the sofa and thunking it with as much force as possible into her 'adversaries' side, causing feathers to explode into the air. Grunting and giggling and pulling white feathers from her dark hair, Kelly pushed her down onto the sofa, pinning her limbs to the leather
The two looked around the room in silence, taking in the black-and-white splodges on the walls caused by the TiPex and ink, the feathers still floating to the ground and the paper that had been knocked from the desk,
"That better be all legible, Jones!" Annabelle frowned sternly, turning her wrist and pointing at the paperwork that lined the carpet.
"Shut up, Fritton" Kelly growled, leaning down and kissing her roughly on the lips.
There were no restraints between the two anymore. No-one even batted an eyelid if they happened to walk in on the two snogging in a corner; it was pretty much common-place stuff by now. Hands roamed further, as much by memory as by touch, and Kelly laughed into Annabelle's mouth.
"Whut?" Annabelle slurred, pulling back slightly. Kelly's face was thoughtful for a second, before she gave a definite nod,
"Yup," She grinned, "Definitely all woman"
"Oh, shut up!" Annabelle groaned playfully, pushing her off with the hand that was freed during their make-out session, "Let me put my work away."
Kelly nodded silently and sat down properly on the sofa, leaning back lazily. Her fingers trailed under the hem of her shirt, running down a long scar that marked her skin; a movement that had become somewhat of a habit.
"Hey…Annabelle?" She asked, touching the scar again.
"Yeah?" Annabelle glanced over her shoulder from where she had knelt down to retrieve her papers,
"Do you remember…?" Hesitation.
"Never mind" Kelly blinked, "Do you want to go out to eat this evening?"
"Sure, do you have anywhere planned?"
"Uh…kinda." Kelly ran a hand through her hair, the other hand sliding possessively over her shoulder bag that she had left on the arm of the sofa earlier.
"Then that would be lovely" Annabelle smiled fondly.
The smile was returned. Kelly had the day to reminisce about the past, and the night to work out the future.
And there you have it~! (Yes, I DID forget I was supposed to write this. Your point is? :P )
Hope you enjoyed the little extra bit, tried to make it much more light-hearted.
Virtual-cookies for noticing the references, by the way.
Thanks for reading, everyone!