Annabelle POV

Nobody knows what to do with their lives after their time at St Trinians comes to an end. Do we go to University, take a subject that we like the sound of and pretend to respect the balding, middle aged man who has the misfortune to lecture us? Or are we destined to run off into the sunset and pursue the riches of the criminal world like society expects us to? Life after St Trinians is something every girl avoids thinking about, leaving the derelict building means leaving behind our safe haven and entering a world which revolves around rules, stereotypes, judgements and high expectations. If I was an intellectual Geek, most would expect me to leap in unconditional joy at the prospect of discovering and indulging myself on the challenges that life after St Trinians beholds. If I was a Totty then perhaps I would follow the path of the celebrity, marry a footballer and buy an exotic Caribbean island. Unfortunately I am nothing more than plain and simple Annabelle Fritton.

Most would have expected for me to follow in the footsteps of practically every Fritton woman before me and become a female figure of anarchy in some way, shape or form. Sometimes I sit and I ponder what my life would be like if I had accepted what my late Aunt Camilla had bestowed upon me on her deathbed or had chosen to teach at her school. I would definitely be the complete opposite of the woman I am now, I would be more intimidating, more daring and more alluring to what I am now. However, I chose to break the traditions and expectations in order to fulfil my dream of being a normal girl with a normal job. As a result of my own selfishness, St Trinians is now nothing more than an urban legend that is whispered into the ears of those would be students. A wise man once stated that all good things come to an end, nobody even dared to dream of the day that St Trinians would finally end. The former St Trinians resent me for my choice and most now refuse to acknowledge my existence. All except one, Kelly Jones.

I left St Trinians on my last day with good grades and cherished memories by my side and never once looked back. Those few final days of my concluding term at St Trinians were the last moments that I wandered around within St Trinian territory. I have never been able to swallow my built up fear, grab my girlish balls of steels and embark on a mission to rediscover my dormant St Trinian self. I've never been strong enough to abandon my hard earned place in the real world in order to embrace a world of anarchy and lawlessness. Upon leaving St Trinians, I ventured out into rural France and joined a small town university. There I did the typical student decision and studied for a useless degree before making a serious decision about the direction of my studies. I also managed to beat expectations and get a job waitressing to fund my studies instead of having Polly hack into the bank and changing the digits of my balance. I kept my location private and changed all of my contact details including my name in an attempt to hide away from any intrusive figures from my past. Overnight I became Arabella Rifton.

I lived my life in contempt but with the paranoid questioning of when I would be tracked down and discovered by the one person who knows all. I don't know how long it takes to track a person who has taken the necessary steps and precautions to effectively disappear from the face of the Earth. I don't even have the slightest clue on what technology and how it is used in order to achieve the goal of discovery. However, I do know how to blackmail and bribe a person who does. This was all it took for my Head Girl to reenter my life in the blink of an eye. I will always be able to remember the way she sat at a table in my humbled work place with a menu laid out in front of her as if she was any customer. At first I didn't look at the face of her which meant that I didn't realised who it was that I was serving until she said my real name with her velvety lips. The sight of her smirk will be forever fixed in my mind with her smug and victorious gaze. "Why?" She had demanded after a few minutes of stunned silence.

"I w-want a normal life," I stuttered out, trying to assert some level of dominance. Once the sound of my timid voice had registered in my brain I almost cringed. I took a breath and squared my shoulders before further explaining myself to Kelly with the confidence of a St Trinian. "I want to experience normal things like being unsure of the path of my life, hating my boss, moaning about the mortgage, having 2.5 kids and being in a dead end job that only just pays the bills. I don't want to be able to hack into a bank whenever I'm skint or have my boss kidnapped on a whim. St Trinians is a fond memory but that's all it is now, I just want some normality." I had declared, sounding much like my St Trinian self. Kelly had frowned at my declaration, letting her mask of sassy confidence slip for a brief moment before lazily running her eyes over every detail of my face. She then chuckled before rolling her eyes and walking out of the café doors. That was the start of her persisted appearances and attempts to convince me otherwise every day for two long months before it all suddenly stopped and she disappeared.

Foolishly I thought that her disappearance was the end of the hassle and the final obstacle I had to face. Kelly returned after a year of absence with the declaration that she had faked her death in order to leave her dream job at MI7, the way she had said this in a casual manner had made my jaw hit the floor in surprise. The casual tone made it sound and feel as if she were discussing the weather with me instead of the details of her death and 'funeral'. She then spent the next month attempting to ask me on a date with the same patience that Flash Harry held when he constantly asked Kelly herself out. Kelly suggested picnics, fancy restaurants and even a takeaway to try and tempt me but it was the suggestion to sneak into the nearby cinema by via the roof and a climbing rope that I accepted. That was the start of something that everybody in this world longs for, craves in fact, a love that was so deep that it met every cliché related to the description of true love.

Flash forward a few years and we've finally got our own little cottage by the sea in Cornwall, England. Everything was bliss for us and Kelly had miraculously managed to maintain her pledge of leading a normal life without extreme crime. She had managed to get a job as a journalist which required her to travel and experience a wide range of different cultures, this suited Kelly perfectly. I wasn't overly surprised on the day I came home to find a celebrating Kelly but I couldn't help the nagging sensation that my Head Girl was resenting the normality of it all. I couldn't control the paranoia that rattled around in my head, all I could think about was how she had took this job to get away from me for some length of time. However, deep down I knew that she had done this due to a lack of interest in a typical nine to five job like myself.

Whilst Kelly ran around reporting on situations in current wars and other foreign affairs, I took up a dull accounting job in a bank that was full of stuffy old men. When the roaming eyes of the men almost awakened my inner St Trinian self, I took the decision to leave. This then lead me to take up a range of dull office jobs which didn't pay that well and weren't in the field of my degree. Eventually I ended up becoming a business advisor for a rich company that I had never bothered to learn the name of and started settling into my job role. I fell into a lifeless daily routine which ended in me curling up on mine and Kelly's sofa with a box of chocolates and Coronation Street on the tellie. I had gotten exactly what I had wished for but I could feel the inner beast rear its feisty head with each passing day.

At two thirty in the morning of Sunday 21st April, my inner St Trinian's frustration finally reached tipping point. After running away from my past for years, St Trinians finally caught up to me. The day had finally come where I had to choose between my own selfish dream and the fate of the all young female anarchy warriors, Kelly hated my final decision "St Trinians is our home!" She had yelled, loosing her usual calm mask. "How the hell can you stand by and watch it rot into dust all over your stupid need of a simplistic life?"

"It's your home, not mine." I had snarled back, bracing myself for Kelly to say goodbye and leave. "If you don't like this life then there is nothing anchoring you to it."

"It was Camilla's dying wish for you to safeguard its future Annabelle! How can you just ignore that and turn up to the funeral next week? Do you think that everyone's just going to accept that happily?"

"Don't try and guilt trip me Kelly, I know full well what my aunt wanted. I was there by her side last night if you can remember, I watched her slip away from us and I heard her last words. I know what she wanted but what about what I want for my life?"

"Stop being so fucking childish!" At that, I ran out into the street crying.

Kelly automatically followed behind me, cursing herself as she ran. It didn't take her stealthy body long to catch up to mine and spin me around so she could see my watery eyes. She pulled me into tight embrace and muttered soothing words into my hair. Kelly lovingly described how she felt on the first day of our new life together. She told me about how she finally began to see me believe and trust in her, she even recalled how she felt alive on that sunny day on the lake. More importantly, my Head Girl recalled how she fell in love with a careless man's careful daughter.

No matter what I choose to do, Kelly Jones will always be the best thing that has ever and will ever be mine.


Review because somebody once tried to take me to a posh restaurant and it took me ten minutes to suggest going to the pub