Page 279 of Hell Hath No Fury
“Damn right.” Wiggling my brow with a renewed surge of confidence, I let the bulk of my nerves escape with a forced exhale. We walk hand in hand through the ancient archway and up the steps to the massive oak and wrought iron door.
The main entrance of St. Michael’s Prep is part of a church that was demolished in the Blitz, and the façade was sympathetically restored in the early sixties. The vaulted anteroom leads directly to the great hall through a densely decorated doorway. Festive foliage adorns every stone column and window ledge, and luscious festoons of gorgeous garlands sweep the entire room. Every piece of greenery is perfectly decorated with large crystal baubles, and strings of silver beads have been threaded with artistry and precision. In the centre ofthe room at the far end is the centrepiece. A stunning thirty foot Christmas tree, to rival the one in Trafalgar Square; although if I’m honest, that one is always a bit of a disappointment. This one is quite breathtaking.
Silver service waitstaff weave seamlessly through the crowd of impressively dressed parents. It seems getting your child into this school isn’t the only competition. I can see a Daenerys Targaryen from Game of Thrones with a scale replica dragon attached to her back. It must weigh a ton judging by her pained expression. There’s also a fully kitted out Bumble Bee from Transformers complete with full effects—lights, electronics and sound. Marvel superheroes, and Disney characters seem the dominant themes, although I do spot a few John Snows, and Indiana Jones and Jack Sparrows. Jason slips his coat off and a self-satisfied smile spreads across my face when several pairs of eyes turn our way. Yeah, that’s right. I have a smokin’ hot husband.
He picks up two glasses of fizz from a passing waiter and hands me one. I scour the room for anyone familiar, which is proving considerably more difficult under the circumstances. I get a tap on my shoulder and turn to see an oversized white bonnet, swathes of blue and white ruffles and a shepherd’s crook towering over my good friend.
“Mary, you look adorable.” Her cropped pink hair is covered with an abundance of golden ringlets, and she has painted freckles on her face, which knocks at least ten years off of her forty-five years.
She shrugs, blushing at the compliment. “Oh, don’t. I ran out of time and raided the props department at work. You can put you coats in the cloakroom.”
“Thanks, where is—” Jason’s question is interrupted by the booming, shrill voice of Stephanie from somewhere behind me. I turn to the side, standing in between Mary and Jason. I want tohold his hand because everything always feels better when I do. However, I also don’t want to show any sign of weakness, not to someone like her.
“Samantha, you came!” The small gathering of people around us seems to part like the Red fucking Sea as she approaches. She looks like an authentic Disney princess in the Elsa costume. It’s immaculate. She probably had it made for the occasion.
“You sound surprised. Is there a reason I wouldn’t?” I smile tightly and tilt my head as if somewhat confused.
Let the games begin.
“Of course not. Only, what with Roman, well, you know, being rejected “ She mouths the words as if the lack of volume would prevent everyone from hearing. My hand grips the whip attached to my hip, and my fingers are itching when I feel Jason’s hand over mine. Stephanie leans closer and, catching my fiery glare, sensibly leans back.
“I think it’s wonderful that you’re not too embarrassed to attend a ‘future parents’ evening. Oh, look, there’s Lady Asquith. Do have a lovely evening, and again, please don’t feel awkward.” Her smile couldn’t look more insincere if it was a reflection of my own. She faces Mary. “Mary, nice to see you went to such effort. Raided the work wardrobe again, did we? Explains a great deal.” She giggles, and it’s all I can do to not rip that wig off her head and pound that sanctimonious face into the flagstone floor.
“Stephanie.” Mary beams a smile so wide and false it makes me laugh. Stephanie sniffs in distaste, as if something foul-smelling has clearly coated her top lip, judging by the upturn of her pointy nose.
“Oh, wow, this is going to be good.” Jason exhales and when he feels it’s safe he releases his hand holding mine.
“Take my coat, but don’t bother putting it the cloakroom. We aren’t staying.”
“Sam, what are you going to do?” Mary’s eyes are like saucers, and I haven’t taken my coat off yet.
“Take that bitch down a peg or two. Wanna watch?”
“Hell, yes.” Mary steps to my side, stamping her staff to the floor as if standing to attention and now ready for battle. I’m about to do my thing when I get a sudden rush of conscience.
“Wait. Mary, you don’t have to. You know she will make your life hell. It’s all right for me; I won’t have to see her again, but you—”
“Neither will I. I’ve already pulled Petal’s application.” Mary beams, and I sag.
“You didn’t have to do that either. It’s still the best school, Mary, even with Stephanie lording it over the PTA.” Sighing, I feel all kinds of responsible.
“This isn’t a bad thing, Sam. You didn’t see Petal’s face when I told her Roman wasn’t coming here. There’s no way I could break my little girl’s heart. She’ll have enough of that when she’s older; she doesn’t need it from me, too.”
“She’ll be the heartbreaker.” I let out a knowing laugh and ask again. “If you’re really sure?”
“Abso-bloody-lutely.”
“Jason, give me your drink.” Mine is already empty and I down Jason’s just as quickly.
“If you’re nervous, Sam, you don’t have to do it.” Jason takes the empty and I appreciate his concern, even if he knows I won’t change my mind.
“I’m nervous because I haven’t done it in a while. Not because I don’t want to.”
There’s an audible gasp from those nearest when I slide my coat from my bare shoulders. The elegant lady playing the harp presses her palms flat, instantly silencing the strings and the room. Any pins dropping would echo so loudly, it would feel likeBig Ben was chiming in the vaulted room. My heels click a steady purposeful beat as I sashay my way through the crowded room. There isn’t much to work my way through, as people seem more than keen to give me some space. I like that, and with every step, I feel a renewed sense of power flood my veins. When I reach Stephanie and the small gathering of key players, I stand directly in front of Edward, Stephanie’s husband, Chairman of the PTA, and by all accounts, best friend of the Headmaster.
“How did your wife know about my son’s application?” He looks a little startled, and it seems to take a moment for my question to register. The whole room is enveloped in a cloak of intrigued silence. I can feel all eyes on my back and focused on the intimate group gathered on the small plinth next to the Christmas tree before me.
“Mrs. Sinclair, what a pleasure.” Edward rightly wipes his hand on the edge of his cape and offers it to me. He’s tall but doesn’t quite carry off the stature of Chris Hemsworth’s Thor.
