Gloria wasn't particularly looking forward to the school trip on Monday. Not that she minded missing a day's lessons, far from it, it was just that travel sickness was never far away, and a quick bout of projectile vomiting did little for the sophisticated but rebellious image she liked to promote.
Miss Grimsdale was equally unenthusiastic about the forthcoming trip, although for entirely different reasons. The prospect of herding a dozen giggling fifth formers around the British Museum was bad enough but just to cap it all the school's own minibus had already been booked and she was having to use the one they owned jointly with the adjacent boy's school - an arrangement that really suited neither school but came as one of the many costs of remaining small and independent.
Monday morning came and she was gritting her teeth as Mr Collins was fussing over the arrangements for letting the vehicle out of his care. He was the games master at the boys school and took it as a personal affront if the 15 seater Ford`Transit was taken from him. He used it to transport his beloved cricket team and suspected that residues of teenage female hormones on the seats might detract from his team's performance. Miss Grimsdale thought Mr Collins was a pompous little arse, a view which was an entirely accurate, if somewhat unladylike for a classics mistress.
Three hours later they were grinding their way through the mid morning traffic. In the back of the minibus there was a muffled hiss as the cap was prised off a bottle of beer.
"I hope you are not opening tins of drink in the bus, girls, " called back Miss Grimsdale. "You know they aren't allowed."
"Oh no, Miss Grimsdale" the girls chorused back, accurately if misleadingly.
Gloria was already feeling a little ill, but no way was she going to be seen wimping out of the illicit drinking in the back row. Bad move.
"Wuuuuuuuuuuuurp!" Gloria lavishly redecorated the interior of the minibus and the two unfortunate girls in front of her. The odour of beer in the residue was unmistakable....
Back at school that evening Miss Grimsdale was continuing to deal with the consequences. Four of the five back row miscreants had received their just desserts from Miss Grimsdale's cane. Gloria had been saved to tomorrow when it was to be hoped that she would be well enough to fully appreciate it.
In the meantime there was the wretched school insurance claim form to complete....what was the nature of the damage...which vehicle was involved.....who was responsible....when did the incident occur. She paused to recollect the purple faced Mr Collins, incandescent with rage at the state of the minibus. The memory of his impotent fury was a small consolation.
"Serves him right for being so concerned with material things," she thought.
She looked again at the questions on the insurance form.
"Why concern yourself," she thought.
'Sick. Transit. Gloria. Monday.' she wrote.
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