Victims of Love
Disclaimer: I don't own the St. Trinian's franchise or any of its characters. I am just borrowing them here for a little while.
The Red
Kelly Jones started life in the red.
She was already in debt in the womb; probably at conception too. There was no way she could've known, but a little warning for the hard luck life waiting for her would've been nice.
Fate was a treat, apparently.
Yasmin Jones had been underage when she decided that making money off of paying blokes was better than being forced to take it from her step-brothers all of the time and keep quiet about it at home. So it was that she hopped the dividing wall behind their Hounslow home and never looked back. Yasmin spent two days on the street before being judged attractive enough to get into a bawdy house in Soho's clubbing district after lying about her age.
She dealt with the usual tossers looking for a good time. The ponces with the vain girlfriends they would shag as soon as they were done with her, but wouldn't marry. Then there were the old wankers who looked out of place in their version of clubbing gear and the lads who weren't even old enough to drink looking for a memorable experience to brag to their mates about. It wasn't until her waistline began to strain against the skirts of her street-wear that Yasmin realized that she hadn't been as careful as she should've been.
Tracking down the bloke who did it would've been nearly impossible as would naming the kid—if it was a boy—after it's dad: Rick, Joe, Colin, Jon, Liam, Max, Dave, or Herman. Yasmin had kept it secret for as long as possible, trying some preventative measures along the way. Like taking too many pills with a fifth of vodka, but her heart just wasn't in it.
Somehow, somewhere, she wanted this baby. It would ruin her life, but it would be hers like nothing else. So one night, she left the brothel and took up serving in a Paddington pub. She was working a late shift the night the pains started, but didn't know who to go to for help. Her boss was already convinced she wasn't working fast enough and she didn't want to lose her job, but at the same time she needed to get to a place where she could have the kid in peace. Her frantic mind finally settled on a friend's flat not too far away.
Her water broke on the walk and halfway she doubled over at the pain of the contractions. In a strange twist of fate, Kelly Jones was born in Regent's Park at 22:15 in the evening. A man walking a dog discovered them and called emergency services.
By the time they arrived, Yasmin Jones had wandered back onto the streets leaving a small infant daughter swaddled in a corduroy jacket on a park bench.
Kelly Jones started life in the red.
Dependent upon the charity of others for her very survival. She was immediately entered into the system and adopted by a rather rich, philanthropic couple looking to have a second child. They soon found though that their second child wasn't what they had bargained for and shifted her back into the waiting arms of the government. Sometimes miracles happen. Sometimes it goes the other way.
Fate was a treat, apparently.
Chevelle- The Red
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