Chapter 16 - lost to the forgotten one
4th May, B team tank sheds, 08:31
On the morning of the match, Sarah was able to use her position as Team Commander to get Maesil with a Morris 15cwt truck to pick her up and take her to the tank sheds, rather than laboriously walk over there. She arrived to find the St. Gloriana element of the team already assembled and making final preparations. Of the Shamrock girls there was no sign.
Teapot saw Sarah arrive and walked over to her. Just as she arrived and before either of them could speak, there was a strange noise and they both turned to face the road that led to the tank sheds from the direction of the guest accommodation.
Normally, when going to Sensha-do practice, it was the custom for the girls of St. Gloriana to walk in a line of pairs, neatly and quietly. They did not march or anything like that – they were not Kuromorimine – but there was a certain level of decorum to be observed. The Shamrock girls, however, had surprised their hosts over the last few days by going to practice while skipping, laughing, joking and trying to push each other into the ditch at the side of the road.
Not, apparently, today. Sarah stared open mouthed at a procession of green-clad girls who were coming up the road in a tight formation, in double time and singing some sort of song. Their knees were reaching waist level as they thundered along in a uniformed, animated jog. As they drew closer, some of the words, if that they could be called, to their bellowed tune could be made out.
Two little devils were playing with chains
LILLIBURLERO, BULLEN-A-LA!
She picked up a stick and bashed out their brains!
LILLIBURLERO, BULLEN-A-LA!
LERO, LERO, LILLI BURLERO, LERO LERO, BULLEN-A-LA!
Every one of the St. Gloriana girls stopped what they were doing to behold this spectacle.
"What the Hell…?" Sarah whispered to Teapot, who'd had the dubious pleasure of looking after Shamrock every morning and ensuring that St. Gloriana was being the perfect host. "What's got into them?" she asked.
"They call it 'Shamrock coffee'…" Teapot sighed with a shake of her head. "It appears to be sugary coffee with a flavoured syrup in it and a dollop of cream on the top. They've all had at least two each, some more! They're as high as kites!" she explained.
As the Shamrock troop doubled into the area between the large tank sheds, Shannon split away from the group and jogged in this ridiculous knees-up fashion over to where Sarah and Teapot stood. She came to a halt in front of them with a final stamp of her foot. At that exact moment, all the other Shamrock girls, who had been jogging on the spot, came to a precise halt as well. Kuromorimine could not have done it better. It looked like expert drill at its best, although, sadly, was nothing more than an amazing fluke.
"Shamrock Team reporting for duty! Let's have a good fight!" the hyped redhead yelled.
4th May, Kobe port, 9:47
Thankfully for Sarah, the preparations were less stressful than she imagined. In their caffeinated state, the Shamrock girls were very quick at prepping their tanks and luckily the ammunition transfers were being overseen by Clare, who at least had more than half a brain. In amidst all the excitement, Sarah was aware that other activity had been going on round the huge school carrier as it docked in the vast harbour that was specially designed to accommodate schoolships.
Sarah looked around at all the expectant faces of her team, feeling the pressure of a commander bearing down on her again. They were all looking to her to be able to pull off this victory. She didn't want to think about what might happen if she failed.
"Mount!" she bellowed to the crews of the assembled tanks. They all obeyed instantly, with the Shamrock girls positively swarming onto their tanks and into the hatches.
This was something else Sarah was privately dreading; having to get onto her tank and up to the top of that tall turret in a dignified manner, while essentially being one-armed and one-legged. Luckily, everyone else was occupied in getting themselves into their own tanks. She made it up onto the top of the turret and then awkwardly half-climbed, half-fell into the commander's seat.
"Ow fuck!" she snapped as her knee received an unwanted jarring.
"Alright Miss English?" came a cheerful call from behind her. Sugarlump, a round-faced, pleasant girl with more brawn than brains was one of the Challenger's two loaders. Sarah had known her when she herself was in the B Team, but while she had progressed to the A Team, Sugarlump had not. She was, nonetheless, a capable loader, although that might have been the limit of her skill in Sensha-do.
Sarah took control of the radio and spoke into the mouthpiece. "All tanks - move out! Follow the Challenger!" she commanded, the column spearheaded by the Challenger headed towards the staging grounds of battlefield.
4th May, JSF Battleground 13:00
"We all know what we have to do ladies. So um…" Sarah's tone turned to one of doubt. "Have fun and enjoy the experience," she said with little conviction. "You know where to go Sha.."
"Yes 100 million percent Miss Breakfast!" Shannon bellowed nearly breaking Sarah's headset.
"Ok good luck and happy scouting Shamrock," she added, watching the lumbering dark green hulk coughing and spluttering its way to the east with its two more nimble battleship grey L-60s by its side. Even at this early stage, the Churchill III detached to Shamrock was struggling to keep up.
"Clare, you have to speed up if we want to go scouting!" Shannon again screeched down the mic.
"This is our top speed Shannon, but you know that old saying about the tortoise and the hare," came the reply.
"Being in that St Gloriana tank doesn't make you Darjeeling you know," Erne threw back with her trademark venom.
"Just... just... um... could you just slow down a little?" Clare asked.
"No! Breakfast wants us to scout and we will scout well and fast. Just keep with us... uuuuuuuh," Shannon looked down at her map and around the surrounding area. They had now disappeared from Sarah's group completely and driven some distance though many bushes and down a grassy slope.
"Are you lost Shannon?" Erne mumbled through gritted teeth.
"Pffffff me lost never. This is a cheeky short cut," Shannon frantically began to use all of her limited map reading skills to find out where they were.
'Why did we have to have drinking match the night before we did the map reading course? Why why why!?' she thought to herself.
"Where now commander?" The driver of the Mk D asked, coming to what seemed to be a T junction with an impassable bocage along the road.
"We go left. All tanks follow me!" was Shannon's order.
"I can't see you? Where are you going?" Clare asked the radio waiting for a response from her group commander, but heard nothing. The line was filled with static.
4th May, JSF Battleground 13:22
"Shannon where are we?"
"Where we have to be Erne! Are you doubting me?"
"No just, I don't see the river that should be here,"
"Just shut up or I'll ..." Shannon's ears pricked up. She could hear engines close to them and they sounded similar to theirs.
"Shhhhhhhh, tank!" she said hushed over the radio and her head slowly peaked above the turret. To the right of the bocage came the sound of tracks crushing the ground; engines whining and the exhaust popping as it coughed.
"Four... six… seven … eight. That's their whole team," Shannon said as she began to scheme, with her head barely reaching over the top of the hedge.
Tap tap tap. Shannon looked behind her with Erne clambering up the Mark D.
"What's all the fuss all about?" Erne said as her full stature loomed over Shannon.
"Get down they might see you," Shannon ordered.
Erne looked over the hedge getting a glance of the flag tank: a Turan III. She immediately ducked down to be in line with Shannon's eye line.
"Look, there is their flag tank. We can get it in a quick and easy swoop," she suggested.
"Yes Erne, I'm not an idiot you know," Shannon replied.
"Then why haven't we attacked?"
"Dunno? I don't think I have a good enough reason to attack them. Maybe Breakfast wouldn't be too happy if we did?"
"They have L-60 like us. Maybe they are copying us?" Erne shrugged.
"What?!" Shannon exclaimed as she took another peak of the slowly moving column.
"You're right! We'll get them Hungry girls," she snapped as she grabbed her microphone dangling around the commander's hatch. "All tanks attack the tank!"
Erne quickly jumped off before the Mk D shuddered its way towards the hedge. Like an expert gymnast with only three steps the taller redhead was back inside her L-60.
"You heard the commander!" Finn yelled, her driver pushed down the accelerator.
The Mk D sliced through the hedge with ease. Shannon was licking her lips, eager for her first kill.
"I got you now!" she yelled to the outside world, firing a shot towards the moving column. Instead of seeing a white flag waving triumphantly above the flag tank. She saw a tree, far to the left of the flag tank with a large amount of bark missing and a hole going through the centre of the trunk.
The turrets of all the tanks in the column began to turn to face them.
"Oh crap. RUN AWAY!" Shannon instinctively yelled down the microphone. All three Shamrock tanks charged away heading down the other side of the road towards some low ground.
"Someone tell Breakfast where we are!" Shannon bellowed in the mic. Rather abruptly the tank stopped. Shannon looked down at her tracks churning in green and brown water, the spinning tracks of the tank would refuse to move. She looked over to the L-60s and the same process was happening to the others. "Fuckity fuck fuck!"
"I have Miss Breakfast on the radio, Shannon" a girl said from within the turret.
Shannon squeezed her microphone button down hard. "Miss Breakfast, Miss Breakfast we found them all of them but we had to run away we are stuck in…" She let go of the microphone to stop her transmission. "What are we stuck in?" she yelled towards the L-60s.
"A bog!" Finn yelled.
"A swamp!" Erne said back.
Shannon pressed down even harder than before, "... In a swamp bog… no we can't move...there's one, two... where's Clare? Have you seen Clare?!"
4th May, JSF Battleground 13:37
"Clare, can you hear me?" Sarah asked on the radio. "Clare, Clare? Sugarlump change some of the frequencies." Sugarlump began to change some of the dials and Sarah repeated her message to no avail. 'For fuck sake why can't things be easy?' she thought to herself. Putting both her palms on each side of her temples and began to push towards her brain, hoping to push some sort of an idea through her mind.
"There's got to be something… I just need to talk to her…" She patted her chest; the hard square bump was there. 'Phone!' she though. She whipped it out and rang her newest contact. The dial rang and rang. 'Hopefully she isn't one of those Sensha-do purests.'
"Hello Sar…"
"Clare, you're not taken out, right?"
"No not yet. Sorry our radio is a little temperamental, our frequency is out of sync," the slender girl replied.
"It's fine. Our frequency is 6.5 Megahertz," Sarah told her.
"Okay, thanks, I'll get on the radio now," came the cheery reply.
The radio began to crackle to a metallic soft toned voice, "Mizz Engl… Break…"
"Move it back a tad. Clare, can you hear me?"
"Yes I can hear you," Ckare said, sounding a little relieved.
"Do you know where you are?" Sarah asked.
"Yes I'm at A5."
Sarah looked down on her map and placed a dot on Clare's location and a cross where she thought Shannon was.
"There is a crossroad coming up ahead of you. I need you to hold it until I can arrive. Can you do that for me?"
"Um, yer sure I guess."
"Bad news!" the radio called out but this time from the Shamrock commander. "They found us! Goodb.." The sound of hit after hit echoed through the radio.
"A Squadron - we need to move fast! We will head to A3. This is the only time we will get the bounce on them. Quick, move, move move!" Sarah frantically ordered.
4th May, JSF Battleground 13:49
Clare's Churchill slowly moved towards the crossroads she could see the tracks her comrades had left and the holes in the bocage they had made by charging over. She could hear the light rumble of tank tracks on the other side of the bocage. She took a breath as a tank loomed into view though the breached hedgerow.
"Avoca, fire!" Clare instructed her gunner. The tank rocked and the tank ahead stopped with its white flag popping up.
Shells streamed back towards her shredding the hedgerow in the process. Clare couldn't close the hatch quick enough in her rush to return to the inside of the tank. The noise was unreal; a mix of the lighter pings of the 40mm and the larger calibers with their heavy thuds. It was as if she was inside a tin can during a violent hail storm.
"We're not knocked out - keep firing!" Clare yelled over the noise to her crew.
Liffey rammed any shell in and Avoca fired the quick firing six-pounder. The cycle repeated itself over and over. More projectiles flooded back towards her as a response with the smoke and dust. The fog of war was in its purest form.
"Clare, the flag tank is ahead of us. It looks like Miho's tank with a long barrel!" came the voice from the driver's compartment, over the noise she just couldn't tell, looking through the glass prisms of the cupola but she couldn't see anything clearly.
A small part of the smoke cleared revealing a dark green and tan tank; its long 75 mm gun barrel pointing directly at the Churchills turret looking as if it was squarely pointed at Clare's vision blocks. "Avoca - to the right! Our one o'clock! Quick! quick!"
The motor of the turret whined in it's high pitch squeal Liffey rammed a shell into the breach as the dull metal thudded as it closed.
"I see it," Avoca yelled, placing her index finger hard down on the trigger. The barrel of the enemy tank glowed with its own shell. The 6 pounder shell hit the side of the turret and ricocheted off to shatter a far flung tree. The 75mm shell, on the other hand, hit its mark. It was over for Clare and she knew it. Bringing the microphone to her mouth she began to speak.
"Avoca, Liffey, Dalua, Inny, are you all okay?" The moans of discomfort from around the infantry tank came back to her, even so the morale of her crew could not be unmissed.
"Clare we sure gave them a good battle! They won't want to mess with Shamrock again that's for sure!" Avoca rejoiced, turning around from her gunner's seat to face Clare.
Responding with a smile, she opened up the turret to look at her enemy who had bested her without the restraint of hardened glass. The Turan III had its barrel still facing towards the cratored Churchill, but smoke still covered its body.A light breeze slowly began to lift the fog off the Turan; the dissipating smoke matching the white flag raised on the back of the turret.
"All teams cease combat! The Tarczay High School flag tank has been disabled. The winners of this match are the St. Gloriana Girls College and Shamrock School for Girls coalition," came a voice through the headset.
"I… I didn't knock it out." Clare said to herself looking at the six pounder barrel she followed the direction of the six pounder shell, it perfectly lined up to a large gash on the side of the Turan turret. She looked down the road she was holding, at the furthest end, there seemed to be a tank but it was too small to make out much detail at this far a range. Grabbing her binoculars her eyes landed on it. The tanks hull was covered in muddy sludge with some falling off the tracks in thick lumps onto the road, the long barrel steamed along the whole shaft with large droplets of water falling to the ground. She'd never been so happy to see that silly looking Challenger tank.
4th May, Staging ground, 14:34
The Challenger parked up alongside her Shamrock allies tanks, the majority of them still on recovery vehicles. Sarah sat on the edge of the turret with her legs dangling off the edge.
"Wow, we actually won something! That was amazing work Commander Breakfast!" Shannon shouted atop of her Vickers Mk. D.
"You did great, there was nothing more I could ask from you or your school; you were all amazing!" Sarah looked over to hear some loud footsteps trudging through the field towards her. The Tarczay commander was approaching at the head of a small group. Sarah climbed down the tank, and moved towards them. Sarah limped with her uneven gait over to where the trio of sullen Tarczay girls awaited her, with Shannon climbing off her tank and skipping along by her side.
The atmosphere was definitely frosty as she reached the three girls from the opposing team. Goulash, their commander, was looking at Sarah with utter disdain, while the short redhead known as Paprika looked like she was ready to blow her top.
"It was a good match!" Sarah said. "You fought well; well done!" With her tender right arm being strapped up in its sling, Sarah offered her left hand to Goulash for a congratulatory handshake.
"It's rude to shake hands with your left hand!" Paprika shouted. "You would wish to insult out commander like this?"
"Er… it's just…" Sarah began. Surely this fiery girl could see she was injured?
"You wouldn't want it known that a St. Gloriana team behaved in an improper way, would you?" Paprika snarled.
With a reluctant sigh, Sarah eased her right arm out of her sling and offered her hand to Goulash. The ashen-haired girl gave it the briefest of shakes without uttering a word.
Unprepared for what was to follow, Sarah held out her hand for Paprika to shake. Sarah was just offering her congratulations when Paprika gave Sarah's arm a vicious twist.
"Ah! You bitch!" Sarah yelled as the pain exploded outward from her still healing arm. "You did that on purpose!"
"You dare call me a bitch!? You insult our school like that?!" Paprika exploded, still holding Sarah's arm. She pulled Sarah's arm heavily forward, causing immense pain to Sarah which resulted in her landing face first into the ground.
Sarah's beret had fallen off as she collapsed, and Paprika placed her boot on top of it. Sarah tried her best to get up but she couldn't; her arm throbbed with pain and she was a bit stunned from her fall. Paprika leant down to grab Sarah's beret from the floor and looked at it.
"I guess this means a lot to you?" she said as she peered at it. Sarah looked up.
"No please, that all I have," Sarah wailed
Paprika looked down "Would you do anything for this piece of felt cloth?"
"Yes."
"Well tough shit! You insult our school; this is what you get!" She placed both hands on the beret to tear it in half. Sarah saw red as Paprika was about to destroy her prized beret. Sarah pushed herself up.
"You! You!" She lost her train of thought; she had never been so angry before. She must have felt what Darjeeling felt on that balcony some many months ago.
"You what?"
Sarah punched Paprika hard across the cheek, but Paprika just looked at her virtually unharmed. Her arm shot up to grapple with Sarah, grabbing her tunic to gasps from some onlooking Tarczay girls, while others looked as if they also wanted to get in on the act. Sarah hit as hard as she could with her left arm, trying to break Paprika's deadly grip. Sarah was struggling and flailing, with Paprika smiling towards her enjoying every second. Some other Tarczay girls were already closing in by this point.
"Hit me, would you?" Paprika snarled as she gripped Sarah's muddy hair with her free hand. "Looks like I need to teach you a lesson, you whore to Darjeeling!"
Sarah's salvation came from an unexpected source. Seeing the events unfold in front of her, Shannon beamed a huge smile and half turned to shout back to her teammates.
"FIGHT!" she yelled with obvious joy in her voice.
"FIGHT!" came the gleeful cheer from all of the Shamrock girls. Annalee was almost thrown on top of one of the L-60 light tanks, where she immediately began playing a crazy jig on her violin. The rest of the Shamrock girls charged en masse across the field, a few of them tossing their caubeen caps in the air as they went.
The St. Gloriana team, brought up on chivalry and elegance, had never seen anything like it. All of the red-uniformed tankers looked on with horror on their faces as the green jackets of Shamrock and the khaki-clad girls of Tarczay became hopelessly intermingled in a giant scuffle. Occasionally, Sarah's red coat could be seen in the middle of it on the floor.
At one point, a Tarczay girl decided to climb onto the L-60 where Annalee was positioned. Her presumed intent appeared to be putting an end to the mad Irish jig that was being played and which was clearly aiding the Shamrock girls who, although outnumbered, were definitely holding their own in the brawl. Annalee stopped playing only long enough to kick her would-be assailant in the face, which sent her tumbling down the side of the tank, before resuming her playing with renewed vigour.
Sarah lay on the floor shielding herself from boots crashing into her body, as one crashed into her face, her eyes slowly opened from the kick. Laid bare in front of her was the beret. She reached out ahead of her with her good arm slowly bringing it towards her and closed it around her chest cradling it, keeping her eyes closed hoping everything would go away. The carnage of the fight slowly dissipated, everything around Sarah seemed to freeze; people around her didn't move the sound of birds chirping and the sound of a pair of boots moved towards her in what seemed like a mad dash.
"Get up Miss English," a voice said near her ear. Sarah dimly recognised the voice of Teapot.
"I didn't start…" Sarah mumbled, trying to explain herself.
"Nevermind about that - let's get you to the medical tent," Teapot said. Teapot and Camomile, who was also there to assist, helped Sarah to get up, even though the pain was awful to her and with blood dripping out of her nose. She rested her arms around the necks of her helpers, with the blonde girl holding onto Sarah's hip. In the background, Sarah could hear the shrill whistles of the judges as they tried to bring the ongoing fracas to order.
Teapot and Camomile deposited Sarah at the medical tent before making themselves scarce, as they didn't want to be mixed up in being blamed for the fight. An unsympathetic nurse scolded Sarah for getting involved in such unladylike behaviour before checking her over. The wrist of her bad arm seemed to have suffered a sprain, so Sarah was told she would be sent to Florence Nightingale's back on the carrier for treatment. She sullenly waited in the medical tent for transport to arrive, clutching her beret to her chest and not daring to look outside.
4th May, Darjeelings apartment, 18:20
Both shattered and battered with a white splint taped over her nose, Sarah pushed open the door to Darjeeling's apartment and hobbled inside. Her time at Florence Nightingale's had been mercifully short and luckily she had sustained no serious further injury during the assault from the Tarczay girls. That being said, she had a sprain on her already bad arm and it had been freshly wrapped in bandages. Her knee and ankle were also killing her and she just wanted to crawl into bed.
"Hey, " she said weakly as she entered.
"Hello. Did you win?" Darjeeling replied from the living room.
"Yes… didn't you see?" Sarah asked.
"Sorry; I had studying to do," came Darjeeling's answer.
Taking an exhausted sign she opened her mouth, "Oh Darjy it was horrible!" Sarah let herself blurt out. "We won, but those girls are uncontrollable… then there was this fight; I mean a real fight with fists and all, and I got knocked down and I've hurt my arm and…"
"Orange Pekoe has been looking for you," Darjeeling cut in not looking over toward Sarah, her eyes glued solely on the books open on the coffee table ahead of her.
"Oh… why?" Sarah asked as she shuffled into the main room, feeling quite disappointed the Darjeeling hadn't watched the match and now didn't seem to want to even hear about it.
Still looking at her books, Darjeeling pointed her finger in the direction of the front door, "Did you take off your chunky boot thing, you know it will get mud onto my carpets," Darjeeling put bluntly,
"I've been on a battlefield!" Sarah feebly protested.
"Did you wipe it on the mat?"
Sarah didn't say anything for a moment, "No. My leg hurts," She whimpered.
"Orange Pekoe has received an invitation - incorrectly written of course, but we might expect that - from the head of the Shamrock School for Girls team. They are hosting a 'Thank You and Farewell' party in the common room of the guest accommodation block. It starts in just over an hour. Orange Pekoe, as commander of the Sensha-do team, has been invited and she trusts you will be going too." It was a statement, not a question, that ended that sentence.
"A… what? An hour!? No way. I'm done in. Darjy! I had to go back to hospital…" Sarah began to protest with a little as much energy as she could reasonably muster.
Darjeeling interrupted her using a superior tone. "When you are in command, Sarah, you have duties as well as privilege. 'Command is a mountaintop. The air breathed there is different, and the perspectives seen there are different, from those of the valley of obedience.' If our guests are having a function to thank us - to thank *you* even - then you are duty bound to go."
"Can you please look at me?"
Darjeeling just pointed to her bedroom. "I laid you out a fresh Sensha-do uniform. Go and put it on,"
Sarah was unable to find the words to reply before her train of thought was derailed from a buzz from her inside pocket. Fishing out her phone with her good arm, she saw four missed calls and seven texts from Orange Pekoe. The upshot of the messages was 'see you at 7pm'.
And so, without really understanding how it had all come about, Sarah found herself showering and changing out of her dirty and mud-stained tank uniform into the clean uniform that Darjeeling had laid out for her on the bed.
Sarah put her hand on the handle of the front door. "Love you," She called out to the living room. She waited and waited for a response. She rested her head on the door, took a breath and opened the door.
4th May, guest accommodation block, 19:10
Sarah limped into the St. Gloriana guest accommodation block ten minutes late but it seemed no one knew or seemed to care. Already the sound of lively Irish music could be heard coming from the large common room. Sarah wearily pushed open the door, wondering just how much of the evening she'd have to endure before she could finally crawl off and collapse somewhere. A bed, sofa, even a cold kitchen floor; she wouldn't care in the slightest.
One of the first people to notice Sarah's entry was Shannon, who was now in her school uniform rather than the dark green tank uniform that she had been wearing earlier. She also had a massive bruise and black eye covering the right side of her face, but she didn't seem to be in any pain and was as chirpy and smiley as usual.
"Miss Breakfast! There you are! Welcome! So glad you could join us! It was an amazing match, wasn't it? And the fight afterwards was so much fun as well!" the redheaded lunatic blurted out. Sarah was indeed grateful for the intervention of the Shamrock girls in the ruckus that had occurred immediately after the match, but she wasn't sure why they would describe it as 'great'. Sarah also correctly assumed that this 'great' fight was the reason for Shannon's black eye.
Shannon's loud voice had meant that other girls were also aware of Sarah's arrival and many of them started to gather around her. Sarah was amazed to find that she was being hailed as some sort of heroine for commanding the winning team against the Hungarian-themed school.
One of the Shamrock girls who came as stood before Sarah was the skinny commander of one of the L-60s, who Sarah recalled was named Erne. She'd been the one who'd given Sarah a lot of resentful looks during the course of the training and Sarah was, quite frankly, a little scared of her and her cronies. Sarah noticed that Erne had also apparently taken a battering in the fight, as her right hand was wrapped in white crepe bandages.
The two stared at each other for a bit and then Erne held out her left hand. "Well done, Miss Breakfast," she said. "I guess you aren't so bad after all, even for a St. Gloriana girl!" Erne grinned and there was a chuckle of laughter, but it was of a friendly nature and Sarah breathed a huge sigh of relief that she had finally won the respect of this hothead as well. She took Erne's extended hand and in her own left hand and shook it gratefully.
One source of entertainment during the party appeared to be arm wrestling. A Shamrock girl known as Moy was inviting challenges from those who thought they could beat her. Moy was a stocky girl with thick arms and clearly one of the strongest girls on the Shamrock team. So far no one from either school had been able to win against her.
There was a cheer from the Shamrock girls as another challenger from St. Gloriana was defeated.
"Yay… Commander Breakfast! Commander Breakfast should have a try!" the mob called.
"Don't be so silly!" Shannon's remarkably loud voice cut over the crowd. "Look at Miss Breakfast's poor arm! She's in no condition to try arm wrestling!" Shannon scolded her teammates. Sarah thought this was probably the most sensible thing Shannon had said during her entire stay.
"Bah! Boo!" the crowd hissed. "Commander Orange Pekoe then!" someone yelled, which was greeted by cheers of approval.
"Oh yes, Commander Orange, would you like to challenge Moy? We'd be honoured if you would!" Shannon said to St. Gloriana's team captain, reverting to her usual idiocy in Sarah's view.
Presumably feeling that it might be rude to refuse, Orange Pekoe raised her eyebrows slightly but nodded her assent.
Watched by the crowd, Orange Pekoe moved over to the table. She pushed up the sleeve of her blue St. Gloriana jumper and then undid the buttons of her shirt cuff so it hung open and loose around her wrist. She then sat down and locked arms with Moy..
"3…2...1… go!" Erne bellowed.
Moy began to push, but to everyone's astonishment the pair of arms remained vertical. Moy's face registered confusion, then alarm, then concentration as she pushed harder. Orange Pekoe's arm began to move down toward the table, but only by about two inches.
Moy compressed her lips and applied yet more pressure. The muscles on her neck seemed to stand out with the effort she was exerting. Orange Pekoe's hand moved another inch towards the table, but then stopped.
Orange Pekoe narrowed her eyes and looked directly into Moy's.
"Shall I begin now?" she asked in a small voice. Then the interlocked hands began to move again; not down towards the table but up, heading toward the vertical. Sweat was beaded across Moy's forehead as her arm was forced back until it was fully upright, then slowly, inexorably down. In desperation she applied her last ounces of strength, but it was to no avail.
With a 'Whack', Moy's hand hit the tabletop with Orange Pekoe's arm above it. There were wild shouts, cheers and gasps in equal measure.
"Good match Miss Moy," Orange Pekoe said with a courteous smile, disengaging her hand.
Loud synchronised footsteps made Sarah look around, however it was not the arrival of a military riot squad as the noise suggested, but the four girls of Shamrock's dance club. Their arrival was marked with cheers, and not just from their schoolmates. Some of the St. Gloriana girls were getting very rowdy too.
The four dancers advanced into the middle of the floor in formation, turned to face the crowd and instantly launched into a routine as Annalee struck up the tune on her fiddle.
I'll tell me ma, when I get home
The boys won't leave the girls alone they
Pulled me hair, they stolen me comb
But that's alright, till I go home
She is handsome, she is pretty
She is the belle of Shamrock city
She is a-courting one, two, three
Pray, can you tell me who is she?
The Shamrock girls all shouted out the words to the tune as the four girls danced.
Orange Pekoe looked down at the polished parquet floor and then gave Sarah a look of resignation.
"Oh well, that's the floor ruined," she sighed.
Music, dancing and singing did appear to be a big part of the party, and Sarah assumed that was because it was part of Shamrock's culture. If she'd been feeling better, she wouldn't have minded joining in with some of the songs, if she'd known the words of course. A lot of the lyrics seemed to be Shamrock's own creations.
"Here's one everyone can join in with!" Annalee squeaked.
Up to mighty London came
An Irish lass one day...
Sarah smiled weakly as she recognised a reworking of the introductory verse of 'It's A Long Way To Tipperary'.
Those who knew the words to the first verse strung out the last syllable, and then nearly everyone in the room began to bellow the chorus.
It's a long way to Tipperary
It's a long way to go.
It's a long way to Tipperary
To the sweetest girl I know!
Goodbye Piccadilly
Farewell Leicester Square!
It's a long long way to Tipperary
But my heart's right there.
Suddenly Sarah's mind was thrown back to that dreadful week-long tournament, where she had last heard those lyrics sung by the exhausted St. Gloriana girls as they tried to keep up their morale. Images of the landscape, littered with wrecked and burning tanks, swamped her mind. The fight with Kay, the hospital, James dying… all these things filled her vision.
Ashen-faced, she rose quickly to her feet, desperate to get away from her song that everyone else was enjoying. The sudden movement caused a burst of pain from her damaged knee but it didn't register to her numbed senses. Stumbling through the door, she left the common room and entered the corridor.
The dimly lit passageway brought no relief. Sarah could see doors and other corridors leading off the one she was in; many possible ways; many possible futures. She just wanted to run, somewhere, anywhere, but aside from the fact that her injured leg was strapped up in heavy braces, none of her limbs seemed to be responding any more. Sarah could feel a rising panic welling up from within her and about to…
"Hey," said a gentle voice and Sarah felt the lightest of pressure from a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"
Sarah half turned and saw the kind face of Clare looking at her with a concerned expression.
"I… I…" Sarah stammered.
"I saw you weren't looking well; you're probably exhausted. We know how much hard work you have put in for us over the last few days. It seems like Erne has even started to like you, so you must have done something right," Clare said with a smile. She still had her hand on Sarah's shoulder and with her words and touch, Sarah could feel some of her fear and panic start to subside.
"Do you want some fresh air?" Clare asked. "We could go out on the balcony?" she suggested.
Sarah felt the panic grip her again. "No!" she cried out. "No… not the balcony… I…"
"It's alright, we don't have to," Clare soothed.
Sarah calmed again at the sound of Clare's voice. "I think I just need to… lie down somewhere," she mumbled. She swayed slightly as she spoke, as the fear and pain and exhaustion washed over her.
"Steady…" Clare said as she held Sarah up with both arms. Even though Clare was slim and slight, she seemed surprisingly strong. Her hold stopped Sarah from toppling over where she stood and also succeeded in further calming the distressed girl. Sarah started to feel a bit more normal, just very, very tired. Clare's presence was having a very positive effect on her and it felt good to have her so close. Even the smell of her was nice. She felt safe with Clare.
"Well…" Clare looked around her. "There's nowhere to lie down here. Um… my room is just around the corner. We could go there if you'd like to lie on my bed?"
Sarah just nodded and mumbled agreement. With Clare holding her up, she moved along at a slow shuffle, guided by Clare down one of the corridors. After a short while, they stopped and Clare opened the door to one of the guest accommodation rooms. She entered and slowly helped Sarah inside too, before turning and closing the door on the rest of the world.
A/N: Hi all sorry for the long time since an update but lots and lots have things have been coming up recently with life for both me and Sharky. But hopefully, you guys enjoyed this rather long chapter. Not giving any specific time or date for the next chapter but maybe it could be earlier than this one if all goes according to plan.