Chapter 17 - The weight of the crown

5th May, Darjeelings apartment, 09:45

Sarah hurried back to Darjeeling's apartment as quickly as her bad leg would allow her to, nonetheless it was mid-morning by the time she let herself in. Darjeeling was unsurprisingly up and about, although she wasn't dressed and was just wearing one of her thin negligees.

"Where have you been?" was how she greeted Sarah with a hint of annoyance rolling off her tongue.

"The party went on late and I was so tired that I ended up staying with… a friend," Sarah answered, taking off her beret and placing it on one of the coat hooks near the door.

"My little Teacup, you must be so tired," Darjeeling said as she looked up and down at Sarah and noting her smeared make-up, frizzy hair and scruffy uniform she had worn at the party now covered increases. "Well, are you going to do your knee stretches?"

"No Darjeeling, not at this time," Sarah snapped back just out of exhaustion more than anything.

"Well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," Darjeeling said reverting her eye back to Sarah's face. "Speaking of which, who did you stay around with?"

"No one. Just a friend…" Sarah said back looking into the ocean blue eyes of Darjeeling to prove she wasn't lying. Darjeeling turned and walked back to the kitchen most likely to put on some tea.

"Do you know this saying?" As she moved out of the kitchen hands bare of any such hot drink. " 'You can take a horse to water but you can't make it..."

"Drink! Yes, I know Darjeeling." Sarah said, rather agitated by Darjeeling's mothering tone which seemed to be suggesting she thought Sarah was up to something.

"You shouldn't cut people off while they are speaking Sarah, that's very rude," Darjeeling said, crossing her arm with her eyes slightly squinting, all signs that Darjeeling was readying for a heated argument which was something she knew she could easily win.

"I don't care what you think is rude or not," Sarah added bitterly. "It seems you're judging me. You think I'm lying, don't you?"

Darjeeling just stayed silent for a couple of moments. Her mind clicking over what to do. She then opened her mouth. "Yes, I think you are. Assam taught you to lie well when working for her, but that was the past, so tell me the truth. Right now!"

"Why?" Sarah threw right back at her.

"Well, it would be rather ..."

"What? What have I done? Are you accusing me of something, huh?..." Sarah cracked with all the rumours flooding back into her head, and in a fit of rage it came out. "...then you're the lair! You have cheated on me!"

Darjeeling tone began to stiffen "How... How dare you," she said harshly, looking down at Sarah, her eyes burning full of fire and fury.

"Yes! You and Kay, huh! That Firefly just magically appears out of thin air, huh? So how many times then? Was I just not good enough for you? I was there, you, Kay and her boyfriend at the Kuromorimine match you and her are just meant to be aren't you."

"Kay and I are friends!" Darjeeling yelled into Sarah's face with a little bit of spit landing on her cheeks.

"Then explain the bra I found that isn't mine or yours. The American flag one? Did Kay buy it for you as a present or did she leave it here by mistake, or did you keep it so you could always be reminded by her?"

"That… that…"

Sarah watched Darjeeling stare back, stumbling over her own words; something that was so out of character for her formal persona. "I thought so. You lair." She just watched Darjeeling's reactions, her face the purest white turning to a burning red. "I did everything for you! Even did things that my body told me not to do, just for you."

Darjeeling then stepped forward. "HOW DARE YOU!"

Taking a quick glance down, Sarah saw Darjeelings open-plan arm slightly bent, waiting to strike.

"Are you going to hit me, Darjeeling? Huh! Sure it will hurt, but the pain would be nothing I haven't felt before from your lustful hands," she said as she barged past Darjeeling, heading to the bedroom. She'd had enough and her mind was set. She opened the wardrobe, throwing all of her clothes onto the bed. "I'm leaving Darjeeling. Don't try and stop me," she said as she lifted a suitcase out from under the bed.

"Good! You can go live in Shamrock for all I care! Win tournaments... or more like friendly matches there. Be seen as a goddess to the Shamrock tankers who have less than two brain cells to rub together!" Darjeeling shouted from the living room.

"What?!"

"Don't you think I don't know!" Darjeeling shouted into the bedroom. "I used to rule this school, I know everything. The bathing house and last night. So what did that lanky brown-haired girl do huh? Did she kiss your knee better?" She mocked.

"Actually, you can keep the bloody lot!" Sarah raged, slamming down the lid of the half-packed suitcase that she'd been filling. She stormed into the living area and picked up the urn from the mantelpiece.

Her hands felt the cold hard china urn; she could feel something she hadn't noticed before, the small number of coarse parts poking its way through the polish. The coffin, the emotions, the red of Darjeeling's coat.

"It … it was all a lie. You never loved me," Sarah said her words fumbling as they left her mouth. "You… you… you took advantage of me, at my own brother's funeral. What sort of a person are you?"

"No. Sarah. The way your acting is petty and like a childish little brat. You need to grow up and be a woman otherwise you stay like this. An uncontrollable monster,"

"You are! You're the Monster!" Sarah yelled back clutching hard onto the ern. "You have just used me over and over and over again. But worst of all, you wouldn't let me call you by your real name." She looked over to Darjeeling waiting for an answer, something to bring her back from the brink.

"Come on then, are you going to let me or will it always be this Darjeeling bullshit? "

"That's my name at St Gloriana. This is my name. And nothing you say will take this away from me and I love this school more than I think I ever loved you,"

The words hit Sarah harder than anything she had ever physically felt. It compressed hard against her chest, the words gripping her throat becoming tighter and tighter with every minuscule breath. All this time she was worth nothing to Darjeeling, but she was worth everything to Sarah, her first love being nothing but the embodiment of enmity.

"Come on James, we're leaving!" she snapped, coming to her senses, before brushing past Darjeeling who was still standing in the corridor with a face like thunder. Sarah paused only to grab her black tanker's beret from the coat hooks by the front door and then left, the hard plastic sole of her fracture boot echoing through the foyer with every alternative step. "And don't you ever mention his goddamn name again you lying... ." she held her tongue as she noticed a girl down the end of the corridor walking toward what must have been her dorm, oblivious to the raging inferno of Darjeeling's apartment.

She stayed in a rage as she limped along the street, thinking over all the things she had said; the things she should have said; and the things she would definitely say next time.

She realised she was hungry, having not eaten since the party the previous evening. One of the many British-themed cafés caught her eye and she pushed the door open. She spotted a small table with two chairs at right angles to each other in the corner and made her way over to it. She put the urn on one of the place settings and took the other seat herself.

"What can I get you Miss?" the young waitress, most likely a first year student, politely enquired.

"Two full English Breakfasts, please."

"Yes, Miss. Two breakfasts…?" the waitress queried as she scribbled the order down on a notepad.

"One for me and one for my brother," Sarah said patiently.

"Oh, he will be joining you…" the waiter murmured, taking her eyes off the pad for a moment looking at the vacant chair opposite Sarah.

"He's here already!" Sarah snapped. The waitress looked down to the floor uncomfortably.

"Uuuuh uuuuh…" she said looking back towards the kitchen to where the manager of the cafe must have been.

"Two full English Breakfasts; what's hard about that?" Sarah snapped again.

"Yes, Miss! Right away!" the waitress said, glad to have a reason to leave the conversation.

Sarah pulled out the other chair and lifted her bad leg with its heavy plastic boot onto it.

"I thought she loved me," she said to the urn as she made herself comfortable. "Even more stupidly; I thought I loved her. But now I see I was just a plaything to her."

"Sorry I forgot to ask. Any drinks to go with them?" the waitress asked rather quickly, not wanting to be there any longer than necessary.

"Some te… no! Just some apple juice. Thanks," Sarah answered, still in a mood.

The waitress brought over a glass of the amber liquid and moved off, muttering under her breath about how rude this customer was.

"James, why do I have to always be so emotional?"

The urn remained quiet.

"Fine... I'll tell dad then." She opened her phone and pressed the relevant buttons. The phone dialled but its long repetitive beeps led to the voice of her dad. "Hello this is Robert Alexander. I'm not available at the moment. But leave me a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can." *beep*

"Ummm. Dad, it's me so. Ummm. But basically…"

"Hello? Sarah, how are you? You woke me up; it's really early here."

"Dad… look um… me and Darjeeling broke up, today well more like an hour or so ago. I'm moving back to my accommodation today, " she said, finally getting it off her chest.

"Oh, Sarah I'm so sorry. Are you o?…" a long stretched *Beep* reverberated around her head.

Sarah looked at her phone; the top right corner of her phone having zero bars explaining her predicament. Sarah sighed, placing her phone down on the table, then resting her head too on the table, with her arms covering her face, so she could cry in privacy.

"James, you said me and her would be happy together. You said things …" she rather mumbled to herself. "What's the point anyway? You're going to mock me so just get it done and over with…"

"Miss your meals," a voice said from above Sarah's head. Sarah removed her arms and head off the table. With the waitress placing both meals onto the table next to Sarah.

"Thanks," she added in a monotone voice, passing some money over to the waitress. "Keep the change," she said in the same tone handing her a fist full of coloured notes.

"Thank you Miss. Enjoy your meals." she said as she placed one of the plates in front of the urn, then moving away as Sarah started to dig into her own.

"You better start eating," she grumbled towards the untouched plate.

Finally, Sarah arrived at the door to her old room. The key was in the very bottom of her bag and it took a while for her to find it. She eventually did and entered the small cold room that she had not been in for quite a while. She placed the urn on the built-in writing desk and hung her beret on the hook on the back of the door. She then eased her arm out of the white fabric sling it had been resting in and threw the sling into the corner of the room. Sitting on the edge of the single bed, she began to undo the velcro straps that held her medical boot in place. She slid her swollen foot and ankle out of it and then hurled the boot into the corner, where it landed with a crash.

"Goodbye to you!" she said.

She similarly undid her knee brace and removed it from her injured knee.

"And goodbye to you!" she said again. The knee brace followed the boot and the sling into the corner.

"There, I am not your patient anymore Darjeeling!" she said aloud.

A loud hammering at the door interrupted her. Sarah was momentarily confused, as no one knew she was back in her old room yet, but there was only one person in St. Gloriana who knocked on doors like that.

She got up, with her unsupported leg protesting vehemently, and half limped, half hopped to the door, where sure enough, Rosehip was waiting. She had Sarah's suitcase and a pair of crutches with her.

"Hello, Miss English! Lady Darjeeling sent me here with these!" Rosehip said at top speed. She looked down at Sarah's bare legs and feet. "Is your leg all healed now Miss English? Is that why you're back in your old room?" she blurted out.

"No… er, yes! Yes!" Sarah replied. "All as good as new!" she lied. "No need for Lady Darjeeling to look after me anymore!"

"That's great Miss English, we can go running together sometime soon!" the pink-haired girl nearly shouted. Sarah nodded without making any promises.

"Shit is that the time" Rosehip bellowed, dropping everything she was carrying in a massive pile onto the welcome mat. With that the speed-demon belted off, to what Sarah assumed was class or something of that nature, hence the speedy exit.

After dumping her case on the bed and throwing the crutches into the growing hospital equipment pile, feeling like a hot shower would do her good, Sarah returned to the middle of her room and began to strip off.

"Stop looking!" she suddenly said to the urn. She retrieved her tanker's beret and placed it over the urn, before continuing to undress.

The shower in her room was must have shrunk in Sarah's absence it was barley large enough for her to fit inside the water proof greenhouse, it was nothing like the luxurious one Darjeeling's apartment had, but it was hot and she even had some shower gel and shampoo left in it on a small shelf attached to the pipe, which was fortunate. On stepping out of it, she wrapped herself in a towel and hobbled to her bed.

"James, stop telling me to wear my knee brace! You sound just like Darjeeling!" she muttered to the urn as she passed the writing desk. She hummed a tuneless melody as she dried herself and then turned to look at herself in the mirror.

Her hair was getting a bit longer than she usually kept it and her face was devoid of the usual 1950s style makeup. She ran her hands over her pygmy breasts, noticing with disdain the lovebites that still lingered from her last encounter. She moved her hands down to her waist, she could feel the extra pounds she'd put on while living on takeaways and lack of physical activity. She placed her hands on her hips and noted that she'd definitely put some weight on there too. She'd have to do something about that. She looked down to contrast her legs. Her right one was still toned and reasonably shapely, while her left one was thinner from underuse, with an obvious scar on her knee where the surgeon had put it back together, with her left foot and ankle noticeably fat and swollen compared to her right. For no obvious reason, she started crying and let the tears roll down her cheeks.

After a few moments, she stopped and dried her eyes, and then rewrapped the crepe bandage around her sprained wrist before turning to her suitcase.

Sarah had to admit it was good to have her belongings back from Darjeeling. Storming off without them had seemed such a good idea at the time but in hindsight wasn't the brightest. She opened the suitcase and found it rammed with all her clothes, plus her laptop and a few other bits. She did a brief search to see if there was a note or anything from Darjeeling, probably with some pithy saying on it, but there was nothing. She placed the laptop on the desk then rummaged out her dressing gown. Holding it to her nose, she realised that it smelled of Darjeeling's apartment. She threw it into her laundry basket to be washed as soon as possible.

Sarah's phone suddenly pinged as she received a text. It was from Orange Pekoe and read: "called 4 u this morning but dj said u moved back 2 ur old room. can i come over? we have problems!"

"sure!" Sarah sent straight back. She wondered if there was any tea in her room. It would be nice to be able to offer a cup to Orange Pekoe when she arrived. Fortunately, at the back of her small cupboard, there was a packet of fairly old and dry but usable loose leaf tea. She filled the kettle and set it to boil.

There was a gentle knock at the door and Sarah hopped over to open it and admit Orange Pekoe.

"Hi," Sarah beamed, still in just her towel with her wet hair plastered over her neck and shoulders.

"Oh, um, hi," Orange Pekoe replied. "Am I interrupting?"

"No, come in, the kettle has just boiled," Sarah answered.

"Are you just wearing a towel?" Orange Pekoe asked.

"I didn't like how my dressing gown smelled" Sarah informed her commander, who looked confused. Noticing Sarah's uneven gait, she looked down at Sarah's left leg.

"So, you're on the mend?" she asked politely.

"I'm fine now, although James doesn't think so," Sarah told Orange Pekoe.

Orange Pekoe looked intently at Sarah. "Are you alright!?" she asked her friend, a little concerned.

"Of course! So what problems do we have? 'A problem shared is a problem halved' - have you heard that saying?" Sarah asked.

Orange Pekoe took another long look at Sarah before explaining her predicament.

"You know Rukuriri is now opposing my leadership," she began. "Fortunately she didn't get enough people on her side to force me to quit as commander, but it appears about half the team support her. Having lost the vote, she has announced that she will boycott the match against BC Freedom Academy and she's telling her supporters to do the same. We're down to half strength and we don't have enough crew to field eight tanks. I feel like we should just concede the match and that's how we end the tournament…"

"No no no!" Sarah exclaimed. "We can win! We'll fight, we'll fight, we'll fight!" she hummed. "You can't let Rukuriri beat you," she implored her commander. "I will plan the best ever strategy for you!"

"We can still only field four tanks," Orange Pekoe said. "If we thin out the crews, no assistant drivers for example, then five…"

"Orange, I've just won a match with the B team!" Sarah said, getting excited. "How about we use some of them to crew the other tanks. Rukuriri won't be expecting that! And she'll look such a fool when we win!"

Orange Pekoe scratched her head, contemplating the idea. "They're the B team for a reason," she said. "Their standards…"

"I've just won a match with them - I know they can do it!" Sarah interrupted. "We need to start integrating them with the A team straight away. You should call a training session for this afternoon. We'll see who attends and then we'll know who we can count on."

Eventually, Orange Pekoe agreed to Sarah's idea, not that there was any real alternative. Before she left to organise the training session, she hugged Sarah.

"Thank you for your support English," she said simply. "Most girls would still be on the sick bench after accidents like yours, not giving their best as vice-commander!"

She left, with Sarah glowing warmly inside.

After dying her hair and doing her best to curl it in her preferred style, Sarah began to get ready to go to the tank sheds and get her Challenger out. She had not seen it since the match yesterday, which felt like ages ago. Teapot had assured her that it was back in the tank sheds and in good condition, however.

She dressed in sensible underwear, not the ridiculous styles that Darjeeling liked to wear under her tank jacket, and a plain white t-shirt. The dark pleated skirt followed with some knee high grey socks. She fastened her red jacket and tugged her right boot onto her foot, before searching for the left one that she hadn't worn for over two months. She found it half under the bed. She tried to slide it onto her swollen foot and stiff ankle, but was stopped by the pain. She tried again, and again the pressure on her foot and ankle were too much for her. She felt tears running down her cheeks once more.

"I'm not crying! I'm not!" she told the urn on her desk. She went to stand up, and a horrible crunching sensation in her bad knee caused her to sit back down again with a bump and a yell of pain.

"OK! OK! I'll wear the stupid knee brace!" she sobbed to the urn. She rose successfully this time and hopped over to the pile in the corner where she had flung the brace earlier. She fastened the bulky thing around her knee and then gingerly let her leg take more and more of her weight. Sarah suddenly spotted a pair of ugly, functional sandals which she'd had for so long she'd forgotten where they had come from. They had light grey soles with two black straps which ran over the top of the wearer's foot to hold them in position. She took the left one, set the straps on the largest setting to accommodate her sore foot and slipped it on.

"Ha! See!? I told you I'd find a solution!" she said to the urn.

In this unconventional yet comfortable attire, she left her room and unevenly strode off to the tank sheds.