Eton Rifles

Alex was driving along, the music blaring, headlights on full beam.
The road was narrow and windy but still she managed to drive faster
than the speed limit. She knew the road well. She had driven to and
from Ben's place so many times in the past year, she was sure she knew
every tree along the way. She could drive even though her tears made it
difficult for her to see.

It was Friday. She did not normally drive this way on a Friday. Sunday
evening, yes, or occasionally Monday mornings when she could not tear
herself away from Ben at a reasonable time on Sunday - but not Fridays.
To be driving back to her own place on a Friday was bad news.

She turned the music up even louder. When she got into the car she had
thrown the soppy Robbie Williams tape out of the window and had fumbled
for The Jam. That was much more like it. Robbie Williams was great when
she was either happy or sad. Tonight she was neither. Tonight she was
furious.

She drummed the beat of the music on the steering wheel with her long
fingernails. It was raining. Of course it was - when was it ever not
raining in England? The windscreen wipers worked overtime but the
windscreen was never really clear. Neither were her eyes. Those stupid
tears just kept running, like the rain. He did not deserve those tears.
She knew that but she could still not stop them, which made her even
more furious.

"Headlines of death and sorrow, they tell of tomorrow, madman on the
rampage. And I'm down in the tube station at midnight," she shouted
with the tape. The music was good, just what she needed. She did not
care about the words, just the aggression. He had called her baby. She
hated being called baby. I need some space, baby, he had said. We live
35 miles apart, we only see each other at weekends, we hardly speak on
the telephone, how much more space do you need, she had asked him. He
had shrugged. Something in his eyes had not been quite right, something
told her there was more. Please, baby, don't make a scene. I'll make a
fucking scene if I want to, she had screamed at him. Just tell me how
much fucking space you want? He had avoided her eyes. She had not
wanted to ask, but she had to know. Is there someone else? Please,
baby, don't do this, he had pleaded. Let's just leave it at this, shall
we? Just give me some space... I'll fucking kill you if you say that
word one more time, she had yelled. Who is she? Is it anybody I know?
Who are you sleeping with, Ben?

It's Irene, he had finally shouted. Are you happy now? I'm sleeping
with your best friend, now are you happy, Alex? Are you fucking happy
now? She had collapsed onto the bed and the tears started flowing. How
could you, she kept saying. How could you, you two-timing BASTARD, HOW
COULD YOU? She had grabbed the nearest thing, a vase or something, she
wasn't sure, and had hurled it at him. He had ducked and the object had
shattered on the wall.

"Hello, hooray, what a nice day for the Eton Rifles, Eton Rifles," she
shouted with the music. She had stormed out of the house, distantly
hearing him call her to come back and talk about it. She had not wanted
to talk. She had wanted to kill him.

"Hello, hooray, there's a price to pay to the Eton Rifles, Eton
Rifles," she shouted. A tight bend came up ahead and she slowed down
too late, skidding around the corner and barely managing to stay on the
road. She slammed on the brakes and the car came to a halt on the wrong
side of the road, facing the oncoming traffic had there been any,
headlights still on full beam. "Hello, hooray, there's a price to pay,"
she whispered. She sat without moving. A plan began to form in her
mind. When she eventually drove off her tears had dried.

When she got home she had three messages on her answer phone. The
first one was from Ben. Call me, baby, please, we have to talk. She
grimaced. The second was from Irene. Chirpy, as usual. Let's do lunch
tomorrow. She had no idea. The third was from Ben again, the same as
before. Alex's finger hit the delete button.

Alex picked up the telephone and speed dialled Irene. When her friend
answered she was not as chirpy as before. Ben had got to her first. "I
hope you and your two timing boyfriend will be happy together," was all
Alex said to her before she put the receiver down. Irene did not ring
her back.

Alex went to bed. An hour ago she would not have thought that she
could sleep, but now it was easy. She had no feelings for Ben except
pure, unadulterated hatred. To think that she loved him, trusted him,
wasted a whole year on him! She smiled at the thought that he would pay
the price for what he had done to her. "Hello, hooray,..." she hummed
as she fell asleep.

* * * * *

Alex drove fast. Robbie Williams was singing about summer dreaming. It
was okay, she was happy. She smiled as she bombed along the road she
had taken so many times. This was going to be the last time. It was
raining but she had stopped noticing the rain years ago. When was it
ever not raining in England?

Something was going on ahead. A group of kids with bikes were huddled
together by the side of the road. A couple were kneeling on the ground.
One of them tried to flag her down, and when he thought she would drive
past he jumped out in front of her. She stopped the car and got out.
They were only kids, after all, not older than, what? 13? She noticed
that they actually were older than that, more like 18 or so. The one
that had flagged her down spoke quickly, she did not understand all of
it but he said something about an accident, their friend had come off
his bike and they could not wake him.

He took Alex' arm and she walked over to the boy on the ground,
distantly wondering what she could do. The other kids parted to let her
through. They were definitely not kids. They were all boys in their
late teens, and Alex had time to notice that they were grinning. Why
were they grinning? She looked around. They had closed the circle
around her. She panicked. "What do you want from me?" she asked, her
voice so shaky she could barely recognise it as her own.

"Your money, bitch," one of them said. He was flashing a knife, still
grinning, enjoying the effect it had on her. She pointed to the car
with shaking hands. One of them went to the car and took her handbag
from the passenger seat. "Got it, Clay," he shouted. Clay turned back
to her. "We want your car as well," he said. She nodded. "Come on,
Clay, let's get out of here," one of them said. They piled into her
car. "One more thing," Clay said. She began to cry. "Please don't rape
me," she whispered. Clay laughed. Then he lunged forwards and buried
the knife in her stomach.

Alex felt no pain. Clay stabbed her a second time and she collapsed on
the ground, holding her stomach with both hands. Blood was gushing
through her fingers and she brought her hands up to her eyes in
disbelief. The rain washed the blood of her hands and for a moment she
made herself think that she would be all right. Then she saw more
blood, colouring the verge red. She saw Clay walk to the car and get
into the drivers seat. With skidding tyres he drove off, leaving her to
die. Alex thought of the two bodies in the boot of the car and laughed.
Blood ran out of her mouth and she started to cough. It was ironic that
she should die the same way that Ben and Irene had died. Irene had
screamed when Alex plunged the knife into Ben's stomach. He had gone
down straight away, clutching the wound. The look on his face had been
comical. She had stabbed him a second time just to make sure, but it
had not been necessary. Then she had gone after Irene. Blood had been
dripping off the kitchen knife as she walked through the house, leaving
a trail of thin read droplets on the cream coloured carpet. She had
called her best friends name, telling her to come out and she would
make it quick. She had not been difficult to find, her sobbing had
given her away. It had been pathetic. Disgusted she had killed her best
friend like she had killed her former boyfriend. She was a bit
disappointed now. It really did not hurt very much. She would have
thought about it some more but it was already getting dark. And it's
only early afternoon, Alex thought. A song came into her head. She
couldn't quite get the words. Something about Eton. She closed her
eyes. It was really dark now. So dark.

'Down in the tube station at midnight' and 'The Eton Rifles' by The
Jam