The Red Queen

Flashback to Archbishop Tenison’s Church of England High School, Croydon. In one of the lecture halls, stands Bo wearing a long, deep red, fitted jacket with three-quarter-length striped sleeves over a matching striped skirt. Short, black, heeled boots are barely visible beneath the folds of the dress. Opposite her, is a man wearing dark green coat, waistcoat, and trousers with a stiff-fronted and stiff-collared shirt. His hair is black with tight curls. A beard with the same tight curls frames his lower jaw and he also sports a rakish moustache. Behind this man is a collection of mostly aged men dressed similar to him and behind the woman is a mixed group of people of varying ages and sexes dressed in a variety of styles of that period.

‘A woman’s only role in nature...’ starts the man, ‘...is to further the species through childbirth and hence, is equipped with the power to seduce and “capture” men, solely for that purpose...’ the men behind him agreed boisterous as he continued, ‘...and, as such, women are directly fitted for acting as the nurses and teachers of our early childhood by the fact that they are themselves childish, frivolous and intellectually short-sighted...’

‘So, if you are to be believed, Mr Bertyn...’ counters Bo, ‘...you are merely philosophising that your father wasn’t in the slightest bit interested in entering into any sexual practice with your mother that would, ultimately, lead to your own creation? How, then, did he surmise he was going to produce an heir without female intervention? Masturbate into the compost...?’ The group behind her cheered and applauded. Even Bertyn cracked a smile, ‘...furthermore...’ she continued, ‘...it would appear that you, and, indeed your fellow professors owe not only their existence to the fairer sex, but your education as well’.

The men behind Bertyn grumbled with disapproval while the group behind Bo cheered and clapped.

Bertyn drew in a deep breath before launching his counterargument.

‘It is only a person whose intellect is clouded by their sexual impulse...’ he started, over the din of the opposition, ‘...that could give the name of the “fairer sex” to that under-sized, narrow-shouldered, broad-hipped, and short-legged race; for the whole beauty of the sex is bound up with this impulse...’ the crowd of stuffy men behind him started gesticulating and shouting loudly, almost in an attempt to drown out the other group, ‘...instead of calling them beautiful...’ he continued, almost screaming to be heard over the rest of his party, ‘...there would be more warrant for describing women’s cheerfulness as chaotic and disruptive which is why it is crucial to exercise obedience to those with rationality. For her to function beyond her rational subjugator is a threat against men as well as other women...!’.

‘Then I put it to you, sir...’ started Bo, also almost screaming over the noise, ‘...if a woman’s cheerfulness is an expression of her lack of morality and incapability to understand abstract or objective meanings such as art or science, then why is the founder of modern medicine a woman...?’ her voice was almost inaudible above the increasing din, ‘...and, furthermore...’ she continued, ‘...the greatest leaders and warriors that have shaped our history have been women...!’

‘Warriors and leaders, say you Madam...’ screams Bertyn over the deafening noise, ‘...in all events, a false position of the female sex, such as...’ he paused as the noise level rose to intolerable levels. As good an orator as he was, he was barely audible over the shouting from both sides, ‘...do you want to just go for a drink or something instead? I can hardly hear myself think...!’

‘That’s the first thing you’ve said that I actually agree with...!’ screamed Bo. She glanced back at the two sides who looked as if they were ready to start a war before nodding towards the door. Bertyn nodded back and the pair slipped away unnoticed as the room suddenly filled with policemen.

Fifteen minutes later, outside a pub on Addiscombe road, the two debaters are sitting awaiting their drinks.

‘What is keeping that girl...?’ enquired Bertyn, absently to no-one in particular, ‘...has she died in pursuit of our refreshment...?’

‘Stop being so mean...’ scolded Bo, ‘...it’s only been a few moments... give her time...’.

No sooner had she said that the young girl re-appeared with a flagon of ale and a goblet of red wine. She placed the wine in front of Bo and the ale in front of Bertyn. They both looked at the drinks in front of them, then each other before suddenly bursting out laughing. The poor serving girl didn’t know what was wrong, until Bo switched the drinks around.

‘Almost...’ she joked to the serving girl, waving a finger at her. The girl was young, slim, and quite pretty, with curly brown hair and a cleavage you could lose a horse in. She smiled and scuttled off with slight embarrassment, as the two friends scooped up their respective drinks.

‘It got a bit manic in there, didn’t it...?’ said Bertyn, ‘...well, more than usual...’

‘Did you mean all that...?’ asked Bo, ‘...about women being inferior?’

‘Not at all...’ he replied, ‘...but it keeps the misogynists back at the college happy...’ he took a sip of his wine, '...and they pay the bills!’

‘Luckily...’ started Bo, ‘...I don’t have to depend on fat, stuffy misogynists to pay my bills...’ she finished with a yawn.

‘Tired, are we...?’ asked Bertyn with a slightly patronising tone.

‘It’s been a long day...’ complained Bo, taking a gulp of her ale, ‘...I think I’m just about ready for my bed...!’

‘That’s great news...’ answered Bertyn, slyly, ‘...I might do you the honour of joining you...’

'Only in another bed, in another room, of another building, perhaps...’ replied Bo, ‘...because if you think I’m sharing my bed with you, you can just think again...’

‘But we’ve shared a bed before...’

‘Yeah...’ agreed Bo, ‘...fully clothed, thousands of miles at sea, in a stinking hold of a grubby ship in 1672...’ she started, ‘...with about thirty other men and women!’

‘But we are the same, you and I...’ he protested, ‘...it would make sense for us to be united. I mean, you’re reasonably attractive, I suppose...’.

Bo stared at Bertyn with contempt.

‘How dare you, sir...!’ she suddenly yelled, standing straight up and swilling the man with half a flagon of her ale, ‘...“reasonably attractive” indeed..!’ she finished angrily, before she stormed off, much to the amusement of the other patrons. He cast a glance behind him, to see Bo doing the same with a playful grin on her face. She gave him a little wave with her fingers. Bertyn could do nothing but smile in embarrassment.

Back in the present day, Maria was spellbound by the story.

‘Not the worst date, I suppose...’ she said.

The two women looked at one another and laughed.