Tiger

Mrs Kennedy could see her husband, tentatively touch the back of his bald head as if he half
 expected to find something still growing there. He was talking animatedly to one of the other
 schoolmasters in the crowded hall. My goodness, how she was bored, usually she enjoyed the inter 
house boxing finals especially if the bouts were hard fought ones. This year apparently her
 husbands thirteen year old head prefect was a certainty to win, the other boy, Chambers had 
somehow fluked his way into the final and he was, in any case, nearly two years younger. She 
couldn't stand the way her husband was so confident of victory, he had been bragging about it 
endlessly for days. Saunders, with his sticking out ears and muscular arms also looked as if the
 possibility of defeat had never entered his head. 

His victory would be her husband's victory as well. He had spent a great deal of his free time
 coaching the boy, urging him on to ever greater levels of physical fitness. When she glanced at him
 again he was talking to the quiet, almost professorial, Mr Henley. Chambers was in his house. She 
was standing there presiding over the Robertson's barley water and sardine paste sandwiches whilst
 being ignored by everybody else in the crowded hall. Over the babble of noise she heard her
 husband in his loud confident voice use the phrase "unequal contest". He was an insensitive man
 and never seemed to realise when he had trampled on someone else's feelings. He probably hadn't
 even notice the look of distaste on his own wife's attractive face. It had been there for the last ten
 years, almost since the day she had married him

Mr Henley puffed at his pipe and said gently that he felt that his young champion had every chance 
of victory despite Saunders being the favourite. When she overheard him say that it brought a
 moistness to her eyes. He had called him a young champion, if only that were to be the case. She 
didn't want to be disloyal but she detested young Saunder's and her husbands boastfulness in equal 
measure. What she needed now more than anything was a cigarette. She had a word with one of the
 junior matrons and asked if she wouldn't mind looking after the refreshments for a few minutes.

It was already dark as she slipped quietly out through the back door that led to the quadrangle. She
 then turned sharply to the left and crossed through a small gate and elegantly sauntered into the
 headmaster's rose garden. The scent of the damp flowers was heavenly. She was about to sit down 
on the small wooden bench when she noticed someone was already sitting there. It was Chambers, 
the young champion elect himself. He looked as if he was lost in thought.

"Hello, do you mind terribly if I sit down," she asked. The boy stood up and said pleasantly.

"Oh yes, please do, Mrs Kennedy." When she had made herself comfortable he sat down close 
beside her. He was such a charming young boy with such perfect manners. She remembered that
 only last year he had sung a solo beautifully in the school choir.

"I am surprised you are not warming up for your boxing match!" she said. He ran his hand through
 his straight blond hair and looked at her strangely with his bright blue eyes. He was dressed in a
 black vest and black shorts, a thick white towel was draped over his thin shoulders. A few seconds
 of silence passed, the small trees behind them rustled softly.

"Well no one seems to think I shall win so perhaps there is no point," He said eventually, without
 rancour. He breathed in the heady scent of her perfume and found it intoxicating. She extracted a 
cigarette from a small silver case and placed it between her cruel red lips without lighting it.

"You don't seem to have a very positive attitude, Chambers." She replied. As she spoke she felt in
 her handbag for her cigarette lighter, somehow it slipped from her hand and fell onto the grass in
 front of the seat. The boy reached down and scooped it up in his hand in one graceful movement.
 She made no move to take it from him but simply sat and waited. The moonlight fell across her
 pale face showing her tired but still fragile beauty. As he leaned over to light her cigarette, his hand 
was shaking slightly. She placed her own hand gently but firmly on top of his as if to steady it. She
 nodded her thanks with a brief aristocratic inclination of her head and exhaled a long stream of
 silver grey smoke. He could see the stars glittering in the sky above her head.

"It is simple really," she said, " You must fight like a tiger. If you truly believe you will win you will
 beat Saunders. As long as you can banish all those negative thoughts."

She let her cool grey eyes rest on his. There was something about her sense of certainty that gave
 him a tiny fragment of hope. The surprising thing was she was in the other camp, yet it seemed
 almost as if she wanted him to win. He made no reply but simply sat there quietly beside her. 

"What does your own housemaster, Mr Henley say about your chances."she asked. He couldn't
 resist a smile. Of course he was very fond of Mr Henley, everyone was, but unlike all the other
 housemasters he didn't really care much about sports.

"He says may the best man win!"he laughed. It was such a typical phrase, it required hardly any 
imagination at all to think of Mr Henley making such a bland, non partisan statement. She shook 
her head in disbelief. Without doubt the man was a complete and utter fool.

"I am sorry but if I was him I shouldn't say anything so foolish. I should simply promise you a
 Sunday tea at Mrs Baker's providing you won, of course!"

Mrs Baker ran the local tea rooms, her cakes were a delicacy the boys could hardly ever afford to
 sample. The last time Chambers had eaten there was just before the Christmas term had ended
 when his grandmother had decided he deserved a little treat.

"And if I lost?" he asked, his eyes seemed to twinkle with amusement.

"Bread and water for the week," she replied. He laughed as if she had said something terribly
 amusing, but then as he searched in vain to find a trace of humour in her cold grey eyes, it occurred
 to him that she was being entirely serious. Really Mrs Kennedy was an unusual woman, at least
 that is what everyone said. He felt a surge of hot blood flood through his veins. It was peculiar but 
he suddenly felt all negative thoughts had been banished from his mind

"Thank you,"he said, simply.

"Well, let us see how you do. Perhaps you might like to call round and see me next Sunday
 afternoon. Remember what I said, be a tiger. All the other boys Saunders has fought have tried to
 run away. He might be stronger than you but I am sure he is not nearly as brave as you are!"

"Yes, perhaps you are right, after all." he said. As he stood up from the bench, she pulled off her 
small orange silk scarf from around her slender neck and handed it to him. It smelt faintly of
 cigarettes and expensive French perfume.

"There," she said. " Wear this scarf then you will be in orange and black, the true colours of a tiger
 and remember, most importantly of all, you are my knight, my champion. Don't you dare to
 disappoint me, Chambers,” 

He strolled off without a backward glance. He still had a few minutes to warm up properly before
 the all important bout. He knew it was his destiny to win. All doubt had been banished from his
 mind. He was a tiger and he knew that anything but victory was unthinkable. As he walked back
 into the crowded hall, several boys came over to wish him luck. 

As Mrs Kennedy returned the crowd were just beginning to take their seats. The two young boxers 
entered the ring to a smattering of applause, both boys looked supremely confident. Chambers
 looked around at the sea of faces that surrounded him. It was as if her words had bewitched him.
 He could see her sitting next to Mr Kennedy, her smile as thin as the blankets at the orphanage.
 Suddenly her face softened as she caught his eye. Win for me she mouthed. Yes he would. He
 surely would. His extremely blue eyes were bright like a tigers. He felt his muscles, as
 unimpressive as they were, ripple under his smooth skin. He believed there was nothing he could
 not do. He brushed the silk scarf with his gloved hand as he waited.

In the event it was a boxing match that exceeded expectations. No one who witnessed it would ever 
forget such a contest. Chambers came out of his corner like a wild beast swinging left and right
 hooks savagely at Saunders who responded with a solid straight left then a fierce right uppercut. It
 was obvious to everyone there could only be one winner. The bout lasted exactly sixteen
 memorable seconds.

As Mr Kennedy gazed with satisfaction at the prostate Chambers, he turned to his wife. Her face
 was entirely devoid of emotion. He noticed she was no longer wearing the orange silk scarf she had
 been wearing earlier that evening. They were helping Chambers rise unsteadily to his feet.
 Obviously as he had predicted all along it had been an unequal contest. Then he caught sight of the 
bright orange scarf that hung like a flag at half mast from the boys shorts.

"Where on earth did that boy get your scarf from?"he asked her angrily. She shrugged her slim
 elegant shoulders. Really she couldn't begin to say. She didn't bother to reply and stood up abruptly
 from her seat, moving purposefully towards the boy as he was being lead away by one of the
 masters to polite but mild applause. As she passed the ring the victorious champion lifted a large 
silver trophy above his head. Its silver handles seemed to jut out like a pair of enormous ears.

Mr Kennedy had turned a ghastly pale colour. He had just had a moment of realisation and was
 frozen to the spot oblivious to the noise of the crowd. The victory didn't matter any more as it
 dawned upon him that his wife really didn't love him. He could barely see her through his tears as
 she thoughtfully draped a towel over the gallant losers shoulders.