BEXHILL SCHOOL

Jasmine was sick and tired of Cynthia, her faltmate. It was not as though Cynthia did anything to help: she spent hours in the bathroom and then left it in a mess; she rarely cooked for the two of them; she never washed up; she left her personal belongings strewn all over the apartment. In short, Jasmine wished she'd never taken her in, although she needed someone to help pay the costs.
Jasmine had returned from a hard day at the kindergarten, where the children had been particularly demanding. All she wanted to do was put her feet up, listen to some music, and sip a glass of chilled white wine.
Instead, Cynthia had started on at her about her taste in colour schemes.
"Yellow and red, it's so...so... yuck! And nothing matches: light wood table, dark wood bureau, black sofa...it's like a bloody kaleidoscope in here..."
She got no further.
"If you don't like it, then why don't you just piss off. Go and find somewhere else. Go on: pack up your stuff and you can get out tomorrow morning. God, I've had enough of you."
It was like lancing a boil. Cynthia looked at her aghast.
"Gosh, Jasmine, I'm really sorry. I guess I have been rather a brat. Honestly, I didn't mean it. Look, I like being here and I like you. Please, give me another chance.
Jasmine looked at her, at Cynthia's wide-eyed look of remorse and penitence, and her resolve began to soften. But Jasmine's anger still needed an outlet.
"You need your bloody bottom spanked!" She shouted, glaring at her flatmate.
And then an astonishing thing happened. Without a word, Cynthia undid the silver lamé belt, lowered her jeans to her ankles, and bent over the arm of the sofa.
"Go ahead, I guess I deserve it. But please just let me stay here."
It was the beginning of a whole new relationship.