the coffee grinder Chapter III - JENNIFER TRENCH

At 6.07am Jennifer sits in her kitchen, drinking a strong black expresso. Two strange things are going to happen to Jennifer Trench today. She is going to dance for the first time in decades, and in less than five hours, she'll be dead.
She is dressed in a simple, elegant outfit - a crisp white shirt and navy suit. Despite the care and attention given to her wardrobe, she always gives a vague impression of wearing tweed. She has a new, impeccably efficient haircut, her grey hair highlighted to Helsinki Blonde at the cost of £165 at Jonathan Freeman Stylists. She reads through her speech for the first day's assembly, while Nicolas Parsons chats on Radio 4 in the background. She loves this ritual, and imagines herself as a general up at dawn before battle.
At 7.54 am Jennifer walks into her office. She drinks her second strong black expresso of the day. She doesn't notice anything strange about it. She goes through the pile on her desk. In one envelope are 3 CDs that have been confiscated the night before. She looks at one of them. On the cover is a black and white picture of a man with jutting cheekbones. She reads her other mail, then goes back to the CD. She sorts through the rest of the post. She places the CD in her CD player and presses play. She looks at her watch and goes back to reading her mail. She juts her chin forward, rhythmically, like a pigeon. She does it again. Then she starts to shake her head, as she types on her computer. She's tapping her foot now. She taps her foot through the song and doesn’t turn it off. She types in rhythm. Then she can't help it. She's up on her feet. Her hands and shoulders are at it now. She's Mick Jagger. Pelvic thrusts, five ten fifteen. She clutches her crotch, thrusts at the window, once twice three YES. Now her buttocks have taken on a life of their own. She stops to write a brief email to the Deputy Headmistress Audrey Spike. Audrey Audrey Audrey. Spike Spike Spike. She shoves one finger at the portrait of the previous head. The song ends. She turns off the CD and smoothes down her hair, goes to the CD player, takes out the CD, and puts it back in the box. She used to love dancing, a long time ago. She opens the right hand drawer of her desk and takes out a box of safety pins. The top button has pinged off her blouse. She pins it together and goes back to her emails. She feels slightly dizzy and out of breath. She puts this down to the strong dose of caffeine and mentally resolves to drink more decaff this term.

At 9.00 Jennifer walks into the school Chapel. The atmosphere is jumpy. Children are whispering and nudging each other. She walks down the aisle with the authority of a monarch, and by the time she reaches the front of the chapel, it is dead silent. Turning towards the chaplain, she notes that his eyes are rimmed red, and decides to let him go at the end of the year. She casts her eyes over the children in the front row. This year they look even more gormless and tiny than usual, their little white faces as soft as plasticine. She reads the lesson. The chaplain goes forward to welcome everyone. She processes down the aisle and walks to her office, where a second cup of coffee is waiting for her. She has two hours of interrupted peace to prepare for the staff meeting at 2pm.

At 10.15 am she clutches at the desk, red in the face, and begins to sweat copiously. At 10.27 her secretary walks into her office and finds her dead.