A WAR OF TWO CITIES

The committee gathered at Kia's flat in the 'Eath, a salt of the earth council estate in Salisbury.  They opened with ‘their’ song which they’d nicked off a band called Ayreon:-
'The magic words are spoken
As we leave the Plain in silence
Now the Circle stands alone
And the Druids turn to stone.'
Chardonnay wondered what a druid was anyway, as she twiddled with her hair extensions.  Chrissie smudged mascara as she wiped away a tear.
“Why did you two get dressed up for?” demanded Kia, “those extensions is gonna get torn out, Char.”
“I'm not turnin' up looking like no pikey, am I?” Chardonnay protested.
“Are those fake eyelashes, Chrissie?”
“Sorry, but Mum always says that ...”
“All right!” Kia didn't want Chrissie to start talking about her Mum.
“Where’s Aimee?” demanded Shel pouting, “it's nearly time to go and she missed the song.”
“Who chose that stupid song anyway?” snarled a voice.  Aimee stood at the door of Kia's kitchen, she wore a PVC boob tube and combat trousers.  Her biceps bulged and her abs rippled.  She swung her Versace handbag menacingly.
Kia gulped, some girls took it serious, but then, it was serious!  Those Winchester bitches claimed it was for some poncy historical reason that the cities hated each other, but everyone knew it was 'cos Roberta Edmonds-Holt had stolen the boyfriend of Sue Fletcher, Chrissie's Mum in 1993.  Sue hadn’t recovered and Chrissie hadn’t met her Dad…
“Did you put bricks in your 'andbag, Shel?” Aimee asked.
“I'm not taking a handbag,” Shel put her Burberry bag on the counter and took a bicycle chain from it, “I'm using this.”
The sight of Aimee’s muscles and Shel’s armoury made them brave.
“Let's get them!” Chardonnay grinned.
“To the plain!” Kia cried.  If Roberta Edmonds-Holt’s daughter was there, there’d a right war!

The committee gathered on a hill, watching the sun rise.  Chrissie remembered a line from their song, about Salisbury Plain filling with a golden light.  She swallowed, clutching her stone filled Mulberry satchel.  Would Harriet be there?  Her privileged half sister?  The one who'd had a Dad and a Mum who wasn't an alcoholic? Aimee was doing warm up exercises, Shel was whirling her bicycle chain round her body and Chardonnay was fretting about her hair extensions.  Should she have put them into dreadlocks?  At the bottom of the hill, were their girls from the 'Eath and the Friary in their uniforms of tight leggings and Hollister hoodies, their West country voices piercing; “Where they too?”  “They is late!”  “Winchester bitches!”  “We're so doin' this for Sue an' Chrissie!”  “Sssh!  Chrissie's 'ere, in't she?”

The dawn light finally revealed the high class women of Winchester, led by Harriet Edmonds-Holt, riding a white horse.
Kia was furious, Daddy buy Harriet a horse did he?  While Chrissie got sod all!  Kia risked a glance at Chrissie, her eyes were bright with tears, her mouth set in a firm straight line.  Wordlessly, Kia gave the signal and the throng charged forwards.  The contingent from Winchester responded, with Harriet leading the way, white jodpurs spotless, her blonde hair streaming out behind her as she spurred her horse on.

Thirty minutes later, fifty girls from Winchester and Salisbury clutched at each other, sobbing as if their hearts would break.

“I'm sorry my Daddy left your mummy for Mummy!” Harriet wept, as her horse grazed quietly nearby.
“S'OK, s'ok,” Chrissie gasped, hugging her half sister tightly.
“I'm sorry I 'it you with my bicycle chain, it was really stupid,” Shel told Emma Bartlett-Smythe, while Amelia York-Dwight handed Chardonnay a handful of hair extensions in silent apology.
“What we gonna do?” sobbed Kia, “this should've stopped ages ago and now – now it’s gone too far!”  She was gesturing at the muddy ground, where Aimee lay motionless.