Business as Usual 39
The trouble with knickers


….the trouble with knickers, Agnes thought crossly, was that they didn’t make them properly any more. She stared balefully at the rows and rows of items in front of her in the biggest store the Sunnydale Mall could offer.
Every colour and pattern under the sun – well, that was perhaps an unfortunate remark, but even under a nice cold moon they would have been useless as far as she was concerned.
Agnes was quite aware that she had to move with the times; that she couldn’t settle into middle-aged ways. Young Dawn Summers had been telling her that for ages.
She had, in a moment of revolution, thrown out her suspender belts and purchased tights – although sometimes the contortions needed to make them sit properly on your limbs hardly seemed worth the effort.
Now the time had come when her Marks & Spencer’s best white cotton knit knickers could no longer be called decent. Sadly worn out and destined to be used as dusters – they were rather on the old-fashioned side. But they were comfortable! That was the main thing.
The vampire picked up a bright red piece of string which was apparently a “thong”. She couldn’t at first imagine how you actually wore that, then she realised and knew her face was going as red as the material she hastily put down again.
‘Very appealing to gentlemen, I expect!’ Agnes thought, because although unmarried, she had Lived. The fact that no man, living or demon, had actually ever seen her underwear, didn’t cross her mind as she fingered some very pretty pink panties with kittens printed on them. Sweet to look at, but to wear?
Agnes shook her head and moved further down the counter. The shop was mercifully empty this late at night; they would be closing soon and she had to hurry back to the tea shop to open up for her first customers. She squared her shoulders, the light of battle in her eyes; somewhere in this store there must be a pair of white cotton knickers that would cover the majority of her rear.
Her lips twitched as she remembered an elderly aunt telling her, oh so many years ago now, of her school-days. Aunt Violet had attended a boarding school and every weekend parents and friends were allowed to take the girls out to tea in the local village.
Agnes used to beg her Aunt for descriptions of the cakes and biscuits eaten in those far off days. Why, she realised, her own recipe for Parkin had been one of Aunt Violet’s.
She picked up some black satin briefs and smiled. As a school-girl, Aunt Violet had worn white under pants with baggy navy-blue gym knickers over the top of them beneath her navy blue serge skirt. Once in the local tea-shop you ate as many buns and cream cakes as possible: you were then on your honour to stuff what was left up your knicker legs where the buns would be held in safely and successfully by the elastic. You would then waddle back to school to distribute your largesse to favoured friends.
Agnes sighed. Such far away days; a world vanished and gone, much as her own life had done when the Unfortunate Event in Hollywood had happened.
Suddenly, the light of victory sparked into her eyes. At the far end of the counter she spied some packets of knickers that looked as if they might well do. She could always buy some new elastic to strengthen the waist.
Picking up several packets, the slippery plastic slid out of her hands and they cascaded onto the floor.
Tutting at her own carelessness, Agnes bent to pick them up and so was doubled over out of sight when she heard a familiar voice.
“Wait a minute, Buffy! I just want to look at these cute blue socks – “
“Jeez, Dawn. We’ve been here for hours.”
“Fifteen minutes.” Dawn’s voice was flatter than usual, Agnes thought. As if all the joy had been washed away from it.
“I need to patrol. You’ve plenty of socks. I told you we can’t afford to keep on buying things we don’t need.”
“Right. Sorry. Yes, you told me, several times.”
Agnes half stood up – the pain in her knees from being crouched down was excruciating. Luckily the Summers sisters were on the other side of the counter and the Slayer was moving away already, heading for the doors out into the Mall.
Clutching her packets of knickers to her chest, Agnes stood up completely. Surely there would be no harm in saying hello to Dawn? Just a quick greeting.
But before she could speak, the dark-haired girl was turning away as well, following her sister out of the store.
Knickers forgotten, Agnes put the packets back on the counter, her face solemn, her expression worried. She would like to have thought that she had been mistaken in what she had just seen, but knew she hadn’t.
As Dawn had turned away, she’d pushed a pair of pale blue socks into her jacket pocket.


tbc