Faith

by Angharad J Davies

  I grin like an idiot in response.

  “Well then, that's sorted.” She leans over to give me a perfunctory kiss on the lips, and then beams at me from the doorway as she leaves. Harvey-Moo, now with collar and lead returned, happily trots along with his beautiful owner.

  “The weather's meant to be so much better today. We'll do something nice.” She shouts back at me, just before I hear the front door slam.

  I lean back, snuggling into my fluffy, upright pillows, mug and toast back in hand and give a big contented sigh. I hear muffled shouts and barks coming from the sun-covered beach below and the happy, cheerful sounds bring a stupid, cheesy smile to my face. For the first time in ages, I feel a childlike anticipation for the day ahead.

  10

  “Lime and chilli? Seriously, lime and chilli? That's the ice-cream flavour you want?”

  Standing on the sunny St Ives promenade, in front of an amused, rather rotund shopkeeper, Faith laughs at my horrified expression.

  “Yes, Miss Traditional-Mint-Choc-Chip, I want lime and chilli. Try it, it's lush.”

  “Thanks, but I think I'll stick with what I know.” I grimace at the thought of a chilli flavoured ice cream.

  “That's your trouble," Faith replies cheekily, "you're not adventurous enough. You should try new things.”

  “I thought that's what I was doing?” I quip, smudging my now melting ice cream on the tip of her perfect button nose.

  “Nice!” Faith laughs softly, and the musical notes send a tingle through me.

  Smiling brightly, with melting ice cream in one hand, I tenderly reach for her with the other, and together we head for the busy sunlit sand ahead.

  11

  I gaze in awe at the softly curved, glistening body in front of me. Faith stands tall, stretches out under the rapid stream pouring from the oversized shower head, and tilts her head backwards to fully douse her hair with steaming, hot water. The movement causes her turgid, pointed nipples to stand still further proud of those exquisite, soft, full breasts. She opens her eyes, spies me standing in the doorway of the bathroom, and holds out her hand in silent invitation.

  I pause, as my mind wanders to the events of the past three days. Since our unexpected meeting on the beach we had tragically/marvellously become something of a lesbian cliché and been almost inseparable. Her effervescent energy and cheeky charm had knocked me for six, and I was completely captivated by her.

  We had explored every square foot of St Ives together by day, and every square inch of each other by night. Long walks along coastal cliff-top paths, hand in hand, dodging the occasional heavy shower; cosy shared dinners in the pub; secret, stolen kisses in the lush, green garden of the Hepworth Museum; sharing fresh fish and chips with the insatiable, circling seagulls on the harbour front; entertaining a permanently playful Harvey-Moo on all of the small town's storm-battered beaches.

  Part of me was however, struggling to deal with the idyllic perfection of it all. The once-quieted, and therefore now resentful, recluse in my head routinely reminded me that it was too soon to be thinking about a new relationship, that I couldn't possibly be over Amy yet, that Faith was too young for me (I mean she didn't even remember Dangermouse!), that she lived over 300 miles away, that she was a dog person, that she regularly did circuit training (seriously?), that she was blonde and I never went for blondes; anything in fact to quell the stupidly romantic part of me that wanted to put my house in London on the market, buy this ridiculously neat, over-priced flat and spend every night in Faith's pub watching to make sure no other thirty-something author on the rebound turned up to try to steal her away.

  I shake my head in a vain attempt to achieve some clarity. Nope, wasn't happening.

  I look up to find Faith watching me with growing curiosity through the curved shower screen. I look at her golden, tanned body; droplets of water falling slowly between her breasts, running in rivulets along those amazingly toned thighs, and I tell my malign, overly-analytical, bitch of a brain to shut the hell up.

  I drop my towelling robe to the floor, smile reassuringly at Faith with both eyes and lips, and walk purposefully towards her still outstretched hand.

  12

  “Pour the wine please, sweetie?” I ask, as I spoon mounds of steaming Chinese takeaway onto warmed china plates.

  “Where are the glasses?” Faith replies, walking towards me in the kitchen.

  “Your guess is as good as mine.” I quip, and she flicks the rolled up tea towel sharply at my derriere. She finally spies some oversized wine goblets, and begins pouring the chilled white wine.

  “Oh, I can’t wait to just relax, put my feet up and watch a film” Faith admits. “Is that tragic?”

  I’m not able to respond as I’m already chomping a mouthful of chicken chow mein. Faith laughs and hands me my huge glass of Sauvignon Blanc. I sigh with contentment and she plants a quick, but firm kiss on my salty lips.

  We are interrupted by two short beeps from my phone.

  “Have a look at who that message is from, will you hun? I need the loo.” I quickly skip to the bathroom and return only minutes later to find Faith, holding my phone with a thoughtful look on her face.

  “Everything okay?” I ask, but already know the answer by the look on her face.

  Faith stretches out the hand holding the phone.

  “Amy,” she says.

  I give a quick start, which Faith undoubtedly catches, and then try to smile reassuringly.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing sweetie.”

  “It’s not really any of my business,” she whispers quietly, but once again I sense fear in her tone. She rises from the sofa and moves to the kitchen to refill her half-empty wine glass. I use the opportunity to quickly check the message sent.

  Have moved everything out and cleaned up after me. Thanks for not making things too difficult today, although I could have done without Celia. Hope everything works out for you Beth, and you know you can always call if you ever need me. Amy x

  Faith quietly returns to the sofa and sits at the opposite end.

  “You see, I told you it was nothing. She’s just confirmed she’s moved the last of her stuff out. It’s no biggie sweetie, honestly.” I hold out my hand to encourage Faith to move closer. She seems reluctant.

  “I really like you Beth.”

  “I know, Faith, and I like you too. But you knew my history when you met me. I didn’t hide anything from you.”

  “I know, but I didn’t really expect to end up liking you quite so much.”

  “So I was just supposed to be an easy lay,” I joke, but inside a knot of fear starts to form and the quieted shrew pricks up her ears.

  “I’d hardly say you were easy,” she quips back.

  There ensues a period of uneasy silence as we cautiously eat our lukewarm food; my usual ravenous appetite seeming a little suppressed.

  “Oh, fuck this for a game of soldiers,” Faith suddenly exclaims. “Life’s too bloody short for second guessing. You’re a great shag and for me that’s enough for now.”

  Her sudden announcement broke the newly formed ice around us and I smile in spite of some lingering doubts.

  “Let’s get this food warmed up and another bloody refill.” My tone mirrors Faith’s regained ebullient mood and she smiles with relief.

  We walk to the kitchen, place our plates into the state-of-the-art microwave, spend five minutes trying to work out how to use it and then give up and instead stick them in the fool proof oven. Laughing over our newly filled wine glasses, Faith pulls me toward her and we spend a few blissful minutes joined mouth-to-mouth and tongue-to-tongue, the recent spell of awkwardness forgotten in the heat of this newest embrace.

  13

  A single shaft of moonlight illuminates the stark bedroom. In the deep-blue darkness I can make out Faith's slightly blurred silhouette above me as she gently rocks her luscious naked hips against mine. Her soft lips seep a sensual wetness along my vulva, and in spite of her unusually quiet ministrati
ons I can sense that she is close to orgasm. For the very first time my focus is entirely on her; I find myself straining intensely so as not to miss every single fleeting expression across those exquisite features. Watching the incredibly sensual movement of those perfectly curved breasts as she slowly gyrates above me.

  I'm not entirely sure when the panic sets in, but I can feel it slowly rise from the spiteful pit in my stomach.

  I continue to watch her, with my breathing rapidly becoming more erratic. Then, a new feeling; something like severe claustrophobia. My body tenses and Faith, sensing a change, suddenly stops.

  “Beth?”

  I'm not sure what to say, how to answer, how to explain, so I stay frustratingly silent.

  Faith falls to the bed, shapes her curves to mine and leaving me to my thoughts, simply strokes my hair in a bid to calm and reassure me. Finally, after a seemingly endless wait for my breathing to return to normal, I manage to utter just two broken words.

  “I'm sorry.”

  Faith rolls over to position herself on top of me, resting between my thighs. She looks at me directly, and even in the darkness I can make out the sparkle in those endlessly blue eyes. In that moment I feel my heart contract, and the panic deepens; I can't, I won't allow myself to believe that what I feel could possibly be genuine emotion.

  I blindly reach for the side of the bed and my sharp movement throws Faith off balance. She moves away to give me my desperately needed space, and patiently waits, curled up in the warm sheet, quietly nervous in the middle of the bed.

  The incessant bitching inside my head now continues unabated, and I bend over, resting into my hands in resignation, finally giving in to the onslaught.

  “This is freaking me out.” I whisper pathetically.

  I hear a rustle behind me, and feel two warm hands slide around my shoulders.

  “Beth, neither of us expected this to happen. Of course you're going to be freaked out. I'm freaked out. I have a bloody job interview in London in two days, and all I can think about is staying here with you.” Faith's own personal confession snaps me out of my self-absorbed state.

  “A job interview?” I ask.

  “Yes, but that really doesn't matter right now, honestly. I'm just saying that stuff like this happens and it's not always convenient.” Her reasonable tone and irrefutable logic just add to my growing anxiety.

  “Stuff like what? What do you think this is exactly?” The panic moves into my tone, and I snap, afraid of the response that I know is coming.

  “Beth, please don't try to pass this off as some kind of holiday romance. If that's all it is then you wouldn't be freaked out.” The same calm logic sends the termagant inside my head into overdrive, and she demands Faith's immediate removal in order to restore some calm.

  “But that's all it was meant to be Faith. That's all it can be. I'm not in a place where it can be anything more. I'm sorry.” Another solitary tear makes its way to the corner of my eye and travels downward, following the contour of my cheek until it drops silently to the floor.

  “You're scared babe, I understand that. But I really, really like you Beth, and I don't want you to shut the door on us yet.” She pauses, clearly concerned at pushing me too hard.

  I turn to face her, and the look on my face shows only too well the painful conflict underway in my head. She takes my hand, but offers no mercy.

  “Where do you live Beth?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Where do you live?”

  “Why is that even relevant?”

  “Stop prevaricating. Where do you live?”

  She was persistent. I had to give her that.

  “London. I live in London.”

  “Right. Well I'm not going to waste any more of what could be our last night together arguing with you about maybes. I'll be clear about where I'm at and I'll let you do the rest.” Her abrupt change of tack throws me completely off guard, and even the bitch in my head is once again stunned into a reluctant silence.

  “I really like you Beth, and I'd like to carry on seeing you, and if I get the job in London in a couple of days, which is a distinct possibility, then us seeing each other again will be a whole lot easier than if I lived here.” She pauses and takes my continued silence as a positive sign to continue. “I'll leave you my mobile number tomorrow and you can choose whether you use it or not.”

  I'm reminded of the steely determination usually shown by Celia when negotiating my publishing contracts, and for a second feel just the teeniest bit intimidated.

  Faith sits cross legged behind me, clearly waiting for some kind of response.

  “I can't promise anything.” I murmur grudgingly.

  “I know. Just think about it. That's all I ask.” She beams confidently at me and moves to lie back on the bed, shifting the ivory sheet to expose those delectable high, rounded breasts. Faith certainly knew how to maximise the use of her assets.

  “Now, are you going to sit there brooding all night, or are you going to climb back into this bed to fuck me?”

  With the once overwhelming feeling of pressure now partially released, and ignoring the usual judgmental, nagging voice, there was really only one appropriate response.

  I slide my upper body under the bottom of the huge cotton sheet and quickly move to bury my head in her musk scented lap. She sighs happily and lifts her hips to welcome me back in.

  14

  I look out at the sun shining on the now calm sea, and lift my cup of steaming coffee to my slightly bruised but very satisfied lips. Faith, having showered and now fully dressed walks out onto the balcony and leans over to gently kiss my forehead.

  “I'm not going to change your mind am I?” she says sadly.

  “I honestly don't know, honey. I don't think so.” The funny thing was, I couldn't explain to myself the reason for my reluctance to take our relationship further, and I didn't really want to believe it was just plain cowardice.

  “When do you go back to London?” she asks.

  “Tomorrow.” I reply, rising from my seat to prepare for our goodbye.

  “Well, take care of yourself darling. It's been amazing.” Faith attempts a flash of those perfect white teeth, and whilst holding my face in both of her hands, gives me her challenging blue-eyed stare one final time, followed by a hard, purposeful kiss on the mouth; and then she is gone.

  I sit back down on my soft balcony chair, continuing to robotically drink now-lukewarm coffee, and stare blankly at the still-sunlit sea. Hours later I finally make my way back inside to find a short, sweet note left on the kitchen counter.

  I've sent myself a text from your phone darling. I hope you don't mind. I just want to be able to let you know the outcome of the interview, so you'll know if I'm going to be in London or not. I'd rather you make a fully informed decision about us, and I promise to respect it, whatever it is. I've had a marvellous time; you're gorgeous, sexy and funny and I love the way your mind comes up with really random shit sometimes. I think we could be great together, but no matter what you decide, I'll never regret these last few days. Take care darling.

  Faith xx

  I take a deep, difficult breath, fold the note precisely, carefully and then walk into the empty, echoing bedroom to start packing my bag.

  15

  I face the bed. With Faith having left it was now just up to me. I feel a familiar anxiety start to well from my stomach, and slowly begin to coil upwards. I shake my head in frustration.

  “For fuck's sake Beth, it's just a bloody bed!” I growl to myself.

  I angrily pull back the covers and climb to the centre, punching the soft feather pillows into submission. With a harrumph of disgust at myself, I sink slowly backwards. Determined to make it through at least one full night asleep alone in that huge bed, I close my unwilling eyes and focus instead on the sensation of the cool, ivory sheets.

  Very gradually, I allow myself to appreciate their softness; I languidly stretch across the bed, star-fished, and begrudgingly,
my lips start to tilt at the now warm, soft feeling at my back.

  Unbidden, my memory begins to recall all of the wonderful things about a warm, comfortable bed; as a child, being tucked-in by mum, those wonderful weekend lie-ins with fresh pastries and a paper, and of the matchless feeling of a soft pillow when, from sheer exhaustion, sleep simply overtakes you.

  The bed had ceased to be my enemy. I burrow further into the pillow-well created by my overworked and sleep-deprived head, take a deep, nourishing breath and finally feel the beat of my racing heart begin to slow. With a soft smile of victory firmly fixed on my face, I drift gently off to sleep.

  16

  The narrowed, green eyes of the lithe, black cat blink deliberately at me. He meows loudly, angrily, from his regal, seated position on the slate tiled floor of my kitchen.

  “I know, I know! I'm sorry I've been away and left you with the kids.” I say, apologising to the recognised ruler of my home. “They've probably made your life hell whilst you've been there. Have they baby?” I coax gently.

  Ollie meows; affirmative.

  I throw down a few catnip treats; an unapologetic bribe to try to win him over. He greedily chomps down each one, rolling onto his back and stretching out in satisfaction. I smile and move to open the pile of crisp, new mail waiting for me on the kitchen counter. Celia was such an angel to look after the place whilst I was away, although knowing her, she probably got her au pair to do it for her.

  There was a beautifully handwritten note with the mail.

  Hope you had a lovely time in Cornwall darling, and are feeling fantastic after your little rest. I hope at least those bloody bags have finally started to disappear. Sent your manuscript to your new editor (Liz) at the publisher and she loved it. Said is seemed a bit darker than your usual work. Can't think why! Anyway, she wants a meeting in a few weeks to discuss some edits and the marketing plan for the launch. The new girl from Marketing will be joining us too. Will email you the details as soon as I have them.