Lost for Words

by Andrea Bramhall

  “I’m sure you were far more adorable than all the others,” Sasha said with a smirk, but her eyes were sad.

  “Oh, they showed me one of the few pictures they had on file.” Jac grimaced. “It’s a wonder I didn’t crack the damn camera.”

  She kissed Sasha’s hand. She wished they were doing this at home, sitting on the sofa, or in bed, rather than in the middle of a restaurant with God only knew who was listening. But they were here now, and this was what was happening. “They didn’t realise until I was a little older that I actually had a heart problem.”

  “Your scar?” Sasha touched her hand over Jac’s sternum.

  “Yes. I got a new valve, and they did a bunch of other stuff in there, and eventually I was good as new. But I was around five or six by that time. Behind at school, bit of a tearaway after finally getting to play in the sun. I spent most of my early years inside some stuffy dorm room, watching all the other kids play. Once they turned me loose, well, I had so much to make up for. Altogether, I wasn’t a kid anyone wanted. I stayed in the orphanage until I was sixteen. I was lucky, though. I’d tested well in the eleven plus, so got a grammar school scholarship that led to great exam results and eventually a large scholarship at uni. I wouldn’t have been able to go otherwise.” She chuckled. “Still walked away with a huge amount of loans I had to pay back, but I did.” She spread her hands out across the table.

  “And here I am.” She smiled at Fleur first, happy to see her smiling again.

  When she turned back to Sasha, she could see tears shimmering her eyes and used a thumb to wipe them away as they spilled over and down her cheeks. “Hey, I’m okay. Better than okay. I’m doing great, and I did it all on my own.”

  “Yes, you did.” She put a hand to Jac’s cheek and pulled her in for a kiss, a sweet, soft, chaste kiss that whispered promises and offered comfort all at the same time. A kiss that was at once simple and complicated. Exactly as it should be between them. When she pulled away, Sasha was biting her lip like she was trying to stop herself from saying something.

  Fleur cleared her throat.

  “So,” she said, breaking the ice, “that’s where Kensington comes from, then? Where you were found?”

  “Yup.”

  “No relation to Patsy, then?”

  “Not that I know of,” she said with a frown.

  “I think you mean Patsy Kensit, Mum.”

  “Oh, yes. Not her neither?”

  “Nope. Just me, myself, and I,” Jac said with a chuckle.

  “Lucky you.” Fleur picked up her fork. “Family can be so difficult some days.”

  Sasha hiked up her eyebrows and turned to face her mother. “Can’t they just?” Her voice dripped sarcasm.

  Clearing her throat, Jac searched around for a safe topic to shift the conversation to. She didn’t regret telling them her story, but she felt exposed now, like she was naked before them. And while she didn’t mind being naked with Sasha, Fleur was a different story. She wanted to impress the woman. Fleur was so important to Sasha. They were obviously incredibly close, and she wasn’t sure how much influence Fleur’s opinion of her would have on Sasha. And she really, really wanted the older woman to like her. She was a bloody scream.

  “I was wondering if you’d like to come and watch the filming one day?” Jac asked, looking over at Fleur.

  Fleur grinned. “Can I shout out ‘action’?”

  “I think that can be arranged,” Jac acquiesced.

  “Can I get one of those chairs?”

  Jac nodded.

  “Are you sure, Mum? It’ll be a long day, and you can’t take any of your stuff on set.”

  Jac hadn’t thought about that, unaware of how often Fleur needed her “medication”. “We don’t have to make it a full day. Just come for half a day or however long you like, and then head off whenever you need to.”

  “Sounds wonderful,” Fleur said with her nose in the air and a superior attitude firmly attached. Jac and Sasha laughed.

  The crash of a tray drew their attention away from each other. Jac stared as a waiter bearing a tray of what had been drinks was now hovering over the woman with the doggy bag. Who was dripping with whatever drinks he had been carrying. At a guess, Jac was going with orange juice, Coke, and maybe a Bloody Mary. The woman was a mess, the waiter was a mess, trying to clean her up and apologising every second. In the confusion, it seemed none of them had noticed that the doggy bag had been knocked over until the mutt of questionable breeding was scurrying around the floor, lapping up spilt drinks, then diving under tablecloths as hands stretched out for it.

  “I couldn’t write this shit,” Sasha said. “Someone would tell me it was too farfetched.”

  “Not if you were writing a Will Ferrell or Adam Sandler movie.”

  “Or a St Trinian’s sequel.”

  They glanced at each other, laughing, and losing sight of the scampering mutt.

  “Someone please find my baby!” Doggy-bag Woman stood at her table, clasping her empty bag in one hand and a tomato-stained napkin in the other. Her hair was pushed back off her face but was still full of gloopy tomato juice. “Please, he’s so tiny and helpless. He could get trodden on!”

  “Poor woman,” Fleur said. “You two should help her.”

  Sasha and Jac rolled their eyes but lifted the flap of their tablecloth to check under the table with Sasha muttering about “showing willing” under her breath. Jac bent to the side, her head almost in Sasha’s lap so she could see under. Sasha took the opportunity to run her hand over Jac’s head and slip her fingers under Jac’s collar. The warmth of her hand, the gentle caress, the scent of Sasha enveloped her. Distracted her. Made her eyes flutter shut. She could have laid there all day, letting Sasha pet her like a dog.

  Dog. She opened her eyes again and saw it: the bat-like ears of a French Bulldog, the huge eyes, the squat barrel body, the squashed nose of a pug, the tan colouring of a Chihuahua, and it was under the table beside Fleur, staring right at Jac, its crooked little teeth bared at her.

  “Found it,” she whispered. “Don’t speak too loudly when you call her over. We don’t want to spook it.”

  “It’s a tiny thing, Jac. Just pick it up,” Sasha implored.

  “It’s got teeth, and it’s growling.”

  “Don’t be a baby.”

  Jac tried to lower herself enough to get both shoulders under the edge of the table so she could lean forwards and grab it. She shuffled her butt cheeks to the edge of her chair and leaned a little more of her weight on Sasha’s lap. She enjoyed a final stroke on her head, then lowered herself—as slowly as her thighs allowed—to her knees under the table.

  “Nice puppy,” she whispered. “Come ’ere, puppy.” She reached out but was still too far away to touch it. It skulked away from her, cowering against Fleur’s leg. It would be easy to tell Fleur to reach down and grab it. But she didn’t want to scare it off and lose the little…scamp…now it was this close. “Come and see what I’ve got on my plate for you, you little yapper.” She leant forwards again, then shrank back in horror.

  It did it.

  The little bug-eyed bastard cocked its leg and let loose a stream of pungent piss. All over Fleur’s leg.

  “Why you little—” Jac took advantage of the mutt’s distraction and disadvantage on three legs and grabbed it by the scruff of the neck, hoisting it away from Fleur and holding it in front of her, away from Sasha and out from under the table, while trying to avoid the twisting head that snarled and snapped its ferocious-looking three-millimetre-long canines at her.

  It was still pissing!

  Jac grasped hold of its tail in an attempt to at least aim the stream of pee at the floor rather than other people…or tables…or food…but it kept going. Is this whole dog just full of it? Surely its tiny bladder can’t hold this much pee?

  Then the barking—or rat
her yapping—started in earnest.

  “Let him go!” Doggy-bag Woman shouted. “You’re hurting my baby! You don’t hold a dog like that!” She ran over and snatched the now-mewling wee beastie from Jac’s hands.

  “You do if it’s trying to gnaw your fingers off while pissing everywhere, love.”

  “How dare you defame my poor little Bertie’s character? He would never do such a thing.” She snuggled her still-tomato-smeared face against the tan fur. “Would you, my little darling? You’d never do anything like this nasty woman described.” She spoke as one would to a child—if that child was a very spoiled, overindulged mutt of questionable breeding that was now giving Jac the smuggest look she’d ever had the displeasure to witness. Clearly, Bertie knew where his bread was buttered. He started licking at the mess in Doggy-bag Woman’s hair. “That’s right, my little prince. You help clean Mummy up after the nasty man tried to drown me with those awful drinks.”

  Sasha had her hands steepled in front of her nose and mouth. Her eyes shone and she was clearly trying to hold back laughter. The crying-tears kind of laughter. Fleur wasn’t even trying to hide it. She was slapping the table and wiping her eyes.

  Jac sat back in her seat and pointed at Fleur. “I don’t know what you’re laughing about. Rat Boy over there pissed all over your leg.”

  Fleur wiped her eyes again and tried to halt her laughing. Well, sort of tried. She reached under the table, and after a few moments, she looked like she was trying to pull her tights down.

  “Mum! Don’t!” Sasha shouted.

  “Oh, pish.” Whatever resistance Fleur was up against gave way, and she hoisted the item from under the table. “Well, so he did.” Fleur held up the lower leg with a wet stain on the stocking that encased it.

  Jac stared and opened her mouth to speak. “I did—but—I mean—what—it’s not—” She glanced at Sasha as Fleur waved her prosthetic leg in the air.

  “Oi, you, lady with the pissing machine: you owe me a new pair of tights!”

  Sasha was still chuckling when they dropped Fleur back home, and she packed a bag—at Jac’s suggestion—with the intention of staying with Jac for the rest of the weekend. Mr Hunt—Mr Mike Hunt—was on his way over to console Fleur on the loss of her favourite pair of tights. And Jac was still more than a little mortified. She was looking forward to soothing those ruffles later. And maybe finding out more about Jac’s past.

  Hearing those few details had broken her heart. Jac had tried to hide it behind the jokey story, the bluster, and her pride in her achievements. As she should be proud. But underneath it all, Sasha had seen the pain, the loneliness. And more than anything, she wanted to soothe that pain away. The little girl who had been discarded like an old newspaper, never wanted, never truly loved…Sasha had seen her hiding in Jac’s eyes. And Sasha knew she wanted to spend the rest of her life trying to make the child inside Jac feel loved.

  “One date and you’re already in love with her.” Sasha folded a blouse for Monday morning and packed it away in her bag. “Talk about a cliché.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, honey. Sometimes when you know, you just know.”

  Sasha turned to face her mother as she hobbled unsteadily into Sasha’s bedroom. “Was that how it was for you? With Dad?”

  “Yes, I knew the first time I laid eyes on your father that I was going to marry him. That he was the one for me.”

  “You never told me that before.” Sasha sat on the edge of her bed.

  “Well, you’ve always been a bit more like your father than like me in these things. He took a lot more convincing.” Fleur sat beside her and wrapped an arm around Sasha, encouraging her to put her head on Fleur’s shoulder. “But it turns out you’re more like me than I thought.”

  Sasha snorted a laugh. “I’m not taking your crystal.”

  “Good. It wouldn’t work for you anyway. You need to get your own; it has to attune itself to your energy. My tarot cards, on the other hand, I’m leaving you those in my will. I’ll be awaiting your call on the other side.”

  Chuckling, Sasha wrapped her arm around Fleur’s back, her fingers grabbing on to the thick wool of the bulky jumper she was wearing. “Aren’t you hot in that thing?”

  “Nah, I’ve not made it to hell yet, darling.”

  She shook her head. “Mum.” Sasha sighed. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “About what?”

  “Jac.”

  “What on earth do you mean?”

  “I don’t know if she feels the same way.”

  “Does she have to?”

  Sasha pulled away enough to look in her eyes. “Of course. Would you want to be in love with someone who doesn’t love you back?”

  “No, of course not. I’m meaning right now. Does it matter right now if she isn’t in love with you? She clearly cares about you a great deal. She clearly wants you. And she’s obviously looking for more than just a roll in the hay if she’s prepared to take you out with your crazy old mum.” Fleur squeezed her shoulder tight as she sniggered. “You don’t need to do anything but give it some time.”

  “But what if she never does?”

  Fleur sighed and pressed Sasha’s head back to her shoulder. “I don’t think that will be the case, but if so, then you deal with it.” She shrugged. “Life doesn’t always give us what we want. I lost your father far too soon as far as I’m concerned. But I went on. You went on. We learn to adapt and deal with all the changes life throws at us, Sasha. That’s what we do. It’s what we always do because life is short—far too short—and it’s always uncertain, my darling. Some days are good and some days a little rat dog pees on your tights.”

  Sasha sniggered.

  “But it’s all life, honey, and we deal with it and move on.” She stroked Sasha’s hair away from her head, combing her fingers through it just as she had when Sasha had been a child.

  “Life is full of changes, full of questions, full of moments that have us wondering ‘what if?’, and it’s never quite what we expect. Don’t start this relationship with Jac wondering ‘what if?’. Start it with a smile in your heart. The rest will come.”

  “Paraphrasing Peter Pan now?”

  “Jac’s story made me think of it.”

  “I know what you mean. Everything she must have gone through. I just can’t imagine.”

  “And for that I am eternally grateful.” She kissed Sasha’s head. “But Jac does, and she’s rather in need of all the love she can get, if you ask me.” Fleur wrapped her other arm around Sasha and pulled her in for a slightly awkward sideways hug. “Now, finish packing your bags. I need a spliff, and I don’t think you want me getting your girlfriend stoned.” Fleur stood and hobbled towards the door.

  “Are you okay?”

  Fleur waved her hand. “Didn’t get the sock straight after the little show in the restaurant. I need to get my leg off and lie down for a while. Nothing I can’t handle, honey.”

  “Do you want me to help?”

  “No. I want you to finish packing your bag.” She turned back to Sasha, her hand on the door frame. “She makes you smile in a way I’ve never seen before, my darling daughter. All I’ve ever wanted for you is to see you happy. I told you, it’s my greatest wish for you. To know there’ll be someone there for you when I can’t be anymore. You weren’t meant to walk through life alone. No one is.” There was a look in Fleur’s eyes that Sasha couldn’t quite make sense of. There was happiness, mirth, and joy, yes, but underneath that was something else. Something Sasha couldn’t put her finger on. Sorrow, maybe? Grief? Regret? Had speaking of her dad made Fleur so sad?

  “Blah, enough of this sappy shit.” Fleur pointed back at the bag on the bed. “Get that bag packed, then take your girl home and fuck her brains out.” She knocked on the door as she passed it, laughing.

  Sasha squeezed her eyes shut and tried to erase the last five second
s form her mind. No such luck. Fleur knew exactly how to get under her skin.

  Chapter 23

  Jac turned the page on the script, then flipped back, realising she hadn’t been paying attention. In fact, she couldn’t remember a single word she’d read. That wasn’t a damning testament about the script she was reading. Sophie would have never given it to her to read if it was that bad. No, this was a testament to Jac’s level of distraction. All she could think about was Sasha. The way her hair had been splayed across Jac’s chest that morning when they’d woken up, limbs entwined, faces so close they were sharing the same breath.

  She fiddled with her pen, flipping it between her middle and index finger, the way she used to hold a cigarette, flicking the ash from the tip. She was so distracted she found herself with the end between her lips, sucking on it. “Shit,” she whispered and touched her fingertips to her lip, checking for ink.

  A knock at the door startled her. She looked up to see Sophie leaning on the door frame, two coffee cups in her hands. She smiled and crossed the room, held one cup out to Jac, then took a seat in the chair opposite Jac’s desk.

  “Want to tell me what has you so distracted?”

  Jac screwed her face up and took the coffee cup. “Do I really have to? You always said you could read me like a book.”

  “And I still can, my dear Pan. Did your date on Friday not go well?”

  Jac couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her lips. The memory of Sasha in that dress…the memory of Sasha out of that dress…made her mouth go dry and her fingers itch to do it all again. To feel her again.

  “Never mind. I can see how it went. So what’s all this, then? I stood in that doorway watching you for like three minutes and you didn’t turn the page in all that time.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about her.”

  Sophie clapped her hands. “Excellent.” She rounded the desk and pulled her into a hug. “I’m so happy for you. I love seeing you all loved up.”

  “Hey, hang on. That’s a bit—I mean, it’s only been a few days, I’m not…” Jac thought back over the past weekend with Sasha. She’d shared more with her in those three days than she’d ever shared with Vanessa, or any other woman she’d been with, if she were totally honest.