by Clare Lydon
Kat’s mouth twitched in response.
They were standing in Abby’s kitchen – Kat had just turned up on Thursday afternoon and demanded tea, her tan suitcase standing ready in the hall.
“Okay I think.” Kat shrugged as she looked around the kitchen and fixed her stare on the mug tree. “Honestly, I won’t know how I’ll deal with it till we’re there. But I’m sure it’ll be fine – I’m a big girl and I can look after myself.” Kat put her hand on her hip. “Besides, these are my oldest and bestest friends, so if I can’t be honest with them, who can I be honest with?”
Kat smiled her winning smile to back up her words, but Abby didn’t look like she bought it. Just like all the other times Kat had tried to convince her.
Abby went to say something, then clearly thought better of it.
Kat was pleased – right now, they needed to hit the road as they were already running behind schedule.
“Are you finished packing?” Kat leant against Abby’s granite counter and sipped her cup of tea. She made a face: Abby had forgotten the sugar.
“Sorry.” Abby turned to grab it.
“You’d think you’d remember after six months.”
Abby smiled. “You’d think you’d be sugar-free after all my nagging.”
Kat took the bowl from Abby’s outstretched hand. “I am down to one.”
“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I’m nearly finished – just need to bung in a hairdryer.”
“I think they have them there.” Kat stirred her tea, took a sip and smiled this time.
“Yeah, but it’s probably from the 1980s,” Abby said over her shoulder as she disappeared into the hallway and then the bedroom. Abby said something else but it got muffled as she was too far away.
Kat picked up her tea and followed her.
Kat had always particularly liked Abby’s cool, minimalist bedroom and remembered being impressed with its decor and vibe as much as its owner the first time she’d come back here. She leant on the white glossy doorframe and watched Abby zip up her suitcase, her cool, ultra-styled Afro bouncing as she did.
“What’d you say?” Kat asked.
“Huh?”
“Just then, you shouted something through.”
Abby screwed up her face and paused, before shaking her head. “Dunno, can’t remember.”
She got out her iPhone and checked it, as was her habit. Abby got her work email directed to her phone so she had no escape. Beyond that, she was also a technology junkie who got shifty if she was away from a viable internet connection for more than five minutes. How she was going to cope this weekend in the Devon countryside – not known for its robust phone reception – was anyone’s guess.
Abby walked over to Kat and slid her arms around her waist, rubbing her back as she did. Abby and Kat were around the same height although Abby’s hair could sometimes make her appear almost a foot taller.
“Oooh, I remember now.” Abby leant in for a quick kiss – her lips were dry. “I was asking whether you’d seen where we’re going – did you have a look at the email?”
Kat shook her head. “Nah, didn’t get a chance. But I trust Stevie – she’s a genius at this sort of stuff.”
“The place looks absolutely amazing – the lounge especially looks out onto the sea. Can’t wait to see it in the flesh.”
Kat ran her hand down the side of Abby’s face, amazed as she always was at the contrasting colour of her white skin to Abby’s deep Ghanaian black.
“We’re going to have an amazing Easter weekend and you’ll love all my friends – promise, they’re ace.” She kissed her girlfriend slowly, gently.
Abby deepened the kiss and ran a hand over Kat’s curved buttock – it was her favourite part of her body. They both pulled back a few minutes later, Abby’s eyes full of desire.
“So do you think there’s time?” Abby lifted an eyebrow.
Kat smiled, but already knew the answer. Since she’d started on the pills her libido had been flatlining and she was scared at her lack of interest in sex, it having always been a favourite pastime of hers.
The beep of Abby’s phone broke the moment and Kat knew she’d been saved. Abby had been extremely patient, but their fledging relationship was being tested. After just six months you were still meant to be jumping each other’s bones at every chance you got.
Abby fished her phone out of her back pocket, broke their hold and stepped back. She pressed her screen a few times, frowned, then cursed. Getting these two days off had been a bone of contention between the two of them, what with Abby’s work having a new appraisal system installed and her being head of HR. Abby was the queen of telling her staff to take their holiday within their entitlement time, but not so great at taking her own advice.
“Sorry, I gotta respond to this. Can you give me five minutes?” Abby ushered Kat out the door and closed it gently.
Kat waited outside, sipping her tea as she heard Abby get through to her colleague Nick who she could picture sat at his desk in one of his trademark stripy shirts. Kat remembered when she used to be glued to her work Blackberry too, replying to emails at midnight, checking incoming mail from Japan at 4am. Not anymore.
No, Kat wasn’t sure how this weekend was going to pan out, but she was going to use it to reconnect with some old friends who she’d been pushing away of late while she tried to sort herself out. Only Abby knew the truth of the last six months; only her old friends knew the truth of her life. Kat was taking a leap of faith merging the two together – would they embrace or repel each other?
Geri
Geri had endured a shit week and today hadn’t been much better. She’d gone into policing because she had a vague notion she wanted to help people but she could just as easily have landed a selfish job with her degree. A job in a bank maybe, just like her mate Kat. Kat worked long hours too, but she got to wear power suits and go to swanky wine bars, and pulled in over three times her salary.
Plus, when Kat said she worked in finance, fewer people seemed to sneer than when they caught sight of Geri’s police badge. Geri was still at a loss to know why, considering Kat’s business had brought the country to its knees, whereas her only crime was to protect the public from criminals and make the world a safer place. Life wasn’t fair.
On the plus side, Geri was now a CID sergeant in London. As well as a desire to help others, the desire to be Christine Cagney had always been at the forefront of Geri’s life and she’d achieved her dream. A by-product of that dream was that it made her ridiculously attractive to women, something that’d never been lost on Geri. The job had its perks. Also, she now had four whole days off in a row.
Four, including a weekend. It was almost unprecedented.
Today, her boss had been a royal pain in the arse, a stickler for protocol and paperwork which was the bane of her existence. It wasn’t what she got into policing for – if she’d wanted an office job, she would have applied for one. She bet Christine Cagney never put up with this shit.
Geri had been looking forward to the weekend away for weeks but she wasn’t feeling the love today: she was coming to the end of her period and her body was sluggish, her stomach still bloated. Geri shook her head again at Mother Nature, so insistent that she have the option to breed every month. Geri had no desire to do so, despite what her mother kept hinting. As far as Geri could see, mothers did nothing but irritate your life.
Geri swallowed down two more Nurofen Plus as she zipped up her bag before heading out the door, tucking her brown, freshly straightened hair behind her right ear as she did one final check in the mirror. She’d looked better, she’d looked worse.
The deadlock clunked shut as Geri turned the key in the front door. She crossed Highbury Green where the lush grass was in need of a cut and noticed for the first time this year that the sun was yet to set – the clocks had gone forward last week. Spring was her favourite season, the promise of so much. Despite her sarcastic and dour demeanour, Geri was a hop
eless romantic who always believed this was going to be her year.
This year, for sure.
She waited an eternity at the traffic lights as always, so texted Laura to make sure she was still on for picking her up. Eventually, the green crossing man illuminated and the crowd of pedestrians walked across the road to the tube, the drivers glaring at them as they went.
Once inside the tube Geri got swept along with rush-hour commuters, so she concentrated on getting the correct train and on what to do once she got to Paddington. After careful thought she decided to make a stop at Marks & Spencer for some food and wine for the journey, perhaps some fancy chocolate too. Or even a cake. She was on holiday after all, so calorie count be damned.
The Arrival
Advertised as a seaside retreat, their home for the weekend had nothing but fantastic reviews online. Vic and Stevie were hoping it lived up to its cracking credentials and first impressions didn’t disappoint. Vic whistled through her teeth as they swept down the horseshoe drive and pulled up outside the black garage door.
“How much would this cost in London?” Vic assessed the double-fronted house ahead that possessed both style and grandeur. “Looks absolutely enormous.”
“I bet it costs a pretty penny down here, too.” Stevie wasted no time getting out of the car and stretching again. After a few seconds, she popped her head back inside. “But just for this weekend, let’s pretend it’s all ours.”
“You’re on.”
Vic’s feet crunched on the gravel as she rounded the car and unlocked the boot, hauling their grey suitcases out of their confinement. She still held the view they’d packed too much for a long weekend but Stevie had told her if it could fit in the car, it was coming with them.
These days, Vic didn’t make arguments where they weren’t strictly necessary, so she’d said nothing.
“Come on you, let’s get this stuff inside.” Vic handed a case to her wife.
Stevie tried to wheel it to the front door but the gravel wouldn’t allow it, so instead she picked it up with a grunt, her face flushing pink with the effort.
Stevie turned the key in the door and Vic followed her in, scanning the extensive wood-panelled hallway hung with modern artwork. Someone was clearly a Jackson Pollock fan. Light flooded in through massive windows, with added colour waltzing around via stained glass windows overhead. It made a great first impression and Vic’s shoulders slumped with relief as she realised they’d picked a winner. With most other odds stacked against her this weekend, it was good to know their accommodation wouldn’t be one of them.
Vic dropped her suitcase at the bottom of the grand staircase to her right, before heading across the hallway and through a door to the left. She drew a breath. This house just got better.
“Fuck me – they weren’t lying. Babe, you gotta see this!”
Stevie dumped her suitcase and walked to the lounge. She too stopped almost as soon as she entered the room.
“Holy shit!”
They were standing in the living room, the feature room, the one that made them stop on the holiday cottage website and click. It was grand – in scale, in opulence, in views. The whole of the main wall which they were currently staring out of was a mass of polished glass overlooking the garden and the sea. The cliff fell away in front of them to reveal masses of oak-coloured sand and water as far as the eye could see. It was spellbinding.
Stevie broke into a spontaneous round of applause as she surveyed the rest of the room. Modern neutral-toned sofas, fancy coffee table, sumptuous stone-coloured rugs and the biggest flatscreen she’d ever seen on the opposite wall. Massive nature screen one side, enormous TV on the other.
“This is amazing – I mean, look at it!” Stevie swept her hand expansively. She dropped the welcome envelope in her excitement, then bent to retrieve it.
Vic blinked and grinned. “Wait till the others see it, they’re going to be blown away. And they so owe us for finding this.”
“Too right. Shall we take first pick of the bedrooms as our reward?” Stevie shifted next to Vic who instinctively put her arm around her and kissed her brow, now perked up with colour.
“Let’s do it.”
They sprang up the stripy carpeted stairs and chose the bigger of the sea-view rooms. It had an en-suite (as did all the double rooms), a king-size bed and a pair of welcoming red felt armchairs that looked plushly expensive.
Stevie bounced on the bed and nodded as she sprang back up without much reluctance.
Vic poked her head in the en-suite, then came back into the bedroom. “This is incredible. It’s like a fucking show home…”
Vic watched Stevie: it’d been a while since she’d jumped up and down on a bed with such glee in her presence. Before all of this, Vic would have jumped on top of her there and then, wrestled her into submission and kissed her long and hard. But these days, lines were blurred and their relationship was misshapen, wonky. Vic continually checked her actions, stopped, reassessed.
Stevie was staring at her and was probably thinking similar thoughts. When did kissing your wife become such a difficult decision?
Vic forced a smile and Stevie returned it, just as sad and ill-formed. If she were going to go with her gut it was too late; the moment had gone and there were too many thoughts clogging the air in the bedroom now. Vic bit her top lip and took off her glasses, running a hand through her hair before replacing them.
“Shall we get going? The Flowerpot awaits.” Vic offered Stevie her hand.
Stevie made a slight grunting noise as she got up, something she’d added to her repertoire since turning 40 earlier in the year.
“Yep – I’m famished.”
***
The Flowerpot was busier when they returned, despite the fact it was little more than an hour later. A new bartender had appeared in Vic and Stevie’s absence and she greeted them with a welcoming smile as they approached the bar. She had a pleasing Devonian accent that curled at the edges, along with short, dark hair and piercing brown eyes.
As they sat down with their wine, burgers ordered, Stevie checked her phone but reception was poor. She was in the country now.
“Just going to check this,” she said to Vic, indicating her mobile. Stevie’s bones creaked as she walked out of the car park until she eventually got three bars of signal, a couple of texts popping up on-screen.
When she returned, Vic had poured the Cabernet Sauvignon and already taken a large gulp.
Stevie’s phone skittered across the shiny wooden table as she put it down and took her own slug of wine. She sighed with contentment as she felt the warming alcohol seep into her system.
“So?” Vic leant back in her chair.
“Well, they’ve all left at least.”
“All of them?”
“Yep – even Gimpy got off work early, so she’s on a train.”
“I’m impressed,” Vic said.
“I’m amazed.” Stevie paused. “Kat and Abby reckon they’ll make it by 9-ish. Stu’s at his mum’s and she’ll bring him in the morning.”
“And the other two?”
Stevie crinkled her forehead. “They left late, obviously…”
“Obviously…”
“…But they’ve dropped the kids off and they’ve got to pick up Gimpy – so who knows. Around 10pm?”
“Optimistic,” Vic grinned.
“Give or take,” Stevie said. “The upshot is, most of the merry band will be here soon – barring calamitous natural disasters.”
“And dodgy sat navs.”
“I’m going to treat that comment with the contempt it deserves, drink some more wine and hope our food comes soon before I eat this beermat.” Stevie smiled at Vic, a knowing smile, a smile to a lover she’d known for half of her life. “By the way – did you get a vibe from the barmaid?”
“A vibe?”
“You know – an ‘on our team’ vibe.” Stevie narrowed her eyes conspiratorially as s
he said this.
Vic flicked her gaze up to the bar and studied the barmaid for a minute, then shook her head. “Nah, I don’t think they allow lesbians this far west, do they?”
“Ha ha,” said Stevie. “Bet you a fiver she is.”
Vic arched an eyebrow. “You going to ask her?”
“Not tonight, but maybe tomorrow.” Stevie yawned. “Anyway, here’s to a fab reunion.” She held up her glass for Vic to chink.
“Let’s hope it’s not as eventful as the last one...”
“I’m kinda hoping it might be.”
The Collection
“You ate what?" Tash turned in the passenger seat as Laura guided the car back onto the A38.
In the back, Geri folded her leather jacket on the seat beside her.
“Nice jacket by the way – very lady-killer.”
“That’s the idea.” Geri smiled, smoothing out her jeans with both palms. “It was salmon with pea shoots, crème fraiche and mint, pureed till it tasted odd and piped into posh bread. At least they’re trying.”
“Got to be better than my sandwich, which just tasted of fridge. I know it comes chilled, but I want it to taste of something other than chilled.”
“Does chilled have a taste?” Geri asked.
“Yes, motorway services sandwiches.” Tash turned back to face front.
“I told her to make her own before we left, because this happens every time.” Laura flicked her eyes up to the mirror as she gave Geri a grin.
“We should so open a sandwich shop in motorway services that actually sells tasty stuff. We’d make a mint.” It was a comment Tash made on practically every journey. “Besides, I wasn’t making sandwiches today. We’re on holiday and we’re childless.”
Geri leant forward and put one hand on the shoulder of the driver’s seat, the other on the shoulder of the passenger’s seat.
“Well, I only had one person to buy for and it was shit – they always are. The wine, however – that was tasty. As was the Double Decker I got to go with it.” Geri grinned, showing a wonky front tooth.
