by Jen Silver
“Have you been here before?” Dani asked when there was a pause in the music. It would, she thought, be Camila’s type of place. Very civilised; the kind of clientele whose adverts in the personal columns would say they liked walking and going to the theatre, and of course, had a GSOH. No mention of what they really wanted, or why would they be advertising in the first place?
“No. Never. I only went to a club once. The Gateways. That’s where I met Allison.”
Oh shit, thought Dani. Who is Allison? She had to ask. “Who’s Allison?”
“She was my lover for ten years. She’s dead.”
“I’m sorry.” Dani tried to look sympathetic.
“It’s three years ago now, since she died.”
“Have you had any lovers since then?”
“No, not really.”
Dani decided that probably meant yes, but not anyone who mattered. They had another dance before leaving. When the taxi stopped outside Camila’s flat, in one of the mansion blocks facing Battersea Park, Dani asked, “Do you want me to come in?”
“Yes, please.” Camila fumbled in her bag for her keys while Dani paid off the driver.
The flat was, in a way, what Dani expected. Very tidy, lots of books all neatly ordered on shelves. A vase holding a dozen red roses dominated the uncluttered mantelpiece. Her flowers, she realised, with a jolt.
“I’ll make some coffee,” Camila said, slipping her shoes off.
“No. I mean, it’s okay. I don’t want any coffee.”
“It’s been a great evening, Dani.”
“Better than you expected?”
“No, I didn’t mean that. I didn’t know what to expect. You’re so…different.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s why it won’t work, will it?” she said quietly.
“What do you mean?” Camila was alert now; she had been half-asleep in the taxi, resting her head on Dani’s shoulder. It had felt very comfortable.
“Well, we could go to bed, have a good fuck, but that’s as far as it goes, right? I can’t see you wanting to introduce me to any of your friends.”
Camila stared at her. Dani’s eyes were fixated on the carpet. “So what is important to you? Taking me to bed or meeting my friends? Shall I call a few of them now?”
“You know what I mean. We’re too different.”
“We’re not that different. Or we wouldn’t have got this far.” Dani still wasn’t looking at her. The silence lengthened between them. Finally, Camila said, “I’m going to bed now. You can join me, or not. Because, believe it or not, I’m not interested in your mind. I just want a good fuck.” She went into her bedroom, leaving the door ajar. Camila didn’t realise she was shaking until she sat on her bed. What on earth had made her say that when all she had wanted to do was have Dani kiss her again and hold her?
†
Dani let herself out of the flat and walked down the stairs out onto the street. Of all the different scenarios that had played through her mind during the afternoon, this one hadn’t even occurred to her. She must be going soft in the head. Any other time, any other woman, she would have been in bed with her right now, fucking her brains out. Why was this different? What did she care what Camila thought about her? Not Camila’s friends; Camila herself?
The Albert Bridge, lit up like a wedding cake decoration, passed under her feet; she turned left automatically along Cheyne Walk and on to Fulham. It was Friday night, after midnight, and the streets were busy. Some people were just emerging to go to the clubs, a mingling of lifestyles: the clubbers, the aimless, the homeless, and the workers. Dani was cruised twice by working girls; she just shook her head and walked on through the night.
She was footsore by the time Hammersmith Bridge came into view. Once on the Mall, Dani stopped to look at the river. Seeing the river, her river, always lifted her spirits. The walk was easy now. Past The Dove, past the rowing club, past The Old Ship. She slowed down as she neared The Black Lion and sat for a while on the wall under the weeping willow tree. It was a beautiful night, calm, clear. And she felt calm herself, at last; emotionally drained.
With a sigh, she managed the next few yards to her front door and oblivion.
†
After tossing and turning for an hour, Camila gave up and stumbled into the bathroom. She found the sleeping pills in the cabinet and checked the expiry date. For a long time after Allison’s death, she had been dependent on the pills to get a good night’s sleep. But she’d managed to wean herself off them over a year ago.
Two months out of date. Well, the pills didn’t know that, so she swallowed two and washed them down with a glass of water.
Sleep didn’t come immediately after she lay back down, and she thought maybe the pills wouldn’t work after all. She should have trusted the label. The nearest all-night pharmacy was probably somewhere in the West End. Or would she have to go to a hospital? Which was closest, the Royal Brompton or St Thomas’s? That was her last conscious thought until she turned over and the bedside clock showed it was after nine.
Saturday morning and she had no particular reason to get up and start the day, but lounging about in bed wasn’t her style. She had always been an early riser. Sometimes at the start of her relationship with Allison, they had lingered in bed on the weekend.
Camila stood in her kitchen and gazed out over the park. The trees were in full leaf now, but from her third-floor vantage point, she could see the green expanse of grass beyond already crowded with people determined to take advantage of a warm day in June, a hopeful start to summer.
While the kettle boiled she spooned coffee into the cafetière, or french press, as her father insisted it was called.
She retrieved the paper that had been delivered to her door and settled down in the living room with her coffee and toast. Ignoring the news section, she went straight to the business pages to check out the state of the markets. But even this normally absorbing pastime failed to block out memories of the night before.
What had gone wrong? Whatever their differences may be, she couldn’t deny her attraction to Dani. The champagne at dinner had gone to her head. However, by the time they had danced for a while, she was clear-headed enough to know she wanted Dani to stay the night.
Conversation at dinner had been stilted to begin with when Dani started asking about her family. It had got easier when they moved on to general topics and she found Dani was as knowledgeable about current affairs as she was the arts.
When she mentioned Allison at the club, perhaps that was when Dani’s interest in her had waned. Maybe she’d thought it wasn’t worth competing with a dead lover.
Or was her closeted lifestyle that had put Dani off? Would she only ever feel comfortable going out with someone who dressed like a man, continuing to fool people into thinking she was straight?
She couldn’t even contemplate coming out at work. The thought of telling either of the Redmond brothers she was a lesbian made her feel sick. Although sometimes she had caught looks passing between them in meetings that made her think they suspected the truth.
Living with Allison had been so easy. She couldn’t recall now who had told her about the Gateways Club. In a way, finding it had been a relief, but she didn’t feel comfortable watching women openly dancing closely together, bodies touching, kissing. She had decided to have one drink and leave.
A young woman stood next to her at the bar, also sipping a drink tentatively. She was taller than Camila, but then most people were, and had wavy dark hair that fell over one eye. The eye she could see was a deep blue. The woman brushed at her hair self-consciously when she caught Camila looking.
“Is this your first time?” she’d asked with a smile.
“Yes. And probably my last,” Camila had replied. “Not really my scene.”
“Hm. I know what you mean. I thought I should try it, but now that I’m here….” She left the sentence trailing.
The next song from the jukebox was one Camila recognised and she started tapping her foot in
time with the music.
“Do you want to dance to this one?”
Camila hesitated briefly before nodding and allowing herself to be led onto the dance floor. She found her body moving fluidly against the other woman’s and it felt good.
When she said she was going to leave after they’d shared a few dances, the woman offered to go with her. Once out on the street, they started walking down the King’s Road in search of taxis. Allison then introduced herself and suggested, as it was still early, that they find a quiet pub for another drink before parting ways.
That had been the beginning. They started to see each other, meeting for dinner once a week at first.
Her coffee had gone cold and she went back into the kitchen to reheat it. The sky had clouded over and it looked like it might rain. She sighed and wondered how she was going to fill the day. There was probably a spreadsheet that needed tweaking. Losing herself in numbers was the only way she was going to get both Allison and Dani out of her thoughts.
†
Dani put the finishing touches to the storyboard. The positive outcome of having a free weekend was catching up on her freelance work. The client had been waiting a few weeks for this one but hadn’t put any pressure on her, so she was pleased to have completed it before that happened.
She picked up the phone to call Jan, then put it down again. The idea of making the delivery herself took hold. It would help stave off the loneliness of a Saturday night on her own.
The afternoon rain had eased and the two-mile walk was pleasantly refreshing with the scents of flowering shrubs and well-tended gardens of the houses she passed. Reaching the corner of Grove Park Terrace, Dani looked at the imposing structure and hoped the boys were in. If they were hosting a dinner party, it wouldn’t be starting until much later and they rarely went out for a meal before ten o’clock. It was only six thirty now.
She pushed the doorbell and smiled as a gothic-sounding gong reverberated in the hallway. The man who opened the door was wearing a dressing gown and nothing else if the amount of chest hair showing was anything to go by. He gave her a wide smile.
“Hello, darling. Do come in.”
“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
“Not at all, sweetie. Just trying to decide what to wear for an evening of fun and frolics later.”
A disembodied voice called out, “Who is it?”
“DBS delivering in person,” he called over his shoulder before turning back to Dani. “Come on in. I want to see what you’ve brought us. The maid is mixing drinks as we speak.”
She followed him into their living room, where his partner was indeed standing by the cocktail cabinet dressed in a maid’s outfit; complete with a little white hat perched on his blond hair. He grinned at her.
“Can I tempt you to a small cocktail, or would you prefer a beer?”
“Beer, please.”
He sniffed. “Such a pleb. You will be getting it in a glass, though.”
She laughed as she sat on one of the leather sofas. “I know. What would the neighbours think if they saw me drinking out of a can?”
Several glasses of beer later, she left the house, content with their approval of the artwork. Despite the ease of their companionship, she hadn’t felt able to ask for information on the subject that was still foremost in her mind. But the woman was so self-contained, particularly in her work persona, that it was possible they didn’t know that much about their employee anyway.
†
Her Sunday routine of reading the papers, going for a walk in the park, and cleaning the kitchen and the bathroom only took half the morning. Camila thought about going out for brunch just to have some human interaction.
There had been a message from Chris on her answerphone when she got back from her walk. She deleted it. Chris might still be entertaining thoughts of going to bed with her again, but Camila knew that wasn’t what she wanted. She wasn’t going to play the other woman in that relationship. Although she’d never had much rapport with Deborah, she didn’t want to cause her any distress. Starting anything long-term with Chris wasn’t something she was going to pursue. Chris might be comfortable with having an open relationship, but Camila thought that only worked if the other partner was also playing the game. She was pretty sure Deborah wasn’t really into it.
Allison had experienced no difficulty talking to Deborah. But she’d always been more outgoing than Camila. With her job as a mental health nurse, she had a broad understanding of the human psyche and often teased Camila for her occasional lack of insight. Particularly when someone was flirting with her and Camila failed to pick up on the cues.
It was a different matter when it came to business. Sitting around a boardroom table, she had no trouble recognising the games being played. Her male counterparts often underestimated her ability to read a situation, mistakenly thinking they could intimidate her with a barrage of facts and figures.
Rain started lashing the windows, so she decided against going out again. Instead, she retrieved the small photo album from her desk drawer and sat in her chair, cradling it in her arms. These were the only photos she had of Allison, taken during their last holiday together. Allison’s family had taken the rest, mementos of their ten years. No doubt, cutting her out of the photos as completely as they had cut her out of Allison’s life…and death.
She only had these photos because the film was being developed and Camila had the receipt in her bag to be able to retrieve them. As well as denying their relationship, Allison’s family had denied her a focus for her grief. There was no grave for her to visit. Her lover’s body had been cremated and the ashes given to her family. Allison hadn’t made a will. Neither of them had, but you didn’t consider your mortality in your twenties and thirties. You didn’t expect to go to work in the morning and not return that evening.
Scanning newspaper reports for information after Allison’s death, she had only managed to find out that a patient, not named, had stopped taking their medication and was somehow able to obtain a knife. The hospital was absolved of any negligence.
Sighing, she put the album back in the drawer, unopened. Wallowing in self-pity was no way to spend a wet Sunday afternoon. She reached for the newspaper sections spread out on the coffee table and selected the TV guide. Maybe there was a film she could lose herself in, for a few hours at least.
†
Dani loaded the washing machine and started the wash cycle. Her clothes may be faded and worn-looking, but despite what Gordon thought, they were clean.
The Sunday paper hadn’t held much of interest. Glancing through the Arts pages, she thought of popping into the Royal Academy to check out the Summer Exhibition. But summoning the energy to go into the West End was proving difficult. She considered taking her bike out for a ride, but when the rain started pelting down, that idea went out the window too.
She wondered what Camila was doing. Had she been wrong to walk out on her on Friday? Were their differences irreconcilable, or was her insecurity just taking hold?
Sending flowers might not work a second time. Would Camila be willing to give her another chance? It didn’t seem likely after her dramatic exit. Best to forget the whole thing.
Chapter Eight
It was 11:00 p.m. by the bedside clock—11:03 to be precise. Dani was spreadeagled face down across the bed, handcuffed to the headboard. Lisa was somewhere in the room, preparing to give her the thrashing she desired. Or so she had thought.
Something was wrong. By now she should be wetter than a summer’s day in Edinburgh. When Lisa had called earlier, she had jumped on the phone, thinking it might be Camila. And she had likewise jumped at the chance to come over to Lisa’s and take her mind off Camila for a few hours.
“Lisa,” she called.
“Don’t be impatient.” Lisa stroked the riding crop gently across Dani’s buttocks.
“I’m not impatient. Take the cuffs off.”
“You haven’t said the word.”
“Fuck
that, Lisa. I’m not in the mood for games.”
“You should have thought of that earlier.”
Dani pulled at her restraints, but it was no use. She was well and truly secured. “Lisa!”
Lisa sighed. Then her tits brushed across Dani’s back as she leant over to unlock the cuffs. Dani crawled off the bed and rubbed her wrists. “Sorry, babe.” She started pulling on her clothes. “I just can’t do it tonight.”
Lisa stood in front of her when she was fully dressed and looked up into her face. “What’s the matter, Dani?”
Dani shrugged. She couldn’t meet Lisa’s gaze.
“It’s her, isn’t it? This Camila woman.”
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Jesus, Dani. You’re not going vanilla on me, are you?”
“No, I….”
“Are you thinking about her now? Look at me, Dani.”
Reluctantly Dani met her eyes. Lisa stepped back. Without warning she struck Dani hard across the face with the crop and ran out of the room.
Dani grabbed her jacket and left.
†
Dani didn’t know the time exactly, she thought it was after one o’clock in the morning; her watch was next to the digital clock on Lisa’s bedside table. And that seemed like an eternity away.
The cash she’d had when she left Lisa’s was gone too; on the drinks she had bought at the second club she’d visited. The first one hadn’t let her in. However, the second was having a mixed leather/rubber fetish night. She had been cruised by both men and women, attracted no doubt by the macho-looking welt across her cheek.
