by Anna Larner
“Right. Blimey.”
“I shouldn’t have said yes. What was I thinking? We need to cancel. We can’t go, Eve. It will be awkward, really awkward.”
Oh my God. They blame me, don’t they? Eve’s heart surged and pounded with panic. But then why invite me to lunch? Am I missing something? “So how did they take it when you told them?”
Moira shook her head. “They don’t know.”
“They don’t know?” Eve wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “You mean about us?”
“About anything.”
“What, not even about John leaving? But won’t they have guessed that something’s wrong? I can’t believe Alice hasn’t told them—”
“I begged her not to say anything. It’s not unusual for John to work away.”
Eve, dumbfounded, stood and joined Moira at her side. She placed her hand on Moira’s forearm and said, carefully, “Yeah, that’s kind of a lot to ask of her—”
“It’s important to me that I tell them myself!” Moira took a deep breath to steady herself. “I’m sorry, Eve, I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you. It’s just I haven’t been able to find the right time, because I know that once I tell them about John leaving then they’ll ask why he left—it’ll all come out. Everything.”
“Everything? So they never knew about Iris? But they have her photo—I just assumed—”
“For Alice. We put it there for Alice.”
Eve looked at Moira’s anguished face. “Right. I see. So they have no idea at all about you?”
Moira shrugged. “It never came up.”
“Yeah, the whole I’m gay thing rarely just comes up in conversation.”
With a weariness that seemed to weigh down her words, Moira said, exasperated, “You don’t understand, Eve.”
“What’s there to understand? They love you. You love them. I’m sure they’ll just want you to be happy, Moira.” Eve gesticulated with her toothbrush as she spoke.
Moira snapped, “That may be the case in your world, where everything’s so simple, so—”
Eve gasped. “My world?”
Moira shook her head. “Look, let’s not talk about it.”
“But if we’re having lunch with them…?”
Moira walked off to the sunroom. “We’re cancelling.” She paced up and down, shaking her head. “I can’t do this, I can’t.”
Eve called after her, “It’s okay. Surely, we don’t have to cancel—we just need a plan. If you can’t face telling them yet, then all we need to do is agree why I’ve come up. If you want we can just be friends until you talk to—”
“Friends? We’re hardly friends, Eve.”
Eve looked into the sunroom, to Moira refilling the pots with yesterday’s spilt pebbles and soil. Yeah, but I’m not exactly your girlfriend either, am I? Eve sat pensively on the edge of Moira’s sofa, feeling the adrenaline high of her rush to Moira draining away.
A terrible, silent five minutes passed. Eve had honestly never felt so alone. She folded her arms across her chest and fixed her concentration on the floor. She traced the edges of the floorboards, the indents of half-moon holes left by wood knots, the swirling patterns of the grain. The dried drips of wood stain—a silent reminder of work undertaken, of the life lived before her. Eve held her body taut, almost as if relaxing would be the end of it all.
Moira appeared in the sunroom doorway. Her words, as if sodden with pain and sadness, sank heavy into the sitting room air.
“I can’t bring myself to tell them. They’ll know I’ve lied to them. I let them think that Iris and I were just friends, that I married John because I loved him.” Moira’s face creased with pain. “So much deceit, so many lies.”
“No, Moira.” Eve rushed across the room to Moira and held her tightly, rubbing her back, soothing her. “You didn’t set out to deceive them, to hurt them. They’ll know that. My guess is that they won’t think you’ve lied to them. All they’ll know is that you couldn’t tell them the truth.”
“You think?”
“I’m certain.”
“I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“The beginning is normally a good place to start. Look, I can help you tell them, if you like.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll talk to them.” Moira stroked Eve’s cheek. “Soon. I promise.”
Eve nodded. “Okay.”
“You really want to go to lunch?” Moira asked, a smile at the edge of her lips.
Eve shrugged. “Well now I know they don’t hate me—yet.”
“Something tells me you’re not that easy to hate.”
“No?”
Moira’s slipped her arms around Eve. “No.”
“So was that our first row?” Eve asked, her cheeks tingling with the fading glow of confrontation.
With a soft kiss on Eve’s neck, Moira whispered, “I like you wearing my jumper.” Moira eased her hands beneath the jumper and lifted it over her head. “But I like it even better when you’re not.”
Eve stood just in her knickers. Moira cupped Eve’s breasts and kissed them.
Eve held Moira’s head with both hands, breathlessly asking, “So everything’s okay. With us. Moira?”
“You taste soapy,” Moira said with her face buried in Eve’s chest.
Eve lifted Moira’s face to hers. “You can talk to me about things, you know.”
Moira nodded, her eyes cloudy in the first mists of passion.
Eve kissed Moira. It was a kiss she hoped would say to Moira, I am here for you. All of me. Eve felt her legs weaken as Moira returned her kiss deeply.
“And toothpaste, you taste of toothpaste too,” Moira said, running her tongue over her lips and smiling.
Eve brushed at Moira’s mouth with her thumb. “Come with me?” Eve said softly, as she slipped her hand into Moira’s and led her upstairs to the bedroom.
Eve stood by the bed, half-naked, her body pressed close against Moira’s. She felt Moira’s hands against her bottom, pressing her yet closer still. Eve struggled to catch her breath, the air suddenly too thin—she was at altitude, heady, high with Moira.
Eve held Moira’s intense gaze as she undid each button of Moira’s shirt, slowly, deliberately, almost as if she was releasing the chains that had bound Moira for so long. Eve bit her lip at the sight of Moira’s soft breasts rising and falling, at Moira’s aroused nipples. She felt on the emotional edge with Moira, the dizzying feelings so intense.
Moira shrugged her shirt to the floor, and Eve reached behind Moira to unclasp her bra. Moira released a whimper as Eve caressed Moira’s naked breasts, Eve’s lips soft and warm against Moira’s skin, her tongue teasing, licking, sucking.
Eve could feel Moira’s fingers stroking at the nape of her neck before Moira’s hands slipped beneath Eve’s knickers to rest against her naked bottom.
“You’re everything to me,” Eve whispered, as she undid the zip of Moira’s trousers and eased them down her thighs.
Silently, Moira stepped out of her trousers, moved towards the bed, and lay down, removing her knickers, as Eve discarded hers.
Eve lay on top of Moira, her mouth searching out Moira’s as if Moira’s lips would quench her thirst. Eve could feel Moira’s body beneath her, restless, writhing with pleasure.
“I want to know what you taste like,” Eve said in between kisses that made their way down to between Moira’s legs.
In steady rhythms, matched by the motion of Moira moving against her, Eve immersed herself in Moira, losing herself completely.
Eve’s tongue then traced its way from inside Moira to the smoothness of her inner thigh, to the curve of her stomach, to the swell of her chest. Eve sought Moira’s neck, kissing, licking at her skin, as her hand slipped between Moira’s legs.
Moira arched her hips into Eve as Eve pressed deeply, rhythmically inside Moira. She could feel Moira’s body push against her for one last time, and then sink, spent beneath her.
Eve held Moira until their breathing calmed and the heat of
their passion cooled.
And as the morning sun rose yet further in the sky, Moira asked, her head rested against Eve’s chest, “What do I taste like?”
“Like Newland,” Eve said sleepily. “You taste like Newland.”
Chapter Twenty-three
“Welcome, both. Welcome,” Elizabeth called down the lane, appearing from behind her cottage wall.
“Hello.” Moira raised her hand and waved. Moira glanced to her side at Eve, who was blushing and waving. It was impossible for Moira not to feel joy and pride at the sight of her.
Moira handed Elizabeth a bouquet of flowers from her garden. Her gesture was met with a long, tight hug.
Elizabeth smiled broadly at Moira. “Thank you. Just beautiful. And, Eve, how wonderful to see you again.” Elizabeth held Eve’s hands and kissed her lightly on her cheek.
“Hi,” Eve said, with a self-conscious smile. “Thank you for your lovely invitation.”
“Well, we would have been very disappointed to have missed seeing you again. Shall we?” With effortless grace, Elizabeth tucked her arm into Eve’s and guided her inside the cottage.
Moira just caught the words, “I hope you’re hungry,” as she followed behind.
Elizabeth and Angus’s Sunday lunches had a warmth and familiarity about them that made Moira feel safe, reassured. The vegetables were always from their garden, and they took great trouble to source the rest of their meal from local producers. As a child Moira had spent many a Saturday with Elizabeth at the local market, or standing in the slurry of a farmyard with Angus puffing on his pipe, chatting to the farmer and his wife.
“She slept with that ewe for three nights until it lambed, three nights in the barn, in the hay. I knew from that day she would be a crofter, a woman of the land. She was ten, Eve, ten.” Angus puffed proudly on his empty pipe.
Eve nodded, looking across to Moira who seemed embarrassed.
Eve took a large slug of her wine, catching Angus’s eye and blushing as he smiled back at her.
“I’ll help you with the dishes.” Moira gathered the plates from the table.
Eve rose to lend a hand.
“No, no, stay, you are our guest.” Elizabeth disappeared into the kitchen with Moira. “Pudding won’t be long.”
In the kitchen pouring cream into a jug, Elizabeth asked, “So, how is everything?”
Moira slipped the plates into the suds foaming in the washing-up bowl, her hands turning pink in the hot water.
“We missed you and John at the meeting Wednesday. Margaret had got quite a bee in her bonnet, really, I think John is the only one who can settle her—”
“He’s left.” The words fell from Moira’s lips as if they had been teetering there perilously.
“Left?” Elizabeth set the cream jug aside.
“We’ve called it a day.”
“I’m so sorry, Moira.” Elizabeth steadied herself against the worktop.
“Don’t be, it’s fine. I’m fine.”
“Why didn’t you tell us? And poor Alice—how is she coping?”
Moira sighed. “I don’t know. We’re struggling to talk.”
“Oh, Moira, I wish you’d felt able to say something. You shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”
“I’m not.”
“Oh.” Elizabeth’s gaze fell away to the dining room, to Eve.
“I mean, I have you and Angus, and Alice, of course.” Moira’s heart thumped so fast it hurt. She felt her eyes smart.
“Of course,” Elizabeth said. “You know how we feel about you, don’t you? You’re in every way our daughter.”
“I know.” Moira held Elizabeth’s soft bone-white hands in hers. “And you’re in every way my mother.” Moira choked back tears as she pulled Elizabeth into her. “I love you, old lady.” Moira could feel Elizabeth’s delicate frame in her arms.
“It’s lucky we had the main course.” An impatient Angus called into the kitchen from the dining room.
“Well, we have been summoned. I hope Eve likes rice pudding—”
“Wait. There’s something else…I…I like her. Eve, that is.”
“So do we, Moira.”
Moira shook her head. “No—that’s not what I mean. I want you to know that I really like her.” Moira dropped her chin into her neck, only for it to be lifted by Elizabeth, who brushed Moira’s newly tear-stained face with the tea towel.
Elizabeth tightly held Moira’s hands, the tenderness of her expression and the firmness of her hold reassuring Moira of the strength of her love.
“Let’s take this through, shall we?” Elizabeth suggested, smoothing her apron flat against her waist. “After you.”
Moira nodded. There was no plan for what she had said and now no plan for what she would feel.
“Do you cook, Eve?” Angus asked, pouring Eve another glass of wine.
“Yes, just simple stuff. I particularly like to bake.” Eve looked at Moira and smiled as Moira sat down next to her.
Moira looked away from Eve, certain that if she caught her eye her best efforts not to break down would be undone.
“Aye. And you enjoy your work?”
Eve nodded, swallowing a large glug of wine. “Yes. I work in a library.”
Angus took a sip of his water. “Aye. Very good. Betty loves to read—”
“What’s that?” Elizabeth arrived at the table, oven gloves gripped around a large glass dish, brimming with bubbling rice pudding.
“I was telling Eve how much you like to read,” Angus said with an admiring smile.
“Oh yes, I’m quite the bookworm. There’s nothing I enjoy more than to be taken on a magical adventure by a good book. I’m not sure Angus understands.”
“Not at all, I just don’t need books to whisk me away when I have you.”
“Stop that nonsense, I’m sure Eve doesn’t want to hear—”
“She has been my magical adventure, Eve. My embarkation and now my destination.”
Elizabeth shook her head at a beaming Angus.
“That’s beautiful, Angus,” Eve said, wistfully.
Angus looked across at Eve and smiled.
Eve took another large slug of her wine. “That’s how I want to feel about someone one day.”
“I’m sure you will, Eve,” Angus said with a soft kindness to his voice.
“I hope so,” Eve said.
In that moment, Moira had no sense of what she wanted. She sat at the table, absently watching Angus and Elizabeth chatting, sharing their stories, and laughing with Eve. All Moira could think about was all that had been lost, all Iris had lost, their love, omitted, invisible in the closeted silence. Moira’s heart ached for all the invitations for two Elizabeth would have been delighted to send, if only she’d known she could, for Iris’s unspilt laughter to the jokes that Angus never told, and for the bracing hilltop Newland paths that Iris never walked, her breath untaken by the view she never saw. It was all too late and all too sad for words. Moira looked at the pictures on the sideboard, and her gaze fixed itself to the snap of Iris. Iris…
Elizabeth caught Moira’s eye. “I’m going to dish up some pudding for Alice. Will you take it with you, Moira? I know it’s not much, but it’s a start. Poor thing.”
Angus and Eve looked up.
Eve turned to Moira and whispered, “Is everything okay?”
*
It was early evening before Moira and Eve returned home. Dusk had begun to shroud Newland in a hazy half-light, and Eve could sense that Moira’s mood had fallen silent, introverted.
“You were quick. Did Alice like her pudding?” Eve followed Moira into the garden.
“She wasn’t about. I just left it in the fridge.”
“Are you okay?”
Moira closed the henhouse. She didn’t say anything.
“You know, I never actually told my family that I was gay,” Eve revealed, watching the hens pecking at their food. “Roxanne blurted it out to Esther one day. Esther told my parents. My mum Googled lesb
ian and that was that. I hadn’t said a word. Crazy, hey? Moira?”
“I’m tired, Eve. I can’t chat now.” Moira went into the sitting room, turned on a side lamp, poured herself a whisky, and sank into the single chair.
Eve curled up on the sofa opposite. The room felt cold. Eve half expected Moira to light a fire or something but she just sat absently nursing her drink.
Moira’s silence frightened Eve. “Are you cross with me that I encouraged you to tell them?” It was the only reason that Eve could think of that might explain Moira’s sombre mood. Had she overstepped the mark in trying to help and had Moira resented it?
“What?” Moira shook her head. “No. Look, let’s go to bed.”
“Oh, right. An early night.” Eve winked mischievously, hoping to lighten the mood.
Moira gave Eve a blank look in response and turned away to turn off the lamp, plunging Eve into darkness.
Moira silently got undressed, went into the bathroom, and closed the door.
Eve lay under the bedclothes and shivered.
The sheets felt cold. Eve shivered again. I wonder if Moira has an electric blanket? Eve rummaged around the sides of Moira’s bedding, finding a T-shirt under her pillow.
“Can I borrow your T-shirt?” Eve called through to the bathroom and received no reply. She pulled on the T-shirt, squinting at her chest to read the faded writing. Is that an S?
“What are you doing?” Moira reappeared in the bedroom.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I was cold.”
“Take it off,” Moira said sharply, her tone colder than the room.
Eve quickly pulled the T-shirt off. Resting the T-shirt on the bed sheet, Eve felt sick as she read the back. The Bells.
Eve stammered, “I’m so sorry, Moira, I didn’t realize—really I didn’t. I wouldn’t have put it on had I known. I wouldn’t be that disrespectful, really.”
All of the warmth, the life, seemed to drain from Moira’s face. She looked at Eve as if Eve was a stranger, trespassing, unwelcome, and intruding where she was not wanted.
Eve quickly folded the T-shirt, put it back under the pillow, and tucked the bedclothes close around her. She felt her pillow dampen at the side of her face.
