Kit whistled. “I see why she suddenly popped up on your radar.”
“Yep. That was when I allowed myself to look at her without the bitter assumption of ‘Why bother, I can never have her,’ and mate, my heart nearly pounded itself out of my ribcage.”
“Aww.”
“Don’t get sappy on me, Kit. It’s just that she was so exuberant and cheeky. Plus, she was kind and helpful even when she didn’t have to be. She was always laughing, always dancing, and always seeing the silver lining. She was like unadulterated sunshine poured into a sexy twenty-four-year-old woman.”
“So you spoke to her?”
“No, no, not at all,” Shannon muttered. “She might like women, but I still saw myself as too old and too dull for her. Not everyone who’s gay likes someone as butch as me either.”
“Hang on, you do know that you’re both cool and hot, right?”
“Nice of you to say so, Kit, but don’t interrupt the story.”
“Fine, sorry! Anyway, now it’s common knowledge that butch women are Rach’s weakness.”
Shannon’s sudden grin was as smug as it was heartfelt. “Yep, but back then I didn’t know that. Nor did I know if I only liked her because she was charming and gay. I decided to wait.”
Kit lounged against a shelf and rested her chin on her fist. “Okay. Then what?”
“Then my team won the match. We all went into the changing room to shower off the mud, sweat, and rain. Man, every muscle in my body was stiff.”
“I get that. Move on to the romance part.”
Shannon rolled her eyes. “Calm down, I’m getting to it. Over the other women’s chatting and showering, I heard someone in one of the booths shouting, ‘This shower feels so good I want to shag it!’ at the top of her lungs.”
Kit sniggered. “Let me guess—Rach, and she didn’t say ‘shag’ but something worse.”
“Oh, she used the f-word as usual, all right. Even though she hadn’t played, she’d decided to wash the rain off and warm up. Kit… the moans and pleasured whimpers she emitted in that damn shower booth, not caring who heard her or what they thought.” Shannon laughed quietly and shook her head to herself. “I dropped my towel on the bench as it hit me: I had to get to know this woman, even if it was only as a friend.”
“So, what then? Tell me more!”
“After we’d all showered and changed, people started to head for home. I stayed behind and took the risk. I told Rach that I was impressed by how she’d handled No-Homo Julie. I threw in that I was never that good at dealing with that sort of thing.”
“Ah, to send out the signal that you were a fellow sapphic.”
“Sapphic?” Shannon looked like she was trying to remember something long ago forgotten.
“Yeah,” Kit said. “It’s one of the terms we can use for women who are into women. To avoid excluding the women-loving women who aren’t lesbians, like Laura who’s just come out as bisexual.”
“Right! I knew I’d heard it. Sorry, I’m not as young as the rest of you, so I grew up with fewer words to describe people. I get confused. But I’m trying to learn and be respectful.”
Kit smiled to show she wasn’t trying to preach. “That’s all you can ask of someone.”
“I like to think so,” Shannon said with a smile of her own. “Actually, Rach wasn’t sure if she was into all genders or just women when she was younger. That’s why she wasn’t out as a lesbian until she was twenty-four and telling No-Homo Julie off on the cricket grounds. Hence why I hadn’t heard the rumours about a new gay on the island.”
“So now you had something to chat about,” Kit said, eager to hear the rest of the story.
“Yep. We stood under the awning of the ladies’ changing rooms and talked for almost an hour, despite the cold,” Shannon said with a sentimental chuckle. “I told her how I’d only dated women on the mainland and thought no one else here was a lesbian—I mean, sapphic. She talked about how the blokes on the island refused to believe that a feminine, flirty woman like her could be gay and how she hated that. Time flew.”
Kit moved closer. “Then?”
“She got cold. I gave her my jacket. She said she liked the way it smelled. You know, normal flirting.”
Kit squashed a squeal. “I love this romantic stuff! Then what?”
Shannon looked embarrassed by the attention all of a sudden. “I drove her home, and we talked more. It was only the next day she admitted that she’d driven to the match. She hadn’t needed a lift after all but wanted more time with me. About a week later, we were a couple.”
“That’s so sweet! You’re great together, and in my opinion,” she gave Shannon a careful glance, “you’ve always been the most stable couple on Greengage.”
Shannon ran a hand over her face. “And now you want to know what’s changed. Meaning I can no longer stay away from the topic of why I’ve been strange around Rachel?”
“I do want to know, yes. She says you’re still acting angry by being distant. You know, weirdly polite and not romantic or intimate at all. She’s freaking out about what she’s done.”
“I know.” Shannon groaned. “I shouldn’t torment her like this. It’s just that I don’t know how to talk to her about it. We’ve always had such perfect communication, but this has hit right in my weak spot.”
“Which is?”
“My insecurities, I suppose.”
Kit put an arm around Shannon’s shoulder but removed it when the other woman tensed. “Mate, we all have insecurities and things that are hard to talk about. Especially in regards to the person we love. Maybe it would be easier to discuss it with me?”
“I’m not sure I should tell you.” Shannon hesitated. “Or anyone else.”
“Come on. Go oooon.” Kit pushed her elbow. “Tell me. I’ll keep it a secret if you want.”
“Fine. I’ll tell you.” Shannon closed her eyes, as if to protect them from the words about to come out of her mouth. “It all happened on that night when Rach got so terribly drunk.”
Kit checked that the library was still quiet and then rested back against the shelf. This story was probably going to be long and would need all of her attention.
Chapter Nineteen
Sugared Candlesticks, an Heiress, and Skunks
The first of July had introduced itself with the fanfare of a thunderstorm lasting most of the night, leaving the morning air heavy and thick like treacle. It was a Sunday, so Kit was heading to Howard Hall to try for some quality time with Laura. Sadly, when she used her key to let herself in, she ran into the wrong Howard.
Maximillian stood staring at a mahogany table as if it confused him. Kit gave a discreet cough to ensure she didn’t scare him. He spun around until he could locate the source of the cough. This took a good thirty seconds more than it would most people. “Ah, Susan. Back from your travels, I see. How are you? How was Bulgaria?”
With great restraint, Kit managed not to whine or roll her eyes. The situation would be funny if she wasn’t so tired of trying to explain who she was and what she did.
“Bulgaria was brilliant!” she improvised. “Some pretty landscapes out there with all those purple trees. I rode an antelope and ate sugared candlesticks, you know, their national dish.”
It was a childish outburst of sarcasm, and she fully expected negative consequences. However, Maximillian merely smiled at her and said, “Jolly good! Now help me move Great-Uncle Godwin’s table. It should be facing the window.”
Kit gaped. He either hadn’t been listening, or he was really so away with the fairies that he had no concept of the complete nonsense she’d just spouted at him. Either way, she had no idea what to say now. Especially not as trying to put the large table Maximillian was pointing to—Great-Uncle Godwin’s or not—so that it faced the window would mean blocking the only door into the room.
She decided to distract him before he wrecked another part of this beautiful, old house that meant so much to Laura. Taking his arm, she led him away from the
room. “Why don’t we leave that for later? I’m sure we have lots to discuss. By the way, where’s Laura?”
“Oh, the dear girl went down to the kitchen. I think she said she was going to discuss the week’s menu with… someone.”
“Probably the chef, Mrs Smith.”
“Who’s a metal smith?” he said, busy checking his phone.
“Never mind,” Kit said, patting the thick arm linked with hers. “We’ll head down there then.”
He put his phone back in his jacket pocket, tripping over a threshold. “Splendid idea, Susan.”
“Kit,” she said mechanically.
He knitted his white, bushy eyebrows. “Pardon? A kit? What kit? As in a set of clothing or as in the progeny of a fox?” Those immense eyebrows of his squished together even closer. “Or wait, are not the young of skunks, beavers, and badgers also called kits?”
“Kit as in me,” she explained. “It’s my name.”
Maximillian gave her a bored look as soon as it was clear this wasn’t a chat about animals and then moved his gaze to a nearby window. “This weather is appalling. That thunderstorm last night kept me awake.”
That answered the question of what was at the root of his behaviour, especially the Susan/Kit issue. It wasn’t due to confusion or some form of memory loss. He simply wasn’t listening and didn’t care what her name was. Rajesh had been right, all this git cared about was himself.
It’s sad that Laura makes sacrifices for someone who doesn’t even bother to listen. If he were my uncle, I’d have told him to go snuggle an angry porcupine.
They walked on in silence until they got to the basement stairs leading down to the kitchen. “Speaking of skunks,” Maximillian said, returning to the discussion about which animals had kits. “I wanted to show you a website that Laura helped me find. On it are several taxidermy collectors showing off their latest purchases. There was a particularly attractive skunk that I believe you might appreciate.”
“Maximillian.”
“Yes?”
She squeezed his arm, maybe a little harder than needed, until he faced her. “I want you to listen very closely to me now. I. Don’t. Want. Any. Stuffed. Animals.”
He froze and searched her face. “Oh? Well. As you wish,” he said with a displeased sniff.
Kit was torn between the joy of not having to accept any more animals and the guilt of having upset Laura’s uncle, something they’d been trying so hard not to do. It made her think. They were trying so hard to keep him happy after his heartbreak, but had anyone come straight out and asked how he was feeling? Maybe he had healed?
She squared her shoulders and steeled herself. “Maximillian, I hope you don’t think I’m sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong here, but I was wondering how you were doing?”
“Doing?”
“Yes, Laura said that—”
He interrupted her by adjusting his collar. “This jacket itches. I wish there was better tweed to buy on Greengage.”
“Stay with me here, Maximillian. Laura told me that you moved in because your relationship ended, and you needed a change. I just wanted to see if you’re on the mend?”
His arm, still linked with hers, grew rigid. “No. I am exactly as miserable as when she told me she loved another.” He stopped on the first step, and his voice grew shaky. “Women always break your heart. They crush your self-esteem and shatter the calm that you need to live your life. They leave you lost and alone.”
Kit threw a sideways glance at the man next to her, the man who’d had such bad luck with love. The man who lived as a hermit, despite being part of the most esteemed family on the island. The man who locked himself away with only his kids for company, even though he couldn’t stand them. Yes, he was selfish, and yes, a lot of his vagueness was for effect. Still, he was broken. Perhaps Laura was right to have spent these past weeks allowing him to get away with whatever he needed to feel better.
Maximillian straightened and retracted his arm from hers. “Although, as a woman yourself, I’m sure you have no inkling of the damage you do. All you ladies care about is getting your own way.”
Kit felt her sympathy drip off her and down into the floorboards.
“I know exactly how it hurts to be left by a woman you love,” she muttered.
He carried on walking down the stairs. “What’s that, Susan?”
“Nothing. I was going to say that perhaps you shouldn’t be so harsh towards women when a woman, your niece to be exact, has shown you such generosity and kindness lately.”
She was expecting him to not have heard her or for him to miss the point.
“Laura is the best of us Howards,” he said quietly. “Her behaviour proves that.”
The surprise nearly made Kit swallow her tongue. “Uh, yes. Her behaviour mirrors her big heart.”
“Yes, unlike my offspring and her useless brother, Laura is thoughtful and sensible. Have you heard what Tom has gone and done now?”
“You mean being locked up?”
“Not anymore, he was released on bail. It was paid by some rich woman in Monaco.”
“What, he’s snagged himself an heiress or something?”
“Not quite,” Maximillian mumbled, focusing on the uneven stairs below his feet. “I understand that the lady in question made her fortune by marrying rich men and then divorcing them.”
“More of a gold digger than an heiress, gotcha. Do you think she’s trying to get Tom’s money? Should someone tell her that he doesn’t have any?”
“Well, he might have duped her into thinking that the Howards have money, omitting that our fortune, shrunken as it has become, is locked into Gage Farm. And in my case, also the businesses I’m a silent partner in.”
“Ha, I guess they’re two gold diggers trying to dig out each other’s gold. Still, maybe Tom has fallen in love with her? Either way, I hope they’ll get married and go live off her inheritance somewhere, so Laura doesn’t have to support Tom anymore.”
“Mm. This topic is dull. Did you know that skunks are omnivorous? They eat anything from berries to frogs, even honeybees!”
He babbled on about skunks without needing her to reply, and just like that, the most sensible conversation Kit had ever had with Maximillian had derailed. They were downstairs now, so soon Laura and Mrs Smith would help manoeuvre this wonky conversation.
Still, some things had been uncovered. Living here hadn’t made Maximillian any happier. Kit knew for a fact that she wasn’t happy with the situation, and that Laura felt the same way. There had to be a way to fix that. After all, fixing tricky situations was what Kit was known for, even if she yet had to fix the issue with Alice Caine’s missing book.
She bit her lip and put her brain into overdrive as she ushered the jabbering Maximillian into the kitchen.
Chapter Twenty
Top Shelf and Other Disasters
Pub 42 was busy on this Monday evening. This meant it took a long time before Rachel could join Kit and Laura at their table. Shannon was behind the bar at the moment, serving a group of blokes who looked like they might be celebrating some sports win. Kit wasn’t sure. Was there a football thing going on? Rugby, maybe? Either way, she and Laura weren’t here for that. They’d come to talk to Rach about Shannon.
Pleasantries and small talk handled, Rachel sat forward and wrung her hands. “Tell me, what did I say or do to make Shannon behave like this?”
Laura sat forward as well, seeming both curious and worried.
Kit put her beer down. “You sure you want me to tell you?”
“Of course I bloody am,” Rachel said.
Kit blew out a breath. “Fine, but it’s not pretty.”
“Tell me already. I’m dying here.”
“Okay,” Kit said. “That night when you were dead drunk, you were right to assume you had done something. You did. However, you were also right when you suggested that you had said something.”
“All the blunders then, huh? Great. What was my first mistake?�
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“You came home singing Julia Michael’s ‘Pink’ more than nine times in a row but changing every ‘he’ in the text to ‘Shannon’ and loudly playing air drums to it.”
“That’s not too bad,” Laura said.
“No. I started with the cute thing to ease us into it,” Kit admitted.
Rachel groaned.
Wanting to put her out of her misery, Kit carried on. “Then you threw up on Shannon’s favourite shoes.”
Rachel groaned louder.
“Then you refused to apologise and said that it wasn’t the booze making you throw up, but the meatloaf Shannon had made earlier that night. You claimed it had tasted underdone and poisoned you.”
Rachel buried her face in her hands.
Kit knew there was no point in stopping now. “Then—”
“What? There’s more?” Laura asked.
“Yep,” Kit said. “Everything so far I’m sure could’ve been handled with a chat the next day. Possibly with a lover’s quarrel and lots of apologies from Rach, but it wouldn’t have led to this long, infected silence and weirdness, would it?”
“No,” Rachel replied in her stead. “I must’ve said or done something even worse. I have to admit that Shannon doesn’t go quiet when she’s furious. That’s reserved for when she’s hurt. What did I do?”
Kit ran her finger around the rim of her beer glass, wondering how to approach this. “You know her concerns about being so much older than you?”
“Mm-hm,” Rachel whispered, suddenly pale as milk.
“Like that it makes her worry that you secretly want to date a woman your own age? Possibly someone who’s more extroverted and femme like you?”
“Yes,” Rach said in a strangled voice.
“Okay, so does the name Sophie Morley mean anything to you?”
Greengage Shelf Page 15
