by Clare Lydon
Kate swept in and hung her jacket on the back of the spare chair next to her mum.
Her oldest nephew, Luke, turned and studied her for a moment. “You look nice, Aunty Kate,” he said.
Kate grinned. “Thanks, Luke — you look gorgeous, too.”
Luke grinned right back.
Kate ruffled Freddie’s hair. “Alright, Fred — how are your crisps?”
“Very tasty, thank you,” Freddie told her.
Kate greeted everyone else, before propping up the bar and surveying the family scene. Vicky had been lucky meeting Jack at university and marrying him — he was one of the good guys. Similarly, her mum had been lucky to meet Dad in her late teens — they’d had a great life together until the accident. It was only Kate who couldn’t seem to get coupled up and settle down. Hell, even Jess, the walking book of heartbreak, had met Lucy and managed not to fuck it up just yet. Kate would love to bring a girlfriend into this family portrait. She was sure Meg would fit right in, chatting with her family, playing with her nephews.
Meg. The only problem with that was Meg was very clearly not her girlfriend. Kate shook her head. Two days on and she was still kicking herself.
She was just getting her change from the bartender when a man walked over to their table. Kate recognised him, but couldn’t quite place him. However, when the man turned around to face her, an amused smile played on Kate’s lips.
Lawrence. She looked over at her mum, who suddenly looked a bit giddy — she’d set them up. Now Jack was standing, shaking Lawrence’s hand, Vicky had a strained smile on her face, and now he was walking towards Kate.
“You must be Kate.” He held out a spade-sized hand.
Kate shook it with gusto. “Guilty as charged,” she replied. “And you must be Lawrence.”
He nodded and Kate noted the healthy glow of his skin — he clearly took care of himself.
“Can I get you a drink?”
“Gin and tonic would be lovely, thanks,” Lawrence said.
“I’ll bring it over if you take this to Jack.”
Lawrence dutifully took the pint of Guinness in one hand, a white wine for Maureen in the other and went back to the table.
Vicky’s face was now in glare mode.
This was going to be interesting.
***
Two hours later and Lawrence had bid his farewells. Kate had hugged him warmly and was more than pleased with her mum’s choice — he seemed like a perfect gentleman. Yes, it was strange seeing Mum with another man, but she could do with a bit companionship — just like Kate could.
Jack and Vicky dropped Mum at home while Kate cycled back to theirs. They were heading home for a debrief — this hadn’t been verbally agreed but they all knew it was going to happen.
Jack hung up Kate’s coat in their hallway as she followed Vicky through to their spacious kitchen. Vicky filled the kettle, went to flick its switch, then decided against it. Instead, she opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of white wine, plucking two glasses from the cupboard and setting them down on the table.
“What if I’d wanted a cup of tea?” Kate scraped back her chair before sitting down.
Vicky raised her eyebrows. “I’ve known you your whole life, remember?”
Jack walked into the kitchen and instantly recoiled. “Whoa,” he said. “White wine. Serious stuff. Am I invited?”
Vicky shook her head. “You’re the childminder for the next hour while we talk about this gold-digger who’s trying to steal mum’s pension.” She walked over and kissed her husband on the lips. “You can take a glass with you, though.”
“Too kind.” Jack grabbed himself a glass from the cupboard, filled it, then gave them both a wink. “Happy bitching, ladies. I’ll be in the lounge with the football on, trying to convert my sons to a love of Arsenal if you need me.”
Vicky sat down opposite Kate and shook her head. There were bags under her eyes and her mascara had smudged, giving her a slight shadow across one cheek. But her hair was radiant as it always was — Vicky was a stickler for hair health.
“So what are we going to do?” Vicky asked.
“Do?”
“Yes, do. He was a bit weird with us, didn’t you think? Asking too many personal questions? What does it matter to him where I work and if I like watching MasterChef?”
If there was anyone acting weird in this scenario, Kate was pretty sure it wasn’t Lawrence. “It’s called conversation — I’m sure you’ve heard of it. It’s hardly the crime of the century wanting to know if you watch a cookery show.”
Vicky screwed up her face. “But it was the way he said it — like he wasn’t really interested, he was just doing it to please Mum.” Vicky paused. “I got a very fake vibe — I didn’t warm to him.”
Kate rubbed the back of her neck and leaned back in her white wooden dining chair, surveying the kitchen. The fridge door was covered in Luke and Freddie’s artwork, party invites and shopping vouchers. The work surfaces hosted jauntily coloured accessories and the debris of family life. It was all immaculately clean, though — Jack was hot on kitchen cleanliness, which Vicky often said was the main reason she’d married him. That, and his ability to cook a Beef Wellington without a soggy bottom.
“I think you’re just pissed off that mum has a new boyfriend,” Kate said. “He seems like a lovely guy and he has his own kids too, so he knows family dynamics.” She paused. “I’m pleased for her.”
“But we don’t know anything about him.” Vicky took a swig of her wine, then her eyes lit up and she clicked her fingers together. “We should Google him, see if he’s really who he says he is.” She looked at Kate for confirmation, but her sister just gave her a blank stare.
“I’m right though, aren’t I?” Vicky got up and plucked her iPad from the top of the microwave. “I mean, you hear about this sort of thing all the time. Lonely widow conned out of her life savings by some charmer. Wasn’t that a storyline on Coronation Street a while back?”
Kate could see that Vicky was already on Google’s homepage and was typing in Lawrence’s name. However, she stopped after Lawrence.
“Do you remember his last name?”
“I forgot to ask him when we were chatting about football.” Kate rolled her eyes. “You’re over-thinking this. Yes, there are conmen, but they’re normally on dating sites or something like that. They don’t tend to crash funerals to pick up women.”
Vicky pointed her index finger at Kate. “But that would be the perfect place to meet women of a certain age, you have to admit.”
Kate put her head in her hands. “You’re deluded. He’s a nice bloke. Mum’s happy and you’re going to have to get used to it. And anyway, they’re hardly married yet.”
Vicky threw up her hands. “But if they sleep together — and who says they haven’t already? — then surely it’s only a matter of time. And then Mum might even change her name. We might have to call him Dad. And then he’ll run off with her pension.” She shuddered.
Kate tried to suppress her smile. “Look at it this way. Mum might have met someone to make her happy. To keep her company. To look after her in her old age. How about that?” She raised her glass. “I say three cheers for Lawrence. Come on, he watches MasterChef. Conmen don’t watch that — they watch Top Gear.”
Vicky couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t come running to me when we have to take him to court and he’s all over the front pages.”
Kate sipped her wine. “I won’t.” She paused. “Anyway, I have something else to tell you.”
Vicky was still typing.
“I said, I have something else to tell you,” Kate repeated.
“I’m listening.” Vicky didn’t take her eyes from the screen.
“I nearly kissed the florist.”
Vicky stopped typing and looked up. “What do you mean, nearly?” She clapped her hands together, all thoughts of Lawrence temporarily suspended.
“Well, we were kinda close, exchanging looks and there was chemistry,
I think. But then a customer came in just at the crucial moment.”
“So you didn’t actually lock lips?”
Kate shook her head. “Nope.”
“And what happened when the customer came in?”
Kate shrugged. “Meg served her.”
“And what did you do?”
“I left — she was busy.”
Vicky let out a howl of laughter. “Can you see what might have gone wrong there? You really need to work on your flirting tactics, little sis.” Vicky leaned her chin in the palm of her right hand. “When was this?”
“Friday.”
“And have you heard from her since?”
Kate shook her head.
“But you think she’s a lesbian now, even though she’s a florist?” There was a smirk in Vicky’ voice as she asked.
“I don’t know. I mean, I think there was definitely something there, but there was mention of a Jamie, and her mum invited him to lunch with them today.”
Vicky waved her hand in the air. “Back up. Her mum was there too?”
Kate nodded. “At the beginning, then she left. But she invited Meg to Sunday lunch — and told her to bring Jamie.” Kate sighed. “Do you think Jamie is her boyfriend?”
Vicky chuckled, before rubbing Kate’s hand across the table. “He could be — or he could be her friend, her brother, her cousin — you don’t know. But you know how you find out?”
Kate sat up. “No — how?”
“Go back to the florist and ask her out. If she says yes, she’s gay. If she says ‘I’m sorry, I’m happily married to Jamie’, then you can move on. It’s very simple really.”
Kate took a minute before replying. “You’re annoyingly logical, you know that, right?”
17
Meg had never much cared for Mondays and today had been no exception. Today had dragged due to the almost biblical rain that had poured down since 10am which had meant virtually zero passing trade. Such days were made for sorting paperwork. But Meg was on a go-slow, her concentration levels running low.
She was due to go to her running club after work, but she was finding it hard to gee herself up to attend. She’d joined the group at the insistence of her friend Adele and her mum. Adele had told her she should channel her running because she was good at it; her mum had told her she should go because she might meet someone. On arrival at the running club, however, all Meg had found were a bunch of sprightly, coupled-up lesbians who were far keener on running than on finding her a girlfriend.
Now, after the sluggish day she’d had, Meg was entertaining visions of going home, eating pizza and settling down with a boxset. Perhaps the first season of The L Word, which everyone knew was the best. She could throw herself into the love lives of Bette, Tina, Shane and Alice and then she wouldn’t have to worry about her startling lack of one.
What’s more, she kept running the scene from Friday night through her head. Had Kate been about to kiss her when that woman walked in? Meg might never know. She shook her head thinking about it. Maybe she should take the bull by the horns and call Kate — she did have her number, after all.
Perhaps the run would do her good — run off her sexual frustration. At this rate, she might be running for miles.
The phone rang, breaking her thoughts.
“Hello, Fabulous Flowers.”
“Hello you.” It was Adele.
“Hey — how are you?”
“Very well. I’m having a particularly good Monday and I’m just phoning to check you haven’t been sitting in your shop, looking at the rain teeming down outside and thinking about bailing on tonight.”
Meg studied her fingernails. “The thought never even crossed my mind.”
“Sure it didn’t.” Adele paused. “We’re meeting at seven, usual place, so make sure you’re there. You got it, Harding?”
Meg smiled. “Yes, corporal. Since when did you go all army film on me?”
“Since I know how you get sad in the rain. But running will make you feel better, mark my words. Come running, get wet, feel invincible!”
Yep, Adele was certainly more into running than Meg. “Aye aye, captain. See you at seven.”
***
The rain had mercifully stopped by the time Meg arrived at Dashing Dykes, and the usual cluster of around ten women in brightly coloured Lycra were chatting prior to their warm-up run. Meg looked for Adele, who had recently taken over the admin for the club after the group’s original leader fell pregnant with triplets and had to stop running when her bump became too large.
Meg spotted Adele in conversation with two women she didn’t recognise from the back. She doubted they were new members, though, due to them being dressed in jeans and Converse. People who joined running clubs tended to have serious running shoes.
Meg strolled over to Adele and was just about to say something when she recognised the woman Adele was talking to. Meg did a double-take. It couldn’t be, could it? But Meg was pretty sure it was.
“Cutting it fine!” Adele told Meg as she ushered her into her circle before resting an arm on her shoulder. “I was just telling Kate and Hannah about the group — they’re from Female Health & Fitness magazine. Did I tell you they were doing an article on us?”
Meg shook her head mutely. She was still staring at Kate, who had a bemused smile on her face. Kate still looked totally edible, but it was odd seeing her in these surroundings and Meg was suddenly aware she was dressed in far less clothing than usual, with no make-up at all. She saw Kate’s eyes flick up and down her body, before returning to Adele.
“Didn’t I? I was sure I did. Well anyway, Hannah’s a mate of Laura.” Adele pointed over at Laura who was warming up with her partner Debra.
Hannah smiled at Meg and offered a hand. “Hannah, good to meet you.”
Meg shook the offered hand. “Meg.” Then she paused, before smiling at Kate. “And you must be Kate,” Meg said, playing it cool.
“Good to see you again.” Kate shook Meg’s hand warmly and held her gaze invitingly.
Meg resisted the urge to flip Kate into a Hollywood-style embrace and silver-screen kiss her in the evening gloom. “You too,” she replied.
“You two know each other?” Hannah seemed inordinately excited by this turn of events. “This is good — perhaps we can focus on you for the article?” Hannah pointed her pen at Meg.
Meg’s eyes widened. “Me?”
Adele nodded. “We were just talking about interviewing a couple of members, chatting about our experiences of the group. I was going to suggest you and me anyhow, but seeing as you know Kate already, it’s perfect.” Adele paused. “How do you know each other by the way, or shouldn’t I ask?” An amused smirk played on her lips.
Meg’s cheeks reddened.
Kate looked down at the ground.
Adele’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, God,” she began, jigging about on the balls of her feet. “Me and my big mouth. Pretend I never said anything.”
“No, it’s fine,” Meg said. “Nothing like that. We just met recently — Kate ordered some flowers from me for a funeral she was organising.”
Kate nodded. “And Meg was more than helpful. I mean, really. She went out of her way.”
Meg could see Kate was blushing too, and that she was doing all she could to avoid her gaze.
Hannah’s eyes widened. “You’re the famous florist?”
The look Kate flashed Hannah told Meg this was something they’d revisit later.
“Famous?” Meg shot Kate a quizzical look. “I wasn’t aware I was famous,” she said, with a smirk.
Kate’s cheeks turned the colour of beetroot.
Adele looked over to the rest of the women, then back to Meg. “I’ll just go and tell them to warm up. Back in a minute.”
They watched Adele go, then a noise startled the three of them. It was Hannah’s phone. She plucked it from her pocket, grinned at the screen, then looked shyly over at Kate.
“I gotta take this. It’s Sophie — from t
he other night.” She let out a little shriek, then scuttled off, phone pressed to her cheek.
Which left Meg and Kate, side by side.
“So, hello again,” Kate began. She smiled broadly at Meg.
“Hi.”
“It really is good to see you.”
“You too,” Meg said. “How’s your hand?”
Kate held it up. “Sore, but still there, thanks to your efforts.” She smiled. “I might have lost it otherwise, it was touch and go.”
“I can imagine.”
“But meeting you here,” Kate said. “It’s also illuminating.”
Meg stuck her tongue into the side of her cheek. “Really?”
Kate nodded. “Yup. I mean, you’re… Here. At a lesbian running club. You do know it’s a lesbian running club, right?”
“Lesbians?” Meg paused. “You know, I thought it was weird there were no men here.” Then she raised an eyebrow at Kate.
Kate laughed nervously. “But in your shop on Friday… I mean, I thought I wasn’t misreading the signals, I thought there was something. But then your mum told you to bring Jamie to lunch and it confused me. Who’s Jamie? I’m guessing he’s not your boyfriend?”
Meg shook her head, laughter lighting up her face. “No, Jamie is not my boyfriend — Jamie is my brother. Which is why my mum was suggesting bringing him.” Meg smiled and shook her head at Kate. “You have worse gaydar than me — and why didn’t you just ask me who Jamie was?” She paused. “I knew you were a lesbian right away.”
Kate raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yup.”
“Am I that obvious?” Kate said.
“Kinda,” Meg laughed, before quickly adding. “I’m joking! You’re not. You’ve just… Got a lesbian air about you.”
“A lesbian air?” Kate was laughing now. “And what exactly is a lesbian air?” she asked, putting the last two words in air quotes with her fingers.
