The Goodmans

by Clare Ashton

  “I’m afraid not,” Abby replied. “Believe me I’ve tried.”

  And Maggie turned to her fully for the first time.

  “Of course you have,” she said and her expression took on unrestrained concern now that Mrs Malady had gone.

  Abby fiddled with her fingers, feeling the awkwardness of yesterday descend.

  Maggie peeped at her, not with remorse but definite sorrow, and she began to wear her years more like Mrs Malady than Margaret Goodman. Abby couldn’t bear it.

  “Come here,” Abby said, and she threw her arms around Maggie. She drew her into a warm hug, with no resistance. Maggie squeezed her tight in return. There were no words either could say. They’d never agree on the issue that separated them, but they were more than one issue.

  “Abby?” Maggie said, muffled in her shoulder. “No matter what happens, no matter what you do, I will be here for you.”

  Abby held her tighter. Maggie steadied her, like she had a thousand times over the years, but today Abby felt compelled to say, “Me too, Maggie. I’m here for you.”

  Abby was surprised by the ferocity of the hug in response, then the older woman let go. She sniffed with a rapid blink of her eyes and tried to hide her tears with a swipe of her hand.

  “I need to get back,” Maggie said in rapid fire. “Need to feed the children so they have something lining their stomachs before this evening’s celebration.”

  “Aren’t you coming too?”

  “No. I’d better not. I will call on Celia instead who’s missing the party on account of her hip.” Maggie looked away at this point. “Besides, Selene’s mother is attending and I’m sure Eli won’t want his to cramp his style.”

  “I think Eli would love to have you there. You’ve only ever enhanced his style. If anything he’s naughtier when you’re around.”

  A chuckle escaped Maggie. “You may be right there,” she said and she at last made eye contact. “Have a good evening.”

  “Thank you,” Abby replied, and she kissed Maggie on the cheek.

  Abby’s step was lighter as she walked back to her cottage, and her determination to quell her desires for Jude more resolute. She wanted to support her heart-broken friend not terrify her with desire for unfettered hot sex. And she’d be a fool to think her life complete without Maggie. Now if her mind and body could play along that would be nice.

  As she flicked through the wardrobe in her bedroom, her resolution lasted at least five minutes before her mind began to wander.

  Should she wear the figure-loving black dress, the one that clung like a second skin? Perhaps she’d get one of those looks from Jude she’d noticed recently – the one that warmed Jude’s cheeks and made her lips curl up in appreciation. Because it would be good to cheer up her friend.

  Or perhaps the longer number, with a cut so low a belly button check was required before going out. Jude had always admired her bosom had she not? As well as being at ease with her own figure, Jude’s compliments slipped off the tongue. It was only considerate to be well-presented and make her friend proud.

  What would Jude wear? Perhaps that cream number which fell below the knees? The one that laid bare Jude’s beautiful shoulders, athletic with a softness that was Jude all over. The one that exquisitely cupped her breasts, before snuggly circling her belly. That rounded those curving hips and marvellous thighs in a soft stroke of velvety material so that you couldn’t admire it without wondering how it felt to follow those curves with your fingertips.

  “Oh, for the love of….” Abby slumped onto the bed.

  She couldn’t even get ready without mentally undressing Jude. What was wrong with her? Ever since they’d held each other, Jude naked beneath her dressing gown, Abby’s desire had burned beyond control. More than ten years. More than ten bloody years she’d known Jude and not once had she been like this. Yes, she would have to be dead not to notice Jude was attractive, and yes she was in love with her, but this hormonal mush was new and couldn’t have been less timely.

  Her phone buzzed and Abby tapped on the message. The care home were asking for a consultation, and although she would work twenty-four hours a day to save the residents of Ludbury, she was doubly keen to help just now. Anything to snap her out of constant infatuation. With any luck, by the time she made it to the party she’d be too exhausted for any passion to stir even if Jude was naked.

  “No.” Abby shook Jude’s undressed image from her head. “Stop it.”

  She threw her phone into a clutch bag, slipped on a black shirt that was cropped short and slid into a tight pair of black jeans. In the bathroom she slicked back her hair and drew a neat line around her eyes. A routine which took all of a minute.

  She caught herself in the mirror. It was as if she was nipping out to knock someone off more than celebrate coming nuptials. Never mind. The assassin look it was. At least she wasn’t dwelling on Jude. Now Jude in an assassin look, that would be something.

  “For the love of God!”

  Abby tore down the stairs, kicked on some boots and stamped her way down the street and into the dusk.

  Chapter 22.

  “Good lord.” Celia greeted Abby at the door to the care home. “Has Maggie put a hit out on me?”

  “Oh.” Abby said. “I wondered if this outfit gave that impression.”

  “It’s good on you,” Celia shrugged. “Gives you an edge.” She grinned. “You’re too much of a softy oftentimes. What brings you here?”

  “Desmond called me in for a consultation.”

  Celia rolled her eyes. “You’re not on call twenty-four hours a day at everyone’s whim.”

  “Yes, I am.” Abby gave her a sad smile. “If needed, that’s what I’ll do.”

  Celia knew very well what drove Abby. Ever since she’d missed seeing her mother alive one last time, Abby would never refuse a call for help. Anything to save a treasured family member. Anything to make someone’s last days more comfortable.

  “Desmond’s not in the main room anyway,” Celia replied.

  “I’ll try the quiet room,” Abby said and waved back to Celia. “I’ll catch you before I leave.”

  The peaceful back room, overlooking the gardens, was empty except for Desmond crouching in front of Mr Argent and his wife. Concern wrinkled his face and Abby padded round and knelt down.

  Mr Argent, the old mayor of Ludbury, sat quietly, cradling his elbow. The distinguished gentleman was still a handsome man and young for his advanced stage of Alzheimer's. His wife, Caroline, always flawless, sat beside him gently resting her fingers on his arm, something he usually forbade now he no longer recognised her as his beloved spouse. Abby nodded a greeting. She had a lot of respect for the Tory councillor, despite Maggie’s constant sniping at their political differences.

  “Sorry to call you in, Abby,” Desmond said in a quiet rumble. “Ambulances have been called to a pileup on the motorway and aren’t responding to calls.”

  “That’s OK,” Abby said gently. “How’s he doing?”

  “Quiet as a mouse,” Desmond replied. “Most unlike him. You know what he’s like usually, ordering people around.”

  Abby smiled as she caught exasperation flicker across Caroline’s face.

  “It’s true,” the older woman said.

  He’d been cantankerous enough as the mayor when Abby had first moved to Ludbury, but the decline in his mental state had made him quicker to temper. Now he sat unnaturally quiet, like a hurt child.

  “What happened?”

  “The silly sod tried to climb out of a window. Kept rambling on about a meeting, then clattered to the floor, full weight on his elbow.”

  “OK,” Abby said. “Let’s have a look.” She shuffled forwards. “Good evening, Mr Argent. I’m Dr Hart and I need to see your elbow.” She gingerly rolled up his jumper sleeve. “I’m sorry if it’s painful, sir.” He winced but didn’t complain as she pushed the garment to his upper arm. She heard Desmond inhale as she revealed the dark purple bruising all around the joint.
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  “Oh God,” Caroline gasped.

  “It’s getting worse,” Desmond said. “Wasn’t like that a few minutes ago.”

  Caroline’s face crumpled and tears sprang from her eyes. “Is he in lots of pain?” she asked.

  “I can give him something for that,” Abby said, reaching for Caroline’s hand to reassure her. “Desmond, would you?”

  Desmond nodded. “I’ll get some water,” he said as he retreated from the room.

  “It will take the edge off while we wait,” Abby said. “We do need an ambulance. I’m certain there’s a break and you can’t take him yourself. He’s too unpredictable.”

  “Why does he do this?” Caroline said, exasperated.

  Abby swung round to sit next to Mrs Argent. “It’s typical behaviour I’m afraid.”

  Caroline dropped her hands into her lap in despair. “I don’t know what to do. I thought he’d be safer here than at home. I can’t watch him every second of the day. He wanders even in his sleep. It’s impossible.”

  “You’ve done the right thing. There haven’t been any accidents since you brought him here six months ago. Remarkable for such a forceful man.”

  Caroline’s mouth twitched with a hint of a smile.

  “You mustn’t blame yourself. It would be impossible to care for him in a typical house. Far too dangerous. And it would take a heavy toll on you.”

  “I feel so guilty,” Caroline whispered. “It shouldn’t be like this. I promised him til death us do part, not to leave him to strangers.”

  “Unfortunately…” Abby hesitated before telling the brutal truth. “We’re all strangers to him now.”

  Caroline gripped her hand and her cheeks knotted as she fought to control her grief. “You are right. It hurts, but I know you’re right.”

  “I’m sorry,” Abby said. “I wish there was more we could do. Keeping him safe at the care home is best. I see you here almost every time I visit Celia. No-one thinks you've abandoned him.”

  “But I have, you see,” Caroline said, broken. “In his eyes, I have.”

  Abby held on to the grieving woman’s hand, unable to console what troubled Caroline inside. “I know you’re doing the best you can. Others would have been far less attentive.”

  Mrs Argent didn’t reply, but held on to Abby. Sometimes, like Jude had showed all those years ago, simply being there was the best anyone could do.

  The blue lights of the ambulance flashed outside the care home and Abby watched Mr Argent carried away accompanied by Caroline. She stood at the window until the ambulance pulled off then stared at the blackness outside.

  “Still here?”

  Abby hadn’t noticed Celia sidle up with a mischievous air.

  “You wouldn’t be avoiding Jude, would you?” Celia persisted. “Not avoiding her at the party?”

  Abby gave her a look.

  “Would you like me to have an angina attack to delay you some more?”

  “Stop it.” Abby laughed.

  “So you are avoiding Jude.”

  Well yes, and no. Abby wanted to see her friend every minute of the day. But the combination of alcohol, Jude dressed to the nines and Abby’s current hormonal imbalance were cause for alarm.

  “Worried you might give yourself away?” Celia grinned. “Blushing all pink when she comes near?”

  Abby spun round, eyes and mouth circular.

  “During a little sexy piano playing perhaps?” Celia chuckled.

  Abby actually and audibly gasped. “You noticed?”

  “Anybody with eyes would have noticed.”

  Well, this was a fresh hell of humiliation.

  “And Maggie did note how well you looked after your visit to Jude’s bedroom.”

  Oh Christ.

  “Does Maggie know? Did she really notice?”

  “No, my dear.” Celia smiled and squeezed her arm. “Far too much insanity of her own going on. But I’ve been wondering….” Celia considered. “Do you think perhaps Jude has?”

  Abby’s heart skipped a beat and fear tickled her tummy.

  “I hope not.”

  Celia tugged at her with affection.

  “Have you ever wondered what she might do if she knew?”

  “Nope.” Abby trembled even at the thought.

  “It must be a huge weight to carry around with you. I’ve been wondering, why not tell her?”

  “Because nothing good would come of it.”

  “Why not?”

  “She’s never been remotely interested in women. The other day, she told me she once kissed a woman and felt nothing.” Abby stared at Celia with disbelief. “Nothing.”

  “Hmm. People change, in all kinds of ways. God knows Maggie did,” Celia grumbled before quickly moving on. “I still think it worth unburdening yourself. Jude is a bright girl, very tolerant and able to appreciate people’s different inclinations. She grew up with Eli for goodness sake.”

  “But there’s a difference between accepting Eli’s pansexuality and me lusting after her and almost combusting every time we touch.” Then Abby blushed. “I mean loving her.”

  Celia snorted. “I might break it to her more gently than that.”

  “Oh.” Another wave of humiliation flooded through Abby. “So telling her I wanted unfettered hot sex might not be a good way to broach the subject.”

  “Well no, indeed.”

  “Oh.”

  Celia peered over her glasses and eyed Abby with new understanding. “Good lord. You didn’t?”

  “I did.”

  “Did she say yes?”

  “No. Well. I didn’t say it in such a straightforward way.”

  “When was this?”

  “Last night. When we said goodbye.”

  “Gosh. That was moving fast. Perhaps you should have asked her in for tea first.”

  “Celia. It wasn’t like that. She’s always pressuring me to ask Cheese Shop Lady out, and I wanted to set a few things straight. I was hypothetically describing what I wanted in a relationship – the physical type of woman, who may have sounded similar to Jude, and the type of personality, who may also have sounded a lot like her, and perhaps what level of, um, passion I’d, um, like.” Abby stroked the short hair above her neck.

  Celia stared at her, eyes narrowed with study and amusement. “And you say she doesn’t suspect?”

  “I hope not,” Abby groaned.

  Because the way Jude looked when Abby had told her of her ideal woman was not encouraging. In fact, she’d never seen Jude so shocked.

  Chapter 23.

  So now Jude knew.

  “Unfettered hot sex,” she murmured as she walked beneath the street light towards the square. That’s what it would take. If she was going to make this work – this old married couple – she needed to give Abby screamingly good sex.

  What did that even look like between two women?

  She immediately recalled a bondage video of an ex-boyfriend’s at university. Two women in scant leather suits, with strategic zips and rather unnecessary fish-net stockings, tying each other up. One even had a whip. Oh God, was it all cuffs and dildos?

  Then she remembered Abby laughing when she’d told her and explaining lesbians were just as boring, just as kinky and just as varied as everyone else. So what the hell did they do?

  Jude, her mind buzzing, walked around the edge of the square and dipped her head down a narrow passageway between the old Assembly Rooms and Tudor shops. Her heels clicked and slipped on the cobbles and she slowed her pace in the dim light. Halfway along the passage, out of sight of the square, she pushed on the warped oak door of the Chequers Tavern. It wasn’t much lighter inside, the medieval pub panelled with dark wood, and snug corners perfect for hiding lovers or smugglers. It was Jude and Eli’s favourite pub from their teens, and many an hour of their youth had been spent, disreputably on Eli’s part, in this establishment.

  “Evening, Jude,” the portly landlord called from behind the bar. “You lot are set up downstairs, althoug
h you’re one of the first. Eli’s not here yet.”

  “Thanks, Bob.” And she rolled her eyes. Typical of her brother to be tardy in attending his own party.

  She tip-toed down the spiral brick steps into the old cellars, her head just clearing the ceiling where it curved down from the supporting pillars. She bought a glass of Sauvignon Blanc from the bar and looked around the low-lit room.

  The middle was clear, no doubt at Eli’s request, for dancing later in the evening, and any guests were sat at the artfully battered tables around the edges. She recognised the odd classmate of Eli’s from school and nodded with recognition, then her eyes alighted on Selene’s mother. She sat at the far end of the room, alone, a glass of liqueur raised elegantly in her hand as if a cigarette were more her habit. Whether it was the dim light, or Jude’s scrutiny returned, it appeared as if Juliette studied her.

  Jude hesitated, wondering if she should merely nod an acknowledgement after the bizarre ructions between Maggie and Juliette the night before, but she imagined the fault of those more likely her mother’s. And a little effort with Eli’s future mother-in-law would be appropriate, especially since Eli and Selene adored her.

  “Good evening,” Jude said, approaching. “We weren’t properly introduced.” She smiled, remembering Eli’s brutal description of them all the previous night. “I’m Eli’s sister, Jude.”

  Juliette stood and offered her hand, pulling Jude fluidly towards her for two kisses. “Enchantee. Please,” she said, sweeping her arm wide, “join me. I think we are both early.”

  “A habit of mine. My brother has the opposite.”

  “I’ve noticed.” Juliette smiled. “I already tell him an hour earlier than I plan to meet.”

  “A very good idea. It’s taken me a lifetime to come to the same conclusion.” Jude sat down, reminded of how sharp and formidable Juliette was.

  Selene’s mother clearly had a keen intellect, something that never intimidated Jude and she freely admired it. In fact, there was much to admire about this woman. Juliette’s posture was impeccable – straight back and open shoulders, slim legs crossed, all draped in a black dress that was inimitably elegant. She possessed a poise which Jude with her curvy Amazonian physique and cream dress could never even pretend.