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The Goodmans

Page 24

by Clare Ashton


  She opened her eyes and pulled away, so entranced by Juliette’s presence that no riposte occurred to her. She walked away, back into the house, and couldn’t look back.

  Chapter 33.

  “Fuck it,” were Maggie’s first words the next morning.

  A persistent unease had robbed her of sleep, the kind which tightens its grip in the small hours when nagging concerns take on preternatural potency. It seemed to Maggie that she stood on a precipice, one which could lead to happiness but still necessitated a fall.

  She snapped her legs out of bed and marched to the bathroom, showering and dressing at a pace to distract herself from anxiety. But it was still there. It tickled inside her tummy when she checked herself in the mirror – a striking middle-aged woman, with styled grey hair, lightening blue eyes and a look that could wither a Viking. She pulled at the cuffs of her honey-coloured trench coat and patted the inside pocket for her favourite maroon reading glasses.

  Apprehension still gnawed as Maggie made her way through the square and it bit a little sharper when she peered up at the Coaching Inn, its tiered Jacobian façade looming above. It didn’t release its grip when she enquired after Juliette Bonhomme at reception and it stayed her knock when she lifted her hand to the Stokesay Suite.

  The door opened before she had a chance to fight anxiety’s grip and Juliette stood before her.

  “I heard you approach.” Juliette smiled. “That’s the trouble with this gorgeous old hotel. Every footstep on the floorboards makes her groan.”

  Maggie stared. She’d expected Juliette to be her immaculate self when she’d invited Maggie up on the reception phone, with her dusky makeup and a crisp shirt. But her face was bare and she wore only a short white dressing gown.

  “I’m sorry,” Maggie stumbled, awkward in Juliette’s undressed state. “I don’t have your number. I would have called ahead.”

  “No matter. Come in.” Juliette gestured into the soft light of the boutique bedroom.

  They stood facing each other beside the oak bedframe, the sheets still unmade. It was inappropriate to be here.

  “I thought you’d be up,” Maggie said. “I’d forgotten…not forgotten, overlooked that you weren’t an early riser.”

  “Actually I prefer mornings now, but I indulged in a lie-in this time.”

  “OK.” Maggie said, not knowing where to look. “Eli and Selene had an appointment and went to see a friend. I realised you might be alone all day.”

  “I am,” Juliette said, not releasing her gaze or moving back from her intimate proximity.

  “I’m giving out leaflets,” Maggie stuttered. “I wondered if you’d like to come and post them. I mean, would you like some company? A stroll around town. With me. Would you like to spend some time with me?”

  “Am I making you uncomfortable?” Juliette smirked, her semi-naked presence impossible to ignore.

  Maggie stared at the floor, and perhaps Juliette’s slim legs and bare feet on the plush woollen rug.

  “Do I remind you of forbidden things? Is it too much to recall you were once with a woman?”

  Maggie looked her in the eye. “No, I’ve never been ashamed. It’s not that.”

  “Then what?”

  “I shouldn’t see you like this.”

  “You have seen me naked a thousand times. You can cope with a bathrobe. If we were at the beach, I could grace you with my stretch marks also.”

  “Just because we were….” And Maggie did stumble over this. A lifetime of burying the pain had led to a degree of denial. “Just because we were once lovers does not give me a lifetime pass to see your body.”

  “True. I don’t mind though. I’m not so prudish as you English.”

  Maggie’s shyness evaporated. “When the fuck did you ever find me prudish?” and not a small number of images flashed through Maggie’s mind to illustrate her point. She was on the verge of recounting them when she stopped herself. If seeing your ex half-naked in their hotel room was inappropriate then indulging in past tales of lust and delicious perversion certainly was.

  Juliette tilted her head to the side. “You have a point. And I have many memories to back it up.” She slowly lifted an eyebrow, so lasciviously it would have undressed Maggie in her youth. Then Juliette laughed. “I’m sorry. I’m baiting you. It’s just strange to see the biggest lesbian on campus as this respectable wife.”

  Juliette turned and rattled through the large oak wardrobe. “I will get dressed and make myself into a respectable middle-aged mother also.” She peeked over her shoulder. “You are welcome to watch.”

  Maggie gave her a look, one that would have crushed anyone but Juliette, who laughed a bubbling laugh that tickled Maggie inside.

  Still shy at the sight of Juliette’s unprepared state, Maggie sought the lead-panelled bay window and sat on the bench. She took a sideways position as if to admire the view outside but couldn’t help peeking in Juliette’s direction. She was stood by the bed readying her clothes, all the while watching Maggie.

  “Very well, I am warning you that I’m about to remove my robe.”

  Maggie looked away but was met by Juliette’s reflection undressing in every small panel of the window. She couldn’t have focussed her gaze outside if she’d tried. A miniature naked Juliette was reflected a hundred times, and Maggie’s jaw dropped as a glimpse of her breasts was revealed over and over again. It was too much to resist turning round as Juliette shimmied into a slip.

  Juliette had a raw beauty when she wasn’t styled and manicured, her face appearing naked without its makeup. It was an intimate and more familiar face, the one Maggie woke to. It had changed with the passage of time. The doe hazel eyes and full lips of Juliette’s youth had matured. Her eyes had a dark intelligence and her still full lips an accentuated shape that curved with even more allure. Her slimmer face revealed the glory of her cheekbones and that elegant jaw line was beyond compare.

  Her body had been slim like Maggie’s in their youth, and both had benefitted from the curves life brings; it was impossible to ignore Juliette’s healthy bosom half hidden by her slip.

  “Am I so changed to you?” Juliette said, the bravado of a moment ago gone and a sad smile replacing it on her lips. “Is it strange to see me old?”

  Maggie blinked, caught in her study and still stunned by the intimate sight of her former lover.

  “I was wondering,” Maggie said, “how is it possible that you are more beautiful? I luxuriated for hours admiring you when we were young. But it’s as if your body and face have found their perfect age. Youth suits some better, others reveal their finery later, and your beauty is striking now.”

  Juliette’s sad smile slipped from her face. She looked away and smoothed her shirt on the bed. “That’s so like you, Maggie,” she said. “So impossibly like you.”

  “How?”

  Juliette shook her head, then fixed Maggie with an unwavering gaze. “You can destroy someone with a single word. I’ve seen you wreck fellow students in a tirade of brutal honesty from which they’d never recover. And just when I consign you to my furthest memories and abandon all hope in us ever being friends, you come here and deliver one of your rare compliments. Do you know how much your compliments hurt, Maggie?”

  Maggie didn’t move.

  “They’re like your criticisms, they are brutal. They cut through to your essence with their passion and you remember them for a lifetime.”

  They stared at each other, the air heavy with regret, old desires, memories so painful Maggie never wanted to indulge them, and cutting through it all an urge to remain in each other’s company.

  “I need to dress,” Juliette said. “You can turn away if you want. It still seems silly to be prudish in front of you of all people.”

  “Sorry,” Maggie said, and she did turn away.

  “You can admire the courtyard garden through the window.”

  “Or watch you in the reflections,” Maggie replied, amused. She saw Juliette’s pale image put her
hands on her hips then throw something towards the window. A moment later Maggie found a pair of knickers around her head.

  They wandered down Broad Street, the largest and most grandiose of Ludbury’s avenues – two well-dressed, handsome women with pamphlets urging the residents to an emergency meeting at the church.

  One posted a leaflet through a town-house door, the other the next. Maggie occasionally nodded to a passer-by she recognised then they reconvened to amble further.

  “I like Richard very much by the way,” Juliette said. “I had a chat with him yesterday. It’s the first time I’ve really spoken to him.”

  “He is a lovely man. One of the finest.” Maggie nearly added: “If only you’d met him earlier.” But she was too bothered by their current marital status. “We’re…” But then Maggie stopped, unable to articulate the truth.

  “I know you’re no longer together,” Juliette said quietly.

  “How?”

  “Richard slipped up while we were chatting in the garden. He mentioned Caroline.”

  Maggie’s cheeks flamed. “Damn it, Richard. The absent-minded old fool.” But when the waves of heat receded it felt more like relief. “Good,” Maggie muttered. “Well. Good.”

  “I’d guessed already so it didn’t come as a surprise. Richard said that Eli suspects too but Jude doesn’t know. You’ve not told anyone yet?”

  “We were going to,” Maggie grumbled. “But events have overtaken it somewhat.”

  And bloody Eli. Of course the nosy little bugger suspected. They strolled a little further, Maggie still chuntering to herself.

  “Maggie?” Juliette murmured, and she gently took her arm. “Are you OK?”

  When she looked up, she found genuine concern in Juliette’s face and Maggie tutted a laugh. “Yes, I am.” Splitting up with Richard was now the least of her concerns. “We’ve been more friends than anything else for…” Always. Always for Maggie. But she was torn between respect for Richard and honesty with Juliette. Maggie felt as if she owed her former lover that. “He’s been my support and closest friend, and he’s someone I will always love very dearly.”

  “You needn’t say any more. I have enough respect now for Richard not to pry.”

  Maggie nodded, grateful for the reprieve, but also that Juliette didn’t release her arm. She held on, the comfort of it warming Maggie through as they wandered further.

  “You know,” Juliette said lightly. “This,” she waved the handful of leaflets in the air, “reminds me of college.”

  “I should be standing on the corner yelling ‘Socialist Worker’. It’s quite a change from ‘Coal Not Dole’.”

  “And the anti-nuclear leaflets,” Juliette replied.

  “Women’s equality.”

  “Vegetarianism?”

  “I think we gave that one a miss,” Maggie said. Juliette’s persistent and delicious cuisine had tempted Maggie off that wagon.

  Juliette tugged at her arm. “Even I eat less meat than I used to.”

  “The marches were always my favourite,” Maggie carried on. “Good excuse to shout at people.”

  “At least you admit that it’s one of your greatest pleasures.”

  “You knew them all,” Maggie quipped then blushed at the indecent allusion.

  Juliette gave a smile, the one that pinched naughtily in the corner of her mouth. “Do you remember our first Pride march in London?”

  “Vaguely,” Maggie grimaced. “Those were the days I drank too much Newkie Brown.”

  “I could never understand your obsession with beer. What on earth is the problem with a glass of wine for goodness sake?”

  “You were such a snob about alcohol, especially wine.”

  Juliette shrugged. “I still am.” And they both laughed. “Do you remember?” Juliette said conspiratorially, “when we ran away into Soho and lost the others?”

  Yes, Maggie did.

  “We were so tipsy.” The way Juliette said tipsy in her French accent made it sound so youthful and pleasurable. “That was the first time I set foot in a sex shop.”

  Maggie definitely remembered. And it wasn’t the last time they visited.

  “Do you remember the size of the dildos? Zut alors,” Juliette said with mock mortification. “How my young head spun. We stuffed our rucksack with merchandise,” she said gleefully. “Bondage ropes. Blindfolds. Fishnet stockings. That suit with the zips and openings everywhere. Do you not remember?”

  How could Maggie forget? They’d made serious use of those ropes and the memory of Juliette in that suit made Maggie weak at the knees. There was something about just a glimpse of a delicate area that fatally appealed to her.

  “Maggie,” Juliette whispered. She stopped and frowned. “I hope you’re not going all British and coy with me. You can’t deny we had sex. I hope you’ve not wiped that from your version of our history.”

  “Of course I bloody haven’t. We fucked like rabbits.”

  “Hi, Mrs Goodman,” a teenage girl said, walking up the road.

  “Oh.” Shit. “Hi, Penny.” Shit.

  Maggie waved awkwardly to the former pupil then straightened her coat unnecessarily.

  Juliette was watching her, that damned smile in the corner of her mouth and her eyes shining.

  “Good,” Juliette said at last. “I’m glad you’ve remembered your kinky ways. Now, let’s deliver these leaflets about saving the church.”

  Maggie could have kicked her. But in the end she decided to snigger.

  They climbed the hill past the old assembly rooms on the last street of their tour. Maggie handed the remaining leaflets to the shopkeepers in the square, and stuck the final poster in the bookshop window. She called out her gratitude to the owner, who heartily replied, before joining Juliette outside. She was watching her, head tilted.

  “What?” Maggie tutted. “What now?”

  This only made Juliette’s smile broader. “Look at you,” she said. “How did such a ferocious activist become the darling of a middle England town?”

  “Oh believe me, I’m far from popular in many quarters. You won’t find me in the souvenir shop. Mr Huff, with his wall to wall Union Jacks, will turn venomous the moment he sets eyes on me.”

  “Then maybe not all quarters. But, Maggie,” Juliette looked at her more seriously although amusement still played on her lips, “you are respected.”

  “Puh,” Maggie said, actually in a way more akin to Juliette than herself. How quickly she fell into her old mannerisms and emulated those of her former lover.

  “It’s funny, you know,” Juliette said. “Seeing you as a teacher, mother, respected resident of Ludbury.”

  “Really, the respected part is nonsense.”

  “I see it everywhere though. From people in the street, the shopkeepers, the vicar. Your son adores you and even the man whom you’re divorcing thinks the world of you.”

  Maggie sighed. There was a notable omission. “Not Jude though.”

  Juliette observed her, a sad smile of sympathy on her face. She took Maggie’s arm and they wandered from the square, past the church and down the road towards home.

  “I’ve only talked to her a little,” Juliette said. “But I like her very much.”

  “She’s a wonderful human being,” Maggie said. “My God I’m proud of her.” Her words caught in her throat, a mix of choking pride in her child and heartache at their detachment. “She was the brightest girl, but never arrogant. And her resilience? She had the confidence of a much older person. Always a leader and always looking out for others. You see it in her friendship with Abby.”

  “Hmm,” Juliette said and she fell quiet as they continued. “Everyone needs someone though. I hope she realises she can reach out for help too.”

  “I suppose so. I hardly believe she’ll ever need it. She’s rebounded from breaking up with a long-term boyfriend in the blink of an eye, and is god knows where happy as the cat that got the cream.”

  “Hmm,” Juliette said again. Maggie knew tha
t “hmm”, but Juliette carried on before Maggie could cajole her.

  “Eli described her as a female version of Richard – the paragon of responsibility. But actually,” Juliette smiled at her, “I see a lot of you in her.”

  “Ha! You mustn’t let her hear that. And I can’t see it, unless,” she narrowed her eyes, “you mean when we’re bad-tempered.”

  “Yes,” Juliette replied, without a hint of remorse.

  This time Maggie did give Juliette the gentlest boot.

  “But it’s true.” Juliette laughed. “There is fire there, you can’t deny it.”

  “God help her. It’s never done me any favours.”

  Juliette fell quiet and they walked on, Maggie sensing a change in mood in her companion.

  “I thought about you over the years,” Juliette said at last. “Mike told me Jude had been born, a great healthy girl, and I wondered what she looked like.”

  Maggie slowed her walk, her heart heavy at Juliette’s words. Every time she sensed Juliette’s mood flag she would feel it keenly. It had been a strength and a weakness, this mirroring of emotions. Juliette wounded would sober Maggie even from the foulest temper, mollifying her in a second so that all she wanted was to soothe her lover. But when they’d argued, fire burned hotter with fire.

  Maggie stopped and peered at Juliette’s harrowed face. “Would you like to see some photos? Do you want to see what she was like? And of course Eli too. Your future son in law.” Maggie smiled at the prospect.

  “Yes,” Juliette said. “I would like that very much.”

  And as they wandered home, arm in arm, Maggie’s heart beat with a myriad of emotions.

  Chapter 34.

  Maggie prised two large albums from the bookcase and carried them to Juliette on the sofa.

  “These are from the early years,” Maggie said, sitting next to her companion. She slipped on her reading glasses and smiled when Juliette leaned down to her bag to retrieve her own.

  “Comes to us all,” Juliette said with an elegant shrug that showed how little she cared about signs of maturity. It was Juliette all over, unruffled by life’s petty strife. She carried off wearing spectacles with poise and confidence. It’s what had made her so attractive to Maggie when they’d met.

 

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