by Wendy Hudson
Then there were the creepy dolls. Their eyes tracked Darcy’s movements and made her shudder. She had never been one for dolls.
Two hot wines down, they had finally asked about the history of the place and discovered they were in none other than Amsterdam’s first ever lesbian bar, Café ‘t Mandje, opened in 1927.
The stress and boredom of the day had long left Darcy, and she mused over how easy it was with Anja, when it was only the two of them. With the wine in her veins, she allowed her mind to wonder if it would be different if they were more than friends. Would anything change? Apart from the sex.
Oh God, she was thinking about sex with Anja! Where the hell had that come from?
She watched as her friend flirted right back with the bar woman. Darcy knew it was in the name of more free drinks, but she felt a small pang of jealousy twinge in her stomach.
Anja looked her way and winked, then leaned in close and whispered, “Don’t worry, you’re the only girl for me.”
It wasn’t possible that she’d read Darcy’s mind, yet there was a prickle of satisfaction and reassurance in her words Darcy appreciated in that moment. Had she been too quick to dismiss Joe? Was that why Anja had been so contemptuous and uninterested in her dating plans? It didn’t seem realistic given how recently Jason had left and Anja’s reaction to his deception.
But what if she was simply angling for a rebound and thought Darcy was an easily accessible target? No. Anja would never play with their friendship like that.
Darcy signalled it was time for home with a tap of her watch in Anja’s direction. The way Darcy’s mind was running from her, it was clearly for the best.
As they stumbled back into the hotel, Darcy caught sight of Bridget sat alone at the bar, with a tumbler in one hand and her phone in the other. She cut a solitary figure, and Darcy felt a little guilty that they had ditched her and Joe earlier in the evening.
She tugged on Anja’s sleeve and pointed in Bridget’s direction. “Let’s go have one for the stairs with her.”
Anja groaned. “Really. You’re too damn nice, Darcy. You know that, right?”
“Aye, whatever. C’mon, we can’t leave her drinking with only her phone for company.”
“Maybe she prefers it that way. Maybe she’s chatting with someone hot on her phone. Actually, is she with anyone? I’ve never heard her mention a spouse or partner.”
Darcy was thoughtful a second, wracking her brains. “Me neither. Let’s go find out. I’m drunk enough to be brave. Who knows, we might even find out if she is actually sleeping with Joe.”
They approached with caution, but Bridget afforded them an uncharacteristic smile. Darcy guessed the whisky in her hand had not been her first.
“Here’s trouble. Have you been out causing havoc?” Bridget signalled for a member of bar staff and ordered a round of single malts. “That okay with you two?”
They both nodded, neither willing to turn down the boss’s generosity or question her choice. “Thanks.”
She laughed and gestured to a table away from the bar. “At ease, soldiers, we’re off duty.”
“Oh good.” Darcy chuckled and threw an arm around Anja. “Because we’re pretty bloody pissed.”
“No. I’d never have guessed.” For once, Bridget’s sarcasm came with humour rather than loathing. “What have you been up to, then?”
They’d had a brilliant night, and Darcy was excited to regale it. She pulled out her phone and flashed pictures in Bridget’s direction. “We went to the park and clambered all over the big Amsterdam sign trying to get a perfect selfie. Aw, look, An, that’s a cute one.” She showed Anja one of the two of them perched on top of the “M”.
“Very cute. Don’t forget the pancakes,” Anja piped up.
“Aye, the pancakes were awesome. Then dinner, wine, the oldest lesbian bar in the city where Anja chatted up the bar girl and the creepy dolls watched you.”
Anja scoffed. “The dolls were creepy, but the chat was for free drinks and you know it.”
“Still happened,” Darcy interjected. “What else? Oh yeah, we shared a space cake, smoked a joint…” She watched Bridget’s eyebrows raise and maintained her seriousness for a few seconds before cracking up. “As if. We’re too old for that malarkey. Although I might have been tempted at Joe’s age.”
“What happened to Joe anyway?” Anja asked. “We thought he was having dinner with you.”
“Joe?” Bridget shook her head, clearly confused. “I haven’t seen him all night. No doubt he did find his way to a coffee shop to sample the local delicacy.”
The guilt Darcy had felt earlier tripled instantly, and she deflated a little. “Ah, sorry about that, Bridget. If we’d known you could have joined us…” She trailed away knowing the sentiment was half-hearted and Bridget wasn’t daft.
“And be a third wheel to you pair?” She smirked. “No thanks. Besides, I had other plans.”
This piqued both their interests. “Oh yeah?” Anja failed at casualness and got straight to the point. “Hot date?”
Bridget took a sip of amber perfection and quirked an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“I thought you were married?” Darcy embraced her alcohol-induced bravery—who knew when she would get another opportunity to grill Bridget on her private life? They were off duty, after all.
She watched Bridget stare into the glass a moment and swirl the whisky around. She looked between them both as if considering how much to tell them. If anything at all. “No. I decided it wasn’t for me. I’ve lost too many people to commit to that kind of dependency.”
Anja side-eyed Darcy, clearly as shocked as Darcy was by the blunt honesty. All three women were quiet, and Darcy suddenly couldn’t think of a single other thing to say to change the subject. Instead, she knocked back half her whisky in one.
Then Bridget continued, and Darcy sat still, afraid to break the moment. “I know you might think that’s sad, but I’m happy. My career has always been important; it allows me to travel and explore. I’m not like you, Darcy, I don’t believe in happy ever after. One day it might find me, but I’m not wasting energy chasing it.”
Anja remained quiet, and Darcy attempted a subtle kick under the table. She needed help with this one. “Are you open to it at least? You won’t find it if you’re not.”
Bridget smiled softly at her. Darcy couldn’t be sure if it was in pity at her idealism or appreciation of her efforts. “You’ll not change my mind on this, so don’t bother trying.”
“But wouldn’t you want to share all those travel adventures with someone? What do you think, Anja?” She said her name firmly, inviting her to jump in at any time with a contribution. Instead, Anja shrugged and sipped her whisky, avoiding Darcy’s stare.
“Nope. I’m an only child and I was never good at sharing,” Bridget said. “Plus, I don’t think you need a partner to be fulfilled in life. There are plenty of people like me out there, whether by design or coincidence, who are living perfectly happy lives on their own.”
“Here, here.” It was Anja’s first contribution, and she reached to clink her glass to Bridget’s.
Now Darcy felt awkward. She hadn’t meant to intimate that Bridget was some sad and lonely case, or that she couldn’t be content with her life as it was. Or that Anja couldn’t continue to be a kick ass happy person without Jason in her life. “Of course. I didn’t mean it in that way… I…”
“I know you didn’t. It’s okay, Darcy.” Bridget laid a reassuring hand on Darcy’s arm. “You never know, I might meet someone down the road that will bring something else to my life. I hear love is funny like that; it gets you when you least expect it. And yes, I’m open to it.” She smiled. “But I also am, and will be, quite fine on my own.”
Bridget looked at the clock on her phone. “Speaking of which, you pair of chancers have got enough out of me for one ni
ght. Bugger off and leave me be with my whisky.”
Anja knocked back the last of hers. “Good idea. I’m knackered.” She stood and plucked both hers and Darcy’s coats from the back of their chairs. “You heard the boss. Let’s go.”
They wished Bridget goodnight and headed for the lifts.
Darcy bumped Anja’s shoulder. “You could have helped me out there,” she hissed. “Talk about awkward.”
“You started it. And you’re the one that believes in all that true-love stuff. I’m hardly in the position to be talking to Bridget about the benefits of finding happy ever after.”
That put Darcy in her place. She didn’t argue, and they rode the lift in silence.
At Darcy’s door, Anja smiled. “That doesn’t mean I don’t hope you find it, by the way.”
“What?”
“Your true love.”
Darcy scoffed. “Aye, chance would be a fine thing.”
“You never know. It might happen where you least expect it.”
She held Darcy’s gaze, and there was a moment of something. Darcy wasn’t sure what it was, but soberness suddenly hit her and the air between them thickened. Then Anja was moving towards her, and she swore her heart stuttered. Her eyes closed. Why was she closing her eyes?
Then warm lips were on her cheek, and Anja squeezed her briefly in a hug. “Thanks for tonight, Darcy. I really needed it.”
She watched Anja stroll along the corridor to her own room, as if she hadn’t just given Darcy a minor heart attack. Darcy fumbled with her key card, shoved the door opened, and then slammed it closed with her back against it.
What the fuck? Why on earth did I think she was going to kiss me? We’ve said good-bye and goodnight a thousand times before. Why was tonight any different?
She flopped on the bed and buried her head in a pillow, hoping to quash her imagination from any other wild thoughts it might be conjuring. It didn’t work, and she shot back upright.
Did I want her to kiss me?
No.
Don’t be ridiculous, Darcy. It’s been a long time since you last had sex. That’s all.
Yet she couldn’t help but wonder what she would have done if Anja had kissed her. Would she have kissed her back? Would it have been that easy? She could almost guarantee Anja would be a great kisser.
She tried the pillow method again, groaned loudly into it. Stop it, you sex-starved idiot. Or you’ll never be able to look her in the eye again.
Lately Darcy’s easy smile was more often tinged with worry and apprehension, but tonight it was back, and it had been missed. That truth should have been difficult to acknowledge, when in fact it came easy at the sight of her usual beaming grin. The one that shone like a beacon and attracted even the chilliest of characters to her.
More than one person peered Darcy’s way as she entered the bar, openly as well as furtively over their partner’s shoulder. She always drew a second glance. Even the bar person was enamoured; he’d shine a hole in that glass soon if he didn’t tear his eyes away from her.
Her eyes were glassy and bright with alcohol, and her mouth moved animatedly. Occasionally a tooth nipped the edge of her lip, the effect matching the cheeky lilt in her voice. A blanket of contentment wrapped around those who were near her, and as she spoke, she would lay a hand on an arm, a shoulder, a knee. So expressive were those hands that if someone grabbed and held them still, Darcy would surely stutter.
Only one person was responsible for the dampening of Darcy’s smile, and that thought couldn’t help but tug and tear everything apart. Every plan had so far come to pass, had achieved its goal, but the rest might as well be tossed aside. It would be impossible now to undertake.
This hadn’t been part of the plot. It was an unexpected and ugly truth after everything that had happened, and despite the feeling’s Darcy’s glorious smile brought, it had still choked for a long time. Now after months of trying to swallow it down, it demanded to be recognised. Accepted.
To finally admit it brought some relief, but it also meant deciding whether to walk away or do something about it. The tide was turning, but that didn’t mean the current had to dictate their destination.
Because that’s what love did.
It swept you along, and you became powerless to control it.
It was nerve-wracking.
No, more than that.
Terrifying.
It went against everything that had been ingrained internally over the years. Darcy had been one of the reasons for all the heartache. She had lived a stolen childhood that rightly belonged to someone else.
If it weren’t for Darcy and her mother, death would never have come knocking.
Up until this point, every moment had been measured, the discipline admirable and the execution flawless. The voice that laid the plans had remained strong and reassuring throughout.
Now it faded.
It picked at every new weakness and berated each subsequent failing because the unthinkable had transpired. The one thing planning hadn’t accounted for or could change.
And no one had the answers for what might come next.
Chapter 17
Bridget stalked from her office and nodded at Anja’s desk. “Where’s the wife?”
“How should I know?” Darcy snapped. “And we’re just friends, you know.”
Eyebrows raised, Bridget held up her hands in defence. “No need to be that way, I was only kidding. Can you send her into my office when she gets in?”
Darcy hung her head a little, unsure why she was being so defensive. “Sure.”
Bridget nodded and headed for the kitchen. Darcy rounded on Joe.
“First, she knows about the stalker, and now she’s calling Anja my wife? You are bloody sleeping with her, you little shitebag, aren’t you? Admit it.”
“Are you serious? You have met Bridget, right? Scary-as-hell, boss-lady Bridget?”
“Yes, although I hear some folk find that attractive. Do you, Joe? Tell me the truth.”
“I swear, I’m not. And I never speak about you guys with her. It’s like she said last week, she’s the boss and loads of other folk talk about you and Anja. Half the guys in here have indulged in that fantasy, trust me.”
“Well, fucking don’t, okay? We’re friends. That’s it, all right? Are people not allowed to only be friends anymore? I might be a lesbian, but it doesn’t mean I fancy every woman I know. Do your gender a favour and stop being so gross.”
At the look on Joe’s face, Darcy knew she’d gone too far.
“Okay, Darcy. Calm yourself. It was only a joke.”
Without another word, Darcy stormed to the bathroom. She was angry at Bridget and Joe, but mostly with herself. Why was she getting so upset about a throwaway jokey comment that she’d made about herself and Anja a million times before? And anyway, what the feck did Joe know? He didn’t know Anja beyond how she took her tea.
His words in the bar in Amsterdam still rang in her ears. She couldn’t shake them after the corridor moment, no matter how many times she told herself the idea of her and Anja was absurd.
Anja wasn’t jealous. She was purely upset because Darcy had a date lined up that meant she would be left home alone. They’d spent almost every evening together the past few weeks since she had kicked Jason out; it was no wonder she was feeling perturbed that someone else was taking away Darcy’s attention. It was Darcy’s fault for allowing her to become so dependent.
All that seemed logical, but still her mind wandered. What if Anja did like her? What would that mean for them? Darcy shook her head and glared at herself in the mirror.
“Impossible,” she stated firmly to her reflection.
But what if?
A panicky feeling started to take hold. Apart from the first few months bumping in to Anja around the office, when she couldn’t help but admire her cl
assic Nordic good looks, she’d never considered they could be anything more than friends. Yes, they were close now, closer than she’d ever been to a woman who wasn’t her girlfriend. So what? Wasn’t that friendship in its best form? Was she simply freaking out because it was the kind of friendship she’d never experienced before?
Darcy ran her hands under the tap and patted her cheeks and forehead with cool fingertips. What was she thinking? Bloody Joe and his damn fantasies, driving her crazy and making her read more in to Anja’s every look and action that would otherwise not even blip on her radar.
She straightened her suit jacket and smoothed down some errant curls. Took a few breaths and eyed herself again in the mirror. Joe had got to her. He was winding her up, nothing more. There was no reason or indication to think that anything he said had a grain of truth. Anja was her friend and had done nothing that should make Darcy think she wanted it any other way.
The end.
She returned to her desk, and there was still no sign of Anja, but there were three missed calls from her on Darcy’s personal phone. Bridget seemed preoccupied on her own phone, so Darcy slouched down surreptitiously and called her back.
“Hey, what’s up? Bridget’s asking for you.”
“Fuck Bridget.”
Darcy held the phone from her ear. This wasn’t good. “Okay, fuck her. What’s happened and where are you?”
“I’m at home and I’m a mess. I’ve been trying to psych myself up to come in, but I don’t think it’s going to happen. That bastard.”
“Bastard? Who’s a bastard? Oh wait, Jason. Have you seen him?”
“Oh yeah, I’ve seen him. He showed up here last night, flowers, chocolates, perfume…the whole shebang. He was on his knees begging me to take him back.”
“Shit. How did that go?”
“How the fuck do you think? I told him where he could stick his gifts. Didn’t even let him past the front door. We ended up in a screaming match in the driveway. Gave the neighbours a real show.”
