One Way or Another

by A. L. Brooks

  She smirked and Bethany blushed.

  “And here I am regretting that I tell you everything,” Bethany said, shaking her head.

  Alice smiled and patted her hand indulgently. “We’re both adults, love.” Her face turned serious. “And I hope you know you can tell me anything. Any time you need someone to listen. You know I would never judge.”

  Bethany nodded, squeezing her mother’s hand. “I know. Thank you.”

  And it was true. Her mum had always been her best support, and Bethany had never felt embarrassed about sharing with her. Alice had even been the one to suggest to Bethany, when she was fourteen, that her sexual orientation may not be entirely straight, therefore removing any drama Bethany may have had around coming out as lesbian when she finally decided that was her label at nineteen.

  “So, any chance of another slice of that?” Alice asked, pointing at the cake even as she reached for the knife.

  Bethany laughed, and pushed her own plate towards her mum. “Only if you cut one for me too.”

  Bethany ran the rolling pin lightly over the scone mixture until it had been massaged into a flat pancake of dough just under an inch deep. Setting the rolling pin aside, she picked up the crimped cutter and pressed it into the dough, popping out the two-inch round and placing it onto the prepared baking sheet. She hummed as she worked, and pushed her glasses up with the back of her hand when they threatened to slip down her nose.

  Baking was her go-to stress reliever. Not that she was stressed, per se, not really. Edgy was more like it.

  Nervous.

  After her visit with her mum the day before, she had stared at Sarah’s card umpteen times where it sat on her tiny coffee table, taunting her.

  This morning, after a rather fitful sleep, she had set to work on baking a marmalade cake and now this batch of scones, both for the staffroom at the primary school where she worked. Her fellow teachers were always grateful for their Monday morning treats, and Bethany’s mood calmed in anticipation of seeing their smiling faces in a little under twenty-four hours. She loved her job, and part of that revolved around her wonderful co-workers. She knew she was lucky; some of the teacher training peers she kept in touch with had regaled her with horror stories of not-so-nice colleagues in other schools.

  She pushed the full baking sheet into the oven, started the timer, and then washed her hands before slipping out of her apron and reaching for her mug of coffee. The sofa accepted her with a small groan, the cushions giving more than they should and requiring her to shift a few times until her backside found a spot that didn’t involve a spring poking uncomfortably into soft flesh.

  Next purchase. Two more months and I should have enough saved.

  The coffee was the perfect temperature and she savoured the intense flavour. Her gaze drifted once again to Sarah’s card:

  Sarah Connolly, Senior Legal Advisor, Robbins & Pearse Ltd

  So, she was a lawyer. Which meant she was smart. Bethany hadn’t Googled the company just yet, but the card was good quality, embossed, and therefore not cheap. Sarah probably earned much more than she did. Would that be a problem? Bethany was fiercely independent, and would always wish to pay her own way in any transaction, be that with a friend, family member or…partner.

  She shook her head at herself—she was getting carried away. They hadn’t even had that first drink yet.

  Her mum was right; unless she talked to Sarah, she’d never know if a better personality went with those amazing looks. Or if Sarah’s intelligence was as high as her job would suggest. Or if money would or wouldn’t be an issue between them.

  And if one drink went well, maybe they could try dinner next. Bethany’s mind drifted again. And if that went well, perhaps a picnic, or a visit to a museum. Would Sarah even like museums? Or picnics?

  She put down her mug and stood up. There was only one way to find out.

  A trickle of sweat rolled down the back of Sarah’s neck, and she grinned, standing up on her pedals to give the simulated hill climb the energy it deserved. She was panting, and her quads were screaming, but the endorphins flooding her system meant pure joy ran through her body rather than pain.

  She’d drifted off with her thoughts while riding, her mind, much to her surprise, returning to her interlude with Bethany at the shop on Friday night rather than her pleasant afternoon with Evelyn and Jonathan, only yesterday. Something about Bethany kept tugging at her. It was inexplicable—after getting shot down by a woman, something that rarely happened anyway, Sarah usually forgot about them and moved on. But not so with Bethany, and this puzzled her. Maybe she should hit one of the clubs next weekend, see about breaking this poor run she was on.

  The timer on the exercise bike reached her thirty-minute target and the bike slowed into cool down mode. She flopped back onto the saddle and eased the pace of her legs, her arms folded on the frame in front of her. If someone had told her in her early teens—when she had hated PE lessons with a passion and did all she could not to take part in any sports events at school—that she’d be sitting here now relishing the afterglow of her workout, she would have laughed in their faces.

  Her phone rang and she snatched it up from its perch on the little shelf built into the bike’s handle bars. Caller display showed her aunt’s name.

  “Hi, Evelyn, everything okay?”

  “Hello, Sarah. You sound out of breath—am I interrupting anything?”

  There was a smirk in her aunt’s voice and Sarah grinned.

  “No, you dirty old woman. I’ve just finished a workout on the bike.”

  “Good. I am pleased that it is still making such a difference to you.”

  “Yep, it is. You can totally take the credit for that.”

  “Yes, well, it was that or pay for your rehab, dear. The bicycle was cheaper.”

  Sarah laughed out loud, but her stomach flipped at the truth of Evelyn’s words. Evelyn had without doubt rescued Sarah from a deep, dark pit of over-indulgence and life-wasting behaviour some years ago, and Sarah would always be grateful for that.

  “True. Anyway,” she rushed on, before emotion overwhelmed her, “what can I do for you? I only saw you yesterday.”

  “I know, but I blame my age. I forgot to remind you about the charity dinner this week. You are still coming with me, yes?”

  “Of course! Wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

  Evelyn, like many women with substantial means, supported a variety of charities and actually had a seat on the board of a few. Sarah was often her partner for their swanky events, where she enjoyed seeing Evelyn back in her element, the centre of attention, entertaining everyone within earshot. While they tended to tire Evelyn out now, she still sparkled during these events, and it brought deep joy to Sarah to see her aunt so lit up.

  “Excellent. I shall see you on Wednesday then. Seven o’clock sharp.”

  “Yes, ma’am!”

  Evelyn chuckled and hung up.

  Sarah reached for the small towel tucked into the waistband at the back of her shorts and wiped down her sweaty face before climbing down off the bike and heading towards the bathroom.

  Her apartment boasted the kind of bathroom normally reserved for classy hotels, and it was one of the main reasons she’d purchased the flat some four years ago. The mortgage had stretched her back then, but two promotions in three years had eased that financial burden somewhat. As she crossed the apartment, bright morning sunshine spilled into the open-plan lounge, kitchen, and dining area from the double doors that led out to the balcony. And that was the other main reason she’d bought the flat—the view from that small outside space, overlooking the water, was sublime.

  As she reached the bathroom, her phone trilled from where she’d only just left it on the kitchen counter. She could have let it go to voicemail but something pulled her across the room to at least see who was calling, thinking that perhaps it w
as Evelyn again with another forgotten reminder.

  It was, however, an unrecognised number. Normally she would let such a call go to voicemail for sure, but inexplicably her hand was reaching out to swipe the ‘Answer’ button and her mouth was saying, “Hello?”

  “Um, hi. Sarah?”

  The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place it. “Yes. Who is this?”

  “Hi. It’s…it’s Bethany. From the s-shop on Friday evening.”

  The fading glow from her exercise returned in full force.

  Well, well, well.

  “Hello, Bethany-from-the-shop. How lovely to hear from you.”

  Bethany gave a half-laugh. “Yes. Well. I was, er, thinking about what you said. About going for a drink. I was wondering if you were still interested.”

  Her voice held more than a hint of nerves, and Sarah found herself wanting to tread far more lightly than she would have done with anyone else.

  “Of course,” she said, softening her tone, taking the teasing lilt out of it. “I definitely am. I’m very happy you called.”

  “Oh. Good.”

  There was a long silence, and Sarah wondered if Bethany had used up all her confidence in simply making this call in the first place. In which case, Sarah had confidence in abundance and was happy to give things a shove.

  “It might be short notice, but are you free this evening by any chance?”

  There was a sound like a little squeak.

  “Um, yes, actually. That would be f-fine.”

  “Great.” Sarah pondered the little jig of joy her stomach performed, then pushed it aside. “So, whereabouts are you based? I’m in Limehouse.”

  “Oh, I’m in Finchley, but I’m close to the Tube so I can meet you anywhere, really.”

  “Well, why don’t we choose somewhere roughly in the middle between us, so neither of us has to travel too far?”

  “Sounds good. But, um, you’ll need to suggest somewhere as I don’t really know where to go.”

  How cute. Once again something wriggled in Sarah’s belly, something pleasant and warm and…satisfying, in a way she couldn’t describe.

  She had to swallow before speaking. “Right, well, there’s a nice wine bar I know just off Long Acre in Covent Garden. We could meet at around seven. Does that sound okay?”

  What was happening to her? Normally she wasn’t so…solicitous. Normally she would just say when and where they were meeting and expect the woman to concur. She never checked to see if they were happy with the suggestion.

  “That sounds fine. Could you text me the address?”

  “Of course.”

  “Okay. Great. That’s…great.”

  “Bethany,” Sarah said softly, enjoying how the forming of the name felt on her tongue.

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you very much for calling.”

  “Oh. Oh, okay. See you tonight.”

  Something in Bethany’s tone told Sarah she was blushing, and that gave Sarah a buzz of something thrilling she couldn’t begin to understand.

  As Sarah put down her phone, she was aware she was smiling. But it wasn’t her usual lascivious smile, of hunger and anticipation. Instead, it was happy; content.

  It felt both wonderful and strange, all at the same time.

  Chapter 5

  Bethany was—generally—a calm, level-headed woman who knew what she wanted and worked hard to get it. She had been utterly focused in school and college, thrilling in her own intelligence and the opportunities it presented to her. Her teachers had all praised her drive and hard work. And while they’d pointed out that she was shy and could do with speaking up more in class, no one pushed too hard. Bethany was quiet at home too—having two loud and energetic brothers ensured that her voice was rarely heard above their ruckus. She held her own though, when needs be, and her mother had always encouraged her to do so whenever appropriate.

  Her current state, therefore, was annoying, to say the least. She had stumbled her way through that call, blushing and stuttering until she wanted to groan in frustration at how inept and immature she must have seemed to the perfectly poised and confident Sarah. Yes, it had been years since she’d been on a date, and yes, of course it was natural to be a tad nervous about it. But turning into a shaking mess was not the way to approach it.

  Woman up! Sarah is just another human being whom you will share one drink with to see if you are in any way compatible for exploring further possibilities. She is not some goddess who needs to be venerated and genuflected to.

  The pep talk helped; her breathing became less ragged and her heart rate slowed. The words, however, did nothing to sort out the pile of discarded outfits and matching accessory options on the bed in front of her.

  Just pick something. Anything.

  She reached forward. The yellow sundress with the blue flowers on it would do. And maybe the bold colour would engender confidence that she, Bethany Keane, could in fact go on her first date in nearly eight years.

  Dressing quickly, she observed her reflection in the full-length mirror on the inside door of her wardrobe. Okay, not too bad. She lifted her shoulders, feeling taller. The hint of cleavage at the neckline was sexy without being too revealing—she hoped—and her bare legs didn’t look too pale against the brightness of the dress, even with the dark blue sandals that adorned her feet. She pulled a short navy blue cardigan out of the pile of clothes and slipped it on. With a small clutch in her hand, she was ready, at last.

  She sucked in a deep breath and left the house.

  When she exited the Tube at Leicester Square, the butterflies started to take flight in her stomach. Unfortunately, it didn’t take more than five minutes to find the wine bar, which gave her nerves no time to calm. Seeing Sarah sitting at a small table near the window only heightened them. She looked amazing—her scarlet top hung a little off her shoulders and dipped teasingly low across her chest. She wore what looked like diamond studs in her ears, which twinkled as they caught the evening light through the window of the bar, and a chunky silver ring on her left hand. Her hair was styled slightly differently, the front swept more to one side than before, and it made her look even more glamorous than Bethany remembered.

  She swallowed as Sarah saw her and waved. Okay, it appeared she was really doing this.

  The bar wasn’t noisy when she walked in; soft jazz played over the sound system, but it wasn’t intrusive. Sarah stood as Bethany approached, and the gesture touched her.

  “Bethany,” Sarah breathed her name as if it was an incantation, and it sent shivers spiralling down Bethany’s spine. “You look amazing.” Sarah’s eyes were shining, her smile wide.

  “Thank you.” Bethany sat in the chair opposite, placing her clutch on the table. “So do you,” she said, daring to take a lingering look at Sarah, who smiled in return.

  There was a drinks menu on the table.

  “Have you chosen already?” Bethany asked, gesturing to it.

  “I have, but I haven’t ordered yet. I wanted to wait for you.” Sarah’s brow creased into a small frown at her own words, as if, somehow, they’d not been quite what she expected to say.

  “Well, that’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

  Bethany lifted the menu and quickly perused the white wines sold by the glass. Upon choosing a Pinot Grigio, she looked up to find Sarah staring at her, a faint smile on her lips. Bethany flushed under the attention even as it made her glow inside.

  The waitress appeared, absolving Bethany from any sort of response. Sarah opted for a Malbec, and the choice of something so strong and robust did not surprise Bethany. It was a wine that suited what she already knew of Sarah.

  They swapped small talk until their wine was delivered. Touching glasses, they each took a sip, emitting small moans of appreciation as they savoured their chosen libations, and laughing after they
did so.

  “Are you a wine connoisseur?” Sarah asked, smiling.

  “Not particularly. I know what I like and what I don’t like. I’ve always wanted to take a trip to Italy, or maybe Spain, solely to tour the vineyards.”

  “Mm, that sounds like a wonderful idea. I went to South Africa a couple of years ago, and did some winery tours there. It was fun, but also very interesting. They really try to teach you rather than let you just quaff down all day.”

  “Whereabouts in South Africa?”

  Bethany listened, entranced, as Sarah spoke enthusiastically about her travels. They swapped stories of places they had been or would like to go. For Bethany, the latter list was considerably longer than the former, and she cringed slightly when Sarah picked up on that fact.

  “So, it sounds like you haven’t been able to travel as much as you’d like. Is that because of work?”

  Bethany nodded slowly, wondering just how honest to be.

  As honest as possible, as early as possible, if you want to start things off on the right foot.

  “Um, yes. I’m a teacher, as you may have gathered, so not only do I have to fit my holidays around school terms, but because of that it means I can only go at peak times, and a teacher’s salary doesn’t often stretch that far.”

  “What do you teach?”

  Bethany smiled in gratitude; Sarah hadn’t offered sympathy or pity, neither of which she could have stomached.

  “I’m a primary school teacher, so a lot of everything for kids that age.”

  “Oh, that’s the cutest age, right? Before they turn into little bast—demons. Although,” she said, tilting her head, “you already have at least one little bast—demon in your class, yes?”

  Bethany snorted at the correction. “You can swear, it’s okay.”

  Sarah smiled and wiped her brow in an exaggerated phew motion.

  “Yes, little Michael is…challenging, to say the least. They’re not all exactly angels at this age, believe me,” Bethany said with a chuckle. “But mostly, yes, they are very sweet and can say the most adorable things.”