The Long Weekend (3 page)

“Come on you, let’s get this stuff inside.” Vic handed a case to her wife.

Stevie tried to wheel it to the front door but the gravel wouldn’t allow it, so instead she picked it up with a grunt, her face flushing pink with the effort.

Stevie turned the key in the door and Vic followed her in, scanning the extensive wood-panelled hallway hung with modern artwork. Someone was clearly a Jackson Pollock fan. Light flooded in through massive windows, with added colour waltzing around via stained glass windows overhead. It made a great first impression and Vic’s shoulders slumped with relief as she realised they’d picked a winner. With most other odds stacked against her this weekend, it was good to know their accommodation wouldn’t be one of them.

Vic dropped her suitcase at the bottom of the grand staircase to her right, before heading across the hallway and through a door to the left. She drew a breath. This house just got better.

“Fuck me – they weren’t lying. Babe, you gotta see this!”

Stevie dumped her suitcase and walked to the lounge. She too stopped almost as soon as she entered the room.

“Holy shit!”

They were standing in the living room, the feature room, the one that made them stop on the holiday cottage website and click. It was grand – in scale, in opulence, in views. The whole of the main wall which they were currently staring out of was a mass of polished glass overlooking the garden and the sea. The cliff fell away in front of them to reveal masses of oak-coloured sand and water as far as the eye could see. It was spellbinding.

Stevie broke into a spontaneous round of applause as she surveyed the rest of the room. Modern neutral-toned sofas, fancy coffee table, sumptuous stone-coloured rugs and the biggest flatscreen she’d ever seen on the opposite wall. Massive nature screen one side, enormous TV on the other.

“This is amazing – I mean, look at it!” Stevie swept her hand expansively. She dropped the welcome envelope in her excitement, then bent to retrieve it.

Vic blinked and grinned. “Wait till the others see it, they’re going to be blown away. And they so owe us for finding this.”

“Too right. Shall we take first pick of the bedrooms as our reward?” Stevie shifted next to Vic who instinctively put her arm around her and kissed her brow, now perked up with colour.

“Let’s do it.”

They sprang up the stripy carpeted stairs and chose the bigger of the sea-view rooms. It had an en-suite (as did all the double rooms), a king-size bed and a pair of welcoming red felt armchairs that looked plushly expensive.

Stevie bounced on the bed and nodded as she sprang back up without much reluctance.

Vic poked her head in the en-suite, then came back into the bedroom. “This is incredible. It’s like a fucking show home…”

Vic watched Stevie: it’d been a while since she’d jumped up and down on a bed with such glee in her presence. Before all of this, Vic would have jumped on top of her there and then, wrestled her into submission and kissed her long and hard. But these days, lines were blurred and their relationship was misshapen, wonky. Vic continually checked her actions, stopped, reassessed.

Stevie was staring at her and was probably thinking similar thoughts. When did kissing your wife become such a difficult decision?

Vic forced a smile and Stevie returned it, just as sad and ill-formed. If she were going to go with her gut it was too late; the moment had gone and there were too many thoughts clogging the air in the bedroom now. Vic bit her top lip and took off her glasses, running a hand through her hair before replacing them.

“Shall we get going? The Flowerpot awaits.” Vic offered Stevie her hand.

Stevie made a slight grunting noise as she got up, something she’d added to her repertoire since turning 40 earlier in the year.

“Yep – I’m famished.”

***

The Flowerpot was busier when they returned, despite the fact it was little more than an hour later. A new bartender had appeared in Vic and Stevie’s absence and she greeted them with a welcoming smile as they approached the bar. She had a pleasing Devonian accent that curled at the edges, along with short, dark hair and piercing brown eyes.

As they sat down with their wine, burgers ordered, Stevie checked her phone but reception was poor. She was in the country now.

“Just going to check this,” she said to Vic, indicating her mobile. Stevie’s bones creaked as she walked out of the car park until she eventually got three bars of signal, a couple of texts popping up on-screen.

When she returned, Vic had poured the Cabernet Sauvignon and already taken a large gulp.

Stevie’s phone skittered across the shiny wooden table as she put it down and took her own slug of wine. She sighed with contentment as she felt the warming alcohol seep into her system.

“So?” Vic leant back in her chair.

“Well, they’ve all left at least.”

“All of them?”

“Yep – even Gimpy got off work early, so she’s on a train.”

“I’m impressed,” Vic said.

“I’m amazed.” Stevie paused. “Kat and Abby reckon they’ll make it by 9-ish. Stu’s at his mum’s and she’ll bring him in the morning.”

“And the other two?”

Stevie crinkled her forehead. “They left late, obviously…”

“Obviously…”

“…But they’ve dropped the kids off and they’ve got to pick up Gimpy – so who knows. Around 10pm?”

“Optimistic,” Vic grinned.

“Give or take,” Stevie said. “The upshot is, most of the merry band will be here soon – barring calamitous natural disasters.”

“And dodgy sat navs.”

“I’m going to treat that comment with the contempt it deserves, drink some more wine and hope our food comes soon before I eat this beermat.” Stevie smiled at Vic, a knowing smile, a smile to a lover she’d known for half of her life. “By the way – did you get a vibe from the barmaid?”

“A vibe?”

“You know – an ‘on our team’ vibe.” Stevie narrowed her eyes conspiratorially as she said this.

Vic flicked her gaze up to the bar and studied the barmaid for a minute, then shook her head. “Nah, I don’t think they allow lesbians this far west, do they?”

“Ha ha,” said Stevie. “Bet you a fiver she is.”

Vic arched an eyebrow. “You going to ask her?”

“Not tonight, but maybe tomorrow.” Stevie yawned. “Anyway, here’s to a fab reunion.” She held up her glass for Vic to chink.

“Let’s hope it’s not as eventful as the last one...”

“I’m kinda hoping it might be.”

The Collection

“You ate what?" Tash turned in the passenger seat as Laura guided the car back onto the A38.

In the back, Geri folded her leather jacket on the seat beside her.

“Nice jacket by the way – very lady-killer.”

“That’s the idea.” Geri smiled, smoothing out her jeans with both palms. “It was salmon with pea shoots, crème fraiche and mint, pureed till it tasted odd and piped into posh bread. At least they’re trying.”

“Got to be better than my sandwich, which just tasted of fridge. I know it comes chilled, but I want it to taste of something other than chilled.”

“Does chilled have a taste?” Geri asked.

“Yes, motorway services sandwiches.” Tash turned back to face front.

“I told her to make her own before we left, because this happens every time.” Laura flicked her eyes up to the mirror as she gave Geri a grin.

“We should so open a sandwich shop in motorway services that actually sells tasty stuff. We’d make a mint.” It was a comment Tash made on practically every journey. “Besides, I wasn’t making sandwiches today. We’re on holiday and we’re childless.”

Geri leant forward and put one hand on the shoulder of the driver’s seat, the other on the shoulder of the passenger’s seat.

“Well, I only had one person to buy for and it was shit – they always are. The wine, however – that was tasty. As was the Double Decker I got to go with it.” Geri grinned, showing a wonky front tooth.

“You’ve had wine!” Tash pouted. “I want wine.”

Laura patted her leg then checked her lights were on low as she turned left onto a smaller country road.

“We’ll get you some – not long now,” Laura said.

Tash squeezed her leg back.

“So what’s going on with you two anyway? How are the kiddies?” Geri was still hanging in the space between the two.

“Shouldn’t we be asking you that question?” Laura smirked at Geri via her mirror.

“Yes, very droll.” Geri’s look could best be described as withering.

“They’re good – with Simon this weekend,” Tash said. “And nothing’s going on with us, we live in Essex, remember?” She turned her head to Gimpy, who made a face and slumped into the back seat.

“Don’t think London’s one long party.” Geri said. “It’s just more expensive.”

“You not still seeing that girl?” Laura asked.

“Which one?”

“Which one?” Tash laughed.

“Well I was kinda seeing a blonde at one point, but that didn’t work out. Then there was the Aussie too.”

“The Aussie – Kelly?” Laura said.

“Yep, Kelly,” Geri nodded. “Nope, it kinda fizzled out after a few dates. She was a bit young….”

“I rest my case,” Laura said.

“How old?” Tash asked.

Geri licked her lips. “Twenty-seven.”

“Oh my God, 27! I remember 27. I got engaged at 27.” Tash shuddered before twisting to face Geri. “What do 27 year olds talk about?”

Geri rubbed her eyes. “I wasn’t worried about the talking.” A yawn. “But she did keep talking about music I’d never heard of. I mean, I’m not even out of touch. Plus, being Aussie, there was a big cultural gap. She’d never seen half the shows I talked about and she just kept wanting to go out. It got wearing.”

“27 year olds will do that,” Tash said.

“Yeah well, I kept up for a bit, then…” Geri puffed out her cheeks, grinning. “Still, who knows what awaits in Devon? Maybe I’ll meet a hot surfer chick and move here. I’ve always quite fancied living in the country.”

“I’m sure they have criminals here too,” Tash said. “You could be like the village bobby. Or the village Gimp.” She laughed heartily at her joke, as Laura joined in too.

Geri ran her fingers through her hair and rolled her eyes silently in the back.

“Ha ha, you two. You know, we’re going to have words about my nickname this weekend.”

Tash turned again, wide-eyed. “You want it changed to something like Gimpy The Great?”

“Or just plain Geri would be fine.”

“You’d miss it when it was gone.” Laura pulled up at a junction. The red arrow of the sat nav was telling her to go right but the sign ahead of her said Exmouth was left. “Should we be going right?” she asked Tash, who sat up and peered at the sign ahead.

“The sign says left.”

“I know, but the sat nav says right,” Laura said.

Geri leant forward again. “I’d go with the sign,” she said, looking at Laura, then Tash. “And if I’m right, you have to back me up when I talk to everyone this weekend about calling me Geri from now on and not Gimpy. Deal?”

Tash turned to Geri as Laura clicked the left-hand indicator and pulled out.

“What if you’re wrong, though – do we get to call you Gimpy The Great for ever more?”

Geri shook her head and sat back. “Sometimes it worries me that you’re in charge of the upbringing of two impressionable children, you know.”

Tash smiled in the front seat and glanced at the sat nav, which had recalibrated itself. Tash didn’t have a lot of time for sat navs.

“Have you been in touch with Kat, by the way?” Laura glanced at Geri in her rear-view mirror.

Geri shook her head. “Nah, she’s been a bit off the radar of late – you know Kat and her work schedule.” She paused. “It’ll be good to catch up with her this weekend.”

Tash couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “Will it?”

Laura glanced sideways and shot her a warning glance.

“What?” Tash said, her tone rising with every millisecond. “I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking. Kat’s party trick of drinking as much as she can and falling over wore thin on me the third time I saw it. I just wonder when everyone else will get bored with it, too.”

“Babe…” Laura said.

Tash held up her hands in defence. “And yes, I know I know, she’s your old friend and we shouldn’t think these things, but really, she’s nearly 40 now, not 20. She needs to grow the fuck up.”

Geri chuckled and moved to hanging between Tash and Laura again, a smile etched on her face. “No, tell us what you really think, Tash…”

The Reunion

By the time Kat and Abby got to the pub it was gone nine o’clock and Stevie and Vic were drinking the local cider which was called Rattler, rust red in colour.

The pair hugged Vic and Stevie, the new arrivals turning heads in the pub. Kat was wearing a white shirt that was only on its first or second outing, judging by its stiffness. Abby was dressed in her standard retro gear, flowery dress circling around her slim calves.

“Look at you!” Stevie held Kat at arm’s length and swept her eyes up and down her body. “Damn, girl, you’ve lost some weight! When did that happen?”

Kat smiled as her cheeks reddened. “You know, just trying to eat right and exercise as I approach old age.”

“Old age my arse – you look amazing.”

As Vic and Stevie introduced themselves to Abby, the dark-haired barmaid with the twinkly eyes rounded the bar brandishing menus. She wore jeans and a matching shirt but, despite the double denim, still managed to exude allure.

“Hi – just to let you know if you want food, you’ll have to be quick as the kitchen closes soon.”

She looked down at Abby expectantly then flicked her eyes to Kat.

Abby smiled up at her and shook her head. “Thanks, but we already ate.”

The barmaid nodded and started collecting up the rest of the menus from the tables around the pub.

Abby followed her rear until Kat slapped her leg and gave her a look. Abby grinned at being caught out.

“I could have had some chips,” Kat moaned, staring after the barmaid.

“I’m just looking after your health,” Abby replied.

“As well as checking out her butt.”

“She passed my buoyancy test.”