The Long Weekend (7 page)

It was pure jealousy of course, but she couldn’t help it.

In the lounge, Vic heard Stu still up with Geri, Kat and Abby, putting the world to rights.

Vic filled two glasses with water, drank one and refilled. The cold water slid down her throat with ease and splashed into her stomach. She wanted to check her email, but reception was sporadic all over the house. Vic padded to the far corner of the kitchen and held her phone up as high as she could. She squinted at the screen. Nothing.

Vic then moved to the hallway, opening the front door and hanging out of it. Even if she
got
reception, she wouldn’t be able to see a damn thing. She didn’t fancy a late-night trip outside.

Instead, she abandoned hope of gaining internet access and walked quietly back up the stairs and into their bedroom. Stevie was just pulling on a white T-shirt.

“Everything okay?”

“Yep, just getting these,” Vic said, placing Stevie’s water on her bedside table. It echoed in the glassy silence.

When Vic came out of the bathroom five minutes later, Stevie was reading her Kindle in bed.

Vic gave her wife a wary smile as she took her glasses off and joined her.

“It’s so damn quiet here, isn’t it?” Stevie whispered.

Vic looked over and nodded slowly. In London, the world never stood still. Even when Vic was doing yoga in the studio down the road, she could still hear the whoosh of traffic as it rumbled past, even over the whale music favoured by her instructor.

But here, if Vic lay still and tuned out the laughter coming from downstairs, she could hear nothing apart from her own breathing. That, and the sound of the wind and of the waves crashing against the wooden sand below, the beach being carved up from its flat surface to reveal welts and scars from previous tussles.

The calm was soon broken as Vic heard a crash from the next-door bedroom, then a flurry of giggles.

She and Stevie locked eyes as they realised with a slight sense of horror that the walls between the bedrooms weren’t as thick as they’d like.

Vic knew next door were Tash and Laura, who’d been pawing each other all night. She gulped – it didn’t take a genius to know what was coming next.

“Shit, I really don’t want to hear this.” Stevie pulled a face.

“And I do?”

Vic felt Stevie’s body tense up: if tonight was to be the start of something, that ship may have just sailed.

Stevie rolled over and buried her head under her freshly laundered pillow and Vic followed suit. It smelt of sunshine, the irony of which Vic grasped with both hands.

A few minutes passed. Under the pillow, the sound of Vic’s breathing was amplified. Eventually she peered under Stevie’s pillow, whose face was set to grimace mode.

“Have they stopped yet?” Vic asked, even though she knew the answer.

“They could be a while, they were pretty drunk.” Stevie pulled the pillow back down on her head.

Vic wriggled out, propped her head on her elbow and ran her left hand up and down Stevie’s slim body, feeling under her T-shirt and stroking her back. Stevie had lost weight since everything happened. Not for the first time, guilt washed over Vic. Even tonight, while everyone else had been helping themselves to seconds of dinner and cheese, Stevie had held back, her appetite not what it once was.

Stevie removed the pillow from the top of her head and twisted to look up at her wife.

Vic saw a flash of desire behind Stevie’s eyes. Vic’s body flooded with relief – it was still there. And even though Stevie’s body tensed at first, after a few seconds she began to relax.

Vic took a chance and leant in for a kiss. It was slow and gentle at first. Vic’s blood charged through her veins and her heartbeat revved. Encouraged by Stevie’s response, the parting of her lips, the taste of her tongue, Vic escalated the level of their kissing.

Unfortunately for her, it coincided with the moment Tash and Laura chose to reach their crescendo, with both now groaning loudly.

Stevie pulled back and shook her head. “I can’t, not with this.” She rolled into Vic and buried her head into her shoulder.

Vic stilled, sighed, then took Stevie fully into her arms.

Tash and Laura were still going.

Vic thought about banging on the wall in a comedy 1980s farce fashion, but shook her head at the notion and smiled sadly, wondering when she’d become such a curmudgeon. Then she remembered she could pinpoint the exact day.

Stevie rolled back slightly and looked up at her wife, looked like she was going to say something.

Vic could see the words spinning round her brain, coating her vocal chords, ready to spring. She hoped she was giving Stevie an open expression, one which would let her know that whatever it was she wanted to say or do, she could tell her.

Stevie’s eyes flickered and her cheek twitched, but then her features clouded over with sadness and the distance returned, so familiar it’d almost become a third member of their relationship. Stevie searched Vic’s eyes and couldn’t locate what she’d been looking for, so she simply gave her a peck on the cheek instead.

“You’d think they’d build some proper fucking walls, wouldn’t you?” Vic said quietly.

In response, Stevie got out of bed.

Vic’s eyes widened.

“Earplugs,” Stevie said, bending down to rummage in her case. Stevie settled back into bed, kissed Vic goodnight and turned onto her side, her back to her wife.

Vic felt Stevie still, felt her breathing steady. Vic lay in the semi-darkness as the stillness enveloped her, not hearing anything apart from her heartbeat thumping in her ears, keeping pace with a kick drum.

When they’d tied the knot three years ago she never thought they’d end up as one of those couples with an invisible line between them, but that’s exactly where they were. In the next room she heard giggling and low murmurs. Vic knew just how that felt. It was what she wanted back so desperately.

Maybe tomorrow?
Vic turned to gulp some water. Tomorrow would be different.

She rolled onto her side, trying to still her mind and her emotions. It didn’t work. Her emotions would not be stilled. Instead, they jangled like a rail of empty wire coat hangers.

After Hours

“Is there any more wine left?” Stu got up from the sofa to a cacophony of crackling, which caused Geri to peer up at him.

“Was that your knees?”

“Fraid so.” Stu ran his hand over his shaved head. “Blame Darren. Ever since he got me down the gym they’ve never been the same. Don’t believe the hype on exercise – it’s actually one big con. I’ve never been such a wreck as I am now. Should have stuck to eating pies.”

“You do still eat pies, just not when Darren’s watching,” Geri laughed. “You need to get some WD40 on your knees,” she added as Stu left the room. Geri stretched out her legs and yawned, knitting her fingers together in front of her face, palms facing out.

“You still running?” Kat asked from the other sofa. She had stains on her lips and teeth from the red wine, her cheeks Merlot splotched. Her focus had also narrowed somewhat, although she seemed to be doing her best to focus by alternately squinting one eye, then the other. Abby was asleep next to her, her bouncy hair bunching up on the side of the stone-coloured faux suede sofa.

Kat went to drink more wine from her glass, but it was empty. She frowned.

“Stu just went to get some more,” Geri told her.

Kat smiled. “So are you?”

“What?”

“Still running?”

“Course – got to for the job. This ain’t LA, we can’t sit around eating doughnuts in the West End, it’s not the done thing.” Geri rearranged herself on the couch as Stu returned brandishing three bottles of Stella.

“All we got left I’m afraid, girls.” Stu handed one to Geri, one to Kat.

Kat took a deep gulp and polished off nearly a third of the bottle in one go.

“What about you? You must be doing something, you’ve lost a bunch of weight.”

Kat shook her head, opened her mouth but then clearly thought better of it. “Not running – just cutting down on the drinking, going to the gym, eating better. I’ve got a lot more time on my hands these days so...” As she said the last bit, Kat took another swig of her beer, leaving the bottle nearly empty. She winked at her friends on the opposite sofa.

“That’s Helga’s doing, right?” Stu said.

Kat frowned. “Helga?” She looked puzzled.

“Your PA?”

It took a couple of seconds for the penny to drop, then Kat laughed. “Oh yeah… absolute godsend.”

“Well, I’d rather run than cut down on drinking. Does that say something about me?” Geri said.

“That you like beer?” Kat drained her bottle as she got up off the sofa with a sudden spring in her step. “I’m going to get some more,” she told them.

They heard her clatter into the kitchen doorframe with some empties, followed by a distinct “Fuck!”

This woke up Abby who squinted at Geri and Stu, then sat upright, yawning and looking around for Kat.

Geri nodded towards the kitchen. “She’s gone to get more beer.”

Abby checked her watch and frowned. “Fucking hell.” She gave Geri and Stu a look, before hauling herself to the kitchen, fishing out her iPhone from her pocket as she went.

“D’you feel like you’ve just been told off by the headmistress?” Stu asked.

Geri didn’t answer. Instead, there were raised voices in the kitchen, the clanking of bottles, voices quietened, mumbling.

A few minutes later Kat appeared in the doorway.

“Abby says it’s gone 1am and we should go to bed. She’s probably right so I’m taking my leave. Night you two.” She gave them a little wave and they heard her follow Abby up to bed.

“Bloody hell, pussy-whipped or what?” Geri said.

Stu smiled and stroked his goatee. “I don’t think it’s such a bad thing where Kat’s concerned – Abby’s nothing short of a miracle-worker. I mean, she was still standing at 1am, still conscious
and
she hasn’t hit on any of us.”

“Yet.”

The pair pondered their friend’s apparent new leaf, listening to the waves outside the house as they did. The wind had picked up and the sea was stormy tonight, making them glad they were high above it.

“I take it Kelly’s out of the picture completely now?” Stu’s question brought Geri back to the present.

She nodded slowly, resting her beer in her lap. “Yeah – never going to work was it? Still, she was gorgeous while she lasted.”

“Perhaps you could try going for someone your own age next time?” It was more of a statement than a question.

“That’s what Tash and Laura said, too.” Geri rolled her shoulders. “It’s easier said than done though, isn’t it? I mean, I’m 39 now, I’m damaged goods.” She sucked on her bottom lip when she said this, studying her fingernails. They needed a trim.

“You’re in the reduced pile?” Stu said. “God I hope not, I’m only a year and a half behind you. And I have the added bonus of HIV.”

“Yes but you have a boyfriend, remember?”

“Well, yes,” Stu replied, looking less than impressed with his lot.

Geri batted his comment away with her hand. “Oh Darren’s Darren. You know how he is – he hasn’t changed. He’s always been a bit flighty. I think maybe you’ve changed is more to the point. Have you tried talking to him?”

Stu shrugged like he didn’t care.

Geri wasn’t buying it. “Talk to him. He loves you. He wants to be with you. So you like different things sometimes – that’s good! You don’t want to turn into Ken and Ken, do you?”

Stu shot her his best look of derision, at which Geri laughed.

“Talking of HIV, how are your counts doing?”

Stu looked nonplussed. “Fine. I mean, I take my pills every morning, I try not to catch a cold and my body is the same as ever. I don’t feel like a weapon of mass destruction. Even my mum doesn’t worry I’m going to die anymore, so things must have turned a corner, mustn’t they?”

Kat let her hand flop out of the covers and trailed it through thin air, rippling imaginary water. Next to her, Abby was flat on her back. She was breathing so loudly, it sounded like a recording of breathing, like there was no way it could be real, but it was. Asleep, she looked angelic, almost too perfect for words, her dark skin smooth and soft, her hair splayed artfully across the white pillow.

Kat frowned as she tried to bring to mind the complete memory of last night but she had a nagging feeling there was something she’d missed. Abby hadn’t been amused when she’d tried to get more beer at 1am, but she shrugged internally, writing that one off to holiday excitement. She hadn’t drunk a drop on the first night, after all.

Kat sighed the sigh of a woman who felt trapped – by what she didn’t do as well as what she did. She was grateful in some ways to Abby for coming into her life, but she seemed to have turned up at just the moment that Kat’s world had imploded.

Kat lifted the covers and got out of bed, tousling her short dark hair as she did. She tiptoed across the room as wince-inducing pain shot through her skull, opened the en-suite door and closed it in the manner of a cartoon burglar.

This morning her brain was a toxic tangle of emotions that she didn’t really want to think about, and she didn’t want a Friday night analysis session, either. Abby would want to try to untangle the emotions, tidy up the mess, whereas Kat could happily carry on and simply walk around it, pretending it wasn’t there. It was a skill she’d been born with.

This morning, what she most wanted was to pee, get in the shower and let the hot jets wash away her ills, followed by a coffee. Then and only then could she usher the rest of the day into her grey hangover fug, slap on a smile and start all over again. Life was monotonous like that.

***

As the bathroom door closed, Abby opened her left eye and imagined Kat on the other side, sat on the loo and massaging her temples – typical Kat morning-after pose. She knew she’d been right when she’d told Kat to bail on this weekend – her girlfriend simply didn’t have the tools to deal with it right now.

Abby smiled ruefully as she thought about the night they’d met at a networking event for lesbian professionals – really just an excuse to get a group of hot, powerful gay women into one room to drink cocktails and check each other out. Still, it worked for her and the hundred or so other women there.