The Long Weekend (9 page)

“So what about me, then?” Tash grazed Laura’s wandering hands with her lips.

“Huh?”

Tash batted Laura’s hand away, bringing her back into the room. “Focus, sweetheart.” Tash grasped her girlfriend’s chin in her hand. “What about me? What’s my personal ad?”

Laura’s mouth twitched and she looked thoughtful. “MILF wants thrill-seeker for lasting passion. GSOH, great tits.” Laura reached down to kiss Tash’s breasts, first the left, then the right.

“I’m not sure that sets the right tone.” Tash clipped Laura lightly round the head, then ran her fingers through Laura’s long hair in contrition.

Laura lifted her head so that Tash felt her breath on her face. She shifted her body right, causing Tash to topple backwards and within seconds she was on top of her, an eyebrow arched in anticipation.

“On the contrary, I think it sends out exactly the right message.” Laura grinned down at her, before closing the space between them, kissing Tash with undisguised passion.

Tash had no response apart from to succumb to the moment.

Laura pressed her thigh between Tash’s legs, causing her girlfriend to take a sharp intake of breath. She followed up by running her right hand up and down Tash’s inner thigh, then began to tease her lover with caresses around her groin, her soft thatch of hair, her sex.

“I know you’re not a morning person,” Laura whispered throatily in Tash’s ear. “But like the ad said, you’re definitely a mum I’d like to fuck.”

Breakfast Two

Geri was in the kitchen with the kettle burbling when Stevie got back from her run 40 minutes later. She’d cleared up last night’s debris, so the kitchen was now refreshed and ready to get dirty all over again, highlighting – if ever it were necessary to do so – the futility of housework.

Stevie’s face was flushed beetroot with exertion, making Geri laugh. “I hope that’s just effort and not sunburn.”

Stevie padded her way to the sink and gulped down a glass of water, swiftly followed by another. Her hot-socked feet left pristine sweat patches on the grey slate flooring but then disappeared almost as quickly, as if some invisible monster were roaming the kitchen.

Geri watched Stevie’s throat pulse as she drank, then grabbed some kitchen towel and mopped her brow.

“Too early for sunburn, isn’t it?” Concern stained Stevie’s voice.

“I think you’ll be okay,” Geri said. “Although I can’t believe you went for a run without me.”

“Sorry – didn’t want to wake you.”

“I didn’t bring my stuff anyway – thought I’d give myself the weekend off.”

Stevie was still panting slightly. “Why would you want to give yourself time off when you can run in an environment like this?”

“True enough. Didn’t think that through did I?” Geri paused. “You want a cuppa?”

“Nah, I’m going to go jump in the shower before everyone else gets up.” Stevie banged her glass down on the counter before exiting the kitchen.

Geri made her tea then grabbed Tash’s sweatshirt which she’d left on the back of a chair, retrieved her trainers from the hallway and opened the patio doors, stepping out into the back garden.

This was what she missed living in London – being able to step outside your house and straight into the sun. Geri had a Juliet balcony in her Highbury flat which she considered pointless: a two-fingered salute from the builders who couldn’t be arsed to build a proper one.

However, while it was sunny, as soon as Geri stepped outside she realised it was still April. Simultaneously the wind cut her and the sun bathed her – pleasure and pain in equal measure. The sky was ever-changing, a mass of aqua blue, flickering sun and a variety of clouds – some stringy, some cotton wool. She drank in the sea, sky and cliffs, a riot of primary colours all bending and stretching, limbering up for the day ahead.

When Geri had first considered coming on this weekend, she hadn’t been sure about the couples dynamic – even her drinking buddy Kat had met someone. But, having spent two days with them, Geri had concluded that while she might sometimes be lonely, she was sure she didn’t want
any
of these relationships. Not for the first time, she wished she’d brought her video camera – this would have made a great documentary.

Kat and Abby seemed weird; Darren hadn’t turned up; Vic and Stevie were walking a tightrope; and while Tash and Laura seemed happy, she wouldn’t want the baggage that came with having two kids and an ex-husband. So yes, she might be standing out here on her own drinking tea in the sunshine, but there were worse things.

Geri walked to the edge of the grass and sucked in the sea air. It felt crisp and salty, coating her nostril hair as it jogged into her airwaves. To her right she could see other houses dotted along the top of the cliffs in all manner of shapes and sizes. There was so much space and greenery around each plot that it truly was a world removed from her London building-block reality.

To her left the houses were strewn equally haphazardly along the cliffs, as if some drunk had thrown them there after a night on the Rattler. Their assorted bricks and mortar held the dreams of owners past and present, some of them succeeding in their clamour for beach life, others failing dismally and having to put up For Sale and For Rent signs.

***

Vic leant on the frame of the patio doors and watched Gimpy – aka Geri – her neck craned towards the odd-looking orb in the sky which had been casting an unfamiliar glow through their bedroom window since early that morning. Geri seemed lost in the moment and, for a brief second, Vic was jealous – jealous of Geri’s independence, of her refusal to settle down, of her commitment to life on full throttle.

To Vic, Geri seemed to have life sussed – cool flat, cool job, never-ending conga line of younger women. Plus, the leather jacket she’d brought on this trip made Vic want to weep. Vic needed to update her wardrobe desperately, but it hadn’t been top of her list of late.

Geri turned as if sensing she was being watched and clocked Vic in the doorway.

“Morning!” Geri walked over to stand in front of Vic, hopping from foot to foot. Geri stood a good four inches taller than Vic.

“Morning. Doing a little dance?” Vic’s face gave little away.

“It’s not as warm as it looks in the shade.”

“Which is why I’m staying put here.” Vic looked down at her feet, still firmly placed on the wooden floor inside.

“Lovely in the sun, though – feels like it’s your secret.” Geri leaned out to try to catch some more rays.

They both stood in silence, staring out at the beautiful vista as the clouds silently shifted eastwards, the wind whistling past their faces.

After a few seconds Geri eased past Vic, patting her arm on the way. “I need another drink – you want one?”

“Yeah – I was gonna try this coffee machine, see what it’s like. You had one yet?”

Geri shook her head as she filled the shiny kettle. “I’m more a tea girl.”

Vic stepped up to the machine, ready for the challenge. She did, after all, market herself in the modern school of butch dyke – she cooked, she cleaned, she could work machinery – and this fell squarely into that bracket. Particularly with Geri there, pretending not to judge when that was
exactly
what she was doing. There was no question – Vic
had
to succeed.

Beside the Nespresso machine was a round flume of capsules in various colours, each one sliding down their section and ending up in a joint pool at the bottom – a coffee-capsule fairground. Vic studied the coffee card as if choosing a race horse, before gingerly picking up a capsule, inserting it into the machine and closing the lid. She remembered her childhood, when making a coffee was as simple as unscrewing a jar and adding hot water. Those days were gone.

Vic was wearing plain blue pyjama bottoms and a grey T-shirt that rode up as she stretched and yawned, revealing a toned, flat stomach. Her arms were toned too, the result of a recent punishing gym regime.

At university, Vic had shied away from playing sport and been a library dweller, determined to get the best law degree she possibly could. However, the gym had been a great place to take out her recent frustrations, and as a result she’d shed a stone and become a mass of firmer, angular shapes. She turned to see Geri’s eyes appraising her. The machine finished its whirring and Vic was left with an espresso. She’d passed the test.

“So, how are things?” Geri shifted her eyes upwards quickly.

Vic retrieved her coffee cup from the machine’s slatted shelf. “Okay.” She nodded briskly. “Life goes on, you know.”

Geri nodded back.

“How about you, still saving the world?” Vic asked.

“In between drinking tea and filling out forms.”

Vic nodded. Silence fell over the room.

Geri stepped back in. “And you – work’s good?”

“Can’t complain. People get divorced, have accidents and need to move house in all climates – recession doesn’t stop that.”

Vic was aware these conversations she had with Geri were always a bit strained, a little awkward. At university, their difference was masked by lager, exuberance and loud noise. But now they were in their late thirties and the noise was dimming, Vic was aware that as a pair, they grated slightly.

Vic would love nothing more than to break down the walls and laugh with Geri the way Stevie did, the way Stu did, the way everyone else seemed to. But, for some reason, whenever the two of them were left together the conversation felt thorny and exposed, leaving just the deathly sound of small talk contaminating the air.

***

The sound of footsteps in the hall saved the day. Stevie walked through the door and Vic’s face flushed with relief. If it had been Abby, she might have been a little overwhelmed.

“Morning, my two favourite people!” Stevie’s blonde hair was still wet from the shower. She gave Geri a hug which she returned, then kissed Vic on the lips and stood beside her, still three inches taller.

Vic slipped a hand under Stevie’s sweatshirt.

“Je-sus! Your hands are fucking freezing!”

Vic laughed at this standard reaction because it was true – her extremities often never reached room temperature, even in hot weather. Stevie insisted on an electric blanket in winter these days just so her wife’s fingers and toes didn’t send her into a frosty shock. It worked a treat.

“Cup of tea, m’lady?” Geri asked, already getting a mug from the cupboard.

“Yes please,” Stevie nodded, but then raised an eyebrow. “Or maybe a coffee?” she asked, putting her nose in Vic’s cup to sniff it. “Did you use the machine?”

“I did.”

“Make me one then.”

Vic did as she was told.

“So what were you two talking about down here?” Stevie knew the dynamics between them.

“Oh, you know, this and that,” Geri said as the coffee machine began to whir. That told Stevie all she needed to know. “Work, life…” Geri added, before running out of nouns.

“Well, enough about work – I want to talk about how much we’re going to party later, seeing as it’s Saturday night.” Stevie grinned, dancing around on the balls of her feet

Geri leaned back against the counter and yawned. “You’re a bit perky this morning.”

“Been for a run already. I’m ready for the day!” Stevie nudged Geri on the arm. “So come on, who’s going to do the most embarrassing thing this time?”

“Bagsy not me,” Geri said, raising her hand.

“And we’re not 30 anymore.” Vic handed Stevie her the coffee. “I think we all might have grown up a bit since last time.” Vic’s tone was finite, almost acidic. She should have known better.

“Doesn’t mean we don’t all do stupid things that we regret now and again though, does it?” Stevie connected with a cultured right hook.

Vic’s face contorted and she looked winded.

Geri wished she could vanish from the kitchen and have the good sense not to be on her own with a warring couple. Still, even she had to concede that Vic had walked into that one.

“Oh come on, nobody can beat Kat’s efforts from last time,” Geri said. “At least I hope they can’t. Vomiting up the stairs one night and sleeping with Laura the next. I mean, in staking a claim for best story, it’s difficult to beat.” Geri smiled at the memory, as did Stevie and Vic.

“Unless you’re planning to vomit up this plush carpet and attempt to shag Kat yourself?” Geri asked Stevie.

“Er, no!” Stevie visibly shuddered. “God, no!”

“I hope not,” Vic added softly, pulling her close.

At first Stevie resisted, but then something seemed to shift and she allowed Vic to manoeuvre her, allowed her body to melt into her.

Vic took advantage by placing both arms firmly around Stevie’s waist.

“I’m going to stick to kissing my wife if it’s all the same to you,” Stevie said. “But if Kat does vomit up the stairs again, she’s got a girlfriend here to clean it up this time, thankfully.”

“Remember trying to clean the carpet?” Geri wrinkled her nose.

“Don’t.” Stevie held up her right palm, her face going green.

“I’m all for making new memories this time around, but preferably vomit-free,” Vic said. “I certainly remember better ones from ten years ago too. Like, for instance, me and Stevie getting together.”

Stevie could sense Vic’s smile and she placed her hands on top of Vic’s hands, drawing them up to her mouth for a kiss.

“God, last time around was a shagfest, wasn’t it?” Geri shook her head wistfully.

“I think this time around, age has caught up with us. It’s called growing up,” Stevie replied.

“Well I hope we haven’t all grown up too much,” Geri said. “Otherwise I might get a late train back to London and go out in Soho with Darren instead.”

***

An hour later, Geri wrapped her knuckles three times on Stu’s door but didn’t bother waiting for an answer. Instead, she burst into his room to find him sat on his bed, mobile in hand, thumb poised over the keypad.

“You ready, husband? I’ve been told to round up the troops.”

Stu turned to look up at her, frowning. “Are you trying to re-enact university life completely by barging in like this? What if I’d been naked?” He put his phone back on the bedside table and got up, putting his wallet into his back pocket.