“Come and lie on the bed, and I will massage all your cares away.”
Isabel could now quite easily tolerate lying on her front, so Bryony arranged her like that, and then slowly and lovingly poured a small bottle of massage oil in a pool in the centre of her back and began to smooth it outwards.
“Let’s go to town tomorrow and buy another big tube of the Aloe Vera, but in the meantime, I think you’ll like this. I bought it in the hospital shop while you were having your casts cut off.”
She had a magic touch which Isabel was rapidly finding addictive and brought her lover up to full arousal without even entering her. But finally, she turned Isabel over and knelt at the end of the bed so she could part her legs and enter her with her tongue.
The taste of Isabel was like a sweet sexy drink of ambrosia. She had never imagined it could be such a delicious sensation, and as Isabel went into full orgasm, Bryony knew she was coming herself, simply by performing the sex act on her mistress. Could anything be more wonderful? She wanted it never to end.
***
Things were about to change. Isabel had practiced, under protest because she thought it was all rather silly, swinging and lifting her arms with a pair of baked bean cans. It had helped in exercising her biceps and triceps, and she could now tolerate using the crutches for a few minutes at a time.
It meant she was almost free at last from the hated wheelchair, so when they went to town to replenish the stocks on Thursday morning, she could swing herself around the Co-op supermarket on her crutches while Bryony pushed the trolley. They also parked down the high street earlier and went into a few smaller shops, a green-grocer and artisan bakery which had wonderful fresh bread. They were buying food with Jane’s visit in mind.
“What does she like? Will she mind veggie food?”
“She’ll be fine. She has what one might call a robust appetite. Just add in a few bottles of real ale. She’ll enjoy a drink or two.”
They paid at the checkout, and by then Isabel was feeling a little tired, pleased to sit in the car again, and rest her leg. She handed her bank card to Bryony and said, “Get me £250 out of the cash point will you?” and gave her the pin number.
When Bryony returned with a handful of notes, she was astonished when Isabel simply took her card back and pushed her hand holding the cash away.
“That’s for you, for your wild weekend of debauchery in the South.”
“I...”
“Let’s go up to the railways station and buy your ticket now. Then you have to go. I don’t want you chickening out at the last minute.”
“Maybe you know me too well. I really don’t want to confront him face to face.”
“I think you need to, if only to show respect, and get some closure. I imagine you are rather surer about your sexuality by now than you were before.”
“Yes, but I don’t want to leave you.”
“Oh pooh, we mustn’t get too codependent. It will be good for both of us. It will give us some perspective. Besides, you need to have your day in college anyway before you catch the evening train to London. Come on, Bryony, do it.”
“Oh, very well.”
They drove up to the station at the far end of town, and Bryony bought tickets with her student card. It would be a long journey in either direction, but she was happy to have a return ticket firmly in her grasp at least. Was it true that she and Isabel were becoming too codependent? What did that even mean? She knew she was in love, in love for the first time in her life, and it scared and excited her in equal measure.
After lunch Isabel forged ahead with her book, while Bryony kept her eyes front and followed her dictation as fast as she could. She had never typed so many pages in one go in her life, but her fingers had developed the skills to touch type on the small keyboard, and her mistakes were becoming far fewer.
Isabel had left Bangladesh and was now talking about the situation up much nearer the Himalayas in Nepal, where she had obviously worked with an organization supporting child laborers. The harshness of life in the remote villages was only matched by the deplorable conditions facing children as they were bussed down to Kathmandu or over the border into India. Many acted as domestic servants, having been promised schooling and ‘foster homes’, and these were even luckier if you could call it that, than the thousands who ended up trafficked down to work in brothels across South Asia. The harder it became to eke a living from the eroded lands and flooded farmland, the more common the problem was.
“How do you keep going, when there is so much discouraging news, and terrible true stories from every continent?” she asked Isabel, when she was at last allowed to take a break.
“There is a paradox. I have found that my greatest encouragement and positivity has come from the poorest women I’ve worked alongside. I could tell you many stories about this. And the population of most of the world is so young, a whole new generation has grown up, just in the years I’ve been working.
“Despite everything, they were succeeding. Acute poverty has fallen, educational standards are much higher, and child deaths are falling. That is, until now, when the climatic changes are the greatest threat to development as we know it. Resources will become much scarcer. Maybe the next war will be fought over access to clean water, not oil.”
“Can we stop now? We’re on target, and I need to make up my bed for your friend.”
Isabel nodded, and let her go from the table. Bryony stripped off the sheets from her bed, and remade it for Jane. Then she went out into the garden and picked a bunch of the flowers growing round the cottage, lupins, valerian and large daisies which she arranged in a jug and carried back into her room.
“There, it looks nice. I hope she sleeps well. Would you like to go into the woods for an hour or so, before she comes?”
“In the chair still?”
“’Fraid so, but it will be cool in there and we do love it, don’t we, under that green canopy?”
“Yes, very well, but don’t let’s forget, after Monday I hope to be back on both feet, skipping about.”
“Don’t be disappointed if that doesn’t happen immediately. Even when the cast is off, I expect they will ask you to keep your leg bandaged for another few weeks, and slowly build its muscles tone back. It might take months, even up to Christmas before it is fully healed. It was a nasty compound fracture.”
“Don’t remind me. I was frightened I was going to lose my leg in the beginning. Now I have hope the bones will knit together and be stronger than before.”
“Well we have another six weeks to make it happen.”
Six weeks, that was all? It seemed to Bryony that she and Isabel had been linked together for far longer than two weeks, but in another way the time had flashed by. They left the cottage as they had the previous times, with Bryony pushing the chair and Isabel sitting impatiently in it, but once they had passed through the gate, the magical stillness of the wood worked its charm on them both and they wandered along the trace in blissful silence.
Isabel liked to be quiet, well at least some of the time. She had learned to enjoy her own company as well, and had thought hiding herself away, virtually alone, would be the right ambiance for the healing she needed. But things had not turned out quite as expected. She thought things through as the chair wheeled quietly forwards. Bryony was a gift she had not sought, a blessing she felt she didn’t deserve. She was so easy to live alongside, and so delicious to sleep alongside as well. She knew the girl was in a transition stage in her life, that there was no way she could expect her to be here permanently, but it had all been a delightful surprise, and she would enjoy it for the summer.
Chapter 17
They turned back after thirty minutes, and then retraced their journey, seeing the sunlight grow stronger and stronger as the trees thinned and the south-facing exit gate became clearer. When they reached the cottage, they saw Jane’s Rav4 Toyota parked up alongside the Citroen Berlingo, and a tall, very fit looking woman perusing the view down the valley wi
th a pair of binoculars.
“I’m watching the buzzards circling on a thermal over there,” she said, pointing down the hill to the opposite woodland. Then she turned and smiled at them both. “Hi, Izzy. You actually don’t look as ghastly as I expected. So you’re still in the wheelchair?”
“Not much of the time. We just went exploring for a mile or so through the wood. It’s great to see you. This is Bryony by the way.”
“How do you do?” Bryony smiled but kept her expression neutral, as she did when she first met someone, and held out her hand in greeting.
“Oh, she has manners, I see! And you haven’t scared her away yet, if she’s the same girl you mentioned last week?”
“Yes, I’m the same. I’ll just fetch Isabel’s crutches and then you can catch up, while I make you some tea.”
She disappeared into the house and came back with the crutches. Isabel could then easily hop away from the chair which they folded and parked in the garage, and Bryony left the two friends talking outside, while she went to make tea and produce some little strawberry scones she had baked earlier. Jane stretched out on the garden chair. Her legs were bare beneath shorts and a polo-shirt and her feet were in open –toed sandals. She was tall, slim and athletic and her hair was cut very short so it stood up above her forehead almost like a toothbrush. Bryony busied herself in the kitchen, and was just finishing setting out tea on a large tray, when she heard Isabel call her.
“Don’t lurk inside. Come and join the grown-ups.”
“I’m coming. The kettle needed to boil.”
She walked out with the tea tray and produced the cucumber sandwiches she had been preparing, alongside freshly baked scones and a little pot of strawberry jam. She poured the tea from a real teapot.
“Hey, this all looks good. I’m starving!” said Jane, causing Isabel to catch Bryony’s eye with a deadpan stare, but a tiny twitch of her lip.
“Isabel told me you would be, after a long journey. I hope you had a pleasant drive from Bristol.”
Jane took the offered plate and helped herself to three sandwiches at once.
“Yes, it was fine. I listened to the test-match on the way over. The time shot by.
“So Izzy, tell me all about everything. I want to hear all about it, and how you found this delightful child to cater to your every need.”
Bryony looked across at Isabel to see how she would react, and was concerned for her when she saw the blush which undoubtedly was rising up her cheek. Jane seemed oblivious to the double meaning of her comment, but it was too close to the truth not to veer very near a dangerous precipice. She knew she needed to leave it to Isabel to disclose anything of their relationship she chose to, or not.
“The first thing to say is that Bryony isn’t a child, or anything like it. She has been a consummate professional and I wouldn’t be as well as I am now if it wasn’t for her.”
“Wow, girl. What have you been using to sweeten up old Izzy here? You must have been rubbing something powerful into her joints!”
This made Bryony jump, and say, “Oh, shoot, I know what I forgot to buy in Machynlleth this morning, Aloe Vera gel. What a shame. I’ll get some at the weekend, don’t worry.”
Isabel pretended to scold her.
“Make sure you do!” she muttered, holding her gaze for far too long.
***
Bryony had moved her possessions out of the single bedroom into a neat pile behind the sofa in the living room where she presumed she’d be sleeping for the night. While Jane and Isabel talked after dinner, she hitched up her phone to WhatsApp and connected with Aiden, sitting just outside the front door where there was still a good internet signal. She clicked on the camera button and saw his bearded face appear.
“At last! I was beginning to think you were in a Buddhist retreat,” he sounded relieved, but friendly and warm, with no hint of suspicion.
“Hi Aiden, no, I’ve just been super busy. This is very much a seven day a week job and I’m also studying down in Aberystwyth. But I wondered whether you were free on Saturday. I have the weekend free. Could you meet me in London?”
“I can manage Saturday, but Sunday I promised a mate I’d crew for him on his yacht down on the Solent. What a pity. If you’d told me earlier I could have taken the whole weekend away with you.”
Bryony was so relieved they would not have to face a night together that she had to work hard to hide a smile. “Pity, but I only just heard. I’ve bought a ticket, so I’ll make other arrangements for sleeping. Let’s meet somewhere, like the South Bank, close to Waterloo station, that place we like for lunch.”
“OK, Saturday at 12?”
“Yes.”
“How are you honey? You look good, but your voice sounds strained. I’ve missed you, loads.”
She just couldn’t return the expected words, “Me too.” Instead she said, “You look very sun-tanned, like a real sailor.”
“It’s been really hot down here? What’s it like up there in Wales?”
“Warm, green, quite magical really.”
“You don’t normally talk about things being magical.”
“Well, they are here. This is a really special place.”
“How is that old lady you’re looking after? Giving you much grief?”
“No, everything is fine. And she’s not that old.”
“Oh well, whatever. It sounded rather a boring job to me, but at least she’s paying you well. I thought we can take a cheap break together somewhere in September, before term starts again. I’d like to take you sailing in Greece.”
A sudden, silly chill crossed Bryony’s brain. Aiden had meant nothing by it probably, but she didn’t want to be taken anywhere by him. She was an adult woman, not someone to be taken along. He sounded so positive, and she knew she was being unfair. How was he to know that she would never be taking a cheap break with him or any other man again?
“Let’s talk on Saturday. I’ll wait for you at 12.”
“I’ll call you if the train’s late. ‘Bye then!”
“Bye.”
When she went back inside, she could sense Isabel had been eavesdropping on the conversation.
“Everything all right?”
“Yes. We’re meeting for lunch on Saturday in London. Aiden’s going sailing on Sunday.”
“So where will you stay Friday and Saturday night?”
“I haven’t quite worked this out. I have some friends I can call who might let me sleep on their floor.”
Isabel looked serious for a moment, and then said, “Hey, No. Stay at my flat. It will be a great favor to me for you to give it an airing, and just check everything is all right. I haven’t been back there since mid-May.”
Bryony looked startled and bit her lip, “Oh, would you mind? Where is it exactly?”
“North London, top end of Highbury Fields. You can get there easily on the tube from Kings Cross.”
Jane looked surprised. “You must have special powers, Bryony. Izzy doesn’t normally let strangers anywhere near her flat. She’s very jealous about her privacy.”
“Bryony is far from being a stranger. She’ll be doing me a great service by staying in my place for a couple of nights, and I’ll be reassured if she’s safely accommodated and gets two good nights’ sleep.”
Bryony looked from one woman to another. She wondered which of them, Jane or herself, understood Isabel better. Logically it must be Isabel’s oldest school friend, but she felt like she and Isabel just had something intangible, a deeper understanding already.
But she could not to presume three weeks acquaintanceship and a few nights’ hot sex gave her many rights in anything. The thought made her feel insecure, and she knew she would love to get a better understanding of who Isabel was by staying in her flat for a couple of days.
“Thanks, so much, Isabel. That would be very kind, and a relief. I would have stayed in my college bed-sit, but the university housing people let out all the student accommodation for summer school courses.�
��
She tried to keep her face calm and her voice neutral.
“I’m just going into the kitchen to wash up the dinner dishes. Would either of you like coffee, or cocoa perhaps?”
“Fetch Jane those beers we bought this morning. I think that will more likely satisfy her thirst. I’ll have half a glass to keep her company.”
Bryony fetched the beers, and two glasses, but shook her head when Jane offered to pour her an ale as well.
“Thanks, but I don’t drink.”
She went into the kitchen and closed the door to give them some privacy.
She overheard Jane, (for the woman had such a naturally loud voice it was hard not to), say, “She’s quite a little puritan, isn’t she? What are you doing, letting her inside your flat? It’s full of gay books and Carrie’s pictures everywhere.”
Isabel murmured something in reply, but too low for Bryony to hear. One thing was certain however. Jane certainly would not be expecting her to share Isabel’s bed. A night on the sofa alone awaited.
As it happened, the night on the bare mountain, or even the sitting-room sofa never really happened. They had all retired about eleven, and Bryony had made up a bed on the sofa for herself, using some spare blankets and pillows from inside the wardrobe.
Jane used the bathroom first, and marched off to bed dressed like a rugby player dressed for a match, a Val McDermott novel under her arm. Within fifteen minutes, gentle snoring could be heard coming from the end room.
Isabel let Bryony settle her in bed, in demure enough pajamas, but she held Bryony’s wrist and stopped her when she moved as if to go to her own temporary sleeping quarters.
“Aren’t you going to sleep with me?”
“We can’t. This place is too small. What on earth would she think?”
“Oh, pooh, Jane is already asleep. We can hear her snoring from here.”
“So in that case she’ll be able to hear us as well. Supposing she needs to come through the room to use the bathroom in the night.”
“I’m sure she won’t. Why do you think I bought her those real ales? They were strong. She won’t wake.”
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