by Jade Winters
As she began unpacking them, her mind wandered back to the conversation she'd had with Paul the previous evening. Had Rebecca really been so mean? Would she really stop Paul from coming to the flat? She decided it was best to simply speak to Rebecca about it, and went in search of her in the front room. When she couldn't find her there, she looked for her bedroom. She peered in several open doors before she resorted to calling out for her. She followed the voice to the bedroom and knocked before entering.
The instant she pushed open the door, a flash of memory lasting no more than two or three seconds came back to her. Something very familiar... but she couldn't place what it was. She steadied herself by holding onto the door. Rebecca was by her side in an instant, and put her arm around her waist to walk her carefully to the bed.
"What happened?" she asked with concern in her voice.
"I had some sort of flashback — it happened so quickly, I don't know what it was about."
"Wait there while I get you some water," Rebecca said, and quickly went to the kitchen to get a bottle of water. When she came back to the bedroom, Genevieve looked pale.
"Are you feeling alright?" Rebecca asked. "Should I call a doctor?"
"No, I'm sorry to give you a fright. I'll be alright in a minute." She took a sip of water and let out a small sigh. "It's just been a stressful day today. My mum and dad were really upset that I was leaving. I think they're afraid something is going to happen to me again."
"How about I make us some lunch?"
"That would be great. Actually, I haven't eaten since this morning," Genevieve said, totally forgetting why she had gone in search of Rebecca in the first place.
"That'll be why you're looking so pale; you could never last long without refuelling yourself!"
While Rebecca prepared a meal of scallops and salad, the women discussed Genevieve's plans.
"I was hoping you could fill me in on my workload. I mean, was I working on anything before the accident happened?" Genevieve asked as she cut some fresh pesto bread into slices.
"You had just finished a large commission before the —" Rebecca stopped herself from using the word "attack". If Genevieve wanted to think of it as an accident, she would follow suit. "— accident. That morning, you were on your way to meet Ricardo Rawlings. He wanted you to provide him with a bespoke set of prints for his gallery, but you never made the appointment." She took two plates out of the cupboard and laid them on the worktop, then evenly divided the piping hot food onto each plate and added a side salad. She handed a plate to Genevieve.
"If it looks as good as it smells, I'm in for a treat." Genevieve inhaled deeply.
"This was one of your favourite dishes," Rebecca said, forking a piece of scallop into her mouth.
"So, do you think this Ricardo will still want me for the job?" Rebecca looked at her with a give-me-a-break expression.
"You're kidding, aren't you? He was trying to get you to work for him for months, but you were always too busy. The day you were going to meet him was your first free slot in ages. I think he would be delighted if you called him!"
"Oh good, 'cause I could really do with getting back to work," Genevieve said. "Sitting around twiddling my thumbs is not my idea of heaven."
"How about I get you his number and you call him after lunch? If you want, I can get Peter to run you over to see him. Peter would love to see you again." Genevieve gave Rebecca a quizzical look.
"Oh, Peter was — is — a friend of ours. He also doubles as my driver."
"You have a driver?" Genevieve asked in shock. Rebecca laughed.
"Yes, but only because I can't drive and my work takes me to different parts of London and often involves late nights, so it just makes sense."
"I see. I hope you don't mind me asking but the size of this apartment has made me think... Do I earn a lot of money? I didn't even think to ask my parents about my finances."
"A fair amount. Don't worry about it; you have everything you need to know filed away in the cabinet in your studio. All the bills for this place come out of our joint account."
"We have a joint account?” she asked, almost absently.
"Yes, our lives were tied together in a lot of ways." Rebecca replied with inexplicable sadness.
"This food is good," Genevieve said, quickly changing the subject. She didn't understand the meaning behind some of the things Rebecca said, and it made her feel uncomfortable. Not in a bad way, but in a way that reinforced how little she knew of herself and how reliant she was on strangers to build a picture of who she was. They ate the remainder of their lunch in silence. Once they'd finished, Rebecca loaded the dishwasher and went to retrieve Ricardo's number for Genevieve.
Watching Genevieve on the telephone to Ricardo, Rebecca admired the way she was handling things. She'd always known that Genevieve was a strong person; but to see her in action with the odds stacked against her, still moving forward, gave her a new admiration for her. Despite what had to be one of the most earth-shattering experiences one could come across, she had remained in control. Just sitting in their apartment was testament to that; Rebecca could only imagine what Genevieve had faced when she informed her parents that she was moving back to London — not only to live so far away, but also with a woman who they believed was the devil itself.
Genevieve put the phone down and smiled happily.
"Well, you were right. He seems very anxious for me to 'get to work straight away' as he put it," she said, mimicking his voice. They both laughed. "He asked me to drop round this evening. If it's okay, I'd like to take up the offer of that lift."
"I'll give Peter a call."
"There's something I wanted to talk to you about first — this animosity between you and Paul," Genevieve suddenly said awkwardly. Rebecca stiffened, not sure of how to respond. "He's agreed to bury the hatchet and I'd be really grateful if you do the same. I don't want any bad feeling when he comes round." She was looking intently at Rebecca, as if trying to gauge her reaction.
"Of course, I have no problem with Paul," Rebecca said with a tentative smile, wondering what story Paul had fed her.
When Peter arrived to pick Genevieve up at the front of the apartment block, Rebecca thought he was going to start crying. His face turned bright red as he tried to contain his emotions and his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. He hugged Genevieve so tightly Rebecca thought he would break her ribs. Genevieve seemed to have become used to the over-familiarity of those who were strangers to her, and she was laughing happily as they set off in the car for her appointment. Once they had disappeared into the traffic, Rebecca went back upstairs to their apartment where for the first time in months she fell into a deep sleep.
She awoke abruptly to the sounds of laughter and muffled conversation. It was dark outside and a cover was laying over her. She sat up, pushed her fingers through her hair and got out of bed. In her en-suite bathroom, she turned on the cold water tap and splashed her face with water. She heard footsteps outside her room. They went into the bathroom, then after a few moments the toilet flushed and the footsteps retraced themselves back to the front room. Her stomach turned. Without going out there, she knew it was Paul. She sat on the toilet seat with her head in her hands. She was at a loss for what to do and felt like a stranger in her own home. She went back into the bedroom and picked up the phone, her hands shaking. She dialled the number.
"Please answer." Relief flooded her body when Tia answered her phone. "I need you now. More than ever," she said desperately. Tia arrived at her apartment door within ten minutes. She'd been about to attend a work do in Soho when she received Rebecca's call. She'd caught a taxi straight away and now she was standing outside her front door, fuming that Paul was going to play this out to the last. Rebecca opened the door and led her quickly into her bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her.
"Why are we hiding in here?" she demanded. "This is your place."
"Wait, we need to talk about this," Rebecca said with a glazed look of hopelessness in
her eyes.
"There's nothing to talk about. He needs to leave, and now!" She was raising her voice. "Shh," Rebecca pleaded, "they'll hear you." She glanced cautiously towards the door.
"So what! Becca, what is wrong with you? Why are you letting him get away with this shit?" Tia was seething with frustration.
"I don't want to scare Genie away, Tia. If I go in there guns blazing, telling him to leave, what reason am I supposed to give? She's already asked me to bury the hatchet with him."
"That's an easy one: You're her lover. He's not. And for good measure, tell her that her parents are mental! That sounds about right to me. I can't understand how you've put up with pussy-footing around these people for so long. Bloody tell her that if she doesn't like it — tough! She's not a china doll, Becca. She won't break if you say the word 'lesbian' to her. Jesus Christ." She sat on the bed. There was a soft knock at the door.
"Rebecca?" Genevieve called gently. Rebecca looked at Tia and didn't reply. She put her finger to her lips.
"Fuck this," said Tia and stood up. Before Rebecca had a chance to stop her, she had opened the door.
"Genevieve," she said brightly.
"Oh, hi Tia, I didn't know you were here." Genevieve embraced her.
"I haven't been here long." Genevieve peeked over Tia's shoulder.
"Is Rebecca alright?"
"Yes, she's fine, she's just woken up."
"We're going to get an Indian takeaway. I just wondered if you wanted anything?" Before Rebecca could reply, Tia said, "Come to think of it, we haven't had an Indian in a while, have we Becca? We'd love some. In fact, since it's a Friday I think I'll give Isabel a call and see if she'd like to join us as well."
"Okay," Genevieve said, completely unfazed by Tia's gate-crashing.
"Excellent. Okay, we'll be out in a minute, and then we can order." Genevieve turned to leave, and Tia shut the door.
"Are you mad?" Rebecca said.
"No, I'm majorly pissed off. This has got to stop, because not only is it going to make you ill, it's going to make me ill as well! When did you become so repressed?" Rebecca ignored Tia's question.
"I'll call Isabel, shall I?" she said, and added sarcastically, "Anybody else?"
"Now you mention it, yes. Do you know that since you've been using work as an excuse not to see anyone, you have locked out your friends who genuinely care about you and want to help you get through this?" said Tia.
"Tia, this is the only way I can deal with this at the moment. I don't want to be crowded by people asking me questions I don't have the answers to. This is hard enough, please, don't make it any harder." Rebecca got up from the bed and grabbed her mobile phone from the dressing table.
"Okay, keep the shutters down, but I don't want to see you behaving like a bloody wimp anymore," said Tia, relenting. "Now, get that gorgeous woman over here." There was a wry smile in her eyes. Rebecca called Isabel, who said she'd like nothing better than to join them. Then they made their way into the front room, but were stopped in their tracks at the entrance. Sitting on the sofa opposite Genevieve and Paul were Genevieve's parents. Tia nearly burst out laughing.
"Sorry it's a full house," Genevieve said, "but I forgot some things at my parents’ house and they decided to drop them off."
Rebecca managed to find her voice and croaked, "No problem at all, the more the merrier." She tried to step backwards, but Tia blocked her way and pushed her forward into the room. "Can I get anyone a drink?" Rebecca asked hospitably, moving swiftly into the kitchen.
"It's okay, I've just refilled everyone's glass," Genevieve called after her. Rebecca poured a glass of wine for herself and Tia, but nearly dropped them both on the floor when she returned to the front room and saw Tia seated between Paul and Genevieve, faking oblivion to the dagger stares of her parents. This girl is going to be the death of me, she thought. She set the wine glasses down on the table and sat in a vacant armchair by the window.
"So how are you finding London on your first day back?" Tia asked, breaking the silence.
"Fine," Genevieve answered. "I'm amazed at the view from this apartment."
"Oh yes, you've spent many a time happily gazing through that window. You were going to paint the view, but you never got round to it, what with your busy schedule." Rebecca took a nervous sip of her wine.
"I'll definitely get round to it now," she said firmly. The room lapsed into silence again and when the doorbell buzzed Rebecca jumped up to answer it. She opened the door and, straight away, warned Isabel under her breath, "Her parents are in there."
Isabel's eyes widened and she mouthed back, "You're joking?" Rebecca shook her head as she let her in.
"Where's Tia?" Isabel whispered.
"Doing what she does best — winding them up," Rebecca said curtly.
"Oh, goody." A crafty smile crossed Isabel's lips. When they walked back into the front room, Paul and Eddie could not disguise their discomfort.
"Is this an official visit?" Eddie asked.
"No, a social one in fact," Isabel replied confidently.
"Is that allowed then?" Eddie asked with a touch of irritation.
"Well, as long as I'm not mixing with any offenders in here, I think it's alright," Isabel replied sarcastically.
"Can I get you a drink?" Rebecca asked.
"A glass of wine would be great, thanks." Rebecca disappeared into the kitchen and Isabel sat in her chair. She acknowledged Tia, then turned her attention to Genevieve.
"Are you settling in okay?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I wanted to tell everyone I had some memory flashbacks today." She looked expectantly at Paul and her parents.
"Did you?" Isabel said slowly, surveying the room. The atmosphere had immediately changed from hostile to fearful.
"Yes, but it happened so quickly I don't know what it was about." Relief flooded her parents' and Paul's faces. "That's a good sign though, isn't it?" she said, directing the question to her parents, who nodded mutely.
"Hopefully you'll get your memory back in no time, and you can put this horridness behind you and carry on life as it was before," Isabel said innocently.
"Genevieve," Elsie said changing the subject, "I'm keeping your wedding dress at the house seeing as you're leaving from there. It just makes sense to get ready from home."
"Yes, Mum."
"I can't wait," Paul said, and looked past Tia to wink at Genevieve.
"Oh, I love weddings! Do tell about the dress. Is it white?" Tia smiled wryly at Elsie.
"Yes, it's white," Elsie said, playing along with her sarcasm. The women's gazes locked as though they were boxers in a ring, weighing up their opponents. Tia felt like screaming. She was aware that Genevieve had lost her memory, but had she lost her mind as well? Could she not feel the "something's not quite right" atmosphere in the room? Had the blow to her head dulled her senses as well?
"Shall I order the food then?" Genevieve asked, standing up.
"Yes, please do," Tia said. Then she mumbled under her breath, "This is going to be fun."
After forty-five minutes of awkward conversation, Genevieve called from the kitchen,
"The table is set!" The Indian meal had been delivered five minutes earlier, and she'd already emptied the contents into bowls for self-serving. The three women sat at one end of the large glass table while Paul, Genevieve and her parents sat at the other end. The talk at the table was terse. Tia tried to make light of the situation by telling Genevieve anecdotes about her past life, like the time Tia had persuaded Genevieve, as a joke, that the copy of a masterpiece she had was the real McCoy; the painting had actually managed to fool some well-to-do people in the art world as well. The women laughed like they were teenagers again. Genevieve's parents' and Paul's faces, however, remained sombre throughout and they made small talk amongst themselves instead.
After dinner, the three women remained at the table and became ever more intoxicated while Genevieve reluctantly joined her parents and Paul in the front room. T
hey left shortly after, and Genevieve told the women she was going to bed. Despite their pleas for her to join them, she declined and went to her room, where she lay listening to the hysterical laughter that drifted into her bedroom as the woman recounted disastrous dates they had been on. For some reason, Genevieve found herself trying desperately to listen for Rebecca's voice.
CHAPTER 21
GENEVIEVE WOKE UP early, despite not getting to sleep until very late. She looked around her bedroom, trying to see if anything seemed familiar — the blinds, the rug, the art — but to no avail; her memory still eluded her. She had so many things on her mind. She'd heard the front door close the night before and assumed that all the guests had left but when she'd walked into the front room she'd seen Rebecca and Isabel seated together on the sofa with candles burning, looking very cosy together. After she returned to her bed it had dawned on her that perhaps Rebecca and Isabel were lovers. She didn't know if what she was feeling was shock, but she certainly felt it intensely.
She began to wonder if Rebecca's sexuality was the only reason her parents didn't like Rebecca, and whether Paul's excuse was even true. Her father's outburst at the restaurant had certainly made it seem that way. Homosexuality was her parents' number one hate, as she'd discovered a few days previously while watching a news report on gay civil services. The torrent of abuse her father had yelled at the TV had shocked her. She didn't know if this was normal behaviour for him, but it was very intense. Her mother had quickly changed the channel and he had calmed down. She didn't know what her own attitude to homosexuality had been, but she couldn't imagine being homophobic if she was living with a lesbian.
She still couldn't understand why her parents hadn't just told her, or more importantly, why Paul hadn't told her. He wasn't a bigot as far as she knew, and wasn't one to mince words either. She wondered if Rebecca had been seeing Isabel for a long time or if they'd been thrown together by her accident. What about Tia — is she one too? Does she only have female friends, or does she have male ones too?