by Clare Lydon
Her shoelaces weren’t quite tight enough, so Stevie squatted and retied, then rolled her neck from one side to the other, flexing her hips into the bargain, then stretching her arms. She arched her back, looking into the sun until its glare made her squint. Should she go back for her sunglasses? She could squint it out this once. She set her training watch to 00:00 and slowly began to run.
Stevie never thought she’d become one of those running types, but that’s exactly what had happened. She had a best time for a 5k and a 10k but was yet to go for more than that – she worried her knees might cave in if she did. For her, running wasn’t about doing a marathon or competing with others – she just loved having the time to herself, thinking about her life, running through her day.
Throughout this whole sorry mess, running had been her constant companion, even more so than before. It cleared her head and had stopped her from strangling Vic on more than one occasion.
This morning, as she ran round the back of the house and towards the coastal path, she stopped to take in its majesty. As far as the eye could see, cool blue water shimmered in the morning sun, its surface dimpled by the wind. But although it was sunny it was still April, and the wind needled at her legs, wrists, neck.
Stevie took a deep breath and set off to her right, the dusty path kicking up as her feet connected. The air was incredibly cleansing here, so removed from London. What was it she breathed in at home? In Devon, the air was packaged with an extra shot of freshness, the faint hint of manure coating it.
As she ran on, daffodils lined her route and blossom spilled itself in the heady breeze. She grinned as she felt her stride click in, her body begin to settle and her mind was finally released. Today, she recalled the day after Vic’s infidelity, the hurt she’d felt. Not even three years married, but nearly ten years together and this was what they’d become.
***
When she’d found out, Stevie had fled back to her native Liverpool, back to the family home, and had lain in her mum’s spare room, wondering why her, why now? She’d have stayed there too if her mum hadn’t made her get up and face the problem head-on. Mrs Wright was not one to pussyfoot around.
First, Stevie’s cousin Dave had appeared and dragged her out for a night on the town, trying to get her to snog random women in a bid for revenge – but Stevie was not one to play games.
Then, while she suffered through her hangover the next morning, her mum reminded her she’d taken an oath. For better or for worse, she was now committed to Vic, come what may. Had her mother brought her up to throw in the towel so easily? She had not.
So, after letting Stevie wallow for a few days, her mum had given her a stern talking to and packed her bags for home, with instructions to talk and sort the sorry mess out. But it hadn’t been quite that easy.
***
Stevie’s body glided as her thoughts spun. Today, her trainers were coated in magic dust and she was flying. She felt gracious, unbeatable. Perhaps it was a sign. Perhaps today was the day to take the plunge, to fully reconnect with Vic. Yes, she’d found it hard to forgive. But the bottom line was she didn’t want to be with anyone else, so perhaps it was time to get back to being with the woman she loved.
Stevie raced on in her body, letting her thoughts settle this time. If there was one thing she was sure of, it was that she wanted to sleep with Vic – she missed her so badly. She grinned at the prospect and ran on, feeling invincible.
Yes, today she could tackle anything. Stevie picked up her speed and angled her face into the sun. Today, she’d decided to run home.
Tash & Laura
Laura woke with a sore head and sore thigh muscles. How much had Vic and Stevie heard last night? She pulled the duvet up over her head and closed her eyes.
On the light blue pillow next to her, Tash screwed up her face and wiped some dribble from her mouth, before grunting and turning the other way.
Outside, the sea was grinding against the shore, the sun trying to peer in through the gaps in the curtains. It looked like another sunny day with another walk on the agenda. From the sounds drifting up the stairs, someone was already up and getting ready.
Laura stuck her tongue out of her mouth. Furry.
Laura turned her head to the right. Had she had the forethought to bring a glass of water upstairs? She had not. She stared at the empty space on the bedside table. Her chest felt claggy too, like she’d smoked 20 Benson & Hedges.
“Why are you awake?” Tash asked without opening her eyes.
Laura turned her head, smiling. “I thought I was being quiet.”
“You don’t even blink quietly.”
In response, Laura moved a foot to her right until it connected her to Tash’s body. She rubbed it up and down her leg and felt the press of her lover’s lips on her head in return.
Whenever Laura was awake and in bed with Tash, she liked some part of their bodies to be connected. In winter, she wrapped herself around Tash like bindweed, clinging to her very own human radiator for warmth. In the summer it was just a foot, a hand or a hip, before sleep took her and she rolled away. But whenever they were both awake, her first thought was always to touch Tash.
Laura hoped their relationship never ended because she knew she could never just be friends. The compulsion to touch Tash and kiss her had been ever-present since the moment they met inside that dank, depressing flat. Laura didn’t imagine it was something that would change anytime soon.
Laura moved closer to Tash and shifted her arm to just above her head, the cue for her girlfriend to lift her head and settle into her arm nook.
Tash duly obliged.
“So how much do you think the house heard last night?” Laura said, kissing Tash’s fiery ginger hair.
“Enough to make them jealous as hell?”
Laura broke into a wide grin, looking pretty pleased with herself.
Tash shifted her face back onto Laura’s shoulder and breathed in her lover’s morning smell, kissing her bare neck. “And I don’t know what you did to me last night, but my calves are really tight.” Tash reached down to rub them.
“I don’t recall any complaints last night.”
“None here, no ma’am,” Tash said. “If anyone asks, I’ll recommend you without hesitation.”
“Good to know.”
“Beautiful, sexy, great line in multiple orgasms. Almost illegal tongue skills. How’s that for a personal ad?” Tash flicked her eyes up towards Laura, who tilted her head to consider the question. “Also, wicked spot forming on chin,” Tash added.
Laura frowned. “I was just adjusting to my stud status and then you had to go and spoil it, didn’t you?”
Tash reached up and kissed her girlfriend. “I love you and I love your spot.” She placed her lips against Laura’s and pressed with passion.
“Aren’t I the lucky one?” Laura replied, once Tash had moved away.
“Well, yes, since you ask.” Tash paused, propping herself up on her elbow.
Laura lowered her gaze to Tash’s naked, pale breasts, now on view as the duvet dropped. She reached out a hand to caress them – she couldn’t help it, it was an automatic response.
“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 to
p 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.”
&
nbsp; 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.”