*
Kathryn and Steve returned to the house. Given that her ankle was still painful, his help was appreciated. Kathryn froze when she heard screaming and glass smashing from within the apartment.
“Did you hear that?”
Steve unbuckled and leapt from the car. He snapped off a garden stake and marched to the front door. Kathryn already had her phone out, primed to call the police, and when Steve gave her a nod, she knew it was her cue to remain outside until he indicated otherwise. The front door was ajar, so he kicked it wide open.
“Take that, Victoria Francis Wallace.”
“What the hell is that?” Steve lowered the garden stake.
They exchanged glances. “Is that Claire yelling?” Kathryn edged inside before another huge smashing sound pierced the air. “And singing?”
“If that’s what you call it,” said Steve.
“I hate you!”
Smash!
They crept toward the kitchen, and Kathryn was surprised to recognise the tune to which Claire was berating her ex-lover.
“Fuck off and let me go.”
Smash!
Then they saw it, a sight that could only be believed if seen firsthand—Claire, dancing with the mop in one hand, a bowl in the other, singing for Ireland, before tossing the bowl into the bin, smashing it to pieces.
Steve laughed, retreating. “I’ll leave you to it then.”
Kathryn stared in disbelief. “She’s mad.”
“Either way,” Steve called over his shoulder, “she’s all yours.”
Kathryn grinned before flicking her phone to video and pressing record. For at least thirty seconds, she remained undetected as the song concluded and Claire reached into her pocket for the iPod, obviously eager for a repeat performance.
“Hey, Kathryn, you came back. I’m just pretending to be Nana Mouskouri.” She pulled the buds from her ears.
“I didn’t know she covered ‘No Surprises.’” Kathryn couldn’t help but smile. Not entirely sure why, she propped the phone on the bench against the wall, the record function remaining active.
“You know ‘No Surprises’?”
“I’m thirty-nine, Claire, not eighty. You seem to be having a good time.”
“Well, it’s a long story, but I found some ouzo. Then I drank it all. Oh, I should have saved you some, sorry. Anyway, I started dancing and now I’m smashing plates. But I’m out of plates now, too. I should have saved you some of those as well, sorry. Wanna dance?”
Kathryn attempted to step out of reach. “You know, normally I’d love to, but with my ankle, I don’t think it’s such a good idea.” She feigned disappointment.
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll be careful.” Claire took her hand.
“Really, it’s still quite tender.”
“You’re in safe hands. I’m a nurse. And anyway, I’m tender.”
“I’m not a good dancer, Claire.”
“Nonsense.”
“There’s no music.”
Claire took one of the ear buds, wiped it on her filthy top, and handed it to Kathryn. Bored with “No Surprises,” she skipped to an upbeat track, held both of Kathryn’s hands, closed her eyes, and moved in time to the beat.
“Claire, I can’t keep my earphone in.” Smiling, Kathryn attempted to move away.
Undeterred, Claire restricted her own movements and grinned, gripping Kathryn tightly.
“What’s with the ouzo, anyway?” Kathryn resigned herself to dancing.
“I needed a drink.”
“So I gathered.” They were swaying more than dancing now, hand in hand. “How come?”
“Victoria rang.”
“What?” Kathryn froze. “She actually rang you?”
“Well, yeah, but no. She left a message. I found a message she left.” Claire wiggled her arms, impatiently encouraging Kathryn to keep moving. “She said she missed me.”
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry.” Kathryn watched as Claire shut her eyes again, this time holding back tears.
“She has no right to say she misses me.”
“I know, sweetheart.”
“I don’t miss her now.” Claire’s eyes shot open. “The dreams have stopped.” Her eyes closed again. “Now I’m just sad because I think I didn’t have what I thought I had.”
“I know the feeling. But it won’t last. Trust me, pretty soon Victoria whatever-her-name-was will be the last person on your mind.” Kathryn squeezed Claire’s hands.
As if on cue, and ironically so, an eighties love ballad clicked on the iPod—“Take My Breath Away” by Berlin.
*
At least three songs passed, and Claire’s eyes remained closed. Kathryn had stopped trying to get away. Claire fancied more ouzo and wished Kathryn could have had some. The feeling of being drunk was fabulous, but she wanted to share the abandonment it provided. Kathryn wasn’t as uptight as she first thought. Sure, maybe she had some weird preconceptions about what being gay was about, but that wasn’t unusual. Kathryn wasn’t unusual. As the song changed, Claire rethought that statement; Kathryn was unusual, but in a good way. She was caring, kind, and smart. Claire especially liked that she was smart.
Without thinking, without opening her eyes, and without permission, Claire stepped into Kathryn. Her cheek rested on her shoulder as she slid one hand round her waist and drew the other up so that both their hands rested between their chests.
Kathryn returned the embrace, her free hand tightly holding Claire to her. They remained this way for the duration of the song, swaying in time to the music.
“Would Andy want you back now? You know, now that you’re the new you?” Claire didn’t move to look at Kathryn.
“Andy liked the mothering type. He wanted to be dominated by an older woman. I’m neither older, nor the dominating type. He would hate the new me.”
“Well, I like the new you. You’ll find another fella in no time at all.” The slow rhythm of the eighties classics ended, and techno dance music polluted their intimate moment. Claire removed their earphones but refused to release her grip.
Kathryn shrugged. “I don’t want someone else. I’m enjoying being me for the first time in a very long while. I intend to live a little, do some of the things I always wanted to do.”
Claire replaced her head on Kathryn’s shoulder. “You’ll probably find that’s when you’ll attract the most interest. Confident people are sexy people. You’re sexy people. I mean a sexy person.” She sighed. “You know what I mean.”
“I guess.”
“Unlike drunk, pathetic, stupid people—they aren’t sexy at all.”
“Stop putting yourself down. You’re none of those things.” Kathryn’s tone was gentle.
“Well, I am pretty drunk.”
“Okay, yes, you’re drunk. But you’re not pathetic or stupid.”
“Just pathetic, then.”
“Just nothing, Claire.”
“Ha, nothing. That’s exactly right. I’m nothing.”
“Don’t be silly. This will pass and you’ll be the new Claire in no time.”
Overcome with emotion, or something else she couldn’t name, Claire eyed Kathryn. She moved her hand to rest on Kathryn’s cheek. Her skin was soft, warm, and unbelievably smooth. She rose on her toes and kissed Kathryn’s soft, glossed lips. Their mouths remained closed, their lips barely touching, but Claire lingered for a long moment and Kathryn didn’t pull away.
Fresh citrus tones wafted up from Kathryn’s neck, filling Claire’s head. She loved expensive perfume.
It surprised Claire to realise she didn’t want their connection to end. Touching Kathryn left her feeling lightheaded and vulnerable, but in a good way. It was a textbook crush, but in those moments, she imagined their entrance into a party walking arm in arm, Kathryn taking the lead wearing a smile that told the world she was in love with the woman by her side.
Claire was reclaiming her lips, just as she would eventually reclaim the rest of her body.
Kathryn�
��s lips were now the last lips that Claire had kissed. She tingled at the thought.
Chapter Eleven
Kathryn couldn’t settle. It was eight o’clock and Claire was in bed, probably sound asleep. Kathryn had a lot on her mind.
The mobile phone in her pocket felt warm and heavy resting on her upper thigh. Under normal circumstances, she would barely detect its presence, or more accurately, even have her phone on her, but this evening, since that afternoon, the secret it held in images and sound felt intrusive, demanding her attention like a nagging child.
The weather remained hot, sticky hot, and Jess had insisted the air conditioning remain off, complaining her skin was dry enough as it was. They sat in fading light, lounging in the outdoor entertainment area just beyond the house.
“Fancy a gin?” Kathryn needed something to slow her mind, and Alex’s wine glass was empty.
“Sure. Why not?” Apparently, it was just the excuse Alex needed to stop rubbing Jess’s feet. She joined Kathryn in the kitchen. “I’ll help.”
The measures were generous. “Steady on.” Alex’s eyes bulged, staring at the near half full glasses of gin. “You thirsty?”
“Something like that. It feels like it’s been a long day.”
“It will be a short night if you keep pouring like that.”
Not a bad plan.
Jess lit a citronella candle and they enjoyed the slight breeze that arrived as twilight crept in. “So Claire thought ouzo was the answer this afternoon, then?”
Kathryn told herself she didn’t want to talk about Claire, or even think about her, but what she wanted, even in her own mind, seemed completely irrelevant. The excitement she felt, foreign as it was, at even the mention of Claire’s name, compelled her to participate in the conversation.
“Steve and I thought she was being murdered. Fortunately for us, it was just her drunk singing.”
“She’s never been one to hold a tune.” Jess’s frown indicated worry. “Did you listen to the message on the machine?”
“Yeah, Victoria was way out of line.” Kathryn had taken an immediate and intense dislike to Victoria. “You can’t just up and leave someone and then mumble that you miss them. Especially after you’ve just admitted to stealing half their money and only giving it back because you experience a pathetic twinge of guilt.”
“Well,” Alex said. “I think it’s good for her, get it out of her system and move on. Plus it’s a safe environment for her to let it all out. There’s three of us here to help her.”
Kathryn again felt the presence of the phone in her pocket. Was her behaviour, allowing Claire to kiss her as she did, the actions of a responsible adult looking out for a friend? If the faint throb between her legs was anything to go by, she’d failed miserably.
“I agree,” said Jess. “But they were together for four years. It’s difficult to get over that in a hurry.”
Kathryn touched the phone in her pocket. “Oh, I don’t know. In some ways, I think she’s ready to move on.”
Jess and Alex snapped their heads to glare at her.
“I think she’s realised that she didn’t have what she thought she had. I think she wants to push forward. I think she’s beginning to accept who Victoria really was.”
Jess looked unconvinced. “Yes, but that doesn’t make you ready to move on.”
“No, but it makes you less inclined to hang on, and that’s a big step.”
Kathryn sensed both Jess and Alex probably wanted to say more, but they let it go. After all, she was the expert in this field. Severing ties and moving forward was one thing, filling the void with someone new was another challenge altogether. There was no book, manual, or formula with the answers. The spark of attraction advanced stealthily, and didn’t she know it.
Before she could ponder any longer, Jess and Alex changed the subject, and for the first time, they relaxed and openly discussed their babies.
“I’ve got one word,” said Kathryn. “Australian Standards.”
Jess looked perplexed.
“Okay, smarty pants, I know it’s two words, but the baby equipment you buy, new or second-hand, should meet the relevant Australian Standard. Anything less and you’re just exposing yourself to a life of torment if something goes wrong.”
Jess shook her head as if to clear it. “I’m not being a smart-arse, but you’ve never mentioned kids before. For most of our closest friends, gay or not, the prospect of squeezing two babies from your vagina—the tool used for sexual enjoyment—is abhorrent. How the hell do you know so much about it?”
“IVF, four miscarriages, and no babies leaves you with nothing but a wealth of useless knowledge—unless your little sister is having twins, of course.”
“Oh, Kathryn.” Jess reached for her hand. “You never said. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“The first time I told loads of friends I was pregnant. It was hell telling them the baby had died. I never told anyone again after that.”
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you,” Alex said.
“Andy didn’t really want kids anyway. Well, not kids so much, but babies. He hates babies and toddlers. Ironically, an older woman with older kids would be his dream come true.” Kathryn had lived in turmoil during the failed attempts to become pregnant, and Andy had provided little support simply because he hadn’t really shared her desire for a baby. Although she had desperately wanted a child, she now knew it had all worked out for the best.
“So, Australian Standard stuff then?” asked Alex.
Kathryn was grateful the focus had returned to the present. “It’s the only way to go.”
“Was it you or him?” asked Jess.
She should have known better than to think Jess would skim over such a huge revelation.
“Both actually. His sperm count is dismal, figures, and then with the miscarriages, it seemed I just couldn’t carry to term. No one can definitively tell me why. I imagine there’s more than one failing down there in all that plumbing.”
“God, Kathryn, I wish you’d told me.”
“Well, it’s worked out for the best in hindsight. Imagine our divorce had kids been involved—bloody mess that it was.” She sighed, annoyed by the whole saga. “And anyway, now that I’ll be living in Melbourne, I’ll have your kids to spoil.”
“And they’ll have a fabulous aunt as a role model.”
Kathryn spluttered. “I wouldn’t have been a role model a week ago.” At least she was adult enough to admit she was wrong. “Do you realise you’re the only openly gay person I know?”
Alex coughed.
“Sorry. Obviously, there’s you and Claire now, but growing up, little sister, you were it. Jesus, if it wasn’t enough that you were bloody brilliant at everything, you had to go and become a lesbian, too.”
“Most people don’t become a lesbian, Kathryn. They’re born that way,” said Jess.
“Oh, I know that. But all this time it’s been easier for me to believe you were just trying to be different to get even more attention.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Alex disappeared to refill their glasses.
“But now I see how lucky and how in love you are. Alex is fabulous, and Claire still worships the ground you walk on, even after all these years.”
“Claire is like my little sister now.”
“Honestly, Jess. You should stop saying that. You used to screw like rabbits. It sounds incestuous.”
“Well, it’s the best description I have.”
“We don’t have to have sex, too, do we?” Kathryn teased her.
“Very funny, but you might learn something, so don’t discount it.”
“Anyway, your life is something to be proud of. I’m proud of you. God, I just watch you and Alex hang out the washing together, cook together, clean together. No arguments, no stereotypical male and female roles. It’s a remarkable way to live.”
“You’re beginning to worry me now. Where the hell has this Kathryn been hiding all these years?”
“It’s normal to you, I can see that. But to me, it’s liberating.”
“It’s also one of the reasons we want Claire to stay.” Jess shrugged, embarrassed. “Look, we’re far from perfect, but she and Victoria had had their problems in the past. Victoria was becoming demanding and unreasonable. Claire was bending over backwards to accommodate her.”
“What did she do?”
“It was Victoria who suggested Claire take on night shift, then suggested she do them more frequently, citing the money as too good to pass up on. The only problem was, while Claire was home during the day sleeping, cleaning, and cooking, Victoria was gallivanting until all hours, spending all the money. She wanted to change Claire.”
Kathryn was appalled. “That’s ridiculous. Claire doesn’t need to change. Why didn’t you say something to her? Although really, what could you have said that would have made any difference?” Kathryn thought she saw the dilemma.
“That’s just it.” Jess sighed, clearly disappointed. “Claire would have listened to me. She knows I wouldn’t say anything without good reason. The problem was I thought she was handling it. We’d talked about Victoria at great length. I thought it was improving, not declining.”
Kathryn sighed. “Christ, you have a better relationship with your friends than I ever did with my own bloody husband.”
“Well, as you keep reminding me, we did once screw like rabbits.”
Alex laughed. “Maybe you need to find yourself a good woman.”
Why do people keep saying that? The phone in Kathryn’s pocket felt like a bomb on a timer, primed and ready to explode. “That’ll be the day.”
*
Kathryn’s preparation for bed was slow and deliberate. Firstly, she was tipsy and her ankle had swollen over the course of the day, and secondly, because as much as she wanted to review the footage on her phone, she was enjoying the tingling sensation of restrained anticipation.
Claire’s bedroom door was open and she stalled to stare through the crack. She noticed the blinds weren’t drawn. Kathryn had never slept with the moonlight shining through her window, and from what she could see of Claire, she appeared to sleep naked. Even on the hottest, stickiest Queensland nights, Kathryn always wore something to bed. To be naked with Andy had been an invitation, and encouraging him was a mistake she had only made once.
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