by Kiki Archer
‘What do you mean today? There is no way I am telling them today.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it’s not the right time.’
‘Trust me, from experience, there will never be a right time. You will wait and wait and put it off until you get found out in the worst possible way and then you will have lost all control.’ Kat smiled, ‘... and something I have learnt about you today Miss Elton is that you like to be in control!’
‘I didn’t see you complaining Miss Spicer!’ The sparks were back, but this time Kat decided to judge them for what they were – harmless flirting.
Freya broke the gaze, ‘Ok, so what about when she says I have destroyed her one hope of becoming a Grandmother?’
Kat was shocked. ‘Do you believe that? Do you believe you won’t have children? Because I know that I will.’ She spoke with a genuine passion that touched Freya’s heart.
‘I don’t know, I guess I just assumed -’
‘Well don’t! There are hundreds of thousands of lesbian parents across the world and every single study, no matter who commissioned it, has shown that children raised by lesbian parents are of equal, if not improved social development.’ Kat was off. ‘They have fewer behavioural problems, they have higher levels of self confidence, and they have a greater awareness and compassion for social injustice.’ She paused, ‘They are not accidental children. They often have mums who are slightly older, financially prepared for their arrival, who ensure there are good male role models in their child’s life. They anticipate potential issues arising in school and therefore take a greater interest in their children’s education.’ Kat finally slowed down, ‘You can still have children Freya.’
‘How do you do it?’ She was in awe, ‘How do you know so much about everything?’
‘I don’t. I just make sure I know what is important, and I know it is important for you to be open and honest with your parents.’
‘What if they hate me?’
‘Do they love you now?’
‘Yes.’
‘Ok so they will love you tomorrow as well.’
‘Why do you keep saying tomorrow? I am not telling them tonight. No way!’
‘Just do it and deal with the consequences. If they react badly then it is a stain on their character that they will have to live with.’
Freya laughed, ‘That’s a bit harsh!’
‘Not really. If you substitute the word gay for any other group of minority or discrimination then you realise how awful homophobia is.’
She loved the way Kat taught. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Do it now. “Black people should not be allowed to get married,” or “Asian people should not be allowed to raise children,” or “Disabled people should not be allowed to teach.” Homophobia is a disgrace and if your parents respond badly to your inbuilt sexuality then it is a real shame for them.’
‘You are so inspiring.’
‘No, I think I just like to get on my high horse every once in a while! Listen, just do it; do it tonight. You have got nothing to lose but everything to gain. You can live the life you want to live and be the person you want to be. This is who you are and I like who you are. Your friends will still like who you are and I hope your parents will learn to love who you are.’
‘And then what?’
‘And then you get on with your life.’
Freya’s green eyes twinkled, ‘Will you help me with that?’
Kat smiled, ‘I have a feeling we will be friends for a very long time.’
The silver Corsa emblazoned with orange writing and permanent L plates sat quietly in the middle of the empty side street; Bea had stalled again.
‘Right while we are here we might as well attempt the three point turn.’ The edgy instructor sighed and spoke slowly. ‘Remember it does not technically have to be three points, take as long as you need but please watch the curbs.’ He had come to dread the twice weekly lessons with Beatrice Belshaw; yes she was sexy as hell and every older man’s dream, but she drove like a Granny with cataracts; it was painful.
Bea wasn’t listening. She was staring at Freya’s blue Clio.
‘Restart the engine please.’
Bay two. Looks like those apartments back onto Coldfield Park. Nice views.
‘Beatrice? Turn the key?’
Freya must be visiting some relative. No, I know, it will be her mum visiting a friend.
‘Thank you. Why have you put your high beams on? Turn them off.’
Which is the lever!?
‘Bea, you’re high beams; that poor woman. Turn them off!’
Opps that’s the water. ‘Sorry!’ she looked up.
Lucy was striding towards the apartments shielding her face from the fierce headlights.
Where do I know that woman from? Oh here it is.
Lucy lowered her hand, winced and mouthed thanks, her eyes still blind from the glare.
Miss Spicer’s housemate; you can’t forget that nose.
‘Clutch Bea?’
Where is she going?
‘Whenever you’re ready.’
No way. No way! Bea watched as Lucy entered the modern apartment building next to Freya’s car.
‘Oh for heaven’s sake Bea we haven’t got all day!’
Bea turned in one point, mounted the curb, churned up the soft grass verge and bumped back onto the street. ‘I’ve had enough now thanks. I’m driving home.’ She bounced towards the main road with her hazards accidentally flashing.
Lucy keyed in the code and entered the warm communal lobby. We have all been there, she thought blinking and trying to correct her sight. She looked up and wailed! Freya was closing the apartment door and making her way down the hall and even though Lucy had only actually seen her on one occasion she felt like she knew her inside out. Kat was forever going on about her, granted it was mostly in the context of her lessons, but Freya did seem to receive a lot of airtime in their apartment. Kat would describe her outfits, her hairstyles, her views on some deathly boring bit of history, neither Lucy nor Jess had ever heard of. She would re tell Freya’s funny anecdotes or quick witted responses; she knew her, Lucy knew Freya.
‘Oh My God! I am so pleased to see you! How are you?’ Lucy was wiggling her fingers with excitement like a granny looking at their long lost grandchild for the first time in years. ‘You look incredible by the way, I love that shirt! What are you doing here?’ She buzzed her own head with her index finger, ‘Durrr! You’ve seen Kat haven’t you? I am thrilled! Come here!’ She threw her arms tightly around Freya; Freya could hardly breathe.
‘Hello. I remember you from the club. Beyonce wasn’t it?’
Lucy put her ring finger to her face and stuck out her bottom, ‘Uh oh oh Uh oh oh oh oh!’
Freya felt buffeted, she could hardly remember the woman. ‘That was it.’
‘Come here!’ Lucy dragged her to the brown tub chairs squashed between the tall, slightly dusty, plastic Dragon Trees. ‘We have got so much to talk about! Sorry if I look a bit rough – I’ve just led two hours of pelvic floor! Whatever anyone says it works and I’m burning if you know what I mean! Listen to me jabbering on, what’s new!?’
Freya sucked on her bottom lip and paused.
‘Lucy! Kat must have mentioned me!’
‘Lucy, sorry. Harley loves his leg warmers.’ That was all she knew.
‘Oh good I have plenty more where they came from. Do you want some? Oh no of course you don’t, look at you! Kat said you had an amazing dress sense and she wasn’t wrong. I said you looked twenty five!’
Freya held tightly to the thick padded arm rests. ‘Did you?’
‘Yes, when the mountain blew as they say! I said you looked at least twenty five.’ She paused, rolled her eyes and put on her best ghetto impression, ‘Look at you girlfriend! You ain’t no schoolgirl!’
Freya laughed, was that meant to be Welsh? ‘So Kat talks about me?’
‘When doesn’t she!’ Lucy was getting carried away, just
thrilled at the sight of Kat’s dangerous liaison sat in all her beauty in their communal lobby. ‘Look, you can always count on me to cut to the chase.’ She pulled her chair in as close as was possible. ‘Our Katherine is absolutely ... oh shit hang on.’ She reached up in the dark and slammed the lobby light. ‘She is absolutely crazy for you. Don’t tell her I have said this, but this will probably save months of to-ing and fro-ing, she fancies the pants off you Freya. She wants you with a passion that I haven’t seen in her for such a long time.’ Another strange voice, ‘She wants to strum your fiddle and play a sweet tune!’
Freya couldn’t help but laugh, ‘Has she said this?’
‘Well not in so many words, but it’s obvious. She is a delicate one our Kat. I know she doesn’t seem it what with her power dressing and teacher voice and all that, but she is. She’s been hurt before and it has changed her. She has no self confidence.’
‘I can’t believe that.’
‘No I mean with women, with relationships. She really finds it hard to believe people like her; nice people I mean.’
‘Well she has made it quite clear that we are not even allowed to broach the subject.’
Lucy wrinkled her nose, ‘What does that mean?’
Freya liked Lucy more and more as the crazy conversation continued. ‘She does not want to talk about it.’
‘So you really haven’t got it on in her store cupboard then? That one needs to get a grip. Look at you! Someone like you does not ... hang on ...’ she slammed the button, ‘you only get one minutes worth of light. Have you seen these plants? Bloody cheapskates; we have to pay a fee for this area!’
‘I like the apartment.’
‘Please tell me she took you in her room?’ Lucy wiggled her firm bottom in the brown tub chair.
‘No, I just needed some advice and she didn’t want to talk anywhere else, so we sat in your lounge.’
Lucy fanned her face and blew up her fringe, ‘She can’t control herself that’s why! Look, Kat just needs a bit of gentle persuading. She says you are the smartest student she has ever taught. It is plain as night is day that you are beautiful and I know Kat, and I know you, and you two belong together.’
Freya was wondering if they had met on another occasion, one that she had since forgotten. ‘To be honest I don’t think she is going to go there.’
‘Oh My God! I have just realised that I have been rabbiting on and I have not once asked you if you actually like her! You are Freya Elton aren’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh Phew, imagine that! Listen, I am not one to pry or offer my opinions, but is it going to happen? Because if it isn’t then I think you should just switch subjects, do Latin or something just as boring instead.’
She laughed; Lucy was as crazy as her dreadful Beyonce dancing. ‘No, it’s not going to happen; she won’t let it happen and I respect that. She is an amazing teacher and I like her so much; I don’t want to jeopardise her career. It does mean a lot though hearing what you have said.’ She was however not sure how much of it she actually believed.
‘Bloody hell, you are a match made in heaven! Fine, both of you play the martyr but remember that old saying - opportunity is a bird that never perches.’ She slammed the light.
Freya had been moving her thumb drawing patterns in the brown brushed fabric. ‘Ok thanks I will.’
‘Oh come here loves young dream.’ Lucy lifted her out of the seat and squashed her with a full bodied hug. ‘It’s been lovely talking to you again. Please come and visit us soon, or just visit me, I think you’re great!’
Freya laughed, ‘Wish me luck.’
‘Why?’
‘I’m about to go and tell my parents.’
‘About you and Kat?!’
‘No, about me.’
‘Oh you’ll be fine. Live and let live as they say.’
‘Bye Lucy.’ The cold air felt good. What a whirlwind of a woman!
Jess finally plucked up the courage to crawl quietly out of her dark room. She had hoped they would be snogging in the hallway, but as she gently padded on all fours towards the dimly lit lounge she realised Kat was lying on the sofa alone. She was about to pull herself up when the apartment door slammed open and Lucy came racing in shrieking with excitement. She clattered over a four legged Jess and dived hands first across the polished wooden floor, finally coming to a halt against the hot chrome radiator; Jess looked like a dead ant on her back with arms and legs up in the air. Kat sat up. She was glowing. Both could see it and both knew why. Jess had caught the gist of proceedings and Lucy knew all she needed to know – Freya was hot and Kat needed to claim her. They ordered the pizza, much to Jess’s delight, and debriefed until every single word, look, gesture and feeling had been analysed and evaluated; but Kat remained adamant. It was not allowed to happen.
Chapter 21
Freya did not want to go in. Her confidence and enthusiasm had slowly ebbed the closer she had got to home; the home where her mother and father would be sat reading, patiently pretending not to await her arrival. The floral curtains had already twitched. She gently turned off the ignition, plunging the car into a silent darkness. She shuddered and stayed belted, looking at the house; exactly like her parents - normal. Nothing quaint and quirky like Bea’s charming extended cottage, or trendy and modern like Kat’s stylish apartment, or even snug and personal like Jodi’s one room flat; just normal. Tar flecked orange bricks, four white pvc windows, one red door and seasonal pot plants; exactly the same as the six other houses curving around the neat cul-de-sac. The floral curtains twitched again. Freya felt a cold sweat course over her body. She could not move. She knew it was coming. She knew she was going to say it. She stayed seated. The red front door opened and Patrick Elton’s head peeped out. He stuck his thumb in the air, ‘Ok?’ he mouthed, smiling at his daughter.
Freya’s heart was racing and her hands were shaking. She fumbled for the clasp at the side of her chair and the swish of the seatbelt made her jump. Her dad hopped across the damp block paving in dry slippers and gently opened her door, ‘Come on, it’s cold out here. Your mum has put the kettle on.’
Freya looked up and stared; he was always so pleased to see her, always so proud. She started to well up as she made the five meter journey from the car to the house; it was the longest and most excruciating distance she had ever walked. They entered the warm lounge and she felt numb. It would have been so easy to dive on the cream sofa and relax in the familiar comfort of her home, just ignoring her issues and following routine. It wasn’t a perfect home, but it was a home where she felt safe and loved; a home where she belonged. It had its own distinctive smell which usually filled her with warmth as she stepped through the door, but this time she had failed to notice it. The lounge, with its swirly gold decor, had hardly changed in eighteen years and the sight of her father sat in his place on the cream corduroy sofa filled her with pain.
‘Come and sit down Frey.’ He patted her seat, ‘How was your confidence day?’ He was always so interested and always involved.
She walked into the adjoining dining room and reached for the padded leather computer chair, twisted it round and pushed it into the lounge.
Her dad shuffled to the edge of his seat, ‘Are you ok?’ He stood up and looked at his beautiful daughter now sitting seriously on the high backed chair, she was tapping and twisting her phone on her knee and not giving him eye contact.
Freya could hardly breathe and wondered if she would be able to speak. He was coming over. ‘Please just sit down Dad.’
‘Sue, hurry up.’ He tried to throw his voice around the corner into the old fashioned MFI kitchen. ‘Sue, something’s happening.’ He raised his voice. Was this it he thought? The moment he had been working to avoid ever since he held his beautiful baby daughter in his arms all those years ago. He could not contain himself, ‘You’re pregnant.’
‘Don’t be silly, of course I’m not. Will you please just sit down?’
‘Oh phew.’ He laughed
nervously, ‘Sorry Freya, but you know me I’m a worrier!’
She sat in the black upright swivel chair and placed two feet on the floor, putting her phone in her pocket and holding her hands tightly between her legs; she waited.
Sue Elton came bustling into the lounge with the drinks. Normal routine.
Freya shivered inside.
‘Here we go. Do you want yours now or shall I leave it on the tray?’ Sue Elton always spoke as if she was addressing a five year old child, no matter her audience.
Freya ignored the question.
‘Ok, I’ll just pop it here.’ She saw the look of nerves in her husband’s eyes, stopped flapping and sat down. They perched together at the edge of their corduroy cushions, looked at their pale daughter, and waited.
Freya could hear the wooden cuckoo clock ticking gently as she studied her parents Christmas slippers. It was the same gift requested every year and they managed to find genuine excitement in the new colour, style or material. She bit the inside of her lip and looked up. They were sat open eyed, eyebrows raised, urging her to talk.
‘Freya?’
She looked at the three cups of tea, all steaming, all in their favourite personal mugs. Tonight it was a box of Viennese Whirls that had been added to the worn flowered tray. She held her breath, she could stop it now; she could make something up.
‘Is everything ok?’
She tried to take a deep breath but only managed a short shallow one. ‘No,’ she whispered. It had started. There was no going back now.
Patrick sat bolt upright. ‘What is it?’ He noticed the slow tear creeping down her cheek and spoke softly. ‘You know you can talk to us about anything.’
Her eyes were sharp. ‘Can I?’
‘Of course you can.’ Her dad pushed himself from the sofa and knelt at her feet. He gently lifted his hand to hers, ‘What is it Frey?’
She shook him away, angry at her tears, ‘Don’t.’