by Clare Lydon
A smile spread across Caitlin’s face. “Like I wasn’t going to.”
Chapter 2
Dot arrived in the kitchen the following morning to find Caitlin whipping up the pancake mixture, wearing Dot’s red-and-white chequered apron. Caitlin had never worn it in the whole of their relationship, telling Dot aprons were a feminist issue. Dot had disagreed, telling Caitlin aprons were a less-mess issue. Caitlin was a walking, talking mess tornado.
She was also in Dot’s kitchen again, which was going to take some getting used to. It was temporary. Dot had to keep reminding herself.
“Good morning, I hope you slept well.” Caitlin gave her a weird smile. Like her face couldn’t settle on a particular look.
“Why are you smiling like that?”
“I’m paid to. I’m in the service industry.” She ushered Dot to a seat at the kitchen table. “I’m channelling my inner uber-waitress. Coffee, madam?”
Dot took a breath. “That would be lovely, thanks.”
Caitlin boiled the kettle, made the coffee and set the cafetière on the table, along with Dot’s favourite chipped banana-print mug.
“The attention to detail is spot-on, I’ll give you that.”
“You can rate me on TripAdvisor later.” Caitlin’s answer was accompanied by a hiss as she began frying the pancakes, the golden smell of sizzling butter filling the kitchen. Dot hated to admit it, but she’d missed this.
Ten minutes later, the apron was off and Caitlin sat opposite, handing her the maple syrup.
“Did you get this all at the shop last night?”
Caitlin nodded. “It’s surprising what you can get at the local Co-op.” She sprinkled chopped banana on her blueberry pancakes and ate with a satisfied sigh. Caitlin always wore her heart on her sleeve, was never one to hold back her emotions. If she was happy or sad, Dot had always known.
“So what’s your name and where are you from?”
Dot frowned. “We have to make up a name?”
“I once went on a holiday with some uni mates where we all called ourselves our mother’s name for a whole week.” Caitlin shuddered. “That was a mindfuck, so let’s not do that.”
“I can imagine.” Caitlin and her mum were not on speaking terms. Her daughter being gay was not what her Christian, Nigerian mother had bargained for. “Can’t I just be called Dot?”
Caitlin sat back. “Use your imagination! What did you want to be called when you were little?”
“Jo.” Dot didn’t need telling it lacked a certain something.
Caitlin shook her head. “Jo?”
“I don’t really like it anymore, though. There was a really annoying girl called Jo in my sixth form and it put me off.”
Caitlin’s mouth curled into a smile. “Okay, this is clearly too much before your first cup of coffee. I was going to be Priscilla, but for the sake of simplicity. You’re Dot. I’m Caitlin. Have you been here before?”
Okay, Dot could do this. “First time.”
“Not for me. I’ve come here every year for the past ten years. Used to come with my husband, but he’s dead now. He was a bit boring, truth be told. Anyway, now I’m after a lady.”
Dot nearly spat out her pancake. “Is that right?”
“It is.” Caitlin leaned in. “Fancy meeting me for Zumba this afternoon by the pool?”
Dot looked her squarely in the eye. “Real world or imaginary, that’s never going to happen.”
Caitlin insisted they watch a holiday movie to get them in a sunshine mood, seeing as it was chucking it down outside. Mamma Mia was the pick, and Dot wasn’t sure how many hours it was going to take to expunge the memory of Pierce Brosnan’s singing from her ears.
“Next up, before lunch, I want you to come and visit me in the bathroom. Although we’re turning it into something else for the purposes of today, okay?”
When Dot walked into the bathroom ten minutes later, Caitlin had her apron back on, along with some clippers in her hand. “Welcome to the Venice Salon!”
Dot turned around, shaking her head. “Oh no, I’m not that desperate.” Yes, she needed a haircut, but from someone who’d done it at least once before. Plus, if anyone was giving anyone a haircut, it should be the other way around. It was Dot who had a score to settle.
“I think you are.” Caitlin stepped forward and put a hand into Dot’s hair, lifting it outwards.
Too soon.
Dot flinched. It was as if Caitlin had tripped an alarm. She shook Caitlin’s hand away, then took a step back before folding her arms across her chest.
They both stopped and stared.
Being skittish to Caitlin’s touch was new. Dot simply wasn’t used to it anymore.
Caitlin sucked on her top lip and shook her head. “I keep forgetting. I know things aren’t how they were.”
Dot’s breathing was heavy, her ears hot. On the bathroom ledge, a pot of Caitlin’s face cream had reappeared, like she’d never been away. “Maybe you need to think a bit more.”
Caitlin held her gaze. “Maybe you’re right. I’m sorry.” She paused, never dropping Dot’s eyes.
An apology. That was a new string to Caitlin’s bow.
Dot took a deep breath and unfolded her arms. If Caitlin was going to stay here, she had to give her a chance.
“But none of that changes the fact you’ve got the thickest hair in the world. You could make wigs for four babies from it. Duvets could be stuffed with it. You need a haircut. It’ll make you feel lighter.” Caitlin was going for jaunty.
Maybe Dot could play along. She was going to try her best. “But you’ve never cut hair before.”
“I’ve never run an all-inclusive resort either, but I’m doing a great job so far.” Caitlin’s hand shook slightly as she held up the clippers. “Why did you buy these if you never use them?”
“Emergencies.” Dot shook her head. “And yes, I see the irony.” She couldn’t just use them without mulling it over for a while. Dot needed more time. Caitlin had always been the more impulsive of the two.
“Look at it this way. Lockdown isn’t ending anytime soon. They reckon at least another six weeks. Your hair grows at twice the normal rate. You need this.”
Eventually, Dot conceded and sat on the folding chair Caitlin had put up in the bathroom. “If you fuck this up, I’m kicking you out.”
“Relax. I watched some YouTube videos earlier, and I’m all over it. I was thinking a grade four on the back and sides, a two at the bottom, then I’ll fade with three.”
“You almost sound convincing.”
“I’ll consult you after each step, okay?”
Caitlin put her hands on Dot’s shoulders and massaged them gently. Now they’d got over the first contact, the second was far easier. Plus, it was such a familiar move from their relationship, Dot didn’t even question it. Her body hummed. She hadn’t been touched by anyone else for some time.
Dot closed her eyes, and imagined she really was in Venice, in the hands of a skilled, sexy hairdresser named Lucia. Or perhaps Adrienne. She racked her brain for more Italian female names, but all she came up with was Renee. When Dot’s eyes sprang open and she clocked Caitlin in the mirror behind her, she tensed.
The buzz of the clippers filled the air. Caitlin’s gaze was focused on the back of Dot’s head as she got the haircut underway.
Suddenly, it was all a little too much again. A little too intimate. What the fuck was Dot doing? She was letting Caitlin cut her hair? The woman who’d just blown up their lives after three years together, yet here they were, doing some weird roleplay, like everything was fine? It had been fine until Caitlin had waltzed back in yesterday. Because that’s what Caitlin did, wasn’t it? She waltzed, always.
Dot flinched, then went to stand up.
Caitlin let out a yelp. “What are you doing?”
But Dot was already committed, and before she knew it, she was upright and facing the enemy.
“I’m not sure how I let you convince me to do this.” Dot clenched and unclenche
d her fists. It was just like old times. Caitlin getting what she wanted, and dressing it up like it was something Dot should want, too. Dot walked out of the bathroom, taking a deep breath.
“You need your hair cut.” Caitlin’s tone was elevated as she shouted after her. “And by the way, when you stand up in the middle of me doing that, the end result might not be exactly what you wanted.”
“A little like our relationship?” Okay, Dot was shouting now. She turned and walked back to the bathroom door. “Fuck you and your weird games, Cait. Fuck acting like everything’s normal. Just because the country’s gone into lockdown does not mean we’re suddenly best friends again.” She flicked an angry arm. “You left. You walked out. What the hell even is this?”
Caitlin turned off the clippers, put them down on the edge of the sink and took a deep breath. She looked Dot direct in the eye. “This isn’t perfect, you’re right. But I’m just trying to make the best of a crazy situation. You can throw me out on the street, but I know you wouldn’t do that. I don’t want to live through more days like we did just before I left for Sasha’s. So can we try to be civil to each other? Wouldn’t you rather we tried to be nice?” Caitlin blew out a long breath, then raised her eyes to the ceiling. “It’s what I’m trying to do by cutting your hair. I know how unhappy you get when it’s too long.”
Dot’s stomach churned as she weighed up her options. Her heartbeat pulsed in her ear.
What Caitlin said was true. She needed a haircut. Plus, she wanted a happy home.
She twisted her mouth one way, then the other, her pulse cycling down. She moved stiffly, then sat back in the chair, trying not to scowl too much. She didn’t want Caitlin to shave her head completely.
“Okay.” Dot pressed the tips of her fingers together until they went white.
“Okay. The salon is reopened.” Caitlin gave her a look in the mirror, then switched the clippers back on.
Chapter 3
Caitlin checked the airline website: no flights leaving from anywhere, anytime soon. Fuck. She slammed her laptop shut. Where was Dot? It was her turn to do the food today, and she hadn’t heard her moving around yet. She guessed she was going to have to get her own tea for now.
Caitlin threw back the spare duvet and stretched her arms up above her head, yawning. Being on the sofa was reminding her of the dying weeks of their relationship. When sharing a bed had become too strained and she’d slept here. At least she was actually sleeping this time, not grinding her teeth and sobbing.
She stood up, pulling her knickers from her bum cheek and straightening her T-shirt. She walked to the bookcase opposite, taking in the gaps where there had once been photos of the two of them. The pair at their friends’ 30th. At York Races. Standing outside the Gaudi House Museum in Barcelona. They weren’t here anymore.
Something nudged Caitlin’s heart. She swallowed down the weird sensation. It was her own fault. She’d got the new job. She’d decided she wanted a clean break. New York to London was no easy commute, and she hadn’t wanted to hold Dot back or do long distance. Only now, the job was over the Atlantic Ocean, and she was back in their old flat.
Maybe she should cook the breakfast again this morning, and for the foreseeable future. When she laid it all out in her head, she knew she owed Dot. She hadn’t given her an option. Caitlin had decided and changed their lives. Even though she’d never been 100 per cent certain.
However, when she got into the kitchen, Dot was already there. Wearing her favourite cut-off denims and a black V-neck T-shirt. Caitlin’s eyes rested on Dot’s strong thighs, then dragged them away. Dot did an awful lot of squatting in her job as a gardener. It showed.
“Good morning!” Dot’s voice was cheery, which instantly put a smile on Caitlin’s face. Yesterday had been strained after their flare-up, but they’d managed to eat pizza, drink beer and watch repeats of Killing Eve without annihilating each other. Today, the only way was up.
“I was just coming in to make the tea.”
“Already on it,” Dot replied, handing her a full mug. “I’ve been out to the shops and bought smoked salmon and muffins, so we’re having that with scrambled eggs.”
“Perfect.” This was a transformation from yesterday. Perhaps it was because Caitlin had saved the day and managed not to scalp Dot. “Nice haircut, by the way.”
Dot gave her a shy smile, running her hand up the back of her grade two. “You did well. Especially with a temperamental client.”
“She settled down in the end.” Caitlin didn’t want to dwell on that. “Do you want me to give you a hand?” Caitlin had normally handled breakfast throughout their time together.
“I’m good. I’ve learned some skills since you’ve been gone.”
Caitlin furrowed her brow. Dot had been cooking breakfast? For other people? She swallowed down her discomfort with a mouthful of tea.
Fifteen minutes later, Dot presented her with a plate of buttery eggs and salmon, along with fresh tea and orange juice. “We just need the sun for it to be like a proper all-inclusive, don’t we?”
Dot glanced out the window. “Not something the UK’s known for in March.” The grey skies outside backed up her point. “However, I was thinking. Remember they had classes at our Cuban resort?”
Caitlin nodded. “I do. That really annoying woman kept trying to sign us up for yoga every day.”
A look passed over Dot’s face Caitlin didn’t recognise. That was new, too.
“I hate to tell you, but now I am that woman.”
Caitlin was confused. “Come again?”
“I thought we could do some yoga this morning.” Dot was smiling at her like this was something Caitlin expected to come out of Dot’s mouth. It really wasn’t.
“Since when do you do yoga?”
“Since I’ve been in on my own and wanted to try something new. It’s pretty relaxing, actually. I’m a lot more bendy these days.”
Next thing, Dot would be telling her she was making a sourdough starter. Caitlin had only been gone a month, for fuck’s sake.
“Then this afternoon, I thought we could do some meditation.”
Caitlin nearly choked on her eggs. “Meditation? Okay, who are you and where have you stashed Dot?”
Dot put down her knife and fork, quirking a single eyebrow. “You’re very stuck in your ways. You left. People change. You need to broaden your horizons. You were going to New York. I hear yoga and meditation are very popular there.”
Dot had a point. “Okay, yoga and meditation it is.” Caitlin paused. “But can we balance things out and drink wine after?”
The woman on the telly doing the yoga was extremely bendy. Also, incredibly hot.
Caitlin put her arms above her head and stretched, as Delilah told them to do. Her hair was impossibly shiny. Also, brilliantly styled. Like lockdown had never happened to Delilah. Was her hair in the present day anywhere near as good? Caitlin would love to know.
“Did you take this up because you love yoga, or because you love Delilah?” Caitlin snagged Dot’s gaze as they folded in half, heads down, stretching towards their toes.
“My interest in yoga is purely in how it makes my body feel, and also in how it makes me feel mentally.”
“The fact Delilah has a pert bum never crossed your mind?”
“I’m not as base as you,” Dot replied.
Caitlin scoffed, then concentrated on what Delilah was doing. Getting down into a stretchy-static-lunge position. Pushing her right leg back as far as it could go. Caitlin copied Delilah’s movements. Was she going to hear a pop when her hip snapped out of its socket? She’d heard about extreme yoga. This felt extreme. Or perhaps she just wasn’t very bendy.
“Now, bring your leg forward and under your chest,” said Delilah, doing just that in one seamless motion.
Caitlin tried it. Something cracked. She winced, but reasoned she was only 35. She should still be flexible enough to do a yoga session.
Ten minutes later, she was feeling a little mor
e confident. She’d downed like a dog. Posed like a tree. Now she was standing beside Dot, mimicking her warrior II pose like a boss. Which, considering she had no idea what a warrior was five minutes earlier, was a miracle. Having mastered the position, Caitlin felt like a warrior, too. Her feet were powerfully placed. She was solid. She could take on the world.
If she ever did get to New York — please make it happen — maybe Caitlin would look up yoga classes. Perhaps Dot could come to visit and do some with her. She blinked at the thought. Maybe this is what she needed in her life, rather than more bars. Her brother, Wes, had told her that numerous times. He was a yoga convert. Her mum wasn’t keen on that either, saying it wasn’t very manly.
“Now swap legs and reverse positions,” Delilah added. “Chin up, feet planted, breathe deep. Warrior II.”
Caitlin swapped her leg position, and wobbled, but just about held it. Until Dot did the same beside her, wobbled and didn’t hold it.
Dot let out a yelp, then fell sideways, her weight falling into Caitlin and flattening her. As Dot pressed into her, Caitlin felt something go pop. She gave an anguished cry as pain shot through her insides.
Dot clambered off her.
Caitlin sucked in a breath and swore lightly.
Seconds later, Dot’s tight features were right in her face. “I’m so sorry, I lost my balance. Are you okay?”
Pain throbbed in her knee and in her torso. But Caitlin’s heart swelled with another kind of emotion with Dot’s eyes so close, so focused. They’d got over yesterday. Today had been progress. Plus, she deserved the pain. Maybe this was her penance.
“I’ll live. Although I’m not sure this is a tick in the box for yoga being relaxing.”
Dot gave her a slow smile. “Maybe not. Shall I give you a hand up?”
Caitlin moved slowly. On screen, Delilah was talking about being fierce and harnessing your energy for good.
Dot’s strong hands were under her armpits, helping her up. Something inside flared on contact. Because there definitely had been something about having Dot on top of her, despite how it came about. The touch of someone so familiar. The weight of her. Caitlin used to love Dot on top of her. Pressing into her.