The Feel of Forever

by Lyn Denison

  There was barely a flicker in Bailey’s expression. “Of course not. The more the merrier,” she added lightly.

  Mayla shot a quick glance at Bailey, looked as though she was about to refuse the offer, then she smiled. “Okay. Dinner with two of my favorite women. What more could I want? So, what time?”

  Fliss looked at Bailey. “Sixish?”

  Bailey nodded.

  “Okay, till six then.” Mayla turned back to Fliss. “I should get home. Can you call me June’s Taxi, love.”

  “Taxi? No way,” Bailey admonished her. “I’ll give you a lift home. I’ve been wanting to see your studio. That is, if you’ve got time to give me a tour.”

  “Sure,” Mayla agreed easily.

  They left together, leaving Fliss to spend the rest of the afternoon clock-watching. The time went by both slowly and quickly as Fliss alternated between chastising herself for agreeing to go and telling herself having Mayla along took all the pressure off being alone with Bailey.

  Eventually, the Aston Martin pulled up in front of the gallery and Mayla waved from the passenger seat. Reluctantly, Fliss locked the gallery and joined them.

  When they arrived at the tavern, Fliss and Mayla were greeted by locals who were intent on meeting John Macrae’s famous sister. But finally they were seated at a table off to the side with a reasonable amount of seclusion.

  “So that’s what it’s like to be one of the very famous people.” Mayla chuckled. “Or as we call them, the VFPs.”

  “Believe it or not, it doesn’t always happen,” Bailey told them. “I can occasionally go out and no one will recognize me.”

  “At the North Pole, hey?” Mayla suggested and Bailey smiled.

  “Usually people don’t recognize me because they don’t expect to see me.” Bailey picked up the menu. “Now, what are we going to eat? Any suggestions, Fliss?”

  They discussed the food, the wine, the island and art in general and before Fliss realized it they were ordering after-dinner tea and coffee. It had been a pleasant evening, even allowing for her heightened awareness of Bailey, and Fliss had genuinely enjoyed herself. Both Mayla and Bailey were interesting women and the conversational subjects were diverse. She even found herself joining in.

  And if she felt her face grow a little hot when Bailey looked at her, well, she was sure no one had noticed. She could almost convince herself she was relaxed. Well, almost. Then Bailey’s fingers would touch hers as Bailey passed her a plate of bread, and Fliss’s skin would tingle at the touch. Once she’d stretched out her leg and encountered Bailey’s and she hurriedly apologized.

  As they waited for their cups of tea Bailey excused herself to visit the bathroom and Mayla sat back in her chair and sighed appreciatively. “This has been a great night, hasn’t it?”

  Fliss murmured in agreement. It had certainly been easier than she’d imagined it would be, mainly because of Mayla’s presence.

  “Sure you didn’t mind me tagging along?” Mayla asked.

  “Of course not. Why would I?” Fliss asked as evenly as she could.

  Mayla shrugged and remained silent while the waiter set out cups and saucers and pots of tea. “She’s pretty attractive, isn’t she?” she asked when they were alone again.

  Fliss murmured again, studiously pouring her tea.

  “Even more attractive than she is on TV.”

  “Petra remarked on that fact, and so too did Marcus,” Fliss said and Mayla chuckled.

  “I’ll bet he did. So we can’t all be wrong, can we?”

  “How come you didn’t tell me you knew Bailey so well?” Fliss heard herself asking the question, although she was unsure she wanted to hear the answer.

  “I didn’t? Oh, well, I guess I never thought to mention it. She came to my show in Sydney and I didn’t actually recognize her at first. She was alone, had a scarf thing on her head, neatly disguised. Then someone came up to us, congratulated her on her show and the penny dropped, so to speak, for me.” Mayla shook her head. “I had to apologize for not recognizing her, which amused her. Then she said she’d visited the island.” Mayla’s gaze held Fliss’s. “And yes, to your next question.”

  “My next question?” Fliss frowned, her mouth suddenly dry. “I don’t know what you mean.” Her fingers unconsciously fiddled with her teaspoon.

  Mayla sighed and then she reached out and covered Fliss’s hand, holding it gently. “I know she was the one.”

  Chapter Eight

  “You know?” Fliss breathed before she could prevent herself.

  “I’ve always known.”

  “But how?” Fliss asked. “How did you know?”

  Mayla squeezed Fliss’s hand and then released her. “It didn’t take much to put two and two together.”

  Fliss looked down at her teacup. “I never said it was her,” she began.

  “No, you didn’t. But I have eyes, love.”

  Fliss looked up and Mayla gave a faint grimace. “I’ve seen the way you look at her,” she said gently.

  “I don’t look at her,” Fliss said defensively. “And I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”

  Fliss stilled. “The way she looks at me,” she repeated so softly she was unsure she’d even voiced the words.

  Mayla nodded sympathetically. “Oh, yes.”

  “Oh, Mayla.” Fliss’s voice caught in her throat. “What am I going to do?”

  “Have you asked her why she’s come back?”

  Fliss shook her head. “She said to look after her brother’s house.”

  “I mean, the unofficial reason,” Mayla said dryly. “I think maybe you should ask her the real reason. If you’re interested.”

  “Interested?” Fliss bit her lip.

  “Are you?”

  “I don’t know, Mayla. I thought I did. But,” she shook her head, “I don’t think I do any more.”

  Mayla glanced behind Fliss. “She’s coming back.” She reached out and gave Fliss’s hand another squeeze. “Just be careful, love.”

  “Oh, tea.” Bailey sat down, her smile fading a little as she looked from Fliss to Mayla. “Anything wrong?”

  “Not at all,” Mayla said quickly. “Fliss was just saying she didn’t like that smoky tea. What’s it called?”

  “Lapsang Souchong?” Bailey said.

  “That’s it. I quite like it but Fliss isn’t as keen.” They chatted about various types of tea and the moment passed.

  They dropped Mayla home and then Bailey and Fliss were alone in the car as Bailey drove through the darkness.

  “At least it’s not raining,” Fliss said, trying to lighten the heavy silence that was enveloping them.

  “Give it time,” said Bailey and they both laughed. “I really enjoyed this evening,” Bailey added.

  “Mmm. Mayla’s very entertaining.”

  There was a pause. “She’s a very talented artist,” Bailey said casually.

  “Yes. I think I told you she was a friend of my mother’s,” Fliss explained. “From Art College. The Dunnes didn’t spend a lot of time on the island while I was growing up, but since Mayla came back we’ve really got to know each other. Her son, Joe, is a bit older than I am. He’s quite a good sculptor in his own right but at the moment he’s off seeing the world. And her daughter, Megan, just had triplets, two girls and a boy.” Fliss stopped, deciding she was babbling.

  “Mayla showed me photos of the triplets. She’s a very proud grandmother.”

  They were passing the gallery and Chrissie’s Café so they’d soon be at Fliss’s house. There was no excuse tonight to invite Bailey in, Fliss thought, and swallowed hard.

  “I’m glad you’ve had someone, I mean, someone as nice as Mayla to talk to.” Bailey drew Fliss’s attention from the inticing distraction of her thoughts.

  “Mayla’s a good friend. She saved my sanity, I guess.”

  “I wish—” Bailey stopped and Fliss slid a quick glance at her profile but could glean nothing from her expression. “She showed me the two pieces she
’s working on today. They’re just fantastic. It’s easy to see why she’s recognized as one of Australia’s leading sculptors.”

  “That’s true. We have one of her early pieces. She gave it to Mum for her fortieth birthday.”

  “I noticed you had a lovely Clarkson on the wall in the living room. Do you collect much yourself?”

  “I haven’t really had time to think about a personal collection,” Fliss told her. “I’m busy enough with the gallery. But I guess I do sort of collect paperweights.”

  “Paperweights.”

  Fliss laughed. “Yes. Paperweights. Mum had about a dozen she’d collected on trips overseas before she and dad got married. She went to England. Europe. The States. I thought I might add to her collection so I, when I go away, I look for a suitable paperweight to add to our collection.”

  “How many have you collected?”

  “Two. One from Brisbane and one from the Gold Coast.” Fliss pulled a face. “I don’t get out much,” she added dryly, and Bailey burst out laughing.

  “Apparently not.” She reached out and touched Fliss’s knee. “You could always make me laugh, Fliss,” she said.

  And suddenly the atmosphere in the confines of the car grew heavy with a multitude of things left unsaid. Bailey seemed to realize she still had her hand on Fliss’s knee and she slowly removed it. Part of Fliss wanted to take hold of that hand, draw it back, cover it with her own.

  Then Bailey was turning into the driveway of Fliss’s house. And Fliss was in a complete turmoil, her nervousness increasing threefold.

  A vivid scenario flashed before her, unfolding like a movie on fast forward. She would ask Bailey in for coffee and Bailey would accept. Inside she’d turn on the lamp and in the dusky glow she would pull Bailey into her arms. There would be Bailey’s wonderful, drugging kisses. She’d feel the warmth of Bailey’s body, her smooth skin, the delightful, sensual curves. And the spiral of desire between them would flare and consume them. It had simmered there so close to the surface since Bailey came back.

  But she’ll go again, warned that persistent voice inside her that Fliss desperately wanted to ignore.

  “Well, here we are,” Bailey said, lightly enough. “And nary a spit of rain.”

  “No, that’s a plus. It’s stressful driving at night in the rain.” Fliss fumbled for the door catch. “Thanks for dropping me home.” She wanted to say so much but she couldn’t formulate the words. “And thanks for dinner,” she managed to add. “I guess I’ll see you then.”

  “Yes. Fliss, wait.” Bailey put her hand on Fliss’s arm to detain her and Fliss’s skin burned, then seemed to dissolve. “I want to—I have to go over to the mainland for a couple of days. It’s my mother’s birthday, her sixtieth, and seeing as John’s there, too, my parents thought it was a good opportunity to have a family reunion. But I’ll be back on Tuesday and I thought perhaps we could have lunch or something. The gallery’s closed on Tuesdays, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Fliss swallowed, lost in the feel of Bailey’s warm hand on her arm.

  “I’ll ring you when I get back, hmm?”

  “Yes. All right.” Fliss heard herself say and then she was out of the car, up the steps and fumbling with her key for the lock. She opened the door and felt for the light before turning back to see Bailey still sitting in the car. She smiled and gave Fliss a quick wave before backing the car out of the driveway and disappearing into the darkness.

  Fliss stepped into the house, closed the door behind her and sank back against it until her breathing settled. She ran her hand over her eyes. She’d wanted Bailey tonight, still wanted her so much.

  How foolish was that? She admonished herself as she made herself move away from the door, climb the stairs, go through the motions of preparing for bed. Yet in the shower she stood imagining the feel of Bailey’s fingers on her body. And in bed she tossed and turned until she eventually fell asleep. Only to dream of Bailey.

  Mayla arrived with her sculpture mid-morning on Monday, and with barely a hiccup, her new artwork was set up in the gallery. Bill drove off in his ute with his carton of beer and Fliss and Mayla stood admiring the statue.

  Larger than her other pieces, it looked magnificent catching the light from the skylight. The lines of the nude woman were fluid and sensual and Fliss shook her head in amazement. “It’s magnificent, Mayla. Just perfect.”

  Mayla gazed at it critically. “Never perfect.”

  “I think it is.”

  “It’s always difficult for me to judge, simply because I would have changed a couple of things. I’m always like that.”

  Fliss looked at her incredulously. “No way does that need changing. It is perfect. And I can tell you it’s not going to last long.”

  Mayla laughed. “We live in hope. It’s not exactly something a tourist will stash in a suitcase.”

  “Maybe not, but we do deliver. Worldwide. How come you didn’t get a lift back with Bill?” Fliss asked.

  Mayla pursed her lips. “Do you want to get rid of me?” She laughed and held up her hand when Fliss began to protest. “I’m meeting a couple of ladies from Probis next door at Chrissie’s in a few minutes. At their next meeting they want me to talk about the exciting life of a sculptor. We’re going to work out the date and time over lunch.”

  “Very civilized of them. And it’s really good of you to take time for things like that, Mayla.”

  “I’m a good egg.” Mayla leant back against the counter. “But a nosy one. Now we’re on our own, how did it go with Bailey after you dropped me off?”

  “Fine,” Fliss replied evenly. “She dropped me off too and then she went home.”

  Mayla rolled her eyes. “Chrissie’s right. Getting information out of you is like pulling teeth.”

  “When did you and Chrissie discuss me?”

  “Chrissie and I are always discussing you.” She grinned. “But you can relax. We don’t even mention who is and who isn’t a lesbian. So not about that.” Mayla pointed her finger at Fliss. “But, you know, for someone who never does much and never goes anywhere, you’re a very interesting subject for discussion. Did you even kiss her goodnight?”

  “No. And why is my love life the focus of everyone’s attention all of a sudden? And she’s married, if you remember.”

  “Because we all love you, and I didn’t get the impression her marriage was very happy.”

  Fliss paused. “Did she say that?”

  “Not in so many words.”

  Fliss gave an exclamation of disbelief.

  “No, Fliss. Hear me out. From my experience, married women always mention their husband, whether they’ve got a happy marriage or not. Bailey doesn’t talk about her husband at all. Look, Fliss, I’ve seen Bailey in Sydney quite a few times. At my first show, at another show I went down to see and once I called her when I went down there on business and we had lunch together. And do you know what happened?”

  “I’m not sure I want to know,” Fliss said as evenly as she could. “But I know you’ll tell me anyway.”

  “She went to amazing lengths to casually ask after you.”

  Fliss felt herself grow warm. She turned away so Mayla wouldn’t see her heightened color.

  “The first time, at my show, I was the one who brought up the Delia Devon Gallery. She heard you’d taken the gallery over and asked how were you doing. Then it was things like her brother had mentioned a show he’d seen at the Delia Devon Gallery. She’d read an article about someone whose work was displayed in the Delia Devon Gallery. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

  “That she has the knack of finding a subject of interest to talk to you about?” Fliss valiantly tried for humor.

  Mayla shook her head. “On paper, I’d agree with you. But that’s not factoring in her expression when she talks about you.”

  “Expression?” Fliss’s mouth went dry.

  Mayla’s own expression softened. “Just give it some thought, Fliss.” She moved towards the door. “And if she wants to
talk, well, at least give her a chance and listen to what she has to say.”

  Later in the afternoon Chrissie came in with cups of coffee for Fliss and Marcus, and with no customers in the gallery, she filled Fliss in on her ongoing worries about her husband.

  “Paul’s coming home on Thursday and I’m determined to have it out with him, once and for all. I can’t take this any more. Even Paul’s mother noticed I was upset yesterday so that’s saying something.”

  “I think that’s sensible, Chrissie,” Fliss agreed. “At least if there’s a problem you can fix it. Not that I think there’s a problem,” Fliss added hurriedly in case she added to Chrissie’s concerns.

  “I just wish he’d talk to me,” Chrissie said frustratedly.

  They were silent for a few moments and then Chrissie frowned again. “You know, you’ve been quiet this arvo.”

  “Have I?”

  “Yes. In fact, you’ve been sort of different for a week or more.”

  Fliss shrugged. “I’m just tired I guess. I’m having a not-sleeping-very-well-at-the-moment period.”

  “Hmmm!” Chrissie looked at her searchingly. “Is something worrying you too?”

  “No. Not really. Nothing a few good nights’ sleep won’t cure.”

  “Try hot milk with a nip of brandy,” Chrissie suggested. “Old Mary Kingston used to swear by that. And if it doesn’t make you sleep at least the cockles of your heart will be warm.”

  They both laughed.

  “I guess I should get back to the café. Oh, and Fliss, don’t forget Paul’s cousin is coming over soon and we’re having you over for dinner.”

  Fliss felt everything closing in on her. She knew she couldn’t face another of Chrissie’s attempts at matchmaking, no matter how well-intentioned they were. “Chrissie, about that. I don’t think it would be right if I let you or Paul’s cousin think I could be interested in him.”

  “But, Fliss, you haven’t seen him for a dozen years or more. Just give him a chance. He’s a nice guy, nothing like that irritating kid he used to be. He’s a lawyer,” Chrissie ticked off the points on her fingers. “He has a fantastic car that Paul drools over, a great apartment that I covet and he’s not bad looking. Not as nice looking as Paul but quite okay.”