The Startling Inaccuracy of the First Impression

by A. E. Radley

  Verity covered Katie’s hand with her own and gave it a squeeze.

  “I thought they knew, so I said that yes, I was gay. From there I endured a ten-minute meeting which effectively ended my career. Giles said he couldn’t possibly have someone like me in my position, and I was left in no doubt he meant a homosexual rather than whatever Melissa’s father had accused me of. I felt humiliated, embarrassed, and on display for all to see.”

  “You did nothing wrong,” Katie reassured her.

  Verity ploughed on without acknowledging her statement. “A deal was brokered; I was left feeling that it was my only option. Early retirement, a dream come true. That’s how it was sold to me, and I think I bought into it. Giles told me that if I stayed, I’d lose clients, and it would destroy my career. Everything I’d worked for would basically mean nothing. Leaving there and then meant leaving on a high. With my reputation intact.”

  Verity looked up at Katie. She took a deep, shuddering breath. She’d said it. Finally, after many months, she’d admitted not only to someone else, but to herself, what had actually happened.

  “I can’t believe that this kind of thing still happens,” Katie muttered.

  “The financial industry isn’t particularly forward-thinking,” Verity said.

  “You did absolutely nothing wrong,” Katie said. She took Verity’s hand in hers and gripped it tightly. “Do you hear what I’m telling you? You did nothing wrong.”

  “I know,” Verity said casually, practically on autopilot.

  “I don’t think you do,” Katie said. She edged closer, still holding her hand. “You were lonely, there is nothing wrong with that. She—what was her name? Melissa?”

  Verity nodded.

  “Melissa lied. She lied about her age. She doctored her photo. She practically stalked you. And then, when you did the right thing and walked away, she acted like a child and had her daddy tear you to pieces. As if you needed any further evidence that she was too young. She acted appallingly. You even checked she had enough money to get home, Vere. And she repaid you like that?”

  Verity could feel a couple of tears tracking down her cheek. “You’ve never called me Vere before.”

  “Is it okay?” Katie checked.

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  They were so close; Verity didn’t think they’d ever been that close before. She wasn’t very experienced with such things, but she was fairly positive that they were about to kiss. She leaned her head a little closer, giving Katie the opportunity to choose to either do the same or turn away.

  Katie started to close the gap, and they slowly, painfully slowly, drifted closer and closer together.

  A loud thump sounded against the glass window, and they both jumped.

  “What was that?” Katie asked in a panic.

  Verity was on her feet and looking through the vertical blinds in a second. A wet cloth splatted against the glass, and she took a step back. She considered the date and let out a sigh.

  “It’s Jim, the window cleaner,” she said, turning around. “The previous tenants must have forgotten to tell him they moved out. I’ll go and speak with him. Unless you want him to clean the windows? Or do you want to make a decision later? I have his phone number. He does my windows, too. Obviously. I’ll… I’ll speak to him now.” Verity was practically jogging to get out of the living room and away from the almost kiss.

  “Sure, he can clean the windows,” Katie called after her.

  “I’ll tell him!” Verity called back.

  She walked around the hallway, wondering how on earth she’d gotten to almost kissing Katie. What did it mean? Did she want it? Did Katie want it? She’d just poured her heart out. Had Katie been caught up in the moment?

  She flung the door open and exited the apartment.

  Jim heard the noise and looked at her in confusion. “Hello, Miss Forsyth. Moved in downstairs?”

  “No, I’m helping the new downstairs tenant. It seems the Pickerings forgot to tell you they have moved.”

  Jim rolled his eyes. “Sounds about right. They were forever late with payment as well. Does the new tenant want me to do the windows? Or should I just do yours today?”

  “Do both, please,” Verity said.

  Jim looked at her for a moment, clearly wondering why she had thrown herself from the apartment if she was just going to tell him to carry on.

  “Hi, I’m Katie,” Katie said, exiting the apartment and standing beside Verity in the vestibule.

  “Jim.” He jumped up onto the step and thrust out a hand. “Eight pounds, I come every six weeks.”

  “Sounds great,” Katie said, shaking his hand in greeting.

  “I’ll leave you a slip when I’m done. I can collect payment on Friday, or you can transfer it to me.” He picked up a cloth and continued to work.

  “Great, thanks,” Katie said.

  Verity looked at her watch. “I… I should be going. I have to get ready for this party.” She stormed back into the apartment and made her way around to the living room to collect her bag.

  On the way back, she met Katie halfway around the hall. She felt a little guilty at Katie having to rush after her. She passed Katie, pressing her back against the wall as she did, trying to keep her distance.

  “You’ll be okay for dinner?” she confirmed.

  “I will,” Katie said. “Are you okay?”

  “Me? Fine. Marvellous,” Verity said. “But running late. So I must dash. See you tomorrow.”

  She practically ran out of the apartment, fumbled to get her key in the lock of her own door, and quickly closed it behind her once she’d finally gained entry.

  She leaned against the door and let out a sigh.

  “Perfect,” she muttered to herself. “What on earth were you thinking?”

  23

  Documentaries About Murderers

  Katie heard the rumbling of a car engine followed by the closing of a car door. She smiled to herself, pushed the laptop off her lap, and sat up in bed. She listened carefully, not wanting to get up and rush to the window for the fifth time for no reason.

  She heard the sound of heels, some muttering, and a thank you.

  She walked over to the bedroom window and carefully lifted the blinds. She’d been sitting in the dark, not bothering to get up and turn on the light when night fell. Now she was grateful for her laziness as it meant she could snoop through the blinds and see outside without being seen herself.

  Her instincts had been correct: Verity was home.

  She was paying the taxi driver. Trust her to be the only person in the world who still paid for such things with cash.

  Katie found her antiquated ways adorable.

  Verity was bending down to speak with the driver, giving Katie a delightful view of the black cocktail dress, tights, and high heels that Verity wore.

  Katie allowed her eyes to roam over the curves. Their almost kiss had been a surprise. She’d not expected it, but she’d been all too ready to be a part of it. It had been an emotionally fuelled moment.

  Verity had clearly had an epiphany about her history and where it had led her. And Katie had been touched that Verity trusted her enough to confess to something she had obviously not told anyone else.

  Katie hadn’t been able to tell who had made the first move or if they’d made it together, but there was no doubt that if the window cleaner hadn’t arrived when he did, a kiss would have happened.

  She’d spent the afternoon thinking about that, wondering if Verity’s reaction would have been the same. Would she have become flustered and rushed to the sanctuary of her own apartment after the kiss? Or would they have discussed it?

  Katie wasn’t hurt by the rejection, mainly because she didn’t know if it was one. Verity was extremely proper, and Katie couldn’t imagine that the older woman had ever kissed someone out of the blue before. Surely there would be dating and discussions of feelings before a kiss was ever initiated?

  “Probably a memo and a requisitions form,
” Katie mumbled to herself, very much enjoying the view as Verity continued to speak to the driver.

  Verity’s running away hadn’t been a surprise at all. In fact, Katie found the whole thing quite amusing. Verity was always so calm, confident, and put together. To see her running away from a simple kiss—that never even happened—was actually quite funny.

  Katie didn’t take the odd kiss here or there too seriously, but it was no surprise to her that Verity did.

  Verity stood, turned, and walked up the garden path.

  Katie swallowed. If the back view was good, the front view was sinful. The dress was elegant, and it held Verity in all the right places. Katie had always assumed that a slim, curvaceous body hid under the modest clothing that Verity wore. Now she knew for sure.

  She stepped away from the window and was surprised when she heard a knock on her own front door. She’d fully expected Verity to go straight to her own apartment.

  She looked down at her pyjamas and tatty robe and realised it would have to do. It wasn’t like Verity hadn’t already seen her in a far worse state.

  She opened the front door and leaned against the frame.

  “Good evening, Miss Forsyth,” she drawled.

  “I’m checking on you,” Verity announced.

  “So I see.” Katie chuckled.

  Verity attempted to refocus her gaze as she looked at Katie speculatively. It was in that moment that Katie realised that Verity was drunk.

  “Are you well?” Verity asked.

  “I’m good,” Katie agreed. “I ate dinner, and I’ve been watching a documentary on murderers.”

  Verity blinked. “Murderers?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  Katie shrugged. “They’re interesting. The documentaries, not the murderers, although I suppose they are somewhat interesting, too. But that’s probably not the right word for them.”

  Verity wobbled a little, and Katie surged forward to catch her. Verity batted her hands away and reached down and took off her heels.

  A moment later, the strappy shoes dangled from her fingers, and the only thing protecting her feet from the cold tile of the vestibule was the thin netting of her tights.

  “Would you like to come in?” Katie offered.

  “No, I’m just checking on you,” Verity repeated.

  Katie got the impression that Verity had been repetitively reminding herself all evening that she must check in on her.

  “As I said, I’m fine,” Katie repeated. “Did you have a nice party?”

  Verity sagged. “It was tedious.”

  “Seems like you had a drink or two?”

  Verity nodded and leaned in a little closer. “I drank far too much. I think I’m quite drunk.”

  “I think you are,” Katie confirmed. “Would you like to come in? It’s cold outside and you have no shoes on.”

  Verity looked down at her naked feet and frowned. Then she slowly raised her hand and looked at the shoes she held.

  “You ate dinner?” Verity asked.

  Katie sighed. “Yes.” It seemed that drunk Verity got caught on certain points.

  “It’s important that you eat,” Verity told her pointlessly. “So you can heal.”

  “I know. That’s why I ate dinner. Have you eaten enough? You know, to soak up all that alcohol?”

  Verity didn’t reply. Katie realised Verity was staring at her, specifically staring at her lips.

  “Come inside?” Katie asked suggestively.

  Verity looked like she was seriously considering it before she suddenly shook her head. “No, I… I need to… to… get to bed. I’m very tired.”

  Katie smiled. “That sounds like a good idea. Sleep it off. I’ll see you for lunch like we planned?”

  Verity was already looking for her keys in her clutch bag, completely distracted.

  “Vere?” Katie asked.

  Verity looked up and frowned. “Sorry, yes?”

  “Lunch? Tomorrow?” Katie confirmed.

  There was no real need for Verity to come over. Katie could manage on her own now. But it had become a part of what they did, a habit that neither one of them seemed to want to break.

  Katie often distantly worried that she was keeping Verity from other, more important things, but Verity insisted that she had plenty of free time and enjoyed spending some of it with her. So, Katie took her at her word, and they continued to spend most of their days together.

  “Lunch, yes,” Verity agreed. “You will eat breakfast, though, won’t you?”

  Katie realised they were about to get caught in another circle of whether or not Katie had eaten. She stepped forward and took the clutch bag from Verity’s hands. She easily found the keys and opened Verity’s front door.

  “I have eaten and will continue to eat.” Katie pressed the keys into Verity’s hand and gave her the bag. She put her hand on Verity’s back and gently pushed her into the warmth of the stairwell. “Now, go to bed. Be careful on the stairs, and I’ll see you for lunch tomorrow. Oh, and drink plenty of water before bed.”

  Verity started on the stairwell, a firm grip on the handrail. “Plenty of water,” she murmured to herself.

  Katie watched a little while to reassure herself that Verity was okay before closing the front door and giving it a little push to check it had locked. She placed a hand on the door and smiled to herself.

  The Morning After

  * * *

  Verity half opened her right eye.

  “Oh… lord,” she mumbled, quickly closing it again.

  The headache and confusion were painfully familiar. She promised herself she’d never get this drunk ever again, but here she was, suffering the effects.

  The morning sun was streaming through the window in bright, bold streaks. Mainly because she’d forgotten to close the curtains when she’d crawled into bed the night before.

  She lifted the duvet and looked down at herself. She still wore the cocktail dress and tights she’d worn to the party. Lifting her hand to her face, she realised she hadn’t cleaned her make-up off her face either.

  “How on earth can you be in your fifties?” she complained to herself.

  She tilted her head from side to side to release some of the tightness in her neck. She felt like she had fallen asleep in a cramped position and not moved all night, which sounded about right as she wasn’t exactly in a loose-fitting dress.

  She flopped onto her front, reached her arm around behind her, and blindly hunted for the zip to release her from the material. After a couple false starts, she gripped the tiny metal clasp of the zip and pulled it down, letting out a sigh of relief as she did.

  Rolling back over, she stared at the ceiling and started to put together any fragments she could remember from the night before.

  There was wine. Lots and lots of wine. People kept topping up her glass.

  There was food, but she never quite managed to eat much of it, constantly interrupted instead by people who wanted to catch up and hear about how she was and what she had been doing.

  Her heart sank. She’d smiled and lied her way through the entire evening. Wild claims about the life of a lady of leisure being the best thing that ever happened to her had spilled from her relentlessly. It was as if she needed to convince herself following her recent wobble on that very topic.

  But the damage had been done.

  Verity was extremely aware that she could no longer lie to herself. She hated her life. Well, hate was a strong word. She disliked being turfed out of a position she’d adored and into a retirement she was not at all prepared for.

  But her friend’s birthday party was no place for sudden understandings. And so, Verity drank and lied.

  It was morning now, and she felt dirty, both from having slept without preparing for bed and from spending the evening weaving bold lies about her happiness.

  She wasn’t happy. Not really. When she was brave enough to peel away the layers, all she found was someone who’d had their career taken
away from them. And for what? Because she loved women?

  Katie’s smiling face drifted into her memory, and she let out a loud groan.

  They’d nearly kissed. And so obviously, too, that it wasn’t a movement that could have been mistaken for anything else. There would be no escaping the fact that they had changed the dynamic of their friendship, if it even was a friendship. Verity didn’t know anymore. She didn’t know much.

  Her usually well-ordered life was coming apart at the seams, and it was no one’s fault but her own. She hadn’t needed to tell Katie what had happened; there was no need to suddenly come clean about the reason behind her supposed retirement. She’d brought it all on herself.

  A memory of knocking on Katie’s door the night before rudely made itself at home in her consciousness. She groaned again, louder this time. Why couldn’t she have just gone home? Why did she have to let Katie see her when she was drunk?

  And what had she said?

  She scanned her memory, irritated when only fragments of Katie’s knowing grin and a feeling of literal cold feet came to mind.

  Katie hadn’t seemed angry or upset. If anything, she seemed amused, which suited Katie just perfectly. Katie didn’t take many things seriously; it was only two days after her surgery when she started making ridiculous statements with the intent to make Verity smile.

  And it had worked.

  Since then, Verity had learnt that Katie was a bit of a practical joker. Her wit and intelligence meant Katie was never more than a few sentences away from an excellent quip.

  The almost kiss came to a skidding halt at the forefront of her mind. Verity allowed herself to wonder what might have happened if Jim hadn’t turned up at that very moment. Would they have kissed? What would Katie’s reaction have been?

  Verity snorted a laugh. “Disgust, most likely,” she muttered.

  The very idea that Katie would be interested in someone as old as Verity was laughable. Katie was in her prime, extremely attractive, and would make someone an excellent partner. She could have her pick of people; she wouldn’t waste her time with someone like Verity.