“What’s this?” Terry turned it over in his hand.
“It’s the details for your dinner reservation for tonight at Jamie Oliver’s restaurant, Fifteen Westland Place. It’s usually booked three or four months in advance, but his wife, Jules, told me once they sometimes keep a table open for emergencies.”
Jaq looked over at Terry and had to laugh. His mouth was literally hanging open.
“How do you know his wife?” Jaq asked, since Terry seemed to have lost his ability to speak.
“Dad produced one of his shows a few years back. I love to cook so I tagged along while they were filming. Jules was there too, and we’ve been friends ever since. She and Moira are close too.”
“Are you kidding me with this?” Terry looked like he might cry.
“I wouldn’t do that.” Bronwyn smiled. “We’re in luck, actually, because Jamie’s there tonight, which is rare these days, so he’ll be making your meal personally. He’ll come out and introduce himself after you’re seated and talk to your wife about what she’d like to eat.”
Terry finally got himself together and walked over to Bronwyn, pulling her into a huge hug.
“Thank you for this,” he said as he let her go, still shaking his head. “This is incredible.”
“And just so you know, Jules has already called and told Jamie not to breathe a word about how this happened, so you can tell her anything you’d like. I wrote his mobile number at the bottom, just in case you have any questions.”
“Jamie Oliver’s mobile number?”
“Yes,” Bronwyn said, smiling. “So keep that close to your vest.”
“Wow,” Terry said, shaking his head and looking at Jaq. “Just wow.”
Jaq grabbed the file she needed from her office as they said goodbye and headed for the lift, leaving a much saner Chief Macmillan leaning back in his chair, smiling at the note in his hand.
****
That evening, the sun was just setting when Bronwyn realized she hadn’t eaten all day. They’d never gotten a chance to actually eat at brunch, and after they left Jaq’s office, they had to drop by Selfridges to pick up the rest of Bronwyn’s tailoring and give Andrew a chance to flirt with Jaq. Not that Jaq looked like she had any idea what was going on. Andrew pulled a suit on a whim while they were there and convinced Jaq to try it on, just to see it on her.
Bronwyn tried not to laugh as she and Andrew sank down on the couch and waited for her to come out of the dressing room, shoulder to shoulder.
“You do realize she’s not a boy, right?”
“I know,” Andrew said, his eyes locked on the dressing room door. “I can’t help myself. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“I totally understand,” Bronwyn said, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I can’t take my eyes off her either.”
“How did you two meet, anyway?”
“It’s a long story, but she was my first girlfriend; we were roommates at Stratford Academy. My mum pulled me out of school when she found out about us and made sure we stayed apart until Jaq graduated. We met again at the wedding.”
“Well, thank God,” Andrew said, rolling his eyes. “I thought I was going to have to break the news to you that you’re gay five minutes before your wedding or some shit.”
They were both still laughing when Jaq came out of the dressing room, looking like a tousled version of a male model, complete with the requisite concerned stare off into the distance. It was actually in the direction of the clock, but it worked all the same. The suit hung from her lean frame perfectly, and she’d put her leather belt on the trousers and worn them low on her hips. She walked over to the couch and raked her hand through her hair, stopping in front of them. Andrew stared and dropped his eyes to the hem of her jacket.
“What’s that on your hip?”
Bronwyn looked over at Andrew, not even trying not to smile. “It’s a gun.”
“Jesus.” Andrew leaned his head back on the couch and looked at the ceiling. “You’ve got to get her out of here. I’m losing my fucking mind.”
****
They arranged for the remainder of the tailoring to be delivered to Jaq’s loft later that week and walked out of Selfridges onto the high street, Jaq leading her into a series of back alleys on the way back to her flat.
“We could take a cab, but I feel like walking,” Jaq said, glancing at her, “If you don’t mind?”
“Not at all. It’s going to be dark in a few minutes anyway. Fancy heading to that chippy down the road from my house? I’m starving.”
“God, me too,” Jaq said. “That sounds great.”
“You looked amazing in that suit, by the way.” Bronwyn slid her hand across Jaq’s ass in the empty alley then laced her fingers back into Jaq’s, looking perfectly innocent as they turned back onto the main road down from her house.
“So, was that suit fitting for your benefit or Andrew’s?” Jaq looked over at her and winked.
“You caught that, did you? I thought you might be working it just a tiny bit for his benefit, which was sweet of you.” She reached up and kissed Jaq’s cheek. “Something tells me that happens to you a lot.”
“Maybe once or twice. Mostly by gay men trying to figure out if I’m a man or woman.”
“Do they even care when they figure it out?”
“Not usually.” Jaq laughed, leaning down to kiss her. “Now where is this toothpaste-flavored chip shop? Suddenly I think I may die unless I eat something.”
“I can’t believe you just said that about my favorite chippy, but you’re in luck, because we’re here.”
Bronwyn pulled her into a crowded chip shop, half lit neon signs and yellowed racing schedules hanging on the walls. A chalkboard over the counter held the menu, at least what hadn’t been rubbed off, and Bronwyn ordered for both of them. Jaq shook an alarming amount of vinegar on her chips before they left, and grabbed two wooden chip forks from the bin.
By the time they walked out with their food, night had fallen in earnest. They walked towards the park, crossing the street just down from Bronwyn’s house, and settled into a bench under an oak tree in the semi-darkness.
“Just being here makes me jittery,” Bronwyn said. “I didn’t expect I’d feel that way.” She squeezed a lemon slice onto her fish and looked up at Jaq. “I just don’t know what he’s thinking. I feel a little nervous that he’s been so quiet.”
“How so?” Jaq knew exactly what she meant but any information was good information, and Bronwyn was still the closest person to him, unfortunately.
“Not that I wanted him to, mind, but I expected him to get a bit nastier about the break up. Other than speaking to my mum, and God knows what they talked about, I haven’t heard anything from him. It just makes me nervous.”
“I know; I’ve actually been thinking the same thing.”
“Has he been back to the house at all?”
“Not that we know of. We monitor the video feed daily, and there’s been zero activity. I almost thought he might be writing the contents of the closet off and moving on, but Terry thinks not.”
Bronwyn handed her fish and chips to Jaq, her appetite suddenly gone. “Terry’s right. There’s no way he’d just give in like that. Which makes me nervous.”
Jaq looked across the park, then got up from the bench and peered over the street into the darkness. Bronwyn joined her, pulling her jacket around her and zipping up the front.
“Shit,” she said suddenly, walking past Jaq and towards the edge of the park.
“Bronwyn, stop.” Jaq caught up to her and stopped her from stepping into the light, holding her back under the shadow of the trees.
“But look,” Bronwyn said, pointing at her house. “Do you see it?”
“I do, baby, but we have to be careful. We can’t just go walking over there.”
Jaq got her phone out of her coat pocket, and Bronwyn looked at the contact she pulled up.
“Don’t you dare call Terry,” she said, looking at her watch.
“It’s his anniversary.”
“Shit, I forgot about that.”
“It might be nothing.”
“The attic light should not be on, but I can get a car out there and have the techs review the footage from today with a fine toothed comb. They’ll let me know if there’s anything out of the ordinary; if not, we’ll check it out Monday.”
“Does that mean we get to go home?” Bronwyn took Jaq’s hand.
“It does,” Jaq said. “Your car should be there by now as well. I had someone drop it off today.”
“Good, because for some reason, I’m exhausted. I think the drama with Mum took it out of me.”
Jaq flagged down a cab on the way out of the park and Jaq pulled Bronwyn close in the back seat, remembering how it felt to hear the girl she loved call her flat home.
****
Bronwyn sank down into the couch when they got back to Jaq’s flat, and didn’t wake when Jaq picked her up and carried her to bed a few hours later. Early the next morning, Jaq ended up having to go into work anyway to get a look at the security footage, and Bronwyn drove to her dad’s house to let him know what had happened the previous day with her mother, before she had a chance to tell him an amplified version. If she remembered what happened at all.
Catherine answered the door and pulled Bronwyn into a hug as soon as she’d stepped into the foyer. “I heard what happened with your mum, Bronwyn. I’m so sorry.”
Clearly, she’d left it too late and her mother had already painted her version of the story to her father, but at least she could talk to him about it and explain what happened.
“She’s not here, is she?”
“God no, she came yesterday to see your dad, but I just made myself scarce until she was gone. He’s in his office if you want to go back and see him.”
“Thanks, Catherine. It’s lovely to see you,” Bronwyn said, smiling. “You look beautiful as always.”
“Same to you,” Catherine said, squeezing her hand, and dropping her voice to a whisper. “You look happier than I’ve seen you in a long time.”
Bronwyn got to her dad’s office and peeked around the door. “Hi, Dad, do you have a few minutes for a chat?”
Angus Charles looked up from his computer then got up to hug his daughter, kissing her forehead as he let her go. They sat on the navy velvet loveseat in the window nook and Bronwyn kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet up underneath her.
“So I guess Mum told you what happened yesterday?”
“Well, she did give me an overview after she’d sobered up somewhat.”
“It was awful, Dad.” Bronwyn’s eyes burned with sudden tears that quickly overflowed without warning. Her dad offered her the handkerchief in his jacket pocket. “She was vile to Jaq and called her a name I won’t even repeat, and then went to slap me in front of the entire restaurant.”
“Jesus.” Angus squeezed her shoulder and shook his head. “She left that part out, of course. I’m sorry, Bronwyn. I won’t let her get away with that.”
“She would’ve slapped me, but Jaq grabbed her wrist before she even realized what was happening, then sat her back in her chair. She was brilliant. She even took Mum’s keys on the way out and called her a cab.”
“I should have known Jaq would handle the situation. Thank her for me, will you?”
Bronwyn looked down, twisting the handkerchief in her hand. “The wedding is off, Dad.”
Catherine came in just then and set down a tea tray with two mugs and some chocolate biscuits, then turned without a word and ran back to the kitchen when the smoke alarm sounded.
“Is she trying to cook again?”
“Yes,” Angus said. “This time it’s a roast.” He looked toward the door. “Or was a roast.”
Silence fell between them and Bronwyn started to continue what she was saying.
“Let me stop you there, Petal,” he said, using his nickname for her from when she was a little girl. “You had a rough enough time coming out to your mum yesterday, so I’ll make this easy for you, if that’s okay.”
Bronwyn took a deep breath, unsure why the tears wouldn’t stop rolling down her face. “Yes, please.”
“I already know you’re gay. I’ve known since your mother took you out of school that year, without my permission by the way, and I’ve been telling her for years she should have given you the space to be yourself a long time ago.” Angus put his hand over hers and squeezed. “So if that’s what you thought you had to tell me, you can relax.”
Bronwyn let out a deep breath and smiled. “And…I’m back together with Jaq Bailey.”
“Good, I’ve always liked Jaq,” Angus said. “She has integrity, and I don’t say that about too many people.” He smiled, catching the last tear on her cheek and wiping it away. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather see you with.”
“I heard that you two kept in touch.”
“Nonsense,” Angus said, biting into two chocolate biscuits at the same time, one on top of the other. “Why would I do that?” He smiled at Bronwyn as he handed her a cup of tea.
“So, where is Mum now, then?” Bronwyn asked, not actually sure if she wanted to know.
“Your mother,” he said, “Is at a spa in the Swiss Alps for an extended period of time.”
“Seriously?” That news was not at all what she’d expected. “She actually went to rehab?”
“Yes,” he said. “A very, very expensive one.”
“What did you say to get her to do that?”
“Frankly, I was at my limit with her even before I heard what happened yesterday, and it was just getting worse. She’s been drinking too much for years; it’s the reason we got divorced.”
“I thought you left her for Catherine!”
“Not at all, though your mother told everyone the opposite. When I told her I’d leave if she didn’t stop drinking, I hadn’t even met Catherine. I didn’t start producing Romance Island until six months after the divorce.”
“And she didn’t stop drinking at all?”
“No, she didn’t even try,” Angus said, the hurt still there in his voice. “She just wasn’t willing to give it up, and she said as much.”
“So what made her do it this time?’
“After I heard what happened, I told her she’d end up losing her only daughter if she didn’t dry out. She was already crying when she got here yesterday from brunch; the cab dropped her off at my front door. Believe it or not, I think she felt bad about what happened; it was kind of a breaking point for her. An hour later, I was driving her to the airport.”
“Wow,” Bronwyn said, “I can’t believe it.”
“She’s at a spa, mind; if anyone finds out she went to rehab, I’ll never hear the end of it.” He popped the last chocolate biscuit in his mouth and smiled. “A very boring spa.”
****
On the way home, Bronwyn ordered a grocery delivery while she was stuck in traffic and scheduled it for later that evening. Before she’d even realized it, Jaq’s place had started to feel like home. She’d loved cooking dinner for her and sleeping tangled together in bed like they used to when it all first started. But she needed to get her head around the fact that she was going to have to go back to her own house sooner or later. She couldn’t just stay with Jaq forever, however tempting it may be.
By the time she got back to the flat, she was there, sitting on the kitchen counter and opening a bottle of white wine. She was still wearing her office clothes, slim grey trousers and button up shirt, still topped with her black leather jacket.
“Great timing, gorgeous,” Jaq said, pulling another glass down from the cupboard. “I just walked in a few minutes ago.”
“Is this what you do?” Bronwyn teased, dropping her bag and settling herself between Jaq’s knees, sliding her hands around her hips. “Just sit on your counter and wait for women to walk in and kiss you?”
Jaq leaned down and pulled Bronwyn’s face to hers. “Actually, yes,” she said, her fingers so gentle they f
elt like breath on her skin. “I’ve been waiting for the last twelve years for the only woman in the world to walk through my door.” Then she kissed her, slow and close, looking into Bronwyn’s eyes before she let her go.
Bronwyn leaned into her chest, laying her head on her heart, trying to memorize the rhythm. When she and Jaq were in school, she used to lay in her arms at night, listening to the beat of her heart. As long as she could hear it, she knew she was safe.
Jaq shrugged off her jacket and wrapped it around Bronwyn’s shoulders. “Let’s go,” she said. “I have something to show you.”
“I took my shoes off at the door; should I go get them?”
“No need, we aren’t leaving the building.”
Jaq led her into the lift and up to the top floor, where they took another short staircase to a narrow door.
“What is this?” Jaq opened the door, holding it open for Bronwyn to walk through. When Bronwyn stepped out onto the roof, she realized suddenly it was a rooftop garden. The last autumn roses glowed in the twilight, fruit trees dangled low branches over the perimeter, and fig vine covered every inch of the concrete walls that surrounded the garden. A huge fountain sat in the center, made of royal blue and bright white Spanish tile, the turquoise water splashing into the pool underneath.
“Jaq, this is gorgeous,” Bronwyn said. “Is it a community garden?”
“Yes and no,” Jaq said. “Every flat owner has a corner to cultivate, but they also hire professionals to keep it looking like this.”
“Where is your corner?”
Jaq took her hand and led her to the far west wall, where rich, pillowy moss covered a three-foot by two-foot space, and a single vine had been trained around a little handmade fence at the back. Bronwyn leaned in to sniff the vine.
“Is this honeysuckle?”
“It is. I used to love the smell of it as a kid, and I try to keep a little wherever I am, although it can be hard to find. There was an old wire fence behind my trailer when I was a kid, and honeysuckle grew up it every summer, just took over. When it got August hot, I could smell it from my bedroom window. It reminds me of Texas summers.”
London Page 16