by A. L. Brooks
Gratitude swept across Maggie’s entire demeanour. She nodded, flexing her fingers against the edge of the table. “I think that’s what I need. I…” She looked round the room, her bottom lip trembling. When she turned back, it was clear she was struggling. Her voice croaked as she murmured, “It’s all too much.”
Tamsyn felt awful, and knew she had to back off. “I understand, and I’m so sorry. Look, can I…can I give you my number? And you can call me any time, whenever you want to talk?”
Maggie nodded, and Tamsyn scrabbled in her handbag for a pen and a piece of paper. The only thing she could find was the receipt from the restaurant the other night, stuffed into an inner pocket. She turned it over and wrote her number in clear, large numerals; the last thing she wanted was for Maggie not to be able to read it.
Upon handing over the receipt, she was intrigued when Maggie turned it over to the printed side and laughed, the sound of it loud in this small room.
“How bizarre,” she said.
“What?”
“I was there that night. I…saw you. It’s kind of funny that—”
“It was you!” Tamsyn didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. What a missed opportunity.
“Huh?”
“I saw you. Well, no, that’s not true because if I had I would have come over and said something. But I caught a glimpse of someone I thought was you, but I couldn’t be sure.”
“I was having dinner with my sister. She spotted you and pointed you out. I…I almost didn’t want to look. I wasn’t sure I could handle the memories resurfacing.” Maggie’s voice was heavy with longing and it sent shivers down Tamsyn’s body.
They stared at each other in silence for a few moments.
“Maggie—”
“Tamsyn—”
They both chuckled.
“You first,” Tamsyn said.
Maggie shrugged. “I don’t actually know what I want to say.” She pushed her hands through her hair and slumped in her chair. “I think I need to go.” She snorted. “I assume there is no film deal for my Jessica Stewart book?”
Tamsyn blushed. “No, I’m sorry. That was all just a ruse on my part. Please don’t think badly of Mickey. He was just helping me out.”
Maggie waved off the apology. “It’s fine. I probably would have been too anal about keeping the script true to the book anyway and it would never have got off the ground.”
Tamsyn smiled in relief, then struggled to maintain her smile as Maggie began pulling on her coat.
She really is leaving. Shit.
When Maggie was wrapped up again, she tucked Tamsyn’s number deep into her handbag and closed it. She looked up, eventually, and gave Tamsyn a wan smile.
“I will call you. I just don’t know when.”
“Okay.” She stood as Maggie did. “Please do. I… God, Maggie, I really want to see you again.”
Maggie walked round the table until she stood a foot or so in front of Tamsyn. She gazed into Tamsyn’s eyes; Tamsyn held her breath. It was as if Maggie was searching for something and Tamsyn had no clue what it was, so she held her ground and gazed back, drinking in the view, storing up this new memory of Maggie to dwell on later.
“Okay,” was all Maggie said before sidestepping around Tamsyn, opening the door, and leaving the room.
Tamsyn’s phone number burned a hole in her handbag the entire journey back to Putney. When she walked into the house, where she was greeted, as usual, by an exuberant Gizmo, Maggie hastened out of her coat and boots and headed straight for the kitchen. It was only three in the afternoon, but this was a drastic time and called for drastic measures. The first sip of red wine sent an immediate glow into her chest and after another four or five mouthfuls she could actually breathe properly for the first time since walking into FilmLight’s offices three hours earlier. She fished the paper with the phone number on it out of her handbag and laid it out on the kitchen table before her.
Gizmo was prowling around her ankles, whining softly, and she realised that in her distraction, she had been remiss in meeting his needs. She let him out into the garden and then back in again a few minutes later. A quick glance out the window told her she had no little packages to clean up and she was grateful for that.
The paper, still sitting benignly where she’d left it on the table, drew her gaze.
Tamsyn bloody Harris.
Of all the things that could have happened in a meeting with a film company, having Tamsyn walk into that grubby conference room was the last thing she would have imagined. Of course, Tamsyn had looked incredible—barest hint of make-up, hair falling in soft waves that caressed the tops of her shoulders. Although, there’d been a tightness about her eyes, and faint dark circles beneath them. She’d looked…troubled, and sad, even as she’d gushed out her jaw-dropping declaration of…what, exactly?
Maggie flopped onto a chair, and let her fingertips scroll across the top of Gizmo’s head when he pressed near. It was soothing to her as she tried to sift through her multitude of thoughts. What had Tamsyn actually confessed, and what was she offering? She’d made it quite clear back in Norfolk that she was firmly in the closet, practically in Narnia, and had never dared peep so much as a toe out from its safety in all the years she’d been secretly sleeping with women. There was a difference, though, Maggie had to admit, between what Tamsyn had described her previous…excursions as, and what they had shared in Norfolk. And she knew that wasn’t just wishful thinking on her part. The fact that Tamsyn had gone out of her way to set up this elaborate scheme for them to meet was testament to that.
Still, the issue of Tamsyn’s closeted status troubled Maggie. She’d never force anyone out if they didn’t want to be, but at the same time, there was no way she could get into a relationship with someone who needed to keep her as their dirty little secret.
Yes, but the woman asking you to do that is Tamsyn bloody Harris, for God’s sake! You’re insane if you’re considering turning this down.
Was she? Yes, of course Tamsyn was amazing, and beautiful, and sexy, and Maggie had lusted after her for years. Many people would sacrifice a limb to take what Maggie was being offered right now. Wouldn’t they? So why was she holding back? Why wasn’t she picking up her phone and calling Tamsyn and simply getting on with being her…?
And that’s where the hesitation came from, because what the hell would she be to Tamsyn?
The next twenty-four hours passed in a blur, her mind churning it over and over. Finally, sick of her own indecision, she realised she couldn’t do this alone. Gizmo whimpered at her side as she sat at the kitchen table again, a cup of tea forgotten in front of her. He knew something was up and had been following her around the house while she ruminated.
“I need help on this, Gizmo. And as you can’t talk back, that means it has to be your Aunty Ruth.”
He stared up at her, blinked once, then wandered out of the room.
Turning her back on the phone number that continued to flirt with her from its position on the table, she grabbed her mobile from her handbag and dialled her sister.
“Maggie! How are—oh, hang on.” Her voice went muffled but Maggie could still hear her next words. “Anna. Anna! Put that down, right now, young lady. Ellie, it’s not funny. Both of you, it’s time for some TV. Go into the living room and let Mummy talk to Aunty Maggie, okay?”
Maggie chortled as two sweet young voices cried out, “We want to speak to Aunty Maggie!” and Ruth grumbled, “Later. Go on, off to the living room, please.”
There were some disgruntled sounds and then, mercifully, silence.
Ruth huffed out a breath. “I bloody hate Christmas.”
“No, you don’t. It’s just the first day since school broke up. You know tomorrow it’ll be better.”
Ruth grunted. “I suppose so. Anyway, how are you?”
“Um, I’m okay. Sort of.�
�
“What?”
“Well, I could do with a friendly ear to listen to something that’s troubling me, but I must admit I forgot the schools had broken up already so you’re up to your neck.”
“Today I am, and only really because Will’s out this evening for his office Christmas party. Ugh. But I’m free tomorrow night, if it can keep until then?”
“Sure. Just text me when you’re on your way and I’ll get the wine open.”
Ruth chuckled. “Perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Maggie hung up, a smile on her face. Ruth never let her down. She hadn’t even asked what Maggie needed to talk about—just the fact that Maggie needed it was enough.
“You really are earning your bonus this year,” Tamsyn said with a rueful smile as she let Carmen into the house.
Carmen laughed. “There’s a gorgeous Rolex I’ve got my eye on. Just saying.”
In the living room, a bottle of champagne was already open and sitting in an ice bucket on the coffee table, two glasses beside it. Carmen flopped onto one of the small sofas, at right angles to Tamsyn’s seat on the other one, and kicked off her shoes.
“Oh, that’s better.”
Tamsyn poured them each a glass and handed one over.
“Marvellous, thanks,” Carmen murmured. “It’s been a long day, which started with a hangover, and this is just the ticket.”
They sipped, then Carmen set her glass down and rubbed her hands together.
“So, yesterday’s meeting—tell me everything.”
Tamsyn sighed. “It feels rather pathetic, you know. I’m fifty-two years old. I should be able to work my way through this situation on my own.”
Carmen stared at her. “What the hell does age have to do with this? You’re attempting something you’ve never done before. Of course you’re allowed to ask for help.” She shook her head. “Tamsyn, there’s no shame in reaching out. It’s all part of losing that armour you’ve been wearing for so long.”
Once again Carmen’s wisdom and care brought a lump to Tamsyn’s throat. “Thank you,” she squeaked out, before clearing her throat and telling Carmen all about the meeting with Maggie.
“How did you feel as she left?” Carmen asked, her tone careful and gentle.
“Terrified,” Tamsyn whispered.
“Of?”
“Of her never calling, of her not wanting me, not wanting to take a chance on me. I know,” she held up her hands, “I haven’t exactly given her a lot to work with on that, with my big ‘oh, let’s do no strings, I don’t do relationships’ groundwork, but I’m trying to show her I’ve changed, that I know now what I’ve been missing out on. So if she turns me down after hearing that, I’ll know it’s because she doesn’t want me as much as I want her. And the thought of that hurts so much.”
“I’m sort of glad.”
Tamsyn sat up straight and glared at her. “Care to explain that?”
Carmen shrugged. “It tells me you’re still very much invested in her, not just the idea of her. I worried for a while that, having found someone who you thought you could have something more meaningful with, you were pursuing it just because it was the first one, not because it was actually her. And hey, you know, it might not have been bad to pursue it anyway, even if it just was the idea of being in love that appealed to you.”
Tamsyn spluttered champagne at the words ‘in love’ and Carmen snorted.
“Get over it, Tamsyn.” She edged closer and reached out to take Tamsyn’s hand. “I will feel terrible for you if Maggie doesn’t call, I truly will. But either way I will thank her for showing you what the possibilities are. I’m so proud of you for finally taking this step, however it turns out.”
“Thank you.” Tamsyn sighed. “And what about the other side of the equation? Me coming out. Have you given any more thought to that and the implications?”
“Well, actually I have. I’ve chatted to Tony a few times, and I’ve also been putting out some very subtle feelers with various people in the industry, from producers to directors to casting directors.”
Tamsyn’s heart dropped to her stomach. “Carmen! What have you said? Who have you talked to? How could you—”
Carmen held up her free hand. “Stop! Calm down. I mentioned no names. Like I said, I was very subtle. Please, trust me.”
Exhaling slowly, Tamsyn nodded. “Okay. So?”
Carmen blinked a couple of times. “Well, yes, unfortunately, the consensus of opinion was that it would, for a little while at least, affect the number of roles being sent your way. It’s stupid and a waste of acting talent, but it’s the reality. However, I did get told by one very prominent director—male, I hasten to point out—that if Helen Mirren suddenly announced she was a dyke, he wouldn’t bat an eyelid and would still want her in his next movie. It’s about the reputation, not the personal life. For many in the industry, you have that good a reputation. So, we’d have to work a little harder, and I’d have to earn next year’s bonus with a certain amount of elbow grease, but I don’t think coming out would end your career. Not someone of your calibre.”
Tamsyn breathed deeply and pondered Carmen’s words. It was slightly better than she’d been expecting, actually. And Carmen was right, she did have calibre. Two BAFTAs and an Emmy weren’t to be sniffed at. Of course, it would be nice to have an Oscar to complete the set, but she was no closer to that now by being in the closet anyway. She sat up a little straighter as another thought, even more crystal clear, jumped into her brain: being in the closet wouldn’t bring her any closer to Maggie either, or to the chance of happiness with someone else, even if Maggie did turn her down, and she ever got over the loss.
“You okay?” Carmen asked, squeezing Tamsyn’s hand.
Tamsyn searched within herself. Was she okay? She still didn’t know if Maggie would come back to her, had no idea whether she would be working beyond next March after her current TV project wrapped up but strangely, yes, she was.
“You know what?” she said, letting go of Carmen’s hand and reaching for the bottle to top up their glasses, “I am very much okay.”
Carmen grinned.
“And,” Tamsyn continued, “whatever happens with Maggie, even though it might kill me more than a tad if she doesn’t call, I would like to have a meeting with you and Tony to discuss how and when I come out to the public.”
Carmen’s eyes went wide. “Are you serious?”
Tamsyn nodded, and chinked her glass against Carmen’s. “As a heart attack. Which I might have on the day we do it, but let’s worry about that later.”
Chapter 20
I should have cancelled. Tamsyn sighed as she looked round her kitchen. The dinner she was preparing for herself and Lesley was only halfway to completion and yet the room resembled the aftermath of an explosion in a food factory. I’m really not in the mood.
It was obvious why—waiting impatiently to see if Maggie would call was killing her. But she and Lesley had made this arrangement weeks ago, so here she was, in the carnage of her kitchen, desperately trying to summon the enthusiasm to finish making the Moroccan chicken and butternut squash stew that had sounded so delicious when it had popped up in her search for ‘easy chicken recipes, low calorie’.
A quick glance at the large clock on the wall told her she needed to move her backside if she was ever going to be ready by the time her guest arrived. Come on, if nothing else, an evening with Lesley will take your mind off everything.
She was just pulling on a pair of jeans when the doorbell rang. After hurrying to zip up, she trotted down the stairs. The video intercom in the hallway showed her Lesley’s beaming face and she smiled as she opened the door.
“Well, hello stranger,” Lesley said, pulling Tamsyn into a bone-crushing hug. “You look fantastic, as always.”
Tamsyn could barely squeak out a reply. “Thanks. It’s good to see
you.”
Lesley chuckled and finally let go. Tamsyn grinned at her. “You’re stronger than ever! What on earth is that personal trainer doing with you?” She shut the door behind them and led Lesley down the hallway.
“Oh, all sorts of things. I love it! Feel so energised.”
“Good for you.” They entered the kitchen and Lesley hummed appreciatively.
“Wow, whatever it is, it smells amazing!”
“Yes, it may turn out well. You’re being guinea pig tonight for a new recipe.”
“I am completely up to the task,” Lesley said with a smirk.
Tamsyn pulled a bottle of Perrier from the fridge and dangled it in the air. “Your usual?” Lesley had been teetotal for some years now, and even though she always said she didn’t mind if Tamsyn drank in front of her, Tamsyn was more than happy to have an alcohol-free evening.
“Perfect.”
Feeling significantly cheerier than she had an hour earlier—Lesley’s mere presence could often do that for her—Tamsyn poured them each a glass over ice with a slice of lemon, and they sat at the small bistro style table in the corner of the room.
“Cheers!” Lesley said as they clinked glasses.
They sipped quietly for a moment, Tamsyn’s shoulders finally relaxing the tension they’d been carrying around for the last two days. Since she’d met with Maggie…
“You okay, Tamsyn?”
“What? Oh, yes, I’m fine.” She sat a little more upright in her chair. “Just tired, you know how it is.”
Lesley tilted her head and stared at her. “Are you looking after yourself properly? You seem to have been working an awful lot this year.”
Tamsyn sighed before sipping once more at her drink. “It’s been a tough year, I can’t lie. Although, as Carmen would tell you, most of it’s self-inflicted.” She chuckled ruefully. “I’m so scared of being a has-been that I’m taking on probably more than I should to prove a point.”
“And it’s wearing you out.”
“Exactly.”