Valerie

by Kit Eyre

She turned, ready to argue the toss, but the determined sparkle in Valerie’s eyes shut her up. Being looked at like that caught in her throat like a gulp of perfume and all her words disintegrated. Her fingers slipped into Valerie’s hair and she dropped a kiss onto the tip of her nose. She felt Valerie’s smile and it bled into her own.

  ‘Why does it scare you?’ asked Valerie softly.

  ‘It doesn’t,’ she answered.

  ‘Max –’

  ‘You don’t have to catch the plague to know it’s a bad idea.’

  Valerie growled and dragged herself away. ‘That’s what I am to you? The plague?’

  ‘I didn’t mean it like –’

  ‘Oh, I’d love to know how that could’ve been meant in a positive way. Honestly, tell me. How is comparing me to the plague a compliment?’

  ‘I can’t get you out of my head,’ she snapped.

  Her voice echoed around the room, making them both jump. The flash of satisfaction that crossed Valerie’s face was compounded by the way she straightened her shoulders. Max’s stomach muscles contracted, but she couldn’t stop the words spilling out.

  ‘My parents – they do the normal thing pretty well. Colonel Peter Jarvis, respected staff officer and all that rubbish. Mrs Sadie Jarvis, model Army wife. Only child, Maxine Jarvis, expected to follow in her father’s footsteps. Practically written for me, except I wasn’t interested in getting my legs blown off. We were stationed in Cyprus, yeah, but everything was kicking off when I was growing up. The Gulf War, the IRA, the Balkans – everything. So, I’m looking at that and wondering whether I’ll end up dead before I hit twenty. But my parents have got it all mapped out for me.’

  Valerie’s gaze was unwavering. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Enlist, do my time and work my way up. That was my dad’s way of thinking. My mum threw meeting a bloody Major and getting married into the mix. Everything was building up ahead of me, and there was bugger all I could do about it. When you’re in a community like that, there’s pressure to believe in the ethos and everything – believe in what’s going on. I couldn’t. And I definitely wasn’t going to be marrying any officer my mum would’ve had her eye on. I knew that age fourteen. None of it was ending – it wasn’t ending well.’

  Her burst of energy had crumbled as the memories began hitting her one by one. She grabbed onto the counter to steady herself and lowered her chin to ward off Valerie’s piercing eyes. That worked until a hand wound its way around her neck, tickling her hairline.

  ‘What happened?’ Valerie questioned.

  Max closed her eyes. ‘I put them straight – so to speak. I didn’t want to join up and I was gay so, the way things stood back then, I wasn’t getting married to any officer either. Pissed off the pair of them in one swoop. We were based in Germany by then and the last thing they wanted was gossip getting around the base. So, they sent me back here.’

  ‘What, alone?’

  ‘To stay with my Great Aunt Bea in Harrogate, my dad’s aunt. They reckoned it might sort me out, living with someone like her, but it went the other way.’

  Valerie pressed a kiss to her cheek. ‘Someone like her?’

  ‘Completely wacko,’ Max replied, opening her eyes and managing a smile. ‘No discipline, no kowtowing to anyone else’s prejudices, and do what you wanted to make yourself happy. She was seventy one when I moved in with her. Been married four times, no kids of her own.’

  ‘They really thought that would fix you? She sounds like she lived life to the full. Wouldn’t that be ideal for a teenager wanting to get away from the Army?’

  Max shrugged. ‘Yeah, I’ve thought about that. Talked about it with Bea as well. She said that my dad reckoned I’d miss the discipline and realise I didn’t have any other options in life. I’d never done well academically, so if I didn’t go into the Army then what was I going to do?’

  ‘Become a cabbie,’ murmured Valerie.

  ‘Wasn’t planned, but that’s how it worked out. Once I’d left school, I passed my test because Bea suggested it. Then she took me on as a private chauffeur, so to speak. Driving Aunt Bea – it was like a comedy show sometimes. But I liked it, and I like being a cabbie.’

  Valerie tucked a thumb underneath her chin and forced her to look up. ‘I never thought you didn’t. But I understand it more now. It symbolises freedom to you, doesn’t it?’

  ‘I’d never say it like that but, yeah, I suppose so.’

  ‘And relationships . . . You perceive them as constricting, prescriptive even.’

  ‘Maybe.’ She paused and grimaced. ‘All right, yeah.’

  ‘Here’s my problem, though,’ said Valerie as she stroked her cheek with the back of her hand. ‘In this context, you’re equating me with your parents. Why not equate me with Bea, hmm? I don’t understand that.’

  Max felt a flush creep across her face, burning especially under Valerie’s hand. She extracted herself just enough to duck her head away and clenched her jaw. Being transparent wasn’t something she appreciated, but she couldn’t control the way her body was giving her up any more than she could control how much she wanted Valerie near her. There was no room for compromise so she cleared her throat.

  ‘You’re more like my dad than Bea,’ she admitted.

  Valerie’s lips parted. ‘Oh.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Max muttered, but Valerie just shook her head.

  ‘No, don’t be. I – I get it, I think. I manipulated you into this in the first place –’

  ‘It wasn’t like that –’

  ‘I should’ve heeded you when you rejected me the first time. I pushed matters and that reminds you of a situation where you had no control. I understand why you’d feel as though I was forcing you along. Not telling you about Amy was simply another nail, wasn’t it?’

  She pulled away completely, her hands shaking. Max watched her across the room then found herself following her. She wound up almost boxing her in, so there was nowhere to go when she turned around, and the look on her face was insecure, scared even.

  ‘That’s why you wouldn’t let me touch you,’ she whispered. ‘You didn’t trust me.’

  Max stretched a hand onto her cheek. ‘It wasn’t you.’

  ‘You don’t trust yourself,’ said Valerie slowly. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because . . .’ She swallowed down the lump in her throat and met her eye. ‘Because loving you scares me. I don’t know what to do with it.’

  A smile slipped onto Valerie’s face, opening her up so much that Max’s breath caught. They moved together in sync with fluid heat sweeping through her body the moment their lips touched. It was all she could do to keep them both on their feet when Valerie’s hand plunged down into her underwear. She let out a groan and tilted her head back, giving her room to pepper kisses along her throat.

  ‘We’ll work it out,’ Valerie promised as her fingers curled and Max reeled against her. ‘Right now, just give into it. Give in.’

  Chapter 12

  September brought a return to college and no more weekends at Geith Place, at least until her birthday spa trip at the end of the month. That was Biddy’s idea, and Amy just went along with it, eager to keep a lid on the questions that now sprouted up daily about college, university applications, and anything else Biddy could think of. A break, even one with Valerie, was a welcome distraction.

  Her own birthday present to herself was to skip Law on the Friday afternoon. She knew that Valerie would be elsewhere so she went back to Geith Place with plans to watch a film in the living room and eat her weight in popcorn. However, she’d barely made it into her pyjamas before she heard the front door open downstairs. She hesitated on the landing as she realised Valerie was on the phone, uncertain why her stomach was suddenly tingling. Then it hit her: this wasn’t the Valerie she knew. It was a voice from a memory.

  In the months after the terminal diagnosis, whenever she’d thought no one else was around, Valerie had spoken to Tim like this. Her voice had been a collage of affection, vulnerabilit
y, and flirtation that struck Amy at the time like a revelation. She’d perched on the stairs, leaning her head against the banister to listen to the warmth bouncing back and forth between them until her eyes had prickled with hot tears. That Valerie had vanished before the funeral, and Amy had barely thought about her since.

  The recollection gave way to ice settling in the pit of her stomach. She groped for the banister and lowered herself onto the stairs, tucking her elbows between her knees. Valerie’s ritual of putting the kettle on was unwavering, whether she’d been to the shops or for a fortnight in the Maldives. All Amy had to do was sit quietly and she’d hear everything.

  ‘She’s bound to be nervous,’ Valerie was saying. ‘When I had my first scan, my head was all over the place, and I hadn’t been through everything she has . . . Let me know how it goes. Are we still set for Wednesday? It seems an age away . . . No, no, she’ll be back later, she’s got Law this afternoon. I’ve only just walked through the door myself, I’m aching to get my shoes off so . . . It’s not the weekend for it, that’s all. I will tell her, I promise . . . I promise. Listen, darling, I’ll call the switchboard on Wednesday when I know where I’m going to be. And Max? I love you.’

  Amy flinched and knocked her head against the banister.

  The thud brought footsteps from the kitchen and she immediately jumped up to make it seem like she’d been walking down the stairs. Valerie appeared in the hallway with one hand pressed to her throat then her expression softened as she spotted her.

  ‘You scared me, sweetheart. I thought you were arriving tonight.’

  ‘I didn’t feel very well so I came home early,’ she lied.

  ‘How are you feeling now?’ Valerie asked. She climbed to meet her on the stairs and pressed a hand to her forehead. ‘You are a little warm.’

  ‘I’m fine, I’m better. Just a bit . . . nauseous.’

  ‘Well, have you been sick at all? Have you taken anything?’

  ‘No and no.’

  ‘I’ll get you some tablets from my bathroom, I’ll be right back.’

  Amy turned as she passed her. ‘Mum?’

  ‘Yep?’ queried Valerie, spinning back to face her.

  ‘Thank you.’

  Valerie’s face split into a genuine smile. ‘Of course.’

  The moment she disappeared, Amy’s legs began to tremble. She hauled herself up to the landing and steadied herself on the wall. Her brain was skimming through everything that had happened in the last few months, analysing everything that Valerie had said – or avoided – saying. Then it struck her.

  During the summer, Valerie had been spooked by the mention of a taxi firm. It’d been one of the last candid conversations they’d had, although it’d been curtailed by Valerie knocking a glass of wine over. Amy had put her questions about the taxi driver down to narcissism at the time, but now she was wondering if there was more to it. After all, she’d told Max she’d call the switchboard – the connection was there, albeit not exactly a plausible one.

  The door creaking signalled Valerie’s return and Amy did her best to clear her face.

  ‘Right,’ Valerie said as she handed over two pill boxes, ‘if you take two of these and one of these, you should feel better. I was thinking lamb casserole for dinner – how about it?’

  Amy nodded and started towards her room. ‘Thanks for the . . . Thanks.’

  Even closing her bedroom door couldn’t restore any equilibrium. Wilbur was still resting where Valerie had placed him months ago, his embroidered eyes weeping threads of cotton, and the yawning silence was shattered by jazz rattling through the house. Amy collapsed onto her bed then rolled over and grabbed her phone from the bedside table.

  Months ago, she’d stumbled across an unofficial party forum that dealt equally in policy and personal gossip. She’d bookmarked it to keep track of the fawning, occasionally explicit, comments about Valerie, and she navigated to the gossip section now.

  A search produced eleven recent entries, most of them connected with another name. That discovery didn’t settle her stomach, and she stewed until dinnertime when she couldn’t hold her curiosity in check any longer.

  ‘You’ve been spending a lot of time with John Foster lately,’ she said.

  Valerie’s head snapped up. ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘Nearly every official campaigning you’ve done recently has been with him. It says so on the forum.’

  ‘Oh, that thing,’ answered Valerie with a chuckle. ‘I only venture on there when it’s absolutely necessary. Believe me, it rarely is.’

  Amy squashed a carrot into her fork. ‘But it says you’ve been out with him a lot. Are you seeing him?’

  ‘No, sweetheart, we’re just friends.’

  ‘Are you seeing anyone?’ she persisted.

  ‘Why do you ask?’ Valerie returned as she reached for her wine and took a sip. ‘Honestly, after the way you’ve reacted in the past –’

  ‘When you brought that idiot back, what did you expect?’

  Valerie waved her glass in the air. ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Exactly?’ Amy repeated. ‘What do you mean? Don’t you think I deserve to know?’

  ‘It works both ways, doesn’t it? While you were here over the summer, you disappeared every Sunday without any explanation. Clarice tells me you’re still doing it. She thinks you’re studying with friends, but I don’t think that’s the case. I have to guess, though, don’t I? If you won’t be honest with me, why would you expect me to be honest with you?’

  ‘Are you seriously going down that route?’ she demanded.

  Valerie’s eyes widened. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t –’

  ‘Forget it,’ Amy interrupted, dumping her napkin on the table. ‘I don’t even care anymore.’

  But the trouble was that she did.

  No matter that Valerie wordlessly rearranged their appointments on Saturday so they were never in the same place for more than twenty minutes at a time. No matter that lunch was a series of one syllable responses to the waitress or that the drive home was punctuated by brittle silences when the songs finished. Amy still wanted to peel away Valerie’s mask and work out why she was so desperate to hide this relationship she was apparently having.

  On Monday, she made it as far as the college gates before spinning around and pushing back through the uniformed students heading for registration. She took a bus then a train into town, focused on the actions rather than the destination, until she found herself outside a shabby concrete block down a side street littered with beer cans and burger boxes.

  The smell was the first thing that struck her when she walked into the office. It was like going into a fusty nostalgic sweet shop – syrupy with hints of mildew or maybe vomit. The room itself was a stumpy rectangle from what she could see, sliced through by a wall that tapered off into a desk at this end. The glass above it rattled when the door clanked shut behind her, just loudly enough to attract the attention of a scruffy man gnawing on a lollipop on the opposite side of the window. One look told Amy this wasn’t the mysterious Max – Valerie’s tastes weren’t that exotic, even if she was having a mid-life crisis.

  ‘Cars are all out,’ he said, leaning back in his chair. ‘Are you wanting to wait?’

  Amy swallowed. ‘Actually, I was looking f-for Max.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ He gestured to a thin door in the corner. ‘She’s in there, won’t be a minute. You two mates or something?’

  ‘W-what?’

  ‘Mates,’ he repeated.

  She clutched at her elbows, unable to stop herself swaying back and forth. ‘Y-yes. No. No.’

  ‘Normally it’s one or the other. Unless . . . God, she’s not gone all cradle snatcher, has she?’

  Heat flooded her cheeks as she realised exactly who Max was. She’d picked her up from town that time. Short hair, friendly enough, but distracted and enigmatic. Hadn’t she undercharged her and mentioned Valerie in passing? Amy pressed her lips together until her jaw ached.

&nbs
p; ‘You look like you’re gonna throw up,’ the man commented.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she muttered.

  ‘Is there something that’s happened? Only me and Max are joint owners so if you’ve got a complaint –’

  ‘It’s nothing like that.’

  ‘You’ve got something on your mind,’ he persisted.

  Her legs stiffened as he hauled himself up like a baboon. There was the glass between them, but she still couldn’t shake the impression of him bearing down on her. It wasn’t anything about him exactly, more just the sensation of slipping underwater and being unable to find her feet. She took a deep breath and attempted a smile.

  ‘I was looking for my mum, that’s all. I know that she and Max have been seeing each other, so I thought . . .’

  He tilted his head to the side. ‘Max isn’t seeing anyone, not that I know.’

  Amy bit her lip. ‘Oh.’

  ‘If something’s kicking off, you should tell me.’

  ‘It isn’t.’

  ‘Well, what you doing here then?’ he demanded.

  The sudden tonal shift made her tremble. Life with Valerie might’ve involved Cold War manoeuvres sometimes, but outright expressions of anger were rare, and Amy stumbled away from the source, cracking her heel on the wall. She could feel tears brewing in her eyes as the man disappeared for a second, only to emerge from a door set into the wall.

  He held up both hands. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout at you. My name’s Drew, all right? I’m a bit on edge myself today, that’s why I snapped. No excuse, so I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ she murmured.

  ‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

  She hesitated then cleared her throat. ‘Amy.’

  ‘Great, now we’re all right. I’ll leave off badgering you. Just give it a minute and you can talk to Max.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s a great idea,’ she admitted.

  ‘Why’s that?’ Drew questioned.

  Now his voice had lowered, he seemed more congenial. He leaned his shoulder against the wall and waited for a response. After a few moments, he scuffed his heel against the threadbare carpet and opened his mouth. Whatever he was about to say was smothered under the rumble of a toilet flushing. The noise set Amy’s feet in motion and she bolted out of the door, ignoring Drew calling after her.