Pining & Loving

by Emma Sterner-Radley

  Chapter Twelve

  Foreign Chester

  Aya leaned against the wall of the lift, inwardly cursing herself. She knew she was being ruder than normal. She ignored Gwen, focusing on a game on her phone because it eased the knot in her stomach. She hadn’t seen much of Chester yet, but what she’d seen during the drive hadn’t sat well with her. Aya had watched the people of Chester from her jeep. Most of them were dressed like duchesses or professors or something and often deep in lively, important-looking conversation. This is more Gwen’s sort of place, she thought. She was not quite sure what she’d meant by that, but either way, she wasn’t impressed. Sure, this city was clearly unique, but it also gave her a… foreign feel.

  Maybe her brain was exaggerating because she was freaking out over seeing Susannah again, or rather, freaking out over having to talk to Susannah. What the hell could Aya say to a perfect creature like that? How would she make sure she didn’t mess it up? Should she practice?

  Just a few steps out into the high street, Aya could see what must be… what had Gwen called it? The Rows? Curiosity made her head towards the first set of shops. Uneven, worn stone steps led up to the second floor. She was about to go up when something attacked her nostrils. “Hey, Gwen, what’s that stink?”

  Gwen came over, sniffing the air. “Perfumes, you heathen. Strong, posh ones by the smell of it.”

  “Of course,” Aya said. She’d known that. What was wrong with her? “I’m not a huge fan of them. You?”

  “I like perfume. When I can afford to buy some,” Gwen said. She was subconsciously touching her neck, right where you’d spray perfume. “In fact, I think my current one is running out. Come on! Let’s find where the smell is coming from.”

  They walked on slowly, led by their noses. A poster, probably advertising a band, in Welsh caught Aya’s attention. Another thing that made this place feel foreign. Great. They weren’t even in Wales!

  “Do you speak Welsh?” she asked Gwen.

  “I learned some when I was little, but we lived pretty close to the English border, so I grew up mainly hearing English. Then I moved, and that was the end of that.”

  “I see. I always wanted to learn another language, preferably Japanese. My mum refused to teach me, though.”

  “Why?”

  Aya shrugged, the knot in her stomach coming back. “She said that was her past. English was her present. I was never good at learning stuff like that either. She knew it would be hard work.”

  Aya put her sunglasses on. Then she shoved her hands in her pockets and walked a little faster, trying to move away from the topic. Gwen bridged the distance between them, walking so near that their shoulders almost touched. For some reason, it was nice to have her close. Aya straightened and kept her gaze on the horizon.

  “You always look so cool and collected,” Gwen said. “How do you do it? Tell me so I can copy you.”

  Aya just laughed. Partly because she didn’t know what to say and partly because it was so absurd that she looked collected. Cool? Well, maybe. Collected? Absolutely not.

  The perfume smell got stronger, and they both stopped at once. The storefront said Penhaligon’s.

  “Oh, I’ve heard about them. Pretty sure they’re supplier to the Queen or something,” Gwen said, standing right up against the window.

  Aya joined her, seeing bottles all lined up in the shop’s muted light. They were on sleek glass and dark wooden shelves. The guy working in there wore the fanciest of three-piece suits. Aya took a step back. Even the air in the shop probably cost a fortune.

  She was about to suggest they walk on when Gwen sighed reverently. “They look like jewels when they catch the light.”

  “What are you on about?”

  “The bottles! Or rather the crystal, sapphire, amber, and,” she squinted, “rose-quartz liquids in them.”

  Aya inspected the bottles, too. Sure, they were pretty—all the same shape but with different vintage and classy labels—but they weren’t as breathtaking as the pretentious Gwen made them sound. Still, Aya had to admit that she never would’ve thought that they were pretty if Gwen hadn’t pointed it out. Did she always notice stuff like that? Did other people?

  She grunted. “Rose quartz?”

  “Gemstones that are a pale shade of pink. I was sticking to my jewel theme,” Gwen explained, still gawking into the shop.

  “Gotcha,” Aya said, feigning polite interest. “And sapphires are green stones, right?”

  “They can be, but they’re usually blue. The same light shade as the tips of my hair and my eyes,” Gwen said, craning her neck to see farther along the shelves.

  It was obvious that she wanted to go in, but considering the way she frowned, Aya guessed she was too insecure. Who could blame her? A place like this could make anyone develop an inferiority complex. Even someone like Gwen, who didn’t appear very worried about the opinion of others.

  “Come on then,” Aya said, making an effort to seem casual as she sauntered to the door. “Let’s go in and have a gander at these smelly jewels of yours.”

  She heard Gwen’s footsteps behind her and breathed in with pride. It was incredible how much braver she could be when she was doing something for someone else.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Falling and Colliding

  With nervous steps, Gwen followed the unruffled Aya in. The store was small, but no shelf space was wasted. The air hung heavy with divine smells, each catching her nose in turn as she ventured farther in. In the middle of the room was a circular display of bottles and their testers.

  “Hello. May I help you with anything, or are you merely browsing?” said a young man with impeccable clothes and the friendliest smile Gwen had ever seen.

  “Just looking, thanks,” she replied.

  During their conversation, where he promised to leave them to it but encouraged them to ask if they had any questions, Gwen saw Aya from the corner of her eye. She was lifting up a bottle with a Victorian, golden deer head as a stopper and scowling at it.

  Gwen hurried over to her and whispered, “Could you look a little less judgy, please?”

  “No. I don’t think I can. Why the hell is this called The Tragedy of Lord George?”

  “That’s a cool name.”

  Aya raised her eyebrows. “If you say so.”

  Gwen took the bottle and sniffed it. “Ooh, that smells nice. Sort of comforting.” She chewed her lip. “It’s a cologne, I think. Maybe too masculine for me to wear?”

  Aya waved that away. “Wear what you want, shug. Gender roles are made up, right?”

  “True,” Gwen said, inspecting the cologne.

  Aya picked up another bottle and glowered at it. “People often give me crap for being butch, so if anyone complains about you smelling like a bloke, send them to me. I know what to do. I’ll sort them out.”

  Gwen had a sudden urge to hug her. To hold her tight enough to feel Aya’s unquestionably strong, steady, and reassuring heartbeat against her own.

  Whoa. Where did that come from?

  She shook the thought off, replacing the bottle on the shelf. She was just about to tell Aya that there was no way she was buying it—the damn thing nearly cost 200 quid—when there was a thump from the counter. In hindsight it was probably the salesperson putting something heavy down, but it scared the daylights out of Gwen, making her quickly turn.

  A little too quickly.

  Without looking what her bag was close to.

  The circle of bottles all clinked as they pushed onto each other like dominoes.

  Luckily, they were secure enough not to fall. Sadly, that wasn’t the case for the bottle in Aya’s hand. It tumbled as Aya, fretting over the bottles in the display all breaking, let go of it to pull Gwen away from the circle.

  Gwen, who’d been watching the cologne in Aya’s hand and saw it slipping, was more worried about that.

  This meant that in a glorious moment in a small shop in Chester, two lesbians tied themselves into impressive k
nots trying to protect expensive perfume.

  Aya managed to pull Gwen away from the circle of bottles.

  Gwen managed to catch the falling bottle of cologne that Aya had been holding.

  That was the good news.

  The bad news was that they ended up doing awkward acrobatics to achieve it and fell into a puddle of limbs on the small floorspace. Their legs were intertwined, and Gwen was almost in Aya’s lap. To make things worse, Gwen was pretty sure that what pressed against her arm were Aya’s breasts. She didn’t dare look down to check, but instead gradually moved away.

  They were both panting from the shock, but otherwise there was a moment of silence as they assessed the situation. When it was clear that nothing was broken, bottles or bones, they broke out in relieved giggles.

  The salesperson had at some point appeared at their side. “Are you both all right?”

  “Yep,” Aya said between fits of laughter. “And Gwen here caught the bottle, so don’t worry about that.”

  He knitted his manicured eyebrows. “I was more concerned about the two of you. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Gwen paused her giggling long enough to ashamedly hiss, “I want to leave now,” in Aya’s ear.

  Aya stood, pulling Gwen up but still facing the nice salesperson. “Yeah. We’re fine. Thanks for asking.”

  “Sorry,” Gwen managed to get out before thrusting the bottle of cologne at his chest and power-walking out with Aya behind her.

  Shame made her whole body heat up, and her continued laughing made her stomach hurt. The whole situation was absurd. What was the one thing you couldn’t do in a cramped, aristocratic perfumery? Yes. Exactly what they had done. Thank goodness they hadn’t smashed every bottle in the place!

  Aya was holding her right hip and saying, “Well, that’ll bruise,” with a big grin.

  Gwen tried to catch her breath and soothe the stitch in her side. “Honestly, Lawson. I can’t take you anywhere.”

  “What?” Aya turned and threw her hands out to her sides. “No way that was my fault. It was you and your bloody bag! You need to learn to control those willowy limbs of yours, not to mention calculating your personal space and staying in it.”

  Gwen quirked a teasing eyebrow at her and stood straight to show off her willowy limbs. “Willowy? Oh, now she gets all eloquent and chatty? So that’s what I have to do to get you talking, huh? Nearly smash perfume worth hundreds of pounds and blame it on you?”

  Aya shook her head with a reluctant smile. “Shush, trouble.”

  “Shush me again, and I’ll spray loads of perfume on you,” Gwen bantered back, bumping Aya’s shoulder with her own. “By the way, how can you dislike perfume and have a crush on Susannah? She always wears really strong perfume.”

  Aya shrugged. “Yeah, but it suits her. It’s part of the classy businesswoman package, you know?”

  “I suppose it is,” Gwen agreed.

  Their childish joy and playful banter were gone. The pair were clearly back to thinking about Susannah and their quest to find her.

  Gwen noticed a twinge of loss, but she quickly refocused. They didn’t come all this way just to have a giggle.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Susannah

  Out of the shop, Aya was more comfortable. Laughing and messing about with Gwen had made this place less intimating. The people of Chester still pushed past without giving her a second look, but now Aya noticed that many of them were students, like back in Stoke-on-Trent, and while the busker next to them sang opera instead of cheesy sixties pop, they were still playing for the same meagre coins. This place wasn’t better than her home, just different. Besides, it was tiny in comparison to her city.

  “Hey, look,” Gwen said. “There’s one of our options for Moc—I mean, Susannah’s—place of work. Gather Growth.”

  “Where?”

  She pointed. “The snazzy-looking place with the neon-green leaves on the sign over there.”

  Aya surveyed the modern building on a small side street. It certainly didn’t fit into the ye-olde-worlde vibe of the rest of Chester. Through Gather Growth’s many glass windows she saw bright green walls, big digital screens, and offbeat plastic chairs. Not to mention employees that could be about twelve years old, maybe thirteen, all in fashionable clothing and weird haircuts. Even weirder than Gwen’s.

  Aya rubbed the back of her neck. None of them look like Susannah. Although they could be her less sophisticated nephews and nieces.

  “I’m not sure this is the place,” she muttered. “Maybe the HR company by the station is the right one?”

  “Mm, perhaps,” Gwen muttered, sounding uncertain.

  Aya inspected Gather Growth again. “You were right before, separating might be sensible.”

  “Sure. I don’t think it’s that long of a walk to the station from here. I’ll wander down there and keep my eyes open for Susannah as I go. I’ll text you if I see her.”

  Aya tried not to scowl. She’d wanted to go to the other company, and to be honest she walked faster and would get there before Gwen would. Still, she was trying not to be rude, and Gwen had suggested that she go first. “Okay. If neither of us have seen her by dinner time, I say we give up and go back to Stoke.”

  Gwen put her jacket on. “Agreed. There’s a café over there. You could grab some lunch while scoping this place out. You should get a perfect view from there.”

  Great idea. And thoughtful, too, Aya had to admit.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I’ll do that. Good luck.”

  Gwen turned to leave but stopped. “If I do see her, what do I do after I’ve texted you? Should I talk to her? Or wait for you so that we can toss a coin over who gets to approach her?”

  Aya rubbed the back of her neck again, fingers snagging in her loosening ponytail. “I don’t know. I suppose we’ll figure that out when we get that far.”

  Gwen nodded, waved, and then walked off.

  Aya was left to head to the café, thinking hard. What would they do if they saw Susannah? She realised then that she hadn’t truly thought they would find her. She’d been unaware about the word growth being in Susannah’s company name, so not known they had that clue. She simply hadn’t anticipated Gwen and her search strategies.

  Aya adjusted her tangled ponytail and went into the café. She’d thought this trip would be a chance to get out of the house, any sighting of the object of her desire an unexpected bonus. Now here she was, ordering a falafel wrap while staking out a glossy marketing company. Say what you wanted about being around Gwen, but things certainly didn’t stay boring.

  * * *

  Half an hour later, her phone buzzed with a text. It was from Gwen. In all caps she informed Aya that Susannah was standing at the entrance of the HR company, talking to a bald man.

  Why had Gwen wasted time telling her about the bald man? Aya jumped up and began powerwalking towards the station, one eye on the map app on her phone. No way was she going to miss Susannah or let Gwen lose her patience and begin talking to their shared crush. Aya’s nerves were all back and threating to make her sweat.

  Despite her rush, she only got lost once, nearly stepping into the Roman amphitheatre, too distracted by planning what she’d say to Susannah if she got the chance. Would Susannah remember her? Would she end up saying something embarrassing again? What if she messed it all up even worse than last time?

  Emotions overloaded her system, causing tunnel vision and making her push past anyone in her path.

  When she finally arrived, she couldn’t see Susannah or any men, bald or otherwise. The only one there was Gwen. If Aya thought she looked pale before, now she was whiter than chalk. Her face was frozen in a stricken expression.

  Aya touched her arm. “Hey, are you okay?”

  “What? Oh, it’s you. No. I’m not okay. Susannah… she isn’t who we thought she was.”

  “Huh? What do you mean? Who is she? Kermit the Frog?”

  “No,” Gwen growled. “He wouldn’t say what I just hea
rd her say,” she mumbled.

  “What the bloody hell are you talking about?”

  Gwen rubbed her face. “I… I can’t… Can we talk about it in the car? I’d really like to leave.”

  The blood rushed in Aya’s ears. “What the hell! No. It took us all morning to get here, and we finally found her! Against all odds! It’s now or never!” She squinted at Gwen. What was wrong with her? “Now you want me to get in the car and drive back without explaining what happened? Why I can’t just go talk to Susannah?”

  Gwen shot her a nasty look. “You can talk to her, but you shouldn’t want to. She’s a terrible person.”

  “Okay, and I’m supposed to take your word for that? Bollocks. Just tell me what she said that was so offensive.”

  “Later,” Gwen mumbled.

  “No, I can’t wait. I’ve done too much waiting lately. Come on! Tell me. Right bloody now.”

  “Was that an order?” Gwen asked shakily.

  Aya wasn’t so bad at reading people that she couldn’t tell Gwen was struggling to speak, but she still had a day full of worry, fear, and desperate anticipation rushing through her bloodstream. Talking to Susannah meant everything right now. Besides, Aya hated not being told all the facts. Why couldn’t Gwen sum up what happened? It didn’t have to be coherent, just some words to give some sort of explanation as to why they had to give up and go home. How hard could that be?

  Be decent and please tell me!

  But no. Gwen stood there, frozen but for flitting her gaze between Aya, where Susannah worked, and her own shoes.

  How bad could it have been? All Gwen had heard was a conversation between Susannah and a possible colleague. Was it workplace banter that the sensitive Gwen had misunderstood? Something she didn’t understand out of context?

  Gwen still wasn’t moving. She began trembling but held her head high. “Fine. If you won’t drive me, I’m taking the train.” Before Aya could reply, she had stormed into the neighbouring station.