Chapter 24
CHAPTER 24
G illian woke with an unexpected warmth radiating beside her. An arm reached out to her under the duvet, bringing to her the sudden realisation that she was not alone. Her mind filled in the blanks as she trailed a finger along Viola’s arm.
“Good morning.”
“Morning,” Gillian replied quietly, nerves beginning to set in again in the cold light of day.
She spotted Agatha by her feet, glaring back at her with disdain. The cat got up, walking up to greet them before settling between them and purring.
“Agatha. How nice to see you, and here of all places.” Viola stroked the cat’s soft fur as she stretched out.
“She refused to move back into the manor.”
“After refusing to leave in the first place?”
“Yes,” Gillian confirmed. “Once you left, I saw a lot more of her.”
She’d become rather fond of her feline companion since then. The cat having decided she preferred the lodge after all made her feel as if they were of one mind. Even if it that mind was keeping warm.
“Maybe the manor wasn’t the reason she stayed; maybe it was me,” Viola suggested as Agatha got back up and returned to her spot at the bottom of the bed.
Gillian laughed. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
“I was joking, but they say cats have a sixth sense about things. She might have known we were destined for each other before we did.”
“You returned her to me at the lodge enough times. Maybe it was part of some cunning plan on her part to bring us closer together.”
“To make you hate me even more for stealing your cat as well as your house?” Viola chuckled.
“I don’t think I ever really hated you. Perhaps a tiny bit,” Gillian conceded. “You had everything I lost.”
“I had everything you sold. Even if it was a reluctant sale, I only bought and paid for things, including priceless art in the attic, which you stubbornly overlooked.”
Gillian couldn’t help smiling. “Jonathon ultimately saved the day after ruining it in the first place. Although, technically Arte spotted it.”
“I like to think my trained eye for good art helped with that,” Viola said with an exaggerated air of importance, waving her hand as if she were some kind of art connoisseur. She flashed a quick, self-satisfied smile even as Gillian raised an eyebrow. Viola continued, undeterred. “I mean, it takes years to develop this kind of instinct, you know? Recognising a hidden gem comes naturally to me now. The brushstrokes, the composition… all very subtle clues only someone knowledgeable would pick up on.” With Gillian’s eyebrow still raised, Viola conceded. “Yes, okay, I missed it, too, and then I went and put it on display without realising, only for it to end up in a magazine where someone with an expert eye spotted it.”
Gillian laughed as Viola nestled closer to her, their bodies entwined under the cosy sheets. They lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the quiet comfort of their closeness enough to fill the silence.
Viola’s voice, soft yet hesitant, broke through the stillness. “Did you mean what you said yesterday… about not wanting there to be a time when you’re without me?”
Gillian didn’t even need to think. Her answer was immediate. “Yes,” she whispered, her lips brushing lightly against Viola’s hair. “I meant every word.”
“When was the last time you left Kingsford?”
“Only the other day I went to the supermarket in the next town.”
Viola sat up, revealing her bare breasts. “I don’t mean travelling locally; I mean further afield.”
“Why would I want to leave Kingsford?” Gillian asked, perplexed by the notion.
“I don’t know, to look at the rest of the planet. It does exist, you know. There is a whole other world outside those gates.”
Gillian wasn’t sure what answer to give. She knew that; she just held little interest in it. “I’ve never felt the need to leave or had reason to,” she replied, her voice shaky.
“Now you do.”
“What do you mean?” Gillian asked, sitting up.
“I mean, that I can’t stay here.” Viola pulled her knees up to her waist and leaned into them, hugging them. “I have a career, a worldwide career. I’m leaving for America in a few weeks. Then I will be in Europe for some time. I want you to come with me, at least for some of it.”
When the cruel light of day kicks in with all its problems and limitations, it gives a good whack, Gillian thought to herself.
“What is this?” Viola pushed when Gillian didn’t respond. “A casual fling.”
“Of course not,” Gillian scoffed, annoyed at the sheer temerity of the question.
“I have a right to ask for clarification about what the future looks like. What you want,” Viola continued, her voice softer now, but no less determined.
“I can’t just up and leave; I have Kingsford to run. There’s so much to do,” Gillian said, her hands fidgeting as if trying to grasp onto something solid, something familiar.
“You have Bridget,” Viola urged gently.
“But the business is beginning to bloom.”
“Bridget is more than capable.”
Gillian scoffed.
“She is.” Viola leaned back into the pillow, covered herself with the duvet, and crossed her arms. “You just make her nervous. You know she looks up to you and wants to impress you. As I’ve come to realise, you are quite difficult to impress.”
“What am I without it?” Gillian said with a deep breath.
“Your identity isn’t Kingsford,” Viola answered softly, her previous hardness giving way. “And I’m not asking you to forget it, Gillian. I’m asking you to stop letting it define you. You’ve not moved back in; that’s huge. You’ve turned it into a proper business; that’s also huge. Maybe it’s time to step away, give each other some space to grow.”
“Stepping away is very different from stepping back. The former being more permanent than the latter,” Gillian said quietly, her voice holding a subtle sadness as the idea of letting go tightened her chest.
“Then step back for a time. You’ve made great strides this past year.”
She had been through a lot — more than she could have ever anticipated. It marked the departure of Jonathon from this world and the unexpected arrival of Viola bringing turmoil into her life. The loss of Kingsford, a place that once anchored her, was devastating. It was a blow that nearly broke her. And then, thanks to the woman who took everything from her, she had regained it. It was returned to her through no effort on her part when she wasn’t entitled to it in the first place. She’d felt entitled to it, seeing it as payment for thirty-five years — her thoughts paused — of what?
How should she describe the last thirty-five years? Her mind was reaching for the word ‘suffering’, but she stopped it. Things with Jonathon hadn’t been that bad; they could have been worse. He wasn’t violent; he left her to her own devices, letting her run things like their social life. All her time and energy given to the village she gave willingly; she’d enjoyed her role and embraced it. It gave her something in return, a sense of belonging when she’d never belonged anywhere before. The manor became her refuge, somewhere she could hide away and pretend to be someone else, but she had done that to herself. She allowed it to lock her in time, in a vacuum.
Did she want to escape it? Forging a new relationship with it was one thing, leaving it, walking away from it, for an extended period — how would that look? How would it feel? She’d dipped a toe into a different realm, and now she could feel the door closing behind her. There was no way back, not that she wanted to return; she loved Viola and wanted to be with her. She just didn’t know how to navigate this new world.
“How do I go out there now? Who am I when I open the lodge door? Being here with you, naked,” she said, smiling at the thought, “is very different than being naked in front of everyone else.”
Viola shifted closer, resting her head gently on Gillian’s chest, her fingers tracing light circles against her skin. “You,” she began softly, “are you. However that looks. Always unapologetically you. People will get used to it, and a lot quicker than you think. I’m sure the village gossips will do most of the work for you.”
Gillian let out a soft laugh, but it faded quickly. Her hand absentmindedly stroked Viola’s hair as her thoughts turned inward. “The message I took from my experience with Hen was one of shame. It didn’t change how I felt, but it added something heavy. A weight. A sense of wrongness.”
Viola’s head lifted slightly, her eyes meeting Gillian’s. “You need to understand,” she said firmly, “what we did last night — it was beautiful. There’s nothing shameful about it. Two people enjoying each other, sharing something so intimate, what does it matter what those bodies look like? It’s a meeting of minds.”
Gillian looked away as the words sank in. “I know,” she whispered, her voice tinged with a mix of acceptance and hesitation. “I do know.”
“It takes time to reprogram yourself from bigoted views forced onto you. You have as much right to be who you are and live how you want as any other person on this planet and, more particularly, in Kingsford.”
“In my case, it’s taken over thirty-five years. I’ve just kept telling myself things to keep the feelings down,” Gillian murmured, her voice heavy. “It’s easier to convince yourself of a lie than face the truth.”
“You’ve already faced the truth,” Viola said, her tone filled with quiet reassurance. “I’m here, and as you say… naked.” A playful glint flashed in her eyes before she continued. “It’s the final navigation into port you need to tackle, and I will be your tugboat.”
Gillian pulled Viola into her, stroking her skin and watching as goosebumps appeared on her arms. After savouring her comforting presence for a few minutes, Gillian gently pulled back, brushing a soft kiss against the top of Viola's head. "Shall I make us some tea? Or coffee?"
“Coffee, please. Have you got a spare toothbrush?”
“There should be a new one under the sink,” Gillian answered, knowing there would be.
She watched as Viola extracted herself from the sheets. The previous night’s events still felt like a dream; however, with Viola standing there, her bare skin bathed in the soft glow of the morning light, the reality of it all was undeniable. Every inch of her body was captivating, and Gillian couldn’t tear her eyes away.
Viola glanced over her shoulder as she left the room, her lips curling into a knowing smile. It was a smile that said she knew exactly what was going through Gillian’s mind and she knew the effect she had on her.
Gillian pulled on a silk slip hanging on the back of a chair and wrapped her dressing gown around her. She descended the stairs and entered the kitchen, turning the kettle on. The sound of the door knocking echoed through the house. Checking her dressing gown was sufficiently tightened, she headed towards it. Not one for opening her door in a state of undress, she recognised the knock as Bridget’s, and knowing she would only knock louder, rather than leave, she opened it.
“Happy birthday!”
“Thank you, Bridget,” Gillian said, taking a bunch of sunflowers and a box of champagne truffles from her and placing them on the hall table.
“Do you know where Viola is?” Bridget asked, stepping in and closing the door behind her. “The helicopter is on the lawn, and I checked the manor. She’s nowhere to be seen.”
Gillian could feel her throat tightening. She hadn’t even thought about what to say.
“Err. Yes, she stayed here last night, in the spare bedroom.”
“You don’t have a spare bedroom.”
“No, I don’t, do I?” Gillian admitted, feeling foolish for lying. Why hadn’t she said the sofa?
Bridget stepped towards her, reaching out and placing her hand on Gillian’s arm. “It’s okay, Gillian. I know. I’ve known for some time. We’ve been friends for nigh on thirty-five years. You might not speak much about yourself, but I know you. Plus, your eye has a habit of wandering. It wandered quite a bit in Viola’s direction.”
A sudden wave of panic washed over Gillian. She withdrew her arm and backed away, walking to the sitting room. She felt exposed and vulnerable. Her initial thoughts went into denial.
“I, I… don’t — ”
“Oh, don’t even try to deny it,” Bridget interrupted as she followed behind. “There is nothing to be ashamed of; Elouise and Louisa have been together since the Second World War for pity’s sake.”
“What nonsense! They’re just good friends.”
“No one is ‘just good friends’, Gillian. You thought they were or refused to see it. Everyone else knows. It’s not like they even hide it, and why should they? You might have had your airs and graces, living in that big house, but you’re just another member of this community, and you always have been. Nothing is different about you, Gillian, except you’re finally being honest with yourself.”
A silence filled the room as Gillian stood speechless. Finding her voice she asked, “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because you didn’t,” Bridget replied. “I figured you’d bring it up if you ever wanted to talk about it. Then Viola left, and I knew I needed to step in.”
Understanding washed over Gillian. When they spoke about ‘living our truth’, Bridget knew. She’d always known and was trying to help, more than Gillian had realised at the time.
“Look, no one cares if you’re gay, Gillian, or whatever you are,” Bridget said, her voice edged with exasperation. “I assume you must have some feelings for men being married to one all those years, even if it wasn’t the easiest of marriages. We’re not in the eighteen hundreds now, you aren’t lady of the manor, and the village does not start and end with the Carmichaels. You are just another villager like the rest of us.” She took in a breath and sighed loudly before starting up again. “You’ve spent so much of your life acting a part in it; it’s time to take on the lead role and find some happiness for yourself,” she urged.
A noise in the hall caught their attention.
“I will leave you both to it,” Bridget said, heading to the door, where Viola stood holding two mugs, dressed in only her knickers and a T-shirt.
“Good morning, Viola,” Bridget said as she passed her, placing her hand on her shoulder. “It’s good to see you here.”
“Morning. It’s good to be here.”
“I’ve never seen her like that before,” Gillian said, taking a cup of tea from Viola to the echo of the front door shutting behind Bridget.
“Passionate?”
“Vexed?” Gillian corrected her as she examined her tea.
“That was passion, from what I heard of it, anyway. She wants what’s best for you, and you can’t see that. You were blinded by one bigoted woman with her own agenda and allowed her to define your life.”
Gillian nodded. “I have, haven’t I?”
Viola offered a soft smile and asked, “Is the tea okay? I thought I should make a start. I found some Earl Grey tea bags, which I assumed were your cheat bags.”
“Yes, thank you,” Gillian said, sipping at the steaming liquid. “I admit I keep a box for emergency situations when five minutes is too long to wait for a proper brew.”
“I feared this was one of those situations.”
“Yes. It very much is.”
Viola nodded towards the hall table. “Are those from Bridget?”
“Yes, sunflowers and chocolates. My favourite.” Gillian sighed. “She gives them to me every year.”
“You don’t look overjoyed.”
“It made me realise something. I have no idea what her favourite flowers and chocolates are. I’ve known her for thirty-five years. I was her maid of honour. I stood beside her as she buried her husband after only ten years of a happy marriage, and I don’t know these things. What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing is wrong,” Viola urged, placing a hand on her arm. “You’ve lived in a different world. A world that wasn’t even your world, just a place you hid in, and somewhere where you didn’t make a lot of room for others. Now you are changing that.”
Gillian nodded. She intended to try. The relief she felt that Bridget knew and was supportive made her feel a little lighter already. “Maybe I have been trapped in Kingsford.”
“After what happened with Hen and your mum, you hid here like a butterfly trapped in a box. It’s time to set yourself free, Gillian, and see what you can achieve elsewhere in the world. I’ll be there to hold your hand, every step of the way.”
“I’ll see that you are.”
“Through your binoculars?” Viola asked through a cheeky grin.
“No. I’m going to need you much closer than that.” Gillian stepped towards Viola, careful not to unsettle either of their mugs. “This close.”
She placed a kiss on Viola’s lips. Finding them dry, she moistened them with her tongue, sending a warmth rushing over her skin.
“Come back to bed,” Viola said, pulling away from her with a smile.
That wasn’t an invitation Gillian would ever refuse. “I will, but I can’t keep Dudley waiting too long for his breakfast.”
“Mmm, breakfast. Why don’t you bring those chocolates?” Viola added, nodding at them as she passed. “I’m looking forward to seeing Dudley again. I’ve missed him.”
Gillian shook her head, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “Chocolates for breakfast? Really?” She picked up the box and followed Viola up the stairs.
“Yes. You are doing things differently now, after all.”
That was true, but eating chocolates in the morning sounded a step too far, she thought, as she took in how great Viola’s backside looked from eye level.
“When is your birthday?” Gillian asked as they climbed back into the bed.
“The twenty-first of April.”
“And when does your tour of America finish?”
“The end of March,” Viola said, taking a sip of her coffee. “I have a few weeks off, and then I leave for Europe for two months shortly after my birthday.”
Viola leaving would be a wrench, but she would put plans in place to allow herself some freedom away from Kingsford. She couldn’t be apart from her for too long.
“I shall come with you then, if that’s agreeable?” Gillian said, placing her hand between them on the bed. “There’s a lot I need to get into place before I can consider leaving.”
Viola placed her hand on top of Gillian’s. “Very agreeable. I would prefer sooner, but I understand.”
“As long as Bridget agrees to take over — if she’s still talking to me,” Gillian murmured, a hint of uncertainty creeping into her voice.
“She will be,” Viola reassured her. “I’m sure of it. She showed you how much she cares about you.”
Gillian sighed. It was the only time her friend had ever raised her voice to her, and it had spilled out in a way that had taken her completely by surprise. Bridget was always unwavering in her support, never questioning her decisions or pushing her too hard.
In all their years together, she was the one person Gillian could count on to stand by her, no matter what. Today, she’d challenged her. It had shaken Gillian, even if she knew it came from a place of love. It was exactly what she needed to hear, though, that someone believed in her enough to demand better from her.
“She’s never pushed me like that before,” Gillian admitted, a small smile tugging at her lips. “But I guess that says everything, doesn’t it?”
Viola nodded, her fingers skimming lightly along Gillian’s arm. “It does. She’ll stand by you, as she always has.”
“Will you be okay going alone to America?” Gillian asked, her voice faltering as she looked down.
“Yes, as long as I know you are here waiting for me to return.”
“I will be,” came the confident reply.
“I’m not sure America is ready for Gillian Carmichael to land on its shores anyway.” Viola grinned.
Gillian narrowed her eyes at her and then relaxed them, adding a smile. “I will expect you to return to visit me if your schedule allows, and perhaps we could speak on the phone every day.”
“I will ensure my schedule allows for all of that.”
“Would you mind if I leave telling people about us until you return? I want time to get used to everything myself first,” Gillian admitted, knowing it wouldn’t be an easy task to rediscover herself.
“Of course not.”
“I will hold a garden party for your birthday and invite the village. I can show you off.” Gillian beamed.
“I like the sound of that.”
“If you can get through coming out on the world’s stage, then I can get through coming out in Kingsford.” She took Viola’s hand and squeezed it, initially excited at the prospect, only for nervousness to creep in and brush the edge off it. “Did you know Elouise and Louisa are a couple?”
“I had a feeling, yes.”
“They’ve never shown any affection towards each other in public.”
“Some people don’t. Did you and Jonathon?”
“Not at all, but then we didn’t have anything to hi—” Gillian’s words faltered, her voice catching as she realised where the sentence was heading.
“I’m glad you didn’t finish that sentence,” Viola said quietly, though her meaning was clear.
Gillian gave a small nod. “I’ll get there.”
Viola didn’t press further; there was no rush, no expectation, only understanding. Everything had changed between them, and yet, as she sat there next to Viola, the morning light filtering in around them, Gillian found herself grateful for it all. It was strange, the way something that started with tension, animosity, and distance had evolved into this — a space where she could be herself, where she was finally letting someone see who that was.
For the first time in a long while, possibly in forever, she felt truly happy. Fear may still sit at her edges, but with Viola by her side, she knew she could let go of everything that once bound her and embrace the future as a free woman, whatever it might hold for her.