Chapter 27
Nell pushed the net curtain aside to peer through the hotel room’s window at the sodden street two floors below. “The weather’s even worse than it was yesterday.”
“A much better view though.” Mattie didn’t hide her perusal of Nell’s naked body. “Come back to bed. I’d like more room service, please.”
Nell laughed and let the curtain drop back into place. “Got your energy back now you’ve had breakfast?”
“Absolutely.”
Grapefruit, poached eggs with hollandaise, and toast with strawberry jam was decadent, but so what?
She slid back into bed and settled between Mattie’s thighs, lowering herself so they could snuggle breast to breast. The kiss of their skin together and their shared warmth was all so tender and intimate.
This, and last night, had been everything she’d hoped it would be.
But all too soon, they’d have to go their separate ways, which was why Nell needed to imprint every single thing into her memory.
“I don’t want to let you go,” she murmured.
“I hear you.” Mattie caressed her back. “We’d get some strange looks if I turn up to work tomorrow with you still attached to me though.”
Nell laughed softly and peppered kisses on Mattie’s collarbone. Her skin tasted faintly of salt, and her scent that was uniquely her. “We do fit, you and me,” she whispered. “You’ve turned my world upside down.”
“You’ve done the same to mine.”
Nell’s heart brimmed at the wonder she heard in Mattie’s voice. “Can I ask you something?”
“Go on.”
Nell hesitated briefly. “Has anyone else seen your scars?” When Mattie’s whole body tensed, she added quickly, “I’m not jealous.
Just curious as to why you refuse to let me see them.
” All of that was true, but it niggled that Mattie still refused to show them to her.
They were lovers, for heaven’s sake, and did all sorts of intimate things to each other.
Mattie stilled. “Shona and Lisa have,” she said quietly.
“I stayed with them after I came out of hospital. Being a doctor, Shona was well used to irritable patients, and believe me, I was an A-star pain in the neck. My injuries needed dressing and creams applied for the first few weeks, which was impossible to do myself because I’m not a contortionist.” She shuddered.
“I don’t like seeing or touching them, so why would anyone else? ”
“Because they’re part of who you are.”
Mattie’s chin jutted forward against Nell’s ribcage. “I won’t have my lover or my friends pity me.”
Her almost childish defiance caused something to twist deep inside Nell. “I don’t pity you, Mattie.” She shuffled so that she could tilt Mattie’s face and look into her eyes. “Admire, yes. Desire, very much. But pity? No, never that.”
Mattie unclenched her jaw and gave a slight but perceptible nod.
Nell kissed her, gently and unhurried, hoping her lips would reassure her. What would it take to persuade Mattie to feel comfortable enough to be totally naked with her? She sighed. “We need to check out in an hour. I suppose we ought to get up and have a shower and pack. Not that I want to.”
Mattie tucked a lock of hair behind Nell’s ear. “Can we do this again soon?”
“Yes please.”
“When?”
Nell sighed as she ran through potential dates.
She had to cover a few weekend shifts, so it would be the end of November before she was free.
And then a month after that was Christmas.
Was it too soon to float the idea of Mattie spending it with her in Devon?
What a stunning change that’d be from enduring the stifling traditional festivities at her childhood home with her parents and their conservative opinions.
Ducking out of it would require some explaining.
That would be one way of coming out to everybody.
Her stomach clenched at the thought. That was something to worry about later.
“We could come back to Bath again. Or would you like to explore somewhere else?”
“How about Oxford?”
Nell couldn’t catch her breath all of a sudden. She rolled off Mattie and lay on her back. “No.”
Mattie rolled onto her side and propped her head against her elbow. “You look appalled. What do you have against the dreaming spires?”
“Everything.” The answer slipped out before she could catch it. Damn. Now she’d have to explain. She took a deep breath. “I lived in Oxford when I was married.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Why would you?” Nell tried to tamp down her edginess at the unexpected intrusion into her past.
“Does he still live there?”
Nell sat up against the pillows and pulled the duvet up so it covered her chest. “I don’t know, and I have no desire to find out.”
Mattie’s eyes widened. It was difficult to tell if that was in response to what Nell had said, or how she’d said it. Given that she’d barked like a snarling dog, it was probably the latter.
Nell took a deep breath and willed herself to speak more calmly. “It’d be like trying to cross a minefield, expecting an explosion any second. I don’t think I could relax. It’s a shame, because I used to love the city.”
Mattie smiled. “I can imagine you being beside yourself with all of that stunning architecture on your doorstep.”
“I’ve got a notebook full of sketches. The Ashmolean Museum, Christ Church Cathedral, St George’s Tower. You name it, I drew it.” It’d been her salvation, a safe place during a confusing and lonely time in her life.
“Would you like to at least visit? If you could be sure that he wouldn’t be there?”
“I don’t know.” She dropped her head in her hands.
How could she explain that, even a decade on, she questioned every choice she made because of him, and that she continually needed to remind herself that he’d been the one at fault and not her?
It sounded so weak and pathetic. “I don’t want to dredge up the past all over again. ”
“So you’ll never go back to a place that clearly meant something to you, because of him?”
Mattie’s incredulity grated on her suddenly raw nerves. “Please don’t sit in judgement.”
Mattie put her hands up as if to back off. “I’m not judging.”
“You are,” Nell said. “Put yourself in my shoes and imagine Oxford is Kenya. How do you feel now?”
Mattie’s face dimmed.
“Sorry, that was insensitive of me,” Nell said, mortified at her lack of kindness and sensitivity. “I’m normally better than that. Clearly I’m overdue for a check-in with my therapist.”
Mattie puffed the pillow harder than was necessary. “Don’t mention therapy or counselling. I’ve heard enough about that from Shona and Lisa.”
Clearly, she’d touched a raw nerve. A tense silence as uncomfortable as the stiff position she was sitting in filled the space between them.
Everything she thought of saying sounded like it would come out of a therapist’s mouth.
She reached across the gap between them, but Mattie lurched off the bed before she could touch her.
“I’m going to have a quick shower.” Mattie snatched a pile of clothes from the armchair and locked herself inside the ensuite.
Nell stared at the closed door. It’s my fault.
I said the wrong thing. I’ve ruined a perfect weekend.
She yanked the cover off, got out of bed, and flung her suitcase on top of it.
Then she opened the wardrobe and started to throw rather than pack her clothes into the case.
When would she ever learn? Her eyes stung as she pulled her dress off the hanger and went to toss that in too, but then she stopped.
Mattie had looked at her with such desire and affection, it’d blown her away.
Even now, her blood pulsed at the memory of it.
And then, through her fog of self-loathing, she heard her own voice. Mattie isn’t him.
Nell flopped onto the bed, still clasping the dress.
The dress that she’d bought specially for this trip.
How had she forgotten everything she’d learned since getting divorced?
Mostly, she had a handle on the self-loathing, and its fog was more of a mist these days, but it still had the power to shroud her.
What should she say or do now? Gavin—fuck, she hated thinking of him by name—was her only real reference point, and even now, she only recognised his controlling behaviour in retrospect.
He’d asserted himself whenever she’d dared to cautiously challenge him or inadvertently said something he didn’t approve of.
He’d put his foot down and that was it, end of discussion.
Mattie, it would seem, went into avoidant mode.
If Nell knew Shona or Lisa a little better, she could text them to find out what’d happened and see if she could help at all.
If she was to make an educated guess, Mattie would’ve told Shona less than politely where to go with her therapy suggestion.
Mattie finally emerged from the bathroom, dressed bar her jeans, which were still draped over the armchair. It was impossible not to notice her red-rimmed eyes as she dumped her toiletries on the bed and stood in front of Nell.
“I’m sorry,” Mattie said. “It isn’t my place to tell you what you should do, or push you into doing something you feel uncomfortable with. I hate it when people do that to me, but I was trying to do exactly the same to you.”
Nell swallowed hard. In two simple and genuine sentences, Mattie banished the ghost of Gavin. “Thank you.” She held her arms open.
Mattie made an indecipherable noise that sounded half-laugh, half-cry as she rushed into Nell’s embrace.
Nell’s eyes filled with tears as she tried to soothe Mattie’s tense shoulders.
At a loss as to where to start with verbalising everything that’d just happened, she hoped that her fierce embrace would speak for her.
“Mattie’s unravelling.” Saying the words out loud to Angie tasted like a betrayal, but Nell couldn’t keep them to herself any longer.
Angie looked up from her perusal of the limited bar menu.
They were ensconced in the warm fug of the Saddlers’ Arms, nursing half pints of dry cider.
It was a traditional locals’ pub with tired decor and a lingering smell of beer.
Its stab at modernity was limited to a widescreen TV in the corner of the bar and a string of orange bunting promoting the brewery’s special Halloween ale.
“Unravelling how?” asked Angie.
“Mentally, I think.” Nell had pondered nothing else during the entire two-and-a-half-hour train journey home from Bath.
She’d replayed all the precious and sexy moments that would keep her going until their next rendezvous.
And then she’d recognised a theme. Whenever there was a chance of sharing something deeply emotional, Mattie made light of it, flirted outrageously, or fucked her.
Every single time. “I didn’t notice it until afterwards, but it’s there, if you look closely. ”
Angie frowned. “Do you think she’s aware of it?”
“No. She’s expert at covering it up and being blind to it herself.” Nell swallowed a mouthful of her cider. “Saturday was perfect, you know? Like a scene from a romantic movie. Delicious food and wine, excellent company, and good conversation.”
“Scintillating sex,” Angie said and wiggled her eyebrows.
Nell blushed. How new this still felt to be talking to her friend about intimate stuff rather than the vegetable garden or planning their next hiking route.
“And then reality came knocking?” asked Angie.
“Very much so.” Nell gave a précis of what had happened. She skirted over the part where her heart bled for the unintended pain they’d inflicted on each other. “I didn’t help the situation by bringing Kenya into it.”
“No need to blame yourself.” Angie rested her hand on Nell’s arm gently, and Nell puffed out her cheeks.
“Clearly, she’s comfortable examining other people’s behaviour but rebels against the notion of exploring her own,” said Angie.
“I sensed she was a lost soul when she was here during the summer.”
Nell frowned, her glass stalling on its way to her mouth. Was Angie right?
“Think about it,” said Angie. “Why did she choose to come to Devon especially? Why not Brighton or Blackpool, for example?”
“Nostalgia for childhood family holidays.”
“Going backwards in order to find a way to move forwards in her life, perhaps?” Angie turned the menu over. “Visitors stay at mine for all sorts of reasons. Holiday, family, work. They bring their life stories with them, and some like to share. Mattie seemed adrift when she talked about hers.”
That was food for thought. Talking of which, she should decide what to order for lunch before the kitchen closed. She studied the menu again.
“What have you decided about Oxford?” asked Angie.
Nell clenched her jaw. “I haven’t.”
“Do what’s right for you.” Angie reached for her backpack and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Rosie left this for you. She doesn’t go to it, but said she knows Jac who runs it, and she’s fab.”
Nell took it from her. It was a leaflet for a local Sapphic book group. Books were her thing, but groups weren’t.
“I know it’s a big step, but at least think about it,” said Angie. “Get to know a few folks in the community.”
There was something a little bit thrilling about the idea. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good.” Angie jabbed her finger at the menu. “I think it’s a pie and mash sort of day. Comfort food to make up for the trauma of those damn brambles I had an argument with on our walk here,” she said, glaring at the scratches on her hand.
Comfort food sounded good. Nell needed more than comfort though.
She needed a road map, a guide to supporting Mattie.
But how would that work if Mattie continued to be in denial or refused to be helped?
What would it mean for their fledgling relationship, other than Nell’s tender heart being broken?