Chapter Thirty-Seven
Saskia
Over the next week, Saskia found that being in a relationship (of sorts) with a woman was remarkably different to being in a relationship with a man.
Not just the sex – although it was mind-bogglingly better, in more ways that she could think of.
Kivi was far more thoughtful than any man she had been with – some had made her feel like nothing more than a toy, but Kivi seemed to almost worship her.
They moved with each other with something near to reverence, both slightly in awe of how they had the ability to make each other feel.
Even outside the bed, the differences remained.
They seemed to be on the same spiritual wavelength, both equally committed to making whatever this was work.
Kivi had asked her on the Wednesday whether she was comfortable with the title of ‘girlfriend’.
“There’s no pressure,” she had added. “It’s how I would like to refer to you within my mind, but if it doesn’t feel right, you can just remain as Saskia. ”
Saskia had agreed – the title actually gave her the warm and fuzzies.
While not exactly unfamiliar, hearing it come out of Kivi’s mouth gave it a new dimension somehow.
Some women referred to platonic female friends as their ‘girlfriend’, but again, Kivi’s tone gave it a sort of veneration.
As if it was her privilege to use that word in conjunction with Saskia.
She’d never known that before. A man just wouldn’t be able to dismantle his machismo enough to do that. They just couldn’t.
And they could share clothes. If they wanted to.
That was a bizarre notion, but one that came in very handy the following Friday morning.
It was a surprisingly grey and blustery one for the last day of June, and Kivi appeared at the door of Saskia’s bedroom after breakfast with a gilet in one hand and a pair of walking boots in the other.
“You said you were a size five, didn’t you?” she said, dropping the boots on the floor with a thump.
“Yes…?” Saskia replied, staring at the boots in disgust. “You want me to wear these?”
“It’s not sandal weather,” Kivi said, looking down at her flip-flops. “And the beach here is more shingle than sand, at least on the bit we’re going to. You’ll break your ankle if you wear your suede boots. And your feet will hurt in your trainers.”
Kivi was familiar with every item of footwear in her wardrobe, Saskia realised.
She must have been watching her closer than she’d thought.
But she’d be lying if she’d said it didn’t tickle her.
Not that she showed it at that moment – she stepped forward, and picked up one of the boots, pinching it between her index finger and thumb in the manner of somebody picking up a dirty tissue.
“These boots are an abomination to fashion.” She deliberately made her tone snotty, and her accent pretentiously posh. “What if somebody recognised me? How the Chica set would laugh.”
“Oh, give over, Miranda Priestly.” Kivi gave her shoulder an affectionate shove. “Get those boots on. I’ll meet you at the front gate in five.”
“Fine,” Saskia huffed. She pulled on the dreadful lace-up clodhoppers and scruffy khaki gilet, then chuckled at herself in the mirror.
Kivi had already learned to call her out on her bullshit, and to tell the difference between bullshit and a boundary.
It had only taken one minor disagreement in their week-long relationship for her to learn the difference.
And now they were going on their first proper date.
Just a walk along the beach with Toto, because with a big booking over the weekend that was all Kivi had time for, but she was still surprisingly excited.
Never had such a mundane outing been so thrilling when she was with a man.
That was another difference between them and Kivi.
Toto bounced up and down and yelped when he saw Saskia approaching. She bent down to greet him, succeeding in getting her hands covered in dog fur for her trouble. Then she and Kivi set off, keeping a decorous distance while they were in sight of the guest house, chatting about their weekend plans.
“I’ll think of you, having a grand old time at the village fete while I’m chasing around after all our new guests tomorrow,” Kivi teased. “Will you think of me?”
“I’ll do better than that. I’ll have a cold iced tea for you,” Saskia taunted. “From the pub, no less. And if you’re very, very nice to me, I’ll bring one back for you.”
Saskia knew how much Kivi liked iced tea, and she had already learned the power of using it as leverage. It worked wonders – Kivi’s eyes darkened, she stopped walking, and her tongue darted out to lick her lips.
“Nice to you in what way?”
“I’m sure you can figure that out for yourself,” Saskia said, giving her arm a kindly pat and continuing to walk.
After not too long, Kivi led her down some steps between what appeared to be two cliffs.
At the bottom lay the beach, the sea choppier than usual and a steel grey compared to its usual cobalt blue.
Toto was let off his leash, bounding off with the energy and grace of a gazelle on crack cocaine, and Kivi’s hand found its way into Saskia’s.
They walked further, until they came to the rocks upon which Saskia had been sitting when they first met.
Some of the rocks were tall, six feet at least, with patches of sand between them, big enough for two people to sit (albeit close together) and still be sheltered.
Kivi stopped and pulled her down, until they were sitting side-by-side, legs stretched out in front of them.
“Toto can still see us from here,” she said. “I don’t have the energy to walk too far. He can exercise himself.”
She sighed, and for once Saskia could see the exhaustion on her face.
She’d been working like a Trojan this week, trying to make sure she spent enough time with Saskia on top of gearing up for this weekend’s big family booking, but she hadn’t allowed the toll it was taking to show.
Until now. Saskia put her arm around her and pulled her into a slightly awkward side-long hug.
Comforting and showing affection didn’t come naturally to her.
“Anything I can do to help?” she asked, hoping her voice didn’t sound robotic.
Kivi shook her head. “Just… entertain me.”
“Challenge accepted.” Saskia wiggled her eyebrows flirtatiously, and Kivi chuckled.
“Not that,” she said. “Not right now. I think sex on the beach is better as a drink than an act. Sand in sensitive places…”
“Shame,” Saskia said, but still kept her body pressed up against Kivi’s.
She didn’t exactly have much choice, given the small space they seemed to have tucked themselves into.
This was another difference between Kivi and the boyfriends – too close a proximity with them had made Saskia feel claustrophobic. With Kivi, it just felt right.
“We’ve come quite a way since we were last in this spot,” Kivi observed after a couple of minutes. It took a moment for Saskia to realise what she was talking about. She looked up at the rock upon which she’d been sitting when they first met, and sighed.
“Yes. I’m not really sure what possessed me to get up there in the first place.”
“Would you… what… what was the motivation for you getting up there in the first place? Would you…” Kivi swallowed, “…have jumped?”
“I don’t think so,” Saskia said. “Not in the least because I used to do gymnastics. I’d have probably landed on my feet, so it wouldn’t have done anything. I don’t know… I saw it, and I was so deep in my own thoughts, it just felt like the right place to be.”
“Unhappy thoughts, I presume, given how you reacted when we approached you.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” Saskia said, but without much bite. “I was just on a real downer about myself. My mum’s engagement party was the night before, and seeing her so happy made me realise how close I came to fucking everything up for her and Gilly.”
“With your… world views?”
“With my homophobia. Call it what it was, Kivi. My mum was prepared never to see the love of her life again, just to maintain her relationship with me.”
“That’s what comes of being a mother,” Kivi said.
“I suppose. Doesn’t stop me feeling guilty, though.”
“And now you’re in a relationship with me, do you feel any different?”
“I feel trepidation. About telling her, and Leo. I wouldn’t blame them for being fucking pissed. Because it’s absolutely classic, isn’t it? ‘Reformed raging homophobe turns out to be closeted gay.’ It’s a trope. A stereotype. More befitting a book than real life.”
“Is there any chance of Leo already knowing? Twin telepathy, that sort of thing? You do hear about it.”
“No.” Saskia actually laughed. “We’ve never had any sort of psychic connection.
I don’t believe in it, no matter what you read.
I know we shared a womb, but we don’t feel any magical comfort from being next to each other, or know when the other is hurting, or anything like that.
I think we’re just too independent and too different. ”
“Eva’s always been more like a mother to me,” Kivi said. “She’s seven years older. And a very maternal person. It’s just a shame that she… she can’t have kids.”
“She can’t?”
“Nope. Don’t tell her I told you – but if you’re going to stick around, you need to know. It ended her marriage recently, when her husband decided he wanted kids more than he wanted her. Two years of relentless IVF got them nowhere, and he refused to even entertain adoption…”
“Poor soul,” Saskia murmured.
“That’s why she’s been working so much over the last few months.
Distraction. I think she was happier than ever when I decided to take on Cass and Felicia’s wedding, because it meant more for her to do.
And happier still when we got this big booking.
You do realise that you’re going to be sitting in a throng of people for the next few nights at dinner?
All of whom know each other and are related? ”
“Can’t wait,” Saskia said dryly. “I think I’ll just mind my own business in my little corner and observe their interactions. Like any good journalist.”
“We’d better get back, anyway,” Kivi said, and Saskia shifted so they could both get to their feet. “Otherwise Eva will think-” She was interrupted by the ringing of her phone. “Speak of the devil.”
While she took the call, Saskia stepped out from behind the rock and called for Toto.
He looked over at her, as if wondering whether to answer to somebody who wasn’t his owner, but eventually took pity on her and lolloped over.
She made a fuss of him, wrestling with him for the stick he had firmly clenched in his jaw, and soon she was laughing as he nimbly darted out of reach and waved his stick in the air as if taunting her.
Kivi was still talking on the phone, so she was mindful not to make much noise with him.
In fact, she was pacing. Rubbing her eyes with her free hand, almost hunched over in posture, and generally exhibiting all the signs of a stressed woman.
Saskia went over, but just as she was about to put her hand on Kivi’s back, Kivi barked, “Okay! Fine. We’ll be back in a bit.” She pocketed her phone and turned around, eyebrows shooting up when she saw Saskia standing there.
“Something wrong?” Saskia said.
“The booking’s gone down the pan. The whole lot of them have cancelled.
They were here for a wedding, and the bride cheated with the best man, or something ridiculous like that.
Anyway, the wedding’s off, and they’re kicking off on the phone with Eva because we won’t give them the money back.
It’s in the bloody terms and conditions.
All money is taken forty-eight hours before arrival, and no money is returned.
It’s in there. In black and white, in plain print, and now they’re talking about suing us…
” She covered her mouth with her hand, staring up at Saskia, utterly distraught.
Saskia was stuck. Frozen. Kivi had hugged her before, several times, but Saskia had never instigated one with her.
It wasn’t really something she did, with anyone.
She was too prickly a person. But this was her girlfriend – she was still getting used to that word – and her girlfriend needed her.
She stepped forward hesitantly, and as if Kivi had been waiting for a sign, she stepped forward too, and into Saskia’s arms. The height difference meant that Saskia could just about rest her chin on Kivi’s head as she wrapped her arms around her.
Kivi sobbed quietly into the lapel of her gilet, and right on cue, the wind started to pick up, whirling sand through the air.
Saskia felt her lip curl. What is this, some sort of pathetic fallacy?
“Come on,” she murmured after a minute or two. “We should get back. See what we can do to sort this out.”
“I can’t face another legal battle,” Kivi said as if she hadn’t heard her. “Not after the last one. With Gareth and Drew’s family. If I never see a solicitor again it’ll be too soon.”
“You don’t know that they’ll sue you,” Saskia said. “They’re probably just blowing a whole load of hot air. They’re angry at the situation and they’re taking it out on you. What if that’s all it is? Hmm?”
Kivi didn’t say anything.
“Hmmm?”
“I suppose it’s possible,” Kivi admitted, wiping her eyes. “God, I hope so.”
“Only one way to find out,” Saskia said, brazenly holding her hand out. “Let’s go and talk to them.”
“Okay,” Kivi sighed, and took it. Toto came the instant she called him – Saskia exchanged a look with him that promised a rematch of their wrestling adventure – and she clipped his lead onto his harness, then handed it to Saskia.
“Me?” Saskia said, looking at the leash in her hand, then at Kivi.
“He needs to learn to accept orders from you,” she said. “If… if you’re going to be sticking around.”
Saskia’s words caught in her throat. This was the first time they’d really talked of the future other than the night they’d first kissed, and it was at the most emotional of times. And what did ‘sticking around’ mean? Long-term, or just until she went home, or…?
“Come on,” she croaked eventually, non-committal. “We have bigger fish to fry right now.”
And fry was probably the right word. Because if some pathetic man upset her girlfriend, she would be personally responsible for putting his balls in a deep-fat fryer.