Chapter Thirty-Nine
Saskia
Kivi had been just right, of course – going out for another walk with Toto, post-meltdown, had interrupted the cycle of spiralling thoughts enough to put her back on even emotional ground.
Like they had done earlier in the morning, they had walked together hand-in-hand along the beach, then returned home to ‘get to know each other a bit more’, to re-use the euphemism she had used previously.
That had taken them to the evening, where they had eaten noodles with teriyaki prawns that Kivi had rustled up on the little stove in her annex.
And then, just as Eva suggested, they’d had a movie night, watching Mary Poppins Returns because while both of them had seen the original, neither had seen the sequel.
Something about the quaint light-heartedness of the infamous children’s nanny, combined with the gentle doting of her girlfriend as she made sure Saskia was comfortable on the sofa with her, soothed the jagged edges left behind by the earlier maelstrom, leaving her with a warm glow.
Although she couldn’t deny that some of that was afterglow.
The next morning, they enjoyed a long lie-in, only surfacing at eleven o’clock when Toto woke them up, desperate for a wee and a walk.
Kivi took him for a quick jaunt down the road, because he was going to come to the fete with them.
And so, after brunch (scrambled eggs on toast, because it was quick and easy), they made their way down to the school.
It was Saskia’s first time properly examining the school, and she immediately fell in love with it.
Her own memories of school were of soulless grey buildings in the arse end of nowhere, attended by ten percent criminals and ninety percent hooligans.
Miltree Primary was nothing like that: the gates were painted in shades of pink, orange, red and white, giving them a sunset-like effect, and the building itself was more white than grey.
And while, like in Saskia’s schools, the playground was buzzing with activity, there was a wonderful warmth to the atmosphere.
Helped by the warmth in the temperature, of course, but also forged of community, of camaraderie.
Saskia stood on the fringes of the crowd while Kivi chatted to people she knew, tapping away furiously at her phone.
People probably thought she was texting, being anti-social, but really she was drafting several new paragraphs for her articles.
The words were flowing in a way that they hadn’t for such a long time, to the point that she almost let out a yelp of protest when Kivi took her by the arm and pulled her slightly further to her side. She looked upset.
“These people are my friends,” she said. “I wanted to introduce you. Not as my girlfriend, but as a friend. But you’ve got your nose buried in your phone. Could you try to be present? Please?”
Duly chastened, Saskia immediately felt guilty, and clicked off her phone in the middle of a sentence. The writer part of her brain protested, but she put it to the side to allow the girlfriend part of her brain to take over.
“You’re right,” she said. “I’m not being present. I’m sorry. No more phone.”
“Thank you,” Kivi said, and with Toto by their side they moved further into the playground.
They only made it a few steps before they bumped into Eva, who was having a stab at the ring-toss with Anastasia.
The pink-haired florist gave a fist-pump when her plastic ring fell neatly around a mini-bottle of Prosecco, and the stall holder handed it to her with a smile.
Then Anastasia turned around and spotted Kivi and Saskia, her face lighting up.
“Kivi!” She stepped forward and pecked Kivi on the cheek. “I hope you don’t mind me stealing your sister for this event. We have a flower stall this year, and I’ve refused to let her help, so as revenge she’s stolen me away from the stall and is insisting I come around the fete with her.”
“With good reason,” Eva said. “You work too hard.”
“Says you,” Anastasia said, and turned to Saskia with the same open, relaxed smile. “We’ve met before, haven’t we? You’re the journalist who interviewed me a few weeks ago.”
“That’s me,” Saskia said, deciding that sheer bravado was the way forward in this situation.
Internally, she donned her ‘for public consumption’ persona, and bestowed a winning smile on Anastasia, who offered a hand to shake.
“It’s lovely to see you again. I can’t believe how many people are here – can you? ”
Anastasia shook her head. “It’s my first time properly attending.
Victoria and I came last year, while she was still recovering from her accident, but we didn’t actually come in.
We stayed around the corner. Too peopley, and she wasn’t ready.
She’ll kill me for telling you that, though, so keep it under your hat! ”
From what she’d heard about Anastasia’s partner, Scary Miss Berry, Saskia wondered if there was a shred of truth to that final statement.
But there was no hint of fear in Anastasia’s expression – rather, it softened to an affectionate smile when she spoke of her partner, not unlike the one that Kivi was wearing right now as she watched the two of them chat. Eva seemed to have disappeared.
“I’ll guard your secret with my life,” Saskia said, mock-seriously, and Anastasia laughed.
“Sarcasm,” she said gleefully. “I knew I liked you. Tell me – how long are you staying?”
“Well,” Saskia said, then looked over at Kivi, whose face had blanched. She didn’t want to lie to Anastasia, and risk hurting Kivi in the process, but how could she explain her motivations behind wanting to move to Cornwall without disclosing the nature of their relationship?
Unfortunately, she left it just a fraction too late to respond, and Anastasia took a step back. “Of course, it’s none of my business,” she said, as if she sensed that there was something more going on between Saskia and Kivi.
“I haven’t decided yet,” Saskia said, to try and rescue the situation, but Anastasia was distracted by something over Kivi’s shoulder.
Saskia followed her gaze, and saw the crowd parting, like a pool of water as a duck floated through it.
But the duck was a petite, forty-something woman with cropped jet-black hair and a face like stone – heading straight for the three of them at a fast pace.
Saskia’s heart rate picked up. She wasn’t often intimidated, but it seemed as if this woman would plough straight through her without stopping.
But she didn’t. Rather, she stopped right in front of them, and put a hand on Anastasia’s arm.
“Do you have a minute?” she said in a low, dignified voice.
“Of course,” Anastasia said, and turned back to Saskia and Kivi. “I’m sorry. Duty calls. Hopefully I’ll see you later!”
And then she was off, following the other woman, who didn’t seem to have waited for her. Saskia watched them go, and then felt Kivi’s presence at her back.
“That was Miss Berry,” she said, and Saskia nodded. It made sense, given what she knew about her. “Still want to interview her?”
“Perhaps,” Saskia said, but allowed herself to be distracted by Eva re-appearing with another friend that she wanted them to meet.
And so the early afternoon progressed, Toto having the time of his life with all the new people to see and scents to sniff, Kivi steering Saskia around by the arm she had firmly clamped in hers.
If anyone thought it was odd for a guest house proprietor to link arms with a guest, they didn’t say anything, and by the time two o’clock came, Saskia was actually feeling quite relaxed.
Over the course of the last half-an-hour, she had become aware of an increasing number of women with turquoise T-shirts populating the crowd, and now they were gathered on the stage.
Making their way over, she spotted Jean among them by the vibrancy of their purple hair, organising them into three long rows.
Then they went over to a piano, at which a statuesque auburn-haired woman was sitting, said something to her and then kissed her on the cheek.
That must be Petra – Jean had mentioned their wife several times over the course of their time together the other week.
Then Jean moved to the centre of the stage, and turned their back on the audience, facing the choir.
They lifted their arms, Petra played a single note, and the crowd fell silent as the choir began to sing.
This was the first time Saskia had actually heard the choir in person, and almost immediately she could see why Cass and Felicia wanted them to perform at the wedding.
In fact, she could see the two of them in the choir.
They were very good, moving between different genres of music with only a minutes’ break between songs, from the classical Panis Angelicus in Latin to an upbeat, poppy number, and then something-or-other in Welsh that Saskia didn’t really understand.
The harmonies were exquisite, and even when some members of the audience grew tired or distracted and moved away, Saskia found herself rooted to the spot, just watching and listening.
Kivi remained at her side, and when she glanced over at her between songs, seemed equally transfixed.
Anastasia also joined them, standing on Saskia’s other side, but she didn’t say anything, also content to watch the singers.
One song in particular connected with her.
She’d heard Unchained Melody before, loads of times, but not like this.
Not so… tranquilly. It was partly due to the arrangement, of course, but also because of…
everything. An intensely romantic song, in what proved (when Kivi wrapped her arms around her and hugged her close from behind) to be an intensely romantic moment.
It was a song about love lasting despite distance and time, and Saskia knew that she didn’t want it to be her and Kivi.
She couldn’t stand to be parted from her, at least not for any extended length of time.
Quite big feelings to be having when they’d only been together for a week, but she felt them all the same.
She felt them in her bones, with the kind of conviction she hadn’t felt for a very long time.
As the singers concluded the piece, she felt Kivi’s lips graze her neck.
A dangerous thing to do in public, when their relationship was still technically private and Saskia wasn’t even out to her own family, but she couldn’t bring herself to mind.
Not when that song had made her feel like this.
Like she… like she was in the process of falling in love with Kivi.
And she was powerless to do a single thing to slow it.