Chapter 3
GEMMA
Gemma’s side felt cold as Rory moved away from her.
She tried to listen to Rory explain why they had broken up, but all she heard was her brain telling her Rory is single, Rory is single.
It was like a train on the tracks running round her head, Rory is single, Rory is single, Rory is sexy, and Rory is single.
Gemma dragged her thoughts back to the present to hear Rory explain to her grandmother.
“It was simply that Darcy and I saw our married life a bit differently.” Rory had her hands shoved in her pockets.
It was the same pose she’d had since childhood and was always employed when she felt exposed or uneasy about the situation.
She could feel Rory holding back and thought there was more to the story than Rory was letting on.
Her father had finished pouring champagne into elegant flutes, and Gemma took a glass from him and handed it to Rory, hoping to give her something to occupy her hands with.
Rory looked impassive, but Gemma could sense her discomfort at being the centre of attention.
“I saw my future wife carrying on her career or being at home caring for our children or a combination of the two.” She took a sip of her drink.
“Darcy saw married life as me working stupid hours to pay for everything whilst she flounced around at the country club, something she was already getting very good at.” She grimaced.
“If children ever were to enter the equation, then she was happy to palm them off to other people to raise, which is not my idea of parenthood.”
Gemma studied Rory’s face and would have bet every bottle of expensive champagne her father had brought with him that wasn’t the full story. She hadn’t seen Rory for ten years, admittedly, but she felt she could still tell when the other woman was concealing things and not sharing the full truth.
Fortunately, Gemma’s mother changed the subject.
Unfortunately, she talked about a mutual friend’s son, who had just got married and was already expecting his first child with his wife.
Gemma sighed internally. Every time she came home, her parents talked of nothing else but family friends who were getting married and having children.
“I think you girls know her,” Isabelle turned to Rory and Gemma. “Michelle, I think you went to school with her?”
“Oh yes,” Amanda added, “she was in the same year as Gemma but on the hockey team with Rory.”
Gemma winced. She had forgotten about the night she had spent with Rory for all of ten minutes when the mothers brought it all back to the forefront of her mind.
It had been Michelle’s eighteenth birthday party where they had hooked up.
She swallowed and endeavoured to keep a neutral expression on her face.
“Oh yes, I remember she had that lavish party for her eighteenth at that huge house they used to own.” Isabelle unhelpfully added.
“Used to own?” Rory spluttered around her champagne at the mention of Michelle’s house, and Gemma wondered if she still thought about that night as much as she did.
In Gemma’s mind, Rory had walked away from their night together without a backward glance and fallen straight into the arms of her girlfriend, whilst she had mourned Rory’s loss for months until university and a parade of eligible women sought to lessen the blow.
“Yes.” George weighed in on the discussion. “About five years ago, Jeff lost most of his fortune and had to sell the house. Talk around the golf club is that Jeff encouraged Michelle into marriage with the Wilson boy so someone else would pick up her shopping bill!”
Both Rory and Gemma laughed at that. Their joint laughter at a shared memory warmed Gemma and loosened any residual animosity she felt towards Rory.
“Well, Michelle always did have very expensive tastes.” Rory smiled at Gemma.
“Hmm, always designer this and Gucci that,” Gemma remembered.
“She played at being an accountant for a bit but only long enough to find a husband and retire early.” Isabelle filled up everyone's glasses from the bottle of champagne before depositing the empty bottle next to the boxed-up picnic. “I always thought she had a thing for you, Rory.”
“No, it was Sarah who had a thing for Rory at school,” Amanda retorted. “I thought you two would always get back together.”
“No, she got together with a lioness at university before the lionesses were cool,” Rory replied. “We keep in touch, and I can always get tickets for the England games if I want them. They are trying for a baby and, apparently, I’m first choice for godmother!”
“Oh good,” Phyllis interjected, “that will hopefully get you in the mood for producing your own children soon.”
Rory’s face contorted into a grimace and she shot Gemma a pained look as the grandmothers went off again on individual diatribes, and then a collective one, about how unfair it was that at their age, they still didn’t have a great grandchild between them and did Rory and Gemma realise that Deborah from the Bridge club had three great-grandchildren already and was insufferable about it.
“It’s not a competition,” Gemma interjected in a not-quite whisper.
“Oh, but it is!” Rory turned and looked at Gemma, amusement glinting in her brown eyes.
“I made the mistake of going to bridge club the last time I was down here, and everything is a competition! Who’s older, who’s been widowed the longest, who has the most grandchildren and great-grandchildren, whose offspring earns the most. It was exhausting, and I was lucky to get out alive! ”
“Oh yes.” Phyllis interjected, “as soon as they knew she was a London lawyer there were offers coming in all around the room. It’s your own fault for turning up in a Porsche.” Phyllis clucked her tongue and held out her glass to her son to refill.
“You know you could do worse than to consider some of those offers, Aurora. You are not getting any younger.”
“What would be brilliant,” Mary interrupted her friend, “would be if Aurora and Gemma got together, wouldn’t that be something.”
Gemma felt an icy wave washing over her and hoped her face didn’t give her away. As much as her body was thrumming with need at Rory’s mere presence, she couldn’t even contemplate being with Rory. At least, that’s what she was trying to tell herself.
“Oh no,” Rory replied quickly.
“No, I mean,” Gemma continued.
“We’ve been friends forever,” Rory offered.
“I’m not sure that would work,” Gemma continued.
“Oh mothers!” Peter chided, “Rory and Gemma are like sisters. They wouldn’t be interested in each other.”
Gemma sincerely hoped her foundation was strong enough to hide any blush that might form on her cheeks.
She could always put it down to the sun, she thought.
Even though it was late spring, it was a blazing hot day, and she could easily burn if she spent too long in the sun.
She gripped her champagne flute tighter.
The last thing she needed was for the families to find out that she and Rory had slept together, even if it had been years ago.
“So, Rory, why don’t you tell us all about the exciting world of corporate law and mergers and acquisitions?” Gemma’s dad, George, asked. He owned a small solicitor’s firm in Larchester and had given Rory the push and introductions to get her started on her career in London.
“Oh well, there is nothing much to tell,” Rory replied.
They had all moved to the table now and taken their seats.
The fathers took the end seats with their respective wives to one side.
The grandmothers sat on the side of the table in the shade, which left Rory and Gemma to sit next to each other on the side of the table in the sun.
They were having their starters now and then would move on to the main course and dessert during the long interval.
Rather than focusing on the delicious food they were eating, the families put both Rory and Gemma under the piercing beam of interrogation that only a family can muster, asking about their lives and careers in London.
First, Rory spoke of her time as a corporate lawyer specialising in mergers and acquisitions, and then Gemma was under the microscope about her work at a non-profit organisation.
Eventually, the grandmothers got bored listening about their granddaughters’ careers and got their heads together discussing something that neither Rory nor Gemma could hear.
The conversation then fortunately moved on to the golf club, where the four parents were all members, and Rory and Gemma had a reprieve for a moment.
“Wow.” Rory snagged the bottle of white wine and filled Gemma’s glass up. “I’ve not been under this much cross-examination since we debated in law school.” She grinned, and Gemma felt her face light up at the look on Rory’s face.
“I know! I had to do an interview once for the telly about the non-profit and campaign we were working on,” Gemma agreed, “and it wasn’t half as bad as this was.”
“Oh yes, I saw that,” Rory exclaimed, “You did very well. I was impressed.”
Gemma felt herself blushing, unsure why praise from Rory filled her with so much joy. Her parents were often annoyed that she didn’t have a glittering career like Rory or some of their other friends, but Gemma was happy and proud of her work with LGBTQ youngsters.
“Where in London do you live?” she asked Rory. It felt odd that her friend was so familiar to her in many ways, but a complete stranger in others.
“Woodford, northeast,” she replied. “It’s not a bad commute to the office, although I don’t have to go in as much anymore. I travel a bit for the job and can also do a decent amount from home.”
“I share a flat with a girl in Croydon,” Gemma replied, “although she and her boyfriend are always talking about moving in together, so I may be looking for something else soon.” She shrugged.