Chapter 16
Gilly
Accept People for Who they Are
Unlocking the front door, Gilly kicked off her shoes, hung up her jacket and dropped her bags in the hallway. Pouring a glass of merlot while heating up a ready meal, she sighed, not missing Ariel’s colourful presence as much as anticipated. Which was bad.
After putting the topic of IVF on the back burner, they’d been getting on better, and Gilly could breathe without second-guessing how every conversation would unfold.
However, despite hours in her art room sketching and painting, Ariel was restless.
Without medical professionals to call, or fertility forums to surf, irritability had crept in.
When she mentioned a potential London trip for a new art installation and seeing a friend just returned from Canada, Gilly agreed it was a good idea, though quietly worrying their new life was not enough for Ariel.
On the flip side, this was her longest relationship and sometimes she found living together difficult.
She didn’t mind her own company, and with Ariel away she was happy to eat alone, watch films or take long walks with an audiobook.
In some ways, because of the sheer amount of energy Ariel took up, their relationship was often a distraction from other priorities.
That truth speckled guilt through her. They were so different.
Accept people for who they are. Today’s advice from Rose, shared by Albie.
Was Gilly, and what she wanted, accepted by Ariel?
Or was she having regrets? Would her fiancée be better off with another dazzling extrovert?
After dinner, she went to the entrance hall to distract herself from the grim thoughts, footsteps echoing across the warm marbled space as the grand staircase rose behind her.
As she grabbed their post, Kirsten bustled in with Rosie, looking frazzled.
Some sense of female kinship made Gilly blurt, ‘Hi. Fancy a coffee?’
Kirsten nodded gratefully. ‘Do you know what? That’d be nice, if you don’t mind coming to ours. We ate out, so I’ve got to get this rat-bag ready for bed soon.’
‘Hey, I am not a rat-bag!’ An indignant little voice piped up.
Before Kirsten could say she was joking, Gilly took the girl’s hand. ‘Can you show me where your flat is? I can’t remember, and bet you have a good memory. West wing?’
‘I have an ‘scellent m’mory,’ Rosie lisped, as her mum mouthed a silent thank you.
‘Then let’s go.’ Being an experienced headteacher used to managing children helped sometimes, given she wasn’t a naturally warm person, as Ariel once remarked. She knew she ran cool, but it was the way she was made. Not everyone could be ebullient and charming.
As Kirsten cajoled her daughter through their night-time routine, Gilly studied the lemon-toned wallpaper covered in tropical hummingbirds and rich blue velvet curtains, wandering around the lounge peering at photos of Kirsten with Rosie at various ages.
No man featured. Was Rosie’s dad in the picture at all?
Walking next door into the large stone-coloured, well-equipped period kitchen with painted woodwork and an old-fashioned pantry, she found a bottle of chilled chardonnay in the industrial-sized fridge, anticipating Kirsten wouldn’t mind her pouring two glasses.
It turned out she was right, and not long after, she and Kirsten were sat drinking wine and forking up luscious walnut covered carrot cake at the marble-topped kitchen island, getting to know each other better as they talked about respective carers and innocuous topics, with the personal sprinkled in.
As Kirsten detailed her short-lived marriage to a selfish man who’d gambled away their money before leaving her literally holding the baby, Gilly winced.
‘No. Better off without him,’ Kirsten said staunchly, ‘I’ve achieved more on my own than if he’d stuck around. He was an anchor, dragging me down.’
‘I’m still sorry,’ Gilly replied, pushing her plate aside.
‘I’m not, except for regretting Rosie doesn’t have a dad.’
In turn, Gilly shared her coming out story, telling Kirsten how she’d announced at her twenty-first birthday party she preferred women, to which her fiercely rational mother replied, ‘Well, you’ll get over it, once you’ve considered all the cons. It’s not the logical choice.’
Gilly’s father simply pulled a face and carried on talking to his uncle, and her grandma had made a sniffy remark about lesbians all having short hair.
Kirsten tutted, aghast but also laughing. ‘I’m sorry, it’s not funny. But wow, what a family.’
Gilly shrugged wryly, taking a sip of wine. ‘It’s sort of funny. And it hurt at the time, but they were just being them.’ Thinking of today’s note, she added, ‘We can’t be who others want us to be. We must be who we are.’
‘Rose’s latest rule for living? But they should accept you for who you are too.’ Kirsten frowned. ‘There’s no excuse for being rude, and you’d expect family to be supportive. What happened afterwards?’
‘Got on with my life. We see each other at Christmas, but as the black sheep of the family, I’m not bothered about spending time with them.’
Kirsten spluttered. ‘Sorry, you’re the black sheep? I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so respectable. You’re a headteacher, for God’s sake.’
‘Another black mark, because my parents wanted me in research science like them, but I don’t enjoy it.’
‘Hmmm. Well, as Rose says, we need to be our own people.’
After that, talk turned to their love lives, Gilly asking if Kirsten had dated since the divorce.
‘Men? Hah, they don’t know what they want.’ Her voice was uncharacteristically crisp, before glugging down chardonnay.
‘Well, I’m not sure—’
‘I am. Anyway, what’s the best kiss you’ve ever had?’ Kirsten interrupted.
The wine had loosened Gilly’s tongue, so she blurted, ‘My first with Ariel. It was unexpected and passionate, and the way she cupped my face made me feel beautiful. I swear there were fireworks. Although, it was midnight on New Year’s Eve.’
‘Sounds like a great start to the year.’
Gilly nodded sadly, musing over the past two years, compared to their first two. ‘Yes.’ She undid her top button to cool down, flustered at revealing such an intimate memory. ‘What about your best kiss?’
‘I had it today,’ Kirsten confessed, looking dreamy. ‘It was… amazing.’
‘Theo?’ Gilly guessed.
Kirsten wrinkled her nose. ‘No, we’re just friends, and he’s still grieving his wife. It was with someone much more cynical.’
‘Cynical?’ The penny dropped with a clang. ‘Not Harley? He’s so… well, he’s got all that baggage, given who he is, and—’
‘Forget I said anything, it doesn’t matter.’ Kirsten jumped up, almost knocking over her glass but managing to right it. ‘Sorry, um, I’d better get to bed, I’ve an early start tomorrow. It’s been lovely though. Shall we make this a regular thing?’
Gilly was surprised at the lightning-quick change of mood, but realised it felt good to talk to someone other than Ariel. She’d not had many friends in London, only work colleagues. That probably wasn’t healthy. ‘I’d like that. Easier for you here, with Rosie? I can bring the wine next time.’
‘Perfect. Next Wednesday, at eight?’ When Gilly nodded in agreement, Kirsten smiled, padding into the front hallway.
‘Oh, we got quotes back for the cottage roofs. They’re astronomical – Albie paled when he saw them – but we ran them past Ethan, and he’s worked with one of the companies before.
’ Opening her apartment door, she turned to face Gilly.
‘We could do with your help managing the money. You’d be a pro, given your experience with school budgets. ’
Gilly stumbled as she slid her shoes on, a little blurry from the wine. ‘I’m ultimately responsible for ours, but the finance manager does the doing.’ Pausing, she added. ‘Let me think about it.’
‘Fair enough.’
Exiting onto the first-floor landing, she touched her new friend’s arm. ‘Thanks for tonight. And I promise I won’t say anything about the kiss. I’m good at keeping secrets.’
Kirsten looked relieved. ‘Thank you.’ A brief smile, and then, ‘Night.’
‘Goodnight.’ As she drifted back towards her flat in the east wing, Gilly didn’t notice how the lightbulbs illuminating her path changed from cool-toned to warm amber as she passed.
Two evenings later, she and Ariel knelt on the path of Albie’s cottage, sanding patchy red paint off the front gate sitting open between them.
‘It’s good to be back,’ her fiancée shared. ‘It was nice to see friends, and the installation was unbelievable, but I don’t think the bright lights of the city are for me anymore.’
‘No?’ Gilly paused, hand falling still.
‘It’s not the lifestyle I want. I need a settled home life and Little Beaubrook is perfect for a family.
It’s so idyllic, and will be stunning once it’s restored.
’ Craning her head, she studied the short main street, the narrow pavements and rows of grey stone cottages with their riot of colourful flowers covering most of the masonry and hiding how threadbare some of the roofs were.
‘I love our flat too, and all the elaborate details.’ Turning back, she caught sight of Gilly’s face, realising what she’d said.
‘Sorry. I’m not supposed to mention having a family, am I? ’
‘It’s fine,’ Gilly sighed, although it wasn’t. She’d been able to tell since Ariel’s return that not discussing IVF was driving her insane.
But working on the cottages was a good distraction for them both, better than brooding over the silent impasse, and Gilly was enjoying it.
There was something soothing about the manual work and kneeling on the cobbled stone path beneath her knees in the fresh open air, the scent of lavender drifting over from the neighbouring cottage.
Her pulse was slowing, and no doubt her blood pressure was lower.
They should do more of this. Time for activities which made you feel calmer, and more in control, was important.
She moved the sanding block back and forth along the grain again, pushing harder as she recalled the most recent note. Accept people for who they are, not who you want them to be.
Memories of the night they’d met flooded her.
Everyone was in New Year’s fancy dress, but she’d been working all day readying school for the beginning of spring term and ended up arriving late at her colleague’s flat, full of apologies and wearing jeans with a powder blue jumper.
Ariel had later revealed she normally went for more exotic creatures, but when she accidentally spilt wine down Gilly’s front as someone pushed into them, a spark had leapt between them.
By the end of the party, they were kissing, holding hands, and making plans to see each other again.
A few weeks into dating, Ariel told Gilly part of the attraction was her confident air as they’d talked that first night.
Gilly knew who she was and what she wanted.
A successful career, financial security, and stability.
After such an anchorless existence growing up, Ariel found that appealing.
For her own part, Gilly was charmed by Ariel’s warm exuberance, the way her arms gesticulated as she described things, the brightness in her eyes as she leaned closer, the way a light burned inside her.
She was the most vibrant person Gilly had ever met.
More, she enjoyed the contrast between them. Ariel’s softness to her own hardness. Ariel’s chaotic artistic existence versus her own controlled one. Ariel believed life was for living, taking Gilly to galleries, cultured trips abroad, and forcing her to watch artsy foreign films with subtitles.
Enjoying experiences together, and sexual chemistry, had never been an issue. If only they were as compatible in other ways. Were they too different to make it work long-term?
‘Oi, love, any chance of a cuppa?’ A loud, Essex-coated voice interrupted the unpleasant thought, making Gilly startle and drop the sanding block.
Ariel rose, smoothing down her dress, navy and covered in tiny green cacti. Cocking her head at the tall man filling the cottage doorway, she bared her teeth. ‘The kettle’s in the kitchen, I take mine with two sugars, thanks.’
He roared with laughter. ‘Touché. And you are?’
She moved toward him, hips swaying. Ariel didn’t know how not to flirt; she was one of those people who charmed both men and women. Gilly had seen it a hundred times.
Dark-haired and brawny in jeans and a dust-covered polo top, the workman’s chestnut-brown gaze swept over Ariel’s curves.
‘Ariel.’ She stopped in front of the man, hand on one hip. ‘Artist, current sander and painter of gates, and manor resident. You?’
‘Steve.’ He looked over her shoulder at Gilly and nodded hello. ‘My crew are repointing the cottage. We’ve been chipping away at the old mortar around the back for the past few days.’
‘There are others?’ Ariel giggled, flicking her curly hair over one shoulder as she sidled past. ‘Oh good, more of you to order around.’
As she followed them into Friendship Cottage, the red roses surrounding the slate sign more vibrant than ever, Gilly knew this was who Ariel was.
A flirt, a creative, an extrovert who revelled in meeting new people and wanting to hold the world in the palm of her hand.
If they were going to make it as a couple, perhaps she needed to love her fiancée just as she was.
The questions troubling her were whether Ariel felt the same way and if they still wanted the same things. She wasn’t sure.