Chapter 4 #3
Suzie swallowed some water before speaking. They were diving straight into the personal stuff, but it felt natural rather than intrusive.
‘Absolutely none. What about you? Any regrets about ending your marriage?’
Vicky stroked the scar on her wrist again as she considered the question.
‘God, no. I’d have done it years ago if it hadn’t been for Tasha. She was the only thing that kept me in that house. Once she finished uni, that was it. I was finally out of there.’
The relief in her voice was obvious. Suzie could tell there was more, much more to her difficult marriage than Vicky was letting on, but it was probably too early in their relationship for her friend to talk about something so intimate.
She had her own secrets that she wouldn’t be rushing to reveal just yet either.
The loud rumble of Vicky’s stomach broke the slightly tense atmosphere they’d created talking about their exes, and both women laughed. Suzie pushed a basket of springy yellow corn bread and a salad full of brightly coloured vegetables in Vicky’s direction.
‘I’m so sorry. I’m being a rubbish hostess. You must be starving after a hard morning’s work.’
‘Well … I won’t lie. Mucking out and checking the animals across the many acres of the sanctuary does seem to give me an appetite.’
Suzie got up from the table.
‘Tuck in. I made the salad myself, which as you’ll find out is a bit of a rarity. I’m no cook, but I do know where to buy the most delicious spanakópita – feta and spinach pie if you haven’t had it yet – the best bread and halloumi cheese and the sweetest fráoula, strawberries.’
‘Sounds yummy.’
‘I’ll just get the warmed-up pies out of the oven.’
‘Stop me if I start to drool.’
‘Do you want wine?’
‘No, thanks. Got plenty more work later.’
‘Me too. I’ve got some spitikí lemonáda, homemade lemonade, in the fridge – homemade by Maria down the road, that is.’
Vicky folded and unfolded her serviette several times before she spoke.
‘That sounds wonderful. But can I ask you a favour? And I hope this isn’t too presumptuous…’
The woman’s hands were shaking.
‘What is it? You’re scaring me now.’
‘I love to cook, and I’m really missing my kitchen back at home. It’s not really possible at the sanctuary. So … could I come round and cook for you one day?’
‘Crikey, I thought you were going to ask to move in or something. Of course you can cook for me, anytime. I’d love that.’
‘Oh, good. I want to try out some Greek recipes.’
‘As I say, I won’t be much help, but I can tell you where to buy the freshest ingredients. Eat up, and then before coffee and biscuits we can look at the clothes.’
An hour later and the bed in the spare bedroom was completely covered by the contents of three old suitcases.
Vicky had divided everything into piles, and Suzie was quite happy to be dressed up like a doll.
The pile of black leather trousers was by far the highest. Her new friend instructed her to turn full circle for what seemed like the hundredth time, as, apparently, they couldn’t just look; she needed to try everything on.
‘OK, that pair still fits well. On the “keep” pile.’
Vicky pulled out yet another pair of black leather trousers, scuffed at the knees and with a zip that looked decidedly dodgy.
‘OK, I’m not holding out much hope for these.’
Suzie turned away so that Vicky couldn’t see her face.
She’d started off trying on the clothes in her bedroom next door but had given up any attempt at modesty after a few minutes and was now perfectly happy in just her underwear.
She’d made sure she had on a newish, clean, matching set in black just in case.
She wouldn’t have wanted Vicky to see some of the faded specimens that had definitely reached retirement age.
Teaming the pair of leather trousers she’d been given with a black and white striped T-shirt and a denim jacket, Suzie froze at the sight of herself in the mirror. Vicky stopped riffling through the stuff on the bed for a moment and turned to look.
‘Oh, I think those trousers can definitely go, can’t they? Keep the denim jacket.’
Suzie couldn’t help her eyes filling with tears.
The reflection in the mirror took her back more than forty years.
It was the exact outfit she’d worn that night in Christian’s dressing room.
The night she’d learnt what sex was really all about.
It hadn’t been her first time by a long way, but it had been the best time.
Ever. She blinked to get rid of the image of the two of them locked together.
‘Hey, what’s the matter?’
Vicky’s arms were round her in seconds.
‘It’s nothing. Just memories…’
‘Shhhh. Don’t cry. It’s OK, if the trousers mean so much to you, we can keep them.’
Suzie could hear the alarm in Vicky’s voice at her extreme reaction. Vicky hugged her tighter for a moment.
‘I can probably mend the zip and buff up the leather. I’m not saying they’ll be perfect, but good enough to wear.’
‘Thank you. As well as not being a great cook, I can’t sew either.’
‘Well, thankfully I can.’
Suzie forced a smile.
‘Will you marry me?’