Chapter 30
‘Um, Hetty, you did know everything you have written on Substack is viewable online?’
Stella and Hetty were sitting in the old morning room of the big purple house. After their first proper dinner, over jerk chicken which made Hetty’s eyes water and lips tingle, she’d suggested they come back to hers for their next ‘Netflix and Chill’, Stella had called it.
Last time, she had wiped her eyes with her fingers, which had been a mistake that had involved being far too close to Stella as she fussed over her in the bathroom.
Stella had smelled of her signature lemon and mint with added layers of jerk chicken and all manner of delicious things which Hetty just wanted to eat up hungrily like a starving animal.
And her body had pressed up deliciously against her own in the tiny walkway as Stella had wiped away her hot tears.
So Hetty sat on the love seat this time, while Stella tried to look over her shoulder from the sofa. It wasn’t working brilliantly well.
‘Pass me the laptop a mo’,’ Stella said. Another delicious waft of citrus as she dropped down next to Hetty on the love seat, plump and soft against her.
Hetty’s heart knocked against her ribcage.
‘Yeah, look, see. God, you’ve had comments and everything.’
‘Comments?’ Hetty slowly blew out a deep breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding and shifted slightly as she felt Stella’s arm against hers. She moved her own arm to the back of the seat, realising too late she was almost cuddling Stella. Oh well.
‘Good ones! “This is hilarious. Shared.” Look, they love it! What on earth have you been writing about? Bloody hell – you’ve had ten thousand views already today!’
‘It’s just … just a diary, an online diary, that’s all.’
Stella tapped at the laptop and focused intently. Hetty gripped her teacup, desperate to know her opinion and trying not to ask.
Stella started reading aloud:
‘I stumbled across a forest of what I believe they call “sky scrapers” today. They were awfully shiny – so much so that they hardly seemed real. That would have been a preferable option, in my view. St Paul’s Cathedral was quite enough for me, with its ugly bulbous mound.
It reminded me of the time our dog got a boil on his neck and wouldn’t let anyone so much as touch it.
‘It defies all sense and reason that modern humans dine on such very spicy luncheons as a matter of course and yet seem incapable of creating anything but the most bland of buildings.’
Stella started to laugh. ‘Hetty, this is brilliant! How the heck did you think it up? It’s bang on. Just like Lady Whistledown got dragged into 2023. You’re a genius!’
‘Do – do you really think so?’
‘Hell, yeah! Hey – you should connect your Instagram and make videos. You could dress up in Regency clothes and everything.’
‘Like on the television?’
‘No, silly, like reels. You’re so funny. It’s cute.’
Hetty had never had female friends before. She had certainly never been called cute, never mind twice in one week. Her skin had never tingled at another’s touch; her heart had never beat so loudly. She had nothing to compare this with. Was it possible Stella also felt this connection?
She bit her lip. ‘Can it be done? The video? Will you teach me?’
Stella stopped typing. ‘Um, yeah. Sure. Hey, I gotta go, though.’
Hetty suddenly felt cold as Stella hauled herself up and out of their seat and stood, watching her.
‘Hetty, I have to ask. I like you. Like, like-like you. If we’re going to keep hanging out, I have to know if you like me, too.’ Stella rubbed her temples. ‘I’ve been burned too many times. I don’t need my heart broken again.’
‘Your heart?’ Hetty repeated. ‘This is all very new to me, but my heart … my heart feels fuller around you.’
She had no idea which words in the English language could articulate how she felt around Stella. ‘I don’t … I can’t describe it. You … You are remarkable.’
She hadn’t said half of what she wanted to, but Stella seemed to understand. ‘You’re not out, are you?’
‘Out?’
‘You haven’t told anyone you like women – that you’re a lesbian.’
‘Only my aunts. But then, I have nobody else to tell,’ Hetty said. ‘I have had a hard time coming to terms with my desire for Sapphic love, but I feel I am getting closer recently.’
Stella laughed, then tilted her head at Hetty. ‘Sapphic love. God, that’s something only you would say, Hetty.’
Hetty took a deep breath, but Stella mercifully interrupted her. ‘We don’t have to talk about it. It’s fine.’ She picked up her bag and turned to leave.
‘Yes, Stella, we do. I want to. You fill my heart, my head, my body entirely. You’re all I think of at night and again when I wake. My soul sings out for you. So yes, I do believe I feel Sapphic passion toward you.’
Stella stopped in her tracks, dropping her bag, and slowly turned around. She looked taken aback, her eyes equal parts baffled and wild.
‘Hetty.’
Hetty felt as though her lungs might burst from the tension, but she’d rather die than look away. ‘Yes?’
‘Have you ever seen that scene in Pride and Prejudice where Mr Darcy comes out of the lake with his shirt all wet?’
‘No.’
‘Okay, whatever. I think I know why everyone likes it now.’
Stella was in front of her, now, stooping down until her lips met Hetty’s cheek. A fleeting kiss, then Hetty felt breath tickling against her ear.
‘You’re freaking out, aren’t you? Let’s take it slow. See you next week.’
And then Hetty was all alone, not quite sure what had happened but knowing that her life would never be the same again.