RORY
Rory smoothed her shirt over her stomach and pulled her trousers up. She looked ahead at the taxi drop-off area. Gemma’s mother had told her that Gemma would be there around 3pm, so Rory volunteered to meet Gemma and show her where they had set up their picnic.
It was a beautiful English spring day with a gentle breeze to offset the unseasonable heat from the sun. She still felt a little uncomfortable in her suit rather than the evening gowns she had worn in the past. Her mother had raised an eyebrow when Rory had arrived in a black suit with an open-neck white shirt but said nothing. Slipping the suit on this morning had felt the most natural thing in the world. She still hated that she was wearing women’s brogues and hadn’t the courage to wear a bow tie like she wanted, but it was a first step. Now, she felt anxious and nervous. Not because of how she was dressed, but more because she was seeing Gemma again for the first time in nearly a decade. It may have been ten years, but her body still remembered what they’d done the last time they hadmet and how badly Rory had treated Gemma. She hoped Gemma had forgiven her after all this time.
A taxi appeared in the distance and Rory stood back into the shadows of the shelter nearby, not only because she didn’t want to appear sweaty in front of Gemma when they first saw each other, but because she just wanted a few seconds to herself to see her friend and previous lover before talking to her. The night they had shared had been seared into Rory’s brain ever since as one of her biggest fuck-ups. Gemma was a family friend. Their fathers were best friends, and their mothers were like sisters. They had grown up together and shared several family holidays. Rory had not thought of Gemma as anything other than a friend until that night. She sighed and tried to shake the memory off, but the vision of Gemma naked, writhing beneath her, was seared into her brain.
Rory had been home from university for a friend’s birthday, and Gemma had been there. At just 18, she was blossoming into a woman. Rory, who had been hurting from an argument with her girlfriend of the time and fuelled by too much alcohol, had succumbed to Gemma’s charms. They’d found a spare room at their friend’s house and had spent several happy hours discovering each other’s bodies in a way Rory had never thought she would. Shame and regret at her actions in the sober light of day had led Rory to scribble a note explaining that she had to get back to her girlfriend and exams, and dash away.
In the ensuing weeks, months and years, the shame faded and the regret at what she had done turned into regret for not pulling Gemma closer to her and staying with her. She had kept in touch with what Gemma was up to through their parents over the years, and they had connected on Facebook and Instagram like so many of their schoolfriends. But this was the first time that she would see her in the flesh. Rory hoped they could become friends again. She had isolated herself in work for so long that she had few friends to count on and even fewer queer friends.
Rory had gathered from Facebook and Instagram that Gemma was living as an out, proud lesbian, and Rory envied her seemingly carefree lifestyle. Her posts, which Rory had obsessively consumed one night whilst nursing a large whisky, were full of parties and fun and women. Since graduating university, Rory had thrown herself into work and climbing the corporate ladder and had emerged at 31 with a decent house and a great job, but few friends and a vapid and vain fiancée who she had nothing in common with.
When Gemma emerged from the taxi, Rory stopped breathing for a moment. Gemma was stunning. The beautiful girl she had grown up with had become the most stunning woman she’d ever seen, and she had to take a moment to compose herself. The black dress clung to her like a second skin but left her shoulders bare. It flowed to the floor, but as Gemma moved, Rory could see that it had a slit up to mid-thigh, and a part of her brain imploded and left her mouth dry. The high heels she wore gave her poise and an elegance the gawky teenager that Rory remembered never had. A flash of desire washed over Rory and settled in her groin, and she could only imagine what Gemma’s ass looked like with those heels propping her up. Her breasts were fuller than Rory remembered, or were they just packaged up to look as delicious as they did? Rory didn’t care, and her heartbeat thudded in her ears as she took in the vision that stood in front of her. How stupid she had been to have let this amazing woman slip through her fingers. Realising her hand was trembling, she shoved it into a pocket and willed her body to move towards Gemma. She pulledon her boardroom persona and wrapped it around herself and tried to saunter nonchalantly towards Gemma. She was pleased that she could talk to Gemma without too much of a wobble in her voice and took her bag, not only to be helpful but also to give her something to occupy her hands.
She wasn’t sure what had prompted her to offer her arm to Gemma. Some part of her was trying to be the perfect gentleman/gentlewoman or however she saw herself, but another part of her wanted to have her close. Gemma’s mother had hinted that Gemma was single again, and Rory couldn’t help wanting to have her by her side, as if to ward off any potential suitors, even if it was only for the evening.
The walk through the gardens was blissful torture, and Rory tried to distract herself from gathering Gemma in her arms by babbling on about subjects of no consequence as they walked. More than a few heads turned towards them, and Rory knew it had less to do with her being a woman in a suit and everything to do with the stunning woman who was threatening her blood pressure.
They approached the table where the family was setting up the picnic for dinner. There were still two hours to go before the opera started, but it was obvious that both families were looking to enjoy the evening as much as possible. The grounds of the opera house were nestled into the lush, green hills outside Larchester and there was a gentle but excited buzz that rumbled around them as friends and families set up their own picnics and enjoyed the warm late spring sunshine after a few days of rain. In the distance, the pop of a champagne cork pierced the air. Rory navigated them over to the families and took in the sight before her. Her maternal grandmother Phyllis and Gemma’s paternal grandmother Mary sat under the shadow of a nearby tree, each holding a drink, which Rory guessed was gin and tonic, and chatted toeach other like old friends who had been apart for months, even though they were close friends who spoke every day. Their fathers, Peter and George, positioned and repositioned the chairs around the large wooden table that had been set up for them. Most people brought their own picnic furniture, but Rory’s mother had booked both the picnic and the furniture from the venue so that they could travel by taxi, and everyone could enjoy a drink if they wanted. Rory could see from a distance how the mothers were organising their husbands, and she felt a wave of nostalgia for all the various holidays that they had shared over the years with the families behaving exactly as they were now. As they got closer, Rory could see Gemma’s grandmother smile and exclaim loudly.
“Oh, here they are!” Mary clasped her hands together and poked her friend.
“Oh, my dear, what a sight!” Phyllis stood as quickly as her body would allow and pulled Mary from her chair. Over the years, the older women had become close friends, and since their husbands had died, they were an inseparable and slightly lethal duo. Rory had suggested more than once that the older women could save a huge amount on phone calls and taxis if they got adjoining houses or even shared a house, but Phyllis was happy in her penthouse flat, and Mary had moved in with Gemma’s parents and was happily situated.
“Oh, you two make a lovely couple,” Mary declared. “George,” she poked her son in the shoulder, “take a picture of the girls.”
Both Rory and Gemma were only children, and the only grandchildren that Mary and Phyllis had, so they were naturally the apples of their respective grandparents’ eyes and the topic of many conversations between the two.
Rory put Gemma’s bag down next to the table and watched fondly as Gemma greeted first her own family and then Rory’s parents and grandmother. After they exchanged pleasantries and greetings, Mary again poked her son in the arm and demanded that he take pictures of Rory and Gemma together.
“Can you believe they are so grown up?” Amanda, Rory’s mother, looked almost dewy-eyed at the sight.
“I know, our babies are now lovely young women.” Isabelle, Gemma’s mother, agreed.
“No, no, no Aurora!” Phyllis snapped at her granddaughter. “You are standing as if you’re waiting to go into court!” Phyllis rushed forward and pulled the girls into position. “Stand here by this tree. The light is better, and Aurora, put your arm around Gemma.”
Rory found herself pushed into position and before she could think about it, her arm was around Gemma’s bare shoulder and Gemma’s arm was around Rory’s waist. Despite the years that had passed, they came together naturally, and Rory couldn’t help the smile that broke out at the feeling of the younger woman pressed against her again. Any thought that she might not be attracted to Gemma wilted in the heat of the sun and the feeling of Gemma’s body pressed against hers.
Rory heard the grandmothers oohing and aahing at the sight of their respective granddaughters grown up. Over time, they had watched both granddaughters mature, and because of the welcoming nature of both families, Gemma and Rory often felt like they had an additional set of grandparents. Despite having seen each grandmother many times over the past decade, this was the first time in ten years that Rory and Gemma were together, and of course, the parentsand grandmothers took every advantage of them both being in one place together.
“You two certainly make a very good-looking couple,” Mary commented as her son was taking pictures.
“Yes, indeed.” Phyllis agreed. “You look wonderful together.”
“George, you are to send me that picture,” Mary commanded.
“Yes, me too.” Phyllis said. “I have a space on my wall where your engagement picture was, and this will fill it nicely.”
“I wondered where that had gone?” Mary turned to her friend. “Why have you taken it down?”
“I’m not having a picture of the tramp who broke my granddaughter’s heart up on my wall!” Phyllis spat out.
“She didn’t break my heart Granny.” Rory felt she needed to defend her ex. “We decided we were not a good match.” Shoving her hands into the pockets of her trousers, she rocked on her heels slightly. Every reason for their breakup ran through her head, and she considered what she should tell her family. She thought about all the times she’d slept away from Darcy as she couldn’t bear the way Darcy looked at her. She thought of the manipulative ways in which Darcy tried to force her into being someone she wasn’t. There was so much she couldn’t share with her family right now. She knew she was hiding a lot from them, but it was exhausting, and for now, she wanted to be just Rory, safe in her family and getting to know Gemma again. This was a second chance with her former best friend, and she didn’t want to fuck it up. She took a breath and explained to her family.
“It was simply that Darcy and I saw our married life a bit differently.”
3
