‘Hey, I amnota 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 silentthank 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 atvarious 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’rethe 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?’
