Page 35

Nicola opened her eyes. The room filled with bright sunshine, and Geeta lay sleeping in her arms. She looked down at her relaxed face, breathing slow against her chest, the humidity ebbing cooler when Geeta inhaled then soothing warm.

Nicola didn’t ever want to move.

At the same time, she wanted to stroke an admiring finger around the appealing curve of her cheek and down the proud line of her nose. She must have twitched, because Geeta’s weight, snug against her, altered and breathing turned conscious of itself.

“Morning,” she murmured, trying to catch Geeta’s wakening gaze.

Sleepy eyes, a growing smile. Oh, that got her.

Could Geeta feel Nicola's heart thudding beneath her palm, because it felt like it might burst from her chest.

“I always seem to wake up with a boob in my hand lately,” Geeta said, her voice breaking with first morning words.

“And?”

“No complaints.” Geeta beamed. “I can’t stop looking at you.”

“And I don’t want you to stop,” Nicola murmured.

Geeta grinned and placed a finger on her chin. “Good to hear that sexy purr back.”

She opened her mouth to question that description.

“No complaints about that either,” Geeta stopped her.

Then the finger trailed down the side of her neck, explored her cleavage, then circled her breasts so that a tickle fluttered inside.

“It’s funny,” Geeta said. “I still feel I shouldn’t be looking at you.”

“You're allowed to like breasts.”

Oh. She did purr. She heard it now. She shuffled, wanting to see Geeta better, and stroked her hand along Geeta’s shape.

“I’m going to admire yours with no guilt whatsoever,” Nicola said, letting her gaze wander over Geeta’s beautiful curves.

“You know,” she shuffled lower again to look Geeta in the eye. “I was brought up in an environment that said women shouldn’t acknowledge, enjoy or have any agency when it came to sex. That breasts were for men to stare at, and women to take the blame for. And any admiration or respect for oneself, or another woman, was abhorrent. And I am done with that,” she said emphatically. “We’re sexual people, attracted to each other, and enjoying each other’s bodies. So, you stare at my boobs as much as you want.”

Geeta grinned. And stared. “I love your boobs.”

Nicola rolled closer, their bodies touching. “I love your boobs too.”

Geeta giggled, her soft tummy jostling against Nicola’s.

“Do you also like my wobbly belly?” she challenged.

“I adore your wobbly belly,” Nicola purred. “Especially when it wobbles against mine.”

Geeta laughed and her belly wobbled. And so did Nicola’s. And they fell apart with laughter.

Then she stilled.

Was that a door downstairs?

Geeta stiffened, hearing it too.

A key rattled in a lock, the sound of outside with birds and village life came indoors, accompanied by someone who wasn't Geeta or Nicola.

“It’s only me,” called out.

Geeta’s eyes shot huge. “That’s my mother!” Then she frowned, confused. “She doesn’t have yoga... What the heck?”

Geeta shuffled off the bed and started dressing. “I know we said this was a thing...”

“...But I’m not ready to be found naked in bed by your mother,” Nicola finished, leaping up.

Another call emanated from downstairs. “Olivia will be here in a minute.”

“Or, for that matter,” Nicola tilted her head, “your daughter.”

Geeta snorted and slapped a hand over her mouth.

“I can see why you're so damned successful,” Geeta whispered between her fingers. Then she pointed. “That's some steady nerve right there.”

Nicola grinned, because she didn’t have the audacity to laugh out loud. She had her limits. She pulled up her trousers.

“What’s the best way for me to get out?”

“Do you fancy shinning down a drainpipe?” Geeta suggested with a heavy pinch of irony.

“Not really, but I will if I have to.”

Geeta laughed, then covered her mouth again.

“You are...” And Geeta shook her head, while also eyeing Nicola, lingering on her naked chest.

Nicola responded in kind, appreciating Geeta with wandering eyes too.

“Enough.” Geeta smirked and she pulled on T-shirt and shorts. “I’ll draw her into the kitchen, so you can sneak out the front door.”

And with one last gorgeous look back, Geeta dashed out of the room.

“Maa!” Geeta said, from below. “What are you doing here?”

Then they switched into Punjabi, and their voices receded further into the house.

Nicola paused. Listened. And padded down the stairs and leant round the bannister. Satinder ambled into the far reaches of the main room, while Geeta stood in the kitchen doorway, a hand behind her back, waving her on.

Good. All clear.

But as soon as she reached the front door, shapes appeared through the frosted glass. Uh oh. And the doorbell rang loudly in her face.

She glanced back at an alarmed Geeta.

“Maa...” Geeta cried out. “Erm...you sit in the lounge, and I’ll get that.”

Geeta bundled her mother across the end of the hallway into the other room. Then scurried towards Nicola in her T-shirt and shorts, holding her braless breasts with both hands.

Nicola licked her lips.

“Stop it,” Geeta whispered. “This is not the time.”

“Sorry.”

“Go out the backdoor,” Geeta held her arm. “Turn left. Around the extension, and out the side gate.”

“Understood.” Nicola grinned. She wanted to sweep Geeta up and kiss her all over.

She grabbed her shoes. Strode along the hall. Quietly held her breath as she tip-toed past the lounge where Satinder sat. Tense and achingly slowly, she opened the sliding doors. No time for socks. Slipping on shoes, she darted down the side passage. And there she waited by the tall, narrow side gate.

Hmmm. Voices. Olivia perhaps? And a child? Oh, and a teen she realised, as a deep voice said something.

Geeta’s voice rang out. “You must come in, Bea,” she said lightly. “Come and play in the garden rather than the gravel.”

Nicola heard the gentle pressure in Geeta's voice, and she couldn’t help smiling. What were they doing? Sneaking about like teens when they had grandchildren running around? She wouldn’t change this for the world.

“That’s right, everybody in now,” Geeta said louder than necessary, so it would carry to Nicola.

And a door clicked to.

Right. Now she could escape. The gate squeaked open with a push, and she gently pulled it closed. Carefully, on tiptoes, across the gravel drive that shifted and crunched beneath her feet. Almost within reach of the large gate. Almost at the lane.

A creak of a door behind froze her to the spot.

“Hello?” said a calm older voice. One that sounded a little amused.

Shit.

Nicola dropped her shoulders, stood straight, and swivelled round on her heel.

“Goodness,” she exclaimed. “Satinder!” Again. “What a surprise. How lovely to see you.”

Satinder tilted her head. “And you!” she drew out. “Are you calling for Geeta?”

“Yes?”

Nicola supposed she better had. There weren't a lot of options here.

“Were you about to...walk away?” the older woman asked, raising her eyebrows casually.

“Geeta must have missed me knocking on the door.”

A slow, rising grin lifted Satinder’s face. “I’m glad I caught you then.”

“So glad.”

“Come in, come in.” Satinder gleefully beckoned. “The house is full, but my daughter wouldn't keep anyone waiting on the doorstep. You know how welcoming she is.”

Satinder pulled her inside, and closed the door, and Nicola found herself right back at square one, at the bottom of the stairs.

“OK,” she sighed, and strode along the familiar hallway after Satinder.

When they reached the kitchen, Geeta turned to face her mother with a cup of tea, and when she spotted Nicola, almost dropped the mug on the floor.

“What the heck?” Geeta spluttered.

“I found Nicola Albright at the door,” Satinder said, way too lightly. “I remember you telling me she was a neighbour now.”

“Hello neighbour,” Nicola said, deadpan.

Geeta rolled her eyes in despair.

Nicola mouthed behind Satinder's back, “Well, what else could I do?” And shrugged.

“So.” Satinder swung round, to give Nicola her full attention. “Are you calling for a cup of sugar?” A raised eyebrow. A pointed look.

Nicola opened her mouth. So did Geeta.

“I...” She failed to think of a single use for sugar. She didn’t have it in tea. Or coffee. Or any breakfast.

“Are you baking a cake perhaps?” Satinder suggested.

Interesting. That would never have occurred to her. She possibly last baked a cake in what her barrister-pupil terrifyingly referred to as the 1900s.

“Well, yes,” she tried. “And I’ve been caught right out.”

Not having kept baking material in her cottage ever.

“Okaaay,” Satinder said, shifting to get a mug from a high cupboard and opening a pot of sugar next to tins of tea.

“OK,” Nicola replied.

“Are you having family to visit too?” Satinder smiled sweetly, as she poured.

“No?”

Wrong answer.

“Just a cake for yourself?!” Satinder drew in breath with exaggerated disbelief.

“Perhaps my next-door neighbours will like some.”

“Then you must bring it round here too! We all love cake.” Satinder grinned.

“...” came from Nicola.

Utter disbelief came from Geeta, who stood behind Satinder and threw her hands in the air.

“I shall,” Nicola nodded, considering, “see if I have any left.”

There, situation handled. Not exactly her best work, and way below her performance in high-pressure court cases. But not catastrophic. Accompanied to the front door, Nicola waved goodbye to an ecstatic Satinder, marginally happy the situation was under control.

Except Nicola Albright KC found herself standing in the middle of the lane, socks sticking out of trouser pockets, holding a random cup of sugar, in a relationship with a woman. And apparently that woman’s mother had expectations of her.

“Right,” she said to herself. She lifted her chin and breathed in through her nose. “How the hell do I make a cake?”

So, she resorted to something she hadn't done in a long time – asked for help from her mum. She phoned up for a recipe, because this called for a proper cake. And her mother would talk on and on about every time Nicola had made it as a girl, not appreciating the urgency of the situation, then regale her with stories and legend of the recipe being passed down through the family.

But it was worth it.

Because Nicola wanted to impress a girl and her family.