Page 39 of Discovering Nicola (Oxford Romances #3)

Under dark clouds that burst through with late September sunlight, Magdalen college glowed its richest. Nicola waited for Charlotte outside the porter’s lodge. A few tourists nosed inside, but it was quieter now the year dipped into autumn and the undergraduates remained on holiday.

In a brief message exchange, Charlotte had rejected lunch and suggested a walk outdoors, and Nicola’s mind immediately turned to the large college grounds.

She had so many memories of this place. Arriving confident as Nicki Ruggieri, matriculating at Oxford like she deserved and full of ambition and expectation. Graduating three years later with a first, her father standing rigid and tall, her mother everywhere, loud and joyful. Marriage in the chapel, the Cloisters Court filled with flowers and confetti, and the laughter of their university friends returned for their young wedding. Two decades later, with fewer smiles and Bryony matriculating at the same college. Still proud. Still clinging to expectations, though by the tips of her fingernails.

Nicola still confidently walked the courts as a Silk, head held high, knowing she was the best. Nicola Albright KC was undiminished in that arena. But here, waiting to face her youngest, the pride wore thin and old expectations distant.

She waited beneath the gargoyles that decorated the outer college wall, the grim and grotesque looking down and mocking her today. All those years she dismissed Charlotte, brushing aside the mentions of girlfriends, of being a lesbian, queer, for Nicola to find herself besotted by a woman.

Where to start? Nicola readied herself, willing to do anything but lose, because that meant her daughter walking away and never speaking to her again.

She pulled her camel coat tighter.

There. Charlotte walked across Magdalen Bridge from a bus stop. She wore a maternity dress beneath her long coat today, baby and bump growing fast at this stage.

She opened her mouth. “Darling!” she projected towards Charlotte.

A subdued smile twitched at Charlotte’s lips, eyes worrying, cheeks pink in the fresh air.

“Hi, Mum,” she said quietly.

“Shall we?” Nicola gestured into the lodge. She flashed her alumni card, and they strolled into the quad.

“What do you fancy?” Nicola said, holding her chin high. “A wander around the deer park?”

Charlotte not so much hesitated with indecision, more thoughtfully assessed today. “How about the Water Meadow?”

Quieter. Away from people. Is that why Charlotte chose it? Anticipating an unpleasant conversation?

“Of course. Are you feeling up to that?”

Charlotte nodded. “Actually, I’m the best I’ve been for months.” And she looked her in the eye.

So many thoughts converged on Nicola with a focus that Charlotte sometimes achieved, when a quiet confidence and resilience descended, and she became her most acute. It was how Nicola had heard clients describe Charlotte. And now that clarity and precision targeted Nicola. Strange that her messy youngest would be the one to put her under pressure.

She’d seen the same conviction when Charlotte announced she’d applied to St Hilda’s, after Nicola spent months introducing her to fellows at Magdalen and paving the way for her application. Charlotte had objected from time to time, but Nicola countered every objection thoroughly. Then her daughter filled in the form with St Hilda’s as first choice. And that was that.

“Come on then,” Nicola said, striding forwards and Charlotte matched her step with a cool distance between them.

They strolled through the cloisters, out into the green manicured space in front of the old New Building. Through ornate iron gates, over the bridge to the meadow, which rolled into the distance in rough, long grasses and trees.

Of course, Charlotte preferred this space, always drawn to the bucolic, like her tiny terrace cottage with the nature reserve over the fence.

They turned left along the path of Addison’s Walk around the meadow, leaving the college buildings behind. Beyond earshot now, they could talk, if they wanted. They strode beneath trees, the leaves edging from deep greens into yellows. Neither of them spoke yet, the distance between them thick with issues. Then:

“I know why you don’t want me to have a baby with Millie.”

Charlotte murmured so quiet, Nicola almost didn't hear it. She flinched, but they continued strolling. She hadn’t expected Charlotte to be the one to start conversation.

“Charlotte...” she began.

Nicola wanted to say that she was changing. That it wasn't what Charlotte thought. That of course Millie was her soul mate.

But Charlotte interrupted.

“You look at me sometimes like I’m a walking disaster.” Charlotte paused and stared her straight in the eye. “And it hurts.”

That landed. And so it should. Nicola felt the truth and guilt of it, and it halted her in the middle of the path.

Her daughter faced her, almost calm, with powerful undercurrents of sadness hinting in her eyes. So often Charlotte remained quiet and withdrawn, or burst out and wore her heart on her sleeve. But this time, Nicola saw strong walls of control holding everything back.

“Darling, that’s not–”

“It hurts, because it’s true,” Charlotte stopped her.

Nicola met her gaze, but not with conviction.

“It’s true that you think it,” Charlotte said quietly, though Nicola didn’t mistake that for weakness. “You’ve always found me lacking and frustrating. I don’t even walk like you and Bryony, as if you both own the world.”

“People follow confidence, darling. That’s all I ever wanted for–”

“I can’t think on my feet with that...that...unyielding conviction of yours.”

“But you’ve carved yourself a niche–”

“Mum!” Charlotte closed her eyes. “I need you to listen, please.” She opened eyes that pleaded with an angry sadness. “I can’t compete with you. You’ll distract me and bend the conversation another way.”

That landed too. It wasn’t the time for barrister sophistry. She nodded for her daughter to go on.

“I don’t want you to deny it. You look at me as if I’m incompetent.”

Nicola did. And she didn’t deny it. And though she wanted, so much, for Charlotte to be better, she didn't want her shamed either. It was hard looking at her daughter, with eyes burning, seeing what she’d done to Charlotte her whole life.

Then Charlotte breathed in. “Because sometimes, I am incompetent.”

Nicola opened her mouth instinctively to dismiss it. Silly really, given how many years she’d driven it home. And Charlotte put up a hand to stop her.

A quiet descended and Charlotte glanced away a moment to collect herself.

“I’m not like you,” she said. “I can’t meet your measures of competency. I can’t keep all the plates spinning and be brilliant at my job. That doesn’t mean I’m useless. I need a different approach. And sometimes, yes, that means I can’t do something. And other times, I excel. But please...” she lifted both hands to plead. “Stop expecting me to do everything the same way as you.”

Nicola tensed. Another truth. Because she’d wished for years that Charlotte would take the easy path and follow her method and advice.

“And I’m also not Dad,” Charlotte added, with harder conviction. “I know you recognise the similarities. I see the dread on your face.”

Again it landed. And so accurately too.

This was the thing. Charlotte, so oblivious sometimes, could see right through you. It was one of the issues that frustrated Nicola – her daughter brilliant one moment, then confounding the next. Why couldn't Charlotte just pull herself together? Be consistent. Over the years, Nicola wondered at all her potential, those glimmers of brilliance. It was like Charlotte switched from being one person to someone entirely different. Like Daniel flipped from negligent to astonishing.

“You can both be so brilliant though,” Nicola started.

“Mum!” Frustration this time. “I have ADHD. I’m never going to achieve what you do, in the same way. I've tried all my life. And that has been the biggest disaster.”

What?

Nicola physically took a step back.

What was she talking about?

“I need you to stop insisting I copy you,” Charlotte said. “It just won't work for me.”

What the hell was she talking about? She stared at her daughter, but she didn’t dismiss it straight away. Not like she’d dismissed Charlotte's queerness.

“Please listen, Mum...even though this might not come out right first time.”

Charlotte’s eyes dipped and the shame that pinked her cheeks crushed Nicola’s heart. Yes, she did have one. Yes, it broke when her daughter struggled, especially when she’d contributed to it.

Charlotte breathed in. “I’ve spent too much of my life either anxious or burned out. But returning to Oxford, and finding Millie again, and understanding myself better, I'm finally getting some traction, where I don’t slip back.”

Nicola stayed silent and listened.

“It always felt like I was in one of those dreams.” A frown dipped Charlotte’s eyebrows. “You know, where I’m trying to run and can’t get anywhere. I’m running on ice and slipping, whereas everyone else seems to have magic shoes that grip. But now, I’m finding ways that help me walk on that ice. So please don’t undermine that.”

Nicola knew a little about ADHD. The inattentiveness, or the fast motor of hyperactivity, or both, external and internal. The crashes. The creativity and energy. The time blindness and disorganisation. She’d heard more about it in recent years, and how it went underdiagnosed in women who often internalised symptoms, their minds whirring instead of physically climbing the walls. That didn't surprise her, with medicine treating women as an afterthought and a minor speciality. But in Charlotte? Was that what happened inside her head – in that brain that could be so clever? Was it turning over constantly and not always directed where she or Nicola wanted?

“I knew I could be intelligent,” Charlotte said, waving her hands to emphasise what she explained. “But it felt like everything had to line up magically first. Then as soon as I even blinked, and didn't put in one hundred percent, I seemed to be stupid again. Even though...” Charlotte laughed quietly, sadly, “even though I got into Oxford. Every time I did well, I assumed it was a fluke and remained stupid underneath. But I’ve realised that inattention makes a huge difference for me. And I’m learning to recognise what helps me with that.”

That nipped at Nicola guiltily, because she’d sometimes wondered the same.

“Things that motivate you, don’t work for me.” Charlotte held a hand to her chest. “I can’t just push through if my energy’s slumped. I need things that light up my brain again. All my life, I relied on panic and shame, then last-minute hyperfocus for exams, but that left me exhausted. It’s why I always fell back after big achievements. But being genuinely interested in work keeps my attention in a healthy way. Having Millie sit alongside helps, even if she’s reading a book. Even something as simple as having a bowl of strawberries before I start a standard contract can give me a kick to get going. And I'm finding more and more ways that suit my mind.”

Everything about Charlotte lifted as she spoke, as if she grew taller and shone. Nicola saw Charlotte at her strongest and most hopeful. It was energy that she’d seen lift a whole room and spread happiness. She and Daniel both had that gift. Then it was like a cloud passed over.

“It’s why I was always so forgetful.” Charlotte's whole demeanour sank. “And why you constantly thought I wasn’t listening. I did try, but sometimes I didn’t even realise you were talking.” Her eyebrows shot up in despair. “I know it drove you bonkers.”

It did. In both Daniel and Charlotte. All the times she gave them reminders. The bins, the homework, the deadlines. Over and over. And they didn’t even listen when she talked, as if bored, and then they forgot again. It was like torture. Worse, because she knew Charlotte wasn’t mean, so why the hell did she do that to her?

Charlotte shuffled, looking at the floor, her hand resting on her tummy for comfort.

“I’m oblivious sometimes, because I miss things through distraction, then I say something stupid. And when I was younger, I got so afraid of saying the wrong thing I clammed up...And then...”

“I’d tell you to speak up,” Nicola murmured, the chill settling deeper inside.

“...Yes.”

Nicola remained quiet, realising she spoke over her.

“Then my panic attacks started, probably made worse because my emotional regulation isn’t always the best.” She smiled up at her, shy.

Was that why every emotion seemed so huge in Charlotte? Why everything was written on her face, her sunshine smile included.

“Actually, since understanding better how I work, I’ve relaxed and,” Charlotte laughed quietly, “I still mess up, but I take it in my stride. Because usually it’s a little mistake I can laugh about. And some people think I’m clumsier and goofier than ever, but at least I’m not wound tight. Because I make even more mistakes when I’m paralysed with worry. So...”

Charlotte’s eyebrows rose, pleading. “I know it might not seem it to you, but I’m in more control of my life than I’ve ever been.”

Realisation sank deeper for Nicola. Like someone passed her a pair of glasses and told her to look again, a framework of knowledge bringing the past into sharp relief.

The brilliance. The excitement. The charm. The despair. The chaos. Then the rise again. And again and again.

Charlotte talked on and Nicola followed, while her heart thudded and her mind ticked over and over.

Craving novelty. Excelling one moment, tiring of everything the next. The effusive big heart and energy, then leaving Nicola isolated, as if he was bored. The understanding bleeding in, the awakening excruciating.

“Does Daniel have it?” she blurted. “Does Daniel have ADHD?”

Silence met the outburst, and she looked up at Charlotte. Her daughter blushed, suddenly coy.

“I think he does,” Charlotte whispered.

Silence fell again, and the pause felt as long as the decades she’d endured.

All those years. All those bloody years of chasing every single thing. Was this the reason? Oh my god, was this why? It was crushing. And now Charlotte wanted children.

“I’m not the same as Dad.” A defiant hurt glistened in Charlotte's eyes.

Yes, her girl read people perfectly when she was paying attention, didn’t she. Saw right through Nicola now.

“I’m not the same as Dad was . He isn’t even the same person. I think he’s accommodated himself over the years. He’s found strategies on his own, especially when he started a creative and flexible career that suited him.”

“Ha!”

No. Nicola dismissed that. Like hell. She turned away, but Charlotte caught her arm.

“You wind each other up.” Charlotte’s voice pitched upset, and she stepped closer and desperate. “You bring out the worst in each other now and lapse into old habits.”

Ouch again. That Charlotte knew those old habits, and that she recognised them falling into the same ruts. Nicola couldn’t look her in the eye.

Then quieter Charlotte added, while letting go of her arm, “He’s acknowledged he isn't the most reliable sometimes. And his wife understands.”

So his new wife apparently understood. It still punched her in the gut. And she wouldn't look at her daughter.

“I think he’s learned what works for him,” Charlotte said urgently. “That he needs the highs of writing articles. And has accepted he forgets more than others. But the difference is he faces it and tries to find a way that works for him. And he still forgets sometimes, but he apologises and they move on, rather than letting it build up in resentment.”

“He never apologised to me,” Nicola spat.

“I think he maybe...” And out of the corner of her eye, she caught Charlotte’s cheeks pink, reticent again, “...he couldn't handle it. I think criticism hits him hard. Because when you know you’ve messed up, and beat yourself up about it, and others do too, and it happens for a lifetime, it adds up and you can't cope. I wish...I wish I'd realised that about myself. That I take things hard sometimes. I might have made fewer mistakes in the past. Maybe I wouldn't have said hurtful things to Millie when we were friends. I wish...I wish I’d known sooner.”

She drifted, and Nicola finally looked up to see her daughter spiral in despair.

“I wish so hard sometimes...” And Charlotte drifted.

And everything weighed too heavy for Nicola to say anything.

“So...” Charlotte came to, as if slowly grasping where she was. “Dad copes better. And the good bits, they’re all still there.”

Nicola shook her head, too bitter to see any good in Daniel.

“Please, Mum.” It was quiet. Tiny. “Please give him some credit. Because it gives me hope.”

Nicola snapped up her head. Real fear strained her daughter’s eyes.

“But you aren’t like him,” Nicola gasped.

“I am. And I’m not. We have a lot in common. But I am a different person, Mum. From you and Dad. And I need you to see that now.”

Charlotte begged her. And she shouldn't have to. Who the hell was Nicola to demand that, when she hadn’t admitted who she was.

“Stop pressuring me to make partner,” Charlotte said. “I’m lucky I’ve found a job I love and keeps me interested. I don’t want to hyperfocus then burnout trying to climb the next rung of the ladder. I want a four-day week. And, yes, it’s tight even on a good wage, but I want to spend time with Bean and Millie. I want balance and meaningful things. And I think we'll cope with that and be happy.”

So, her daughter learned that quicker than her. Though their situations weren't the same. Nicola had to breathe in and look away.

By the time she had a choice, no-one at home loved her anymore – the woman who nagged her husband and was exhausted from work and chores. Career became the best part of her life, the clients, relieved and grateful for her steady and excellent counsel, sometimes the only source of warmth.

“One thing though...” her daughter whispered. “The more I understand myself, the more I realise what you had to do with Dad.”

She whipped her head round to Charlotte. Guilt hung around her daughter, who blushed deep.

“I didn't realise growing up. I saw his smiles and his love. Bryony...” Charlotte looked down. “Bryony pulled me up on it. She reminded me how much you did behind the scenes. All the things he’d forget.” She paused. “And the things I forgot too.”

Nicola's eyes stung. She held her breath. It was a knockout blow that had her teetering. She stumbled back and sat down hard on a bench in a recess between trees, her daughter and the park swirling in her vision.

“Mum...” Charlotte whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t appreciate it.”

Like an arrow to her heart.

So, there it was. Some order in the chaos. Understanding at long last. For her and Charlotte. Why things were, and how things could have been. Nicola wanted to bawl her eyes out, and she dropped her head, hoping tears wouldn’t fall.

Then so quiet that she nearly missed it, but the words were huge, Charlotte said, “I know you’re seeing Geeta.”

Nicola closed her eyes.

Down and out.

She didn’t know how long she stayed silent, eyes closed and the past falling down about her. The Albright family – a careful edifice she’d shored up and put scaffolding around. She’d avoided looking at the foundations and what gnawed at them. Why Daniel lost interest. In her. In everything. Why Charlotte wouldn’t, in fact couldn't and shouldn’t, follow her advice. And now her own foundations were laid bare.

She tried to open her eyes, managing a heavy halfway. Charlotte sat down beside her. She felt the bench ease with her body more than saw her. Charlotte left a gap between them, but she wasn’t gone. Not yet.

The weight of thirty years descended, and she hardly moved.

“You brave girl,” Nicola gasped.

For coming out alone, when Charlotte knew no-one queer. For telling the family before leaving for college. For coming out at university. For facing Nicola then. For facing her now.

“I couldn’t have done what you did,” she whispered. “Coming out like that.”

A deathly quiet hung between them and she slowly turned her head, dreading what she’d find. An alien tension clung in Charlotte’s face, undercurrents swirling with a powerful depth to them, a lifetime of history between them.

“You brave, brave girl,” Nicola gasped.

“I wasn't though,” Charlotte said, choking on the words. “I didn’t know anyone queer. I’m not sure I’d have come out, except for Millie. She instantly and completely accepted me. Dragged me out to gay pubs. And called me a great big lesbian every day, so I got used to hearing it from a place of support, then faced it for myself.”

“But you came out to me before that. And I imagine, with my attitude at the time, it was...hard.”

An understatement.

Charlotte stared at her. “The hardest.”

There. Charlotte said it out loud. Yes, it had hurt like hell. And no, neither of them could dismiss it.

“I’m sorry.” She looked her daughter in the eye. “I have no excuse. It was prejudice and fear, plain and simple. I’m sorry I didn’t face it earlier.”

Charlotte gave the slightest nod. The alien tension dissipated beneath a flood of thoughts that overcame her face. Her very generous daughter’s face. Whose mind clearly tumbled with complex feelings right now.

“I know,” Charlotte started, “how not understanding something about yourself can mess things up. For you and others.”

And everything stung, exposed. So many things stripped back today. So many things that made sense now.

“I’m trying to let go of old expectations of myself,” Charlotte said quietly. “And finding new ones that work better, and asking others to as well.” Her hands clasped tight in her lap. “It’s fair that I try the same...for you too.”

And if Nicola didn’t feel defeated before, she did now. Her oblivious daughter showed more maturity, understanding and forgiveness than she’d ever expected, and more than she deserved.

Grief descended all over again. All these years of not understanding each other. All those years not understanding themselves. And more might become clear another time. With another framing. Another level of comprehension. But for now, it was devastating.

“How did you hear about me and...?” Nicola whispered, without looking at her.

“Millie suspected. She’s been dropping ludicrous hints.”

Of course it was Millie.

“I told her not to tell anyone else,” Charlotte said more gently.

Nicola nodded, grateful for that. Geeta didn’t want people knowing.

“How new is this for you?” Charlotte asked, stilted. “Or was it always there?”

“It’s taken me a while to understand. So, in a way yes, but no.”

Charlotte frowned, as if trying to comprehend. Raw too. So much hurt there. It wouldn’t surprise Nicola if she hated her soon. But her daughter still sat with her.

“Is this...? Are you serious...?” Charlotte stumbled with disbelief in her tone. “Are you serious about Geeta?”

“Yes, I am,” Nicola whispered.

“Really?” An edge of anger returned to Charlotte's voice. “I don’t want you to hurt her, Mum.”

Ouch. Her daughter worried more for Geeta.

“Hurt her?” Nicola asked. “Ha!” If only.

How absurd a possibility, when she was head over heels and helpless in the face of Geeta.

Well, she couldn't blame Charlotte for assuming her heartless. Nicola slumped back on the bench, open and vulnerable. She abandoned all defence, ready to take anything and everything.

“Go on,” she said. She may as well hear it today. “Why do you say that?”

“You...” Charlotte became more tentative. “You bulldoze through people, Mum.”

Yes, she did. At work and with the personal too. She’d done that.

She stared into the Water Meadow, utterly defeated. By her girl. By the past. By Geeta. Nothing left. It had taken decades, but it had happened. She was wide open now. No ploys or tricks or strategies left to turn to.

“I won’t with Geeta,” Nicola whispered. “I can promise you that. Because...” And it had an inevitability and finality that had her beaten. “I’m madly in love with her.”

Charlotte stared, her mouth motioning like speech, but no sound came out.

“There. That’s the truth of it.”

An impossible thing. But the truth.

“Really?” Charlotte whispered. “And her?”

Nicola sighed until all breath was gone. “I’m madly in love with her, while she...” And her understanding was complete. “While she is mainly mad at me.”

And she gazed into the meadows, with all the pieces of Nicola Albright blown apart.