Page 41

The last rays of sun warmed the loft bedroom in the late September evening. Geeta slipped on gold earrings and checked her reflection in the long mirror. She scooped a wave of black hair threaded with silver away from her face, letting the waves settle with a shake of her head to rest above her shoulders, liking the shorter style she’d adopted last year. She smoothed down her dark-teal tunic over matching bottoms, then slipped on a full-length kurta jacket and hooked up the top buttons. There, she looked elegant in the embroidered, fitted piece. But her reflection didn’t smile.

Geeta breathed in, seeing her preoccupation mirrored on her face.

She’d asked Nicola to stay away a few days, recognising that too much shifted beneath her feet. And Nicola had nodded and said, ‘of course’, with a gentleness and matter-of-fact assurance, as if nothing would perturb her, and she’d be there afterwards.

“Oh god,” Geeta breathed.

She covered her face with her hands. What was she doing?

It shocked her how Nicola had filled her life. An unlikely friendship and passionate adventure developing into more, the two so entwined in each other’s lives already, and tendrils growing between them binding tighter. It frightened her.

If she struck out an arm, she might pull herself to safety, but that window was closing fast.

All these months bickering and prodding at each other, intrigued by what lay beneath, and she’d been falling the whole time. Sexy, funny, vulnerable, opening up to Charlotte, Nicola had burst into her life with such vibrancy they’d hurtled to this point. They’d indulged in each other, with endless intoxicating surprises and now she found herself in deep.

What had she done?

Did she trust her own sense of Nicola? A woman so different from what she’d assumed. The barrister who strode everywhere, leaving others flailing in her wake and fleeing her path from sheer force of personality. Then the seductress who undressed Geeta with a purr. The one who said she was the most beautiful woman in the room, and kissed her forehead with gentle, steady lips, as if she poured love into the moment. Who held her to her breast while they talked into the night and slipped into step, whether they cooked, walked or laughed, all the while sparking and bickering but fluidly dancing on together. All somehow true.

Geeta padded downstairs, taking in her home, empty except for her again this evening. The hallway was painted a different colour since spring, but the walls remained void of pictures and she unsure of what should take their place.

A gentle knock on the door. She drew herself up.

***

Breath gone. Head full of stars. Bursting with awe.

Geeta was sometimes so beautiful it hurt to look at her, and longing pulled deep into her chest. And Geeta had never been so beautiful as this.

“I hope you know how stunning you are,” Nicola murmured. “But I’ll always tell you.”

Geeta stepped closer and gazed up into her eyes, expression careful and full of thoughts, like when she’d asked for a few days apart.

“Thank you,” Geeta said quietly. “And you...”

A small smile. And huge hope bloomed inside.

“...you look magnificent.” Then the smile turned knowing. “As I’m sure you're aware.”

A spark still between them. More hope. Nicola leapt on every sign with desperation.

“I’m glad you think so,” she said, not paying attention to her own long, black dress and gilded cape. She offered her hand. “Shall we?”

And Geeta took it, the clasp light and tentative, the situation between them precarious.

Nicola drove through the dusk, the car smooth and quiet on the roads, and Geeta silent. She parked in a Chambers reserved space on St Giles then opened the car door for Geeta.

She wanted to hold her hand while they walked, but Geeta remained a distance away that rejected familiarity. And that stung. Like the invite had, asking Nicola to this evening’s premiere because Kate had suggested it, rather than Geeta’s own idea. Heartbreak by a thousand small cuts.

They walked along Broad Street under streetlight, the grand area of the Sheldonian busy with limousines and security in black tie, and the Bodleian and Radcliffe Camera closed to the public for the event.

“Are you ready?” Nicola asked, as they hesitated in front of the stone columns of the Clarendon building.

Geeta nodded and stepped forward, and Nicola followed behind.

***

With their names checked off, Geeta strolled beneath the archway into the court. Then the glamour took hold.

“Oh, my goodness,” she said, placing hand over heart. “I hadn’t prepared myself for this.” She’d been too preoccupied by Nicola.

The stone building’s massive columns loomed above. The ornate library lit up in spotlights. The sea of stars shone in their evening sparkle, faces shockingly familiar from magazines and screen, all chatting in groups.

Geeta blinked. Unreal. Disorienting again. How did she find herself here?

Waiters swirled with trays of Champagne and juice. Lights flashed from photographers. Outside, a red carpet ran from New College Lane, beneath the Bridge of Sighs, through ornate gates and across the quad towards the Sheldonian. She spied Kate posing beneath the bridge with other actors, who peeled away under the lightening of press cameras and into the quad. She and Nicola must have entered by the guest entrance.

A waiter passed near, with a dip of the head and an offer of a tray of drinks.

“Oh,” she laughed. “Thank you.”

She took a glass of sparkling juice and automatically turned to pass it to Nicola, but found Nicola handing her Champagne from a waiter on the other side. Geeta hesitated and stared. Look at what they’d done, Nicola thinking of her first, and Geeta doing the same in return. She feared and delighted at these surprising moments.

She pursed her lips at Nicola. Tentative, she knew. And the returned smile hurt.

They carefully swapped glasses.

“Here,” Geeta whispered, and she raised the flute to chime Nicola’s.

Their eyes met, and the connection tugged at her chest, with Nicola's longing palpable across the space between them. She radiated need and Geeta’s resistance wavered, almost stepping into her arms.

“Nicola! Darling!” someone in black tie called out.

A man with a face that tickled at familiarity strode towards them.

“Eddie!” Nicola spun round with the same loud confidence. “How are you?”

The two shook hands, and Eddie didn’t let go. Nicola fell into conversation, the pair laughing together while Geeta hung distant.

Nicola slipped so easily into this. Tall, shoulders back, as if she belonged here more than the media and the celebrities.

Who was she? Which Nicola came tonight?

Nicola talked, dominating and fearless. When the moment before she’d pleaded vulnerable with her eyes, and Geeta nearly flung her arms around her shoulders and told her... Her heart cantered. Told her what? Because it was there, wasn’t it. Rising within her, strong and powerful, making her tremble at the edges.

“Mum?” came quietly beside her.

She turned to find Olivia, and she reached out without thinking to take her hand.

“My goodness, look at you!”

And Geeta meant that Olivia was beautiful in her long, black evening dress and embroidered kurta outer layer. But she also meant, ‘look at you here again’, grateful for her distant girl, who kept being there when Geeta turned around lately. Always showing up.

“I’m glad you’ve made it,” Olivia said, not taking away her hand. “Kate mentioned Nicola might come too.”

“Yes.” What to say? “Yes.” Was all.

Olivia peered over the crowd. “I’ve spotted her. She’s talking to a client from a couple of years ago.”

Geeta glanced over her shoulder, catching the tall lawyer, who blended with ease into the glamorous evening. “Of course. That makes sense.”

Nicola Albright KC, barrister of choice for A-list celebrities. That’s why she chatted so at home here.

“I thought...erm...he must be a friend or something of hers.”

It unsettled her, not knowing where Nicola stood with people – who was her circle, and who was an ex – when Geeta was feeling so much now.

A gentle smile flickered on her daughter’s face. What did Olivia see?

“He’s just a client.” Olivia dipped her head and spoke with quiet reassurance. “She has several here. She’s highly respected, especially by those she’s helped.”

Olivia gazed at her, waiting with expectation.

Geeta managed a slight nod.

“Not only respected,” Olivia added. “She’s appreciated by Kate and me.” Again the pause. “We like her very much.”

And Olivia waited for Geeta to say something.

Heart beating. Hot flush threatening. A chest full of feelings that might split her wide open.

“So,” Geeta refused to engage. She couldn't face this. “Who else do you know here?”

And Olivia nodded, acknowledging they moved on.

“So, erm,” Geeta started again. “Are you friends with any of these celebrities?”

“Of course,” Olivia replied.

Geeta laughed, out of relief and at her daughter's matter-of-fact response.

“The odd client,” Olivia explained, “and, although Kate doesn’t socialise often, she sometimes invites close friends home.”

Their worlds had changed so much this last year, Olivia in love with a high-profile actress and Geeta's decades-long marriage no more. Her head spun again. She clutched at Olivia for stability while trying to make sense of where she stood now.

“Isn’t that...?” Geeta pointed.

“Emma Richardson,” Olivia nodded nonchalantly, as if Geeta pointed out someone as everyday as the postman, not a grande dame of British film, startling with swept-back grey hair and silver gown.

Emma glanced towards them, then did a theatrical double take and strode over with a swagger.

“Oh my lord, Olivia, this beautiful woman must be your mother,” Emma projected. “Hello!” she shouted, then thrust out both hands to grab Geeta’s. “Kate said you might come this evening.”

“Hello,” Geeta replied with a laugh. “I’m Geeta. And this is a bit surreal.”

“Don’t worry, darling. It’s all perfectly ordinary.” Emma waved the notion away. “It’s just a big work bash for us. A bit more sparkly than average, but we kick off our heels and slump on the sofa with a bag of crisps when we get home, like everyone else.”

Geeta laughed again.

“Have to be quick. Work you see.” Emma rolled her eyes and flopped her head from side to side. “But I wanted to say hello to Olivia’s mother. It’s been a joy to see Kate so happy since meeting her.”

“Kate is lovely,” Geeta said, and her heart swelled, truly meaning it.

“Catch you later, darlings.” And Emma swirled away into the crowd.

And Geeta’s head kept spinning.

***

It really did hurt to look at Geeta. Nicola wanted to gaze at her all night and luxuriate in her dark eyes, the shape of her cheeks, the full lips, her figure, the elegance of her outfit tonight, and the smile when she laughed. Surrounded by stars, and Nicola didn’t see anything but her. Nicola melted and drifted to find herself back by Geeta’s side.

As soon as she joined her, Geeta's expression fell. God, that was the worst feeling in the world, being the cloud that shadowed Geeta’s day.

“We need to go inside,” Nicola said, her voice sore, keeping it smooth a harder challenge than any court case. “Let's take our seats before the cast come in.”

Geeta nodded and fell into step beside her, the distance between them guarded as if by barbed wire. She had to stop herself from clawing at it and ripping herself to shreds, desperate to tell Geeta how much she meant to her. The urge to reach out tugged at her arm. But she shouldn’t. Not here. Not when Geeta wasn’t ready.

They took their seats in the upper gallery, close to the ceiling fresco, the lower and circle seats reserved for the stars and immediate guests in front of a temporary screen.

She sat. Two hours taunted by the warmth of Geeta by her side. Two hours of wanting to reach out and hold her hand, fingers tingling with the need to touch her and connect. Sitting close to the woman she adored but sensing her drift further and further away.

Scenes of Oxford, from rural landscapes to the Botanic Gardens, blurred in her vision, but she barely took in the film. Her whole being yearned for Geeta. As if she told Geeta, with her mind, how much she adored her, and willed her to listen, to just please, for a moment, take her hand.

Lights flashed up, and she flinched with the sudden rush of brightness that exposed her to the world. Harsh applause rang out through the building and, blinking and blinking, she silently wandered after Geeta for post-showing celebrations outside. She didn’t tune into any of the chatter or media interviews around the court and, dazed, she trailed after Geeta.

This couldn’t be happening. Falling so hard, with only the ground to catch her. She could barely breathe.

“It was wonderful,” she half-heard Geeta.

“Thank you, darling, you are too kind,” came a familiar voice. “And who is this?”

She tuned into the innuendo and expectation in the tone. And when she looked up, she found Emma Richardson. The actor nodded, familiar with Nicola too. Emma wasn’t asking for her name.

“Erm.” Geeta hesitated. “This is my friend, Nicola.”

Friend . Her heart dropped.

“We’re neighbours,” Geeta added.

And all the warmth left her body.

Relegated to friend, then dropping to mere neighbour. The distancing couldn't be clearer.

“Of course she is,” Emma said, clearly spotting the chill and moving on like a pro. “Sorry, interviews to do,” she said pulling away.

But Nicola couldn't move. The slight cut too deep to recover.

She stood in the cool Oxford night, stars shining in the sky above and chattering to media down below. Everyone mixed and laughed and talked, except for her, standing rooted to the spot with Geeta in front of her, who turned away and refused to meet her eye.

Someone with a large camera passed by and Geeta stepped back to avoid them. And even as Geeta pressed into her space, Nicola didn’t move. She let Geeta step back into her. If it knocked her over, she didn’t care, because she was already falling inside.

Nowhere left to turn. No more options. Like she balanced on the tallest spire in Oxford with unfathomable drops all around.

She clutched Geeta’s arms and let her body collide into her chest, soft and cushioned, the warm contact a relief and anguish at the same time. She held Geeta there, cheek resting on her hair, the scent vivid and intimate. Comfort and torture all at once.

Nicola closed her eyes and her willpower collapsed.

“I don’t want to be your friend,” she gasped.

Everything inside plummeted. Because what else could she do now? What choice did she have?

“I’ll try,” she whispered, “if that’s what you want.” She gently squeezed her. “But I’m in love with you, and I don’t think I'll ever stop.”

Geeta’s breath quickened, the rise and fall of her body rapid beneath Nicola’s hands. But she didn’t turn.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured close to Geeta’s cheek, the darkness and crowd stopping her voice from carrying further. “But I am besotted and deeply in love with you.”

She swallowed.

“I can’t be your friend, Geeta. Not really. I will be cordial. Even good company. But honestly, I’d want to kiss you, and touch you, and love you, the whole time.”

The slightest turn of Geeta’s head, and her cheek stroked so soft against Nicola’s that her chest caved. She closed her eyes, appreciating that tender caress for what it was – possibly the last time she’d touch Geeta like this.

“I’ve been stuck on you for fifteen years,” Nicola whispered, the quiet words such a large confession. “I don’t think that can change now, not after everything we’ve done, and everything we’ve been to each other. Loving you, spending the nights together – I don't know how to lose that, while always wanting more. How do I go back to life before you, when I am changed and whole?” She swallowed. “I’ll never be sorry this happened. But I don’t know how to not be with you.”

She closed her eyes.

Because she’d jumped. And now she fell.