The bed shifted next to me, which woke me up, and it took a handful of seconds to realise where I was. The room was brightly lit, both by the white of the walls and by the sunlight streaming in; Fred had sheer curtains, which I hadn’t noticed the night before. I was facing away from her, and I took a quick glance towards the bedside table next to me in search of a clock. There wasn’t a clockface to be found, though there was a steaming mug. She settled down behind me, then, and kissed my bare shoulder one, two, three times before moving away.
‘I hope you’re a tea drinker,’ she said, as I pushed myself upright in bed next to her. I bunched the bedsheets up around my unmentionables – as though I had any left. ‘I took an educated guess and left the bag in until it stewed.’
I smiled as I reached around to grab the drink. ‘That’s exactly how I take my tea.’
‘You don’t have to be polite.’ She set her mug down and extended an arm out. ‘Fancy doing the cuddle thing?’ I didn’t answer, only moved a few inches closer and tucked myself into the space between her torso and her arm. She gasped. ‘Look at what a good fit you are.’
I laughed and, despite nerves, turned and set a kiss just beneath her collarbone. ‘Thank you.’
‘Jesus, after last night I should be thanking you.’ I half-laughed but half-cringed. God, it had been— ‘Seriously, Edi,’ she cut my thought off, ‘that was your first time?’
I looked up at her. ‘Are you going out of your way to be nice?’
She kissed my forehead and softly squeezed my shoulder too. ‘I don’t know whether anyone has ever told you this, but you’re actually quite easy to be nice to. Plus, I had a great time, Edi, seriously. And, Jesus, I remember the first time all too well. So first off, you smashed it straight out the gate, at the risk of sounding like a horny teenager there …’ I laughed at her comparison – even though that was exactly how I’d felt with her the night before. ‘Second off, you’re going to worry whether it was okay and whether you knew what you were doing. But you definitely did.’
‘God.’ The word came out in a groan. ‘Am I that desperate for reassurance?’
She moved away, then, and reached around to get her own mug. ‘Pre-emptive. Have the compliment, just in case.’ She sipped at her tea. I stole a glance across and saw that she took hers the same way I took mine. ‘I like a woman who knows what she wants, what she likes.’
Is that the type of woman I am?
‘Now, what do you want or what would you like for breakfast?’
At the mention of food my stomach growled like old machinery and we both laughed. ‘There’s so much leftover food in the kitchen.’
‘Mm. There were better things on offer. I’m not sending a woman home hungry though. Do you have a favourite place for breakfast?’
‘You mean, to go out or …’
‘You don’t want to be seen with me?’ She sounded playful, and from her profile I could see a growing smirk.
In the harsh sunlight of day, though, my horny teenager had been replaced by a desperately insecure one. ‘I was more worried, I mean … Do you want to be seen with me?’
‘Have you seen you?’ She turned around and set a kiss square on my mouth. ‘Who wouldn’t want to be seen with you? Raid my wardrobe for clothes, though, why don’t you? If I take you out for pancakes in that dress people will think we’re in a Pretty Woman situation.’
I laughed. ‘Are you saying I look like a sex worker?’
‘No.’ She upended the mug and drained it. ‘I’m saying you look like a leading lady.’
*
Fred styled my hair into the messy bun look that I’d come to associate with her. It was piled on top of my head with loose strands escaping and when she was finished she patted my shoulders – ‘Beautiful’ – and kissed the back of my neck. My back arched and she laughed, as though she’d expected the reaction. She handed me an oversized shirt and a belt to wear.
‘Ah, I don’t know if black tights will work,’ I said, slipping the shirt on. ‘Do you have leggings?’
She looked from my feet to my pelvis. ‘Don’t wear anything else.’
‘I …’ I rubbed at the back of my neck. ‘I don’t have the legs for that.’
‘For what?’
‘For not wearing tights.’
‘Sure you have legs.’ She was flicking through her wardrobe to find something for herself. Her bare back was facing me; the only thing covered was her bum, with a pair of patterned briefs. While I’d hidden myself in swathes of bedsheets, Fred had spent the last half an hour waltzing around the bedroom like she was there alone; naked and unashamed, and occasionally dancing to the Betty Who track that she’d put on repeat ‘to set the day up’. She wiggled her bum again, then, half-dancing but half-flipping through clothes still. ‘Edi, I can see where this is going,’ she carried on, still not facing me, ‘and take it from someone who spent a lot of time looking at your legs last night.’ She turned. ‘You’ve got the legs for anything.’
I didn’t argue, only blushed, buckled the belt up, and waited patiently on the edge of her bed while she tugged on cut-off jeans and a T-shirt with a small rainbow emblem on the upper right of it.
‘Ready, beautiful?’ She held out a hand for me to take. ‘Pancakes? Because Thom’s does a gorgeous pancake stack and after last night, with work this afternoon, I’m in a place for some carbohydrates. What do you say?’
I laughed. ‘I’m in.’
Everything about it somehow felt familiar – even though there was so much neither of us knew. Thom’s, it turned out, was a fifteen-minute walk away and the crisp air of the morning blew away any dreamy eyes and cobwebs left over from the night before. Fred spoke to me like I was someone who knew her life and the characters in it – ‘Then Mum and Dad moved, took the dog with them down to Devon one weekend and decided, actually …’ – so I tried to do the same with everything I told her. But there was a sticking point when I realised just how much of my life revolved around—
‘Should we call him Rowan or hubby?’ she interrupted a stream of information where I’d tried to disguise his importance – but I’d obviously failed quite dramatically.
‘Rowan will do.’
‘Just here, hon.’ She gestured across the street and grabbed my hand as we crossed the road. ‘So you and he have been together for …’
‘Ever,’ I finished her sentence.
We came to a stop outside the café. ‘But now you’re …’
‘Apparently sleeping with other people.’
She cocked an eyebrow as she reached for the door. ‘Well, good news for me. Maybe not such good news for him. You’re a bit of a catch, Edi.’
I opened my mouth to brush the compliment away.
‘It wasn’t a question,’ she cut me off. ‘Just a statement. Now, in you go. If we’re going to talk about your fiancé then I’m probably going to need more carbohydrates.’
Her tone was jovial and her smile as wide as it had been throughout the morning. There wasn’t a flicker of a sign that she was uncomfortable. But how can I know? I recycled the thought, sandwiched around flashbacks of all the times Rowan had been upset about something – and told me what it was three days later.
‘Hey—’ Fred poked her head around me ‘—are you still with me?’
‘I think so?’
She stopped and turned me around to face her. I thought she might kiss me, right there in the middle of the dining area, and I didn’t know how I felt about that. ‘We absolutely don’t have to talk about the fiancé stuff because it’s genuinely none of my business.’ She waited until I nodded, albeit a little reluctantly. ‘If you want to talk about it, that’s also fine, because I’m a big girl, and I clocked that ring the first time I met you. Plus, if you really need something to set your mind at ease, my last girlfriend was married.’ I opened my mouth to interject but she pressed on. ‘And no, you’re not my girlfriend, but I figured post-sex might be a good time to talk about whether you’re still planning on getting married to him now you know how good gay sex is.’
I could tell from her tone that she was joking again, and a laugh escaped. ‘Thank you.’
‘Jesus, for what? Compassion is free. Pick a table, would you?’
Mid-laugh still, I set myself back on track to find a free table at the back of the room. I was so focused, though, that it caught me completely off-guard when someone said—
‘Edi?’
I jerked around. ‘Monty.’ Fuck. He stood to hug me and I leaned into him.
‘Look at you.’ He pulled away and looked me up and down. ‘You look amazing.’
‘Doesn’t she just?’ Fred cut in. ‘Nice to meet you.’ She held out a hand and Monty looked startled; by her good looks, by her confidence, maybe by both. But he still took her hand and introduced himself. ‘Monty, nice name. I’m Fred.’
His eyes stretched wider then. ‘Fred Fred?’
‘I mean—’ she sounded amused ‘—you can just say it the one time but sure.’
Monty laughed, too. There was a soft pink blush creeping up his face. ‘Sorry, ah, Rowan has mentioned you.’ He glanced at me, then, and I wondered what reaction he was searching for.
‘Oh, he has, has he?’ Fred seemed genuinely pleased with herself – as though she’d shattered the glass ceiling by gaining notoriety. She looked at me, too, and winked before turning back to Monty. ‘What is it that Rowan knows exactly?’
Monty rubbed at the back of his neck. My gut reaction was to leap in and save him from the awkwardness of it all. But something about Fred’s wicked humour must have rubbed off because I also wanted to know what Rowan thought he knew about Fred. ‘He hasn’t said too much. Just, you know, that Edi was having dinner with you, and sort of seeing someone called Fred. Only didn’t mention you were so—’
‘Female,’ Fred interrupted him and laughter spluttered out of me. ‘I get that a lot.’
Monty soon joined in the humour. I saw him physically relax. ‘Sure, that makes sense.’
But then I felt panic stab me like an early period pain. ‘Shit, is Rowan okay? I was meant to text when I got home.’
‘Ah, he’s fine. He and Ian had a lads’ night in last night. Did their make-up, got drunk.’
‘Besides,’ Fred added, ‘you can still text him when you get home.’
I risked a quick look at Monty who, mouth agape and one eyebrow raised, now looked like the love child of shock and pride. He gave me a nod. ‘I see. Well, ladies, go on ahead and enjoy your breakfast.’ He leaned in for a second hug and, speaking into the ear away from Fred, whispered, ‘Good on you, Edi.’
When we were sitting down, Fred looked over her menu while I fidgeted with mine. And as though sensing my worry, she said, ‘I’m not going to be offended if you text him. Especially if he’s a worrier.’
I apologised profusely and wrestled my phone out of my bag. He isn’t a worrier but— There were two messages: Home yet babe? Getting late. xxx and Guess you’re still out. But lemme know when you’re back. Bloody love you. x – and a voicemail that I decided against listening to. There were ripples of guilt moving through my belly. But I tried hard to counter the feelings by making a tally of the number of pancakes Rowan might have eaten with women by now. Besides, it had always been me who instigated the ‘home safe’ text; half the time he didn’t reply so I couldn’t see why this time he’d—
‘Edi.’ Fred reached across the table. ‘Are you okay? You’ve gone really pale.’
You. I forced a smile. This time it’s about you. ‘I’m fine, sorry.’ I flashed a tight smile and back-clicked out of my WhatsApp. But before I could stash the handset away another message came through. This one wasn’t from Rowan, though, instead it was a GIF from Faith: Two women kissing. And she was still typing …
Definitely saw you with Fred. Too early in the day for a date. Stride of pride? xx
Followed by the emoji of a rainbow flag.