(Author's note: as so often, this one swirls around the categories a little. There is an element of the fantastical, but please don't expect a fantasy in the sense of a full-on chains and orgies BDSM extravaganza. This is a tale of two people 'most remarkable like you', feeling their way towards a little spice. If you like to read about dungeons and racks, you will find it very tame; if you like to play a little at home, you just might find it strikes a chord or two.
My profound thanks, as always, to Lisa Jones for inspiration, advice and encouragement.)
© 2013
*
"Tell Auntie Bev all about it."
"About what?"
Anna was standing grumpily at the foot of the steps outside her office, wrapped in scarf and coat against the unseasonal April snow and carrying a heavy bag in each hand.
"Whatever it is that's put you in such a pissy mood, sunshine."
Bev took the larger bag and slung it easily over her shoulder. They began to walk towards the car park.
"Nothing to say."
"Yes there is. What is it?"
"Just a pissy day, like you said; don't imagine yours was any better. Had to go and see Jacqui Rhys."
"Uh-huh. She try to sign you up again?"
"The posters just get up my nose, OK? It's unprofessional ..."
Bev attempted a noncommittal shrug under the weight of Anna's bag. It didn't matter, Anna was looking at the ground rather than her.
"... for fuck's sake: the only person on that corridor who needs to 'get over' Jacqui Rhys being gay is Jacqui Rhys."
"She's just ..."
Bev's voice trailed off. She didn't want this argument at any time, let alone tonight. As Anna had guessed, her own day had been fraught enough. And part of her agreed: a university music department at the beginning of the twenty-first century was as welcoming a venue in which to come out as there had ever been. There was something more than a little irritating about Jacqui's smugness about her own courage. Then again, a university music department is hardly the place to find retiring introverts either. And on the third hand ...
"... She's just not ashamed of who she is."
Anna stopped in her tracks, as if she had walked into a wall. She dropped her bag into a slushy puddle.
"And just what exactly the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
Bev sighed, perhaps a little too obviously. It was going to be one of those evenings. They were blocking the footpath in the middle of the five o'clock rush to the car park; across the road the bus stop queue was overflowing the pavement; it was snowing. Bev really wanted to get into a hot bath.
"It doesn't mean any-"
Bev felt Anna's hand at the back of her neck, as if to pull Bev's mouth down to her own. Kissing in anger to prove a point was hardly Anna's style. Bev's shoulder tensed against it, but then Anna stopped with a sad, guilty look instead. Her voice sounded very small and vulnerable.
"Can we go home now please? I'm really tired."
"Of course we can, sweetheart."
*****
They took a daytrip on Saturday, and did all the silly tourist things to cheer themselves up. Morning coffee in a nice tearoom; walking slowly round the cathedral as Bev enjoyed the architecture and Anna enjoyed Bev's enjoyment; street market and feeding the ducks and lunch overlooking the river. Then they walked further along the path, past the moored boats and under the railway bridge until they were in the countryside, alone with each other and the curious cows staring at them from the opposite bank.
It was a beautiful afternoon, with sun warm on their faces and no trace remaining of Wednesday's snowfall, but Anna's mood refused to lift. She was down and tired and thoroughly fed up, and most of all she felt guilty.
"Anything I can do?"
Bev looked as kind as always. Anna did her very best to smile back.
"Sorry love, just feeling a bit blue this week."
There is such a thing as love at first sight, Anna believed that even if she had never quite felt it, and there is sex that leads to love and thence to friendship. Then there is friendship that grows into something more, until eventually it feels a need to express itself physically as well as in all the other ways. Certainly Anna had felt no sudden revelation on the day, two and a half years before, when she had reluctantly slogged up the hill at the beginning of the academic year for her first meeting with the new faculty liaison librarian. She was predisposed to resent the new girl. She
was
almost a girl, after all -- a good thirty years younger than the precise, obliging little man she replaced -- probably with the idealistic light of 'information science' shining in her eyes as she tried to throw away all the books and conduct business online instead.
In fact she had turned out to be nothing of the sort, but a reserved and slightly gruff young woman with rimless spectacles and sensible hair. Their jobs meant that most weeks they saw each other more than once; they got on together and in very little time discovered they shared a taste for the sort of historical fiction that serious academics are only supposed to read ironically. Beverley's office was starkly businesslike: no personal photos or cuddly mascots, the only suggestion of an outside life was the current novel neatly stowed at the corner of her desk with its Burne-Jones bookmark poking out. Work turned to acquaintance turned to a genuine friendship over the course of the year. As Anna's home life crashed into flames that spring she never spoke about any of it to Beverley, but the casual chats about anything else and the odd lunchtime drinks helped carry her through. She found the simple fact of Beverley's presence reassuring and comforting.
Anna was out, although hardly given to flaunting her relationships; and Beverley was quite simply a mystery. She never spoke of lovers or children or even crushes on celebrities of either sex. Some of the signs seemed to be there, but then again they didn't: Anna began to wonder if she was perhaps one of those slightly masculine asexual women who delight in boys' hobbies. Not that it was a matter of practical interest to her, they were merely friends after all. When the summer vacation came they met for a drink at lunch, before Anna went to Portugal for a fortnight and Beverley travelled back to visit her parents. Without warning, Beverley put down her half-finished Guinness and walked out. Anna found her leaning on a pillar outside and staring wistfully across the square towards the newsagent.
