I've always been an Abba fan but I've never published a story with an Abba song as the title. The original title sounded morbid and I decided that this was a much better title. The story was born in Bloomsbury Square on my way back from Melbourne last year. It's set partly in London, 2024 and Melbourne 2001. I've reintroduced Penny and Robyn from Women Who Talk and other characters from the story, which is available on Literotica if you want to refresh your memory.
Enjoy! Love, Shaima.
Bloomsbury Square Garden, London 11th November 2024.
Susan paused at a sign displaying a brief history of Bloomsbury Square. Designed for the 4th Earl of Southampton it was originally called Southampton Square. She had heard about it before and had envisaged a larger garden, probably in the style of St James's Park. One entrance was dominated by a statue of Charles James Fox, a 17th century Whig politician noted for his stance against mad King George III and his opposition to slavery. Susan kept reading as her wife took a picture with her new digital camera. The Canon and its extra lens had been a recent birthday present from her and Sarah had enrolled in a basic photography course.
"I think that's her over there," Sarah lowered the camera, "on the bench at the far end."
"Oh," she nudged her glasses and squinted at the woman sitting on a park bench and a moment later she nodded, "yeah, she's got the family nose, that must be her."
"Do you want me to wait here?"
"Wait?" Susan's brow furrowed, "fuck that, you've been my wife for twenty two years, she and I were an item for six weeks," she tightened her grip on a plastic bag and a small suitcase. "Lead the way, McDuff."
However despite her outward show of courage she still felt a twinge of anxiety as they drew closer to Charlene's older sister, Janis. In the brief time they'd known each other, Charlene had said that her sister had the personality of a wet sponge. But in recent emails she seemed polite and so grateful that someone was there for her sister's final hours. She'd been unable to fly over because she was in recovery after a heart attack, by the time she got the all clear from her doctor, her remains had been cremated. In a throwback to Covid, Janis and her mother saw the funeral via a live feed that Susan arranged for them and their friends.
Janis rose as they came closer and Susan smiled crookedly, hoping it wasn't coming across as being disrespectful. This was a handover of a portion of Charlene's ashes. As they came to a halt she ran an eye over her. Janis had more weight than Charlene, but she'd always been a fitness fanatic even when she was diagnosed with terminal cancer. She honestly thought she could sweat the illness out of herself. She had grey hair tinged with black and brown eyes, her hair was cut short, just nudging the collar of her black overcoat.
"G'day, I'm Susan Goode," she shook her hand and then nodded at Sarah, "this is my wife, Sarah Lee, it's lovely to finally meet you in person."
"Likewise," she shook Sarah's hand, "thank you for coming all this way with her remains."
"It's not a problem. We were coming on holiday anyway," she smiled.
"All the same, it's such an honour to meet you. Our family can't thank you enough for the help you were to her in her final year," she turned back to her, "and considering your past I'm impressed that you were able to be there at all, if you don't mind me saying."
"It's fine," Sarah replied, "I've known about what happened between Susan and Charlene for years and we talked about it when she came back into our lives. We're secure enough to let the other have girlfriends even if they are exes."
"Quite right," Janis nodded, "I've always thought that stereotype a little worn out, many of my gay friends are the same, it's all about trust in the end," she looked down at the bag in Susan's hand, "is that her ashes?"
"It is," she held the bag up, "as per her wishes, we had some buried at Harkaway but the rest are all yours," she handed bag over.
"That suitcase has her personal items. She wanted her clothes taken to her favourite op shop and I included photos of the gravestone and the address of the cemetery too."
"Thank you," Janis grabbed the suitcase, "the weather must be a change from Australia."
"We're from Melbourne, four seasons in one day," she looked around.
"It's smaller than I expected, I expected a bigger park."
"It's small but it was one place where the voices in her head were silent."
"Yeah it was one of the first things she told me when we started hanging out together. We used to go to a park in a suburb called Croydon and just sit there, dad was physically abusive to mum and my sister but never to me."
"Sexual?" Janis raised her eyebrows.
"No, he was violent but it was never sexual."
"I wish dad had been like that, at least the physical scars heal. A lot was hidden back then, how are your daughters by the way?"
"They're fine, Taylor's preparing for the birth of our first grandchild and Sierra's gone to Vietnam with her girlfriend," she took out her phone and showed her a picture of two young women in their early twenties.
"Wow, twins," Janis smirked, "they certainly look like you."
"Everyone says that," she smiled, "Taylor has her father's eyes, Sierra has mine, it's the only way I could tell them apart when they were babies."
She looked down the road and Susan and Sarah both shifted on their feet and then she turned back to them.
"Why don't you both come back and meet mum? I know she'd love to meet you both, unless?"
"We're fine, we've got no plans for the day. We were planning on seeing the British Museum," she turned slightly, "which is that way?"
"Yes, a five minute walk, but I've got tomorrow off, so we could go together if you want, they do supply maps but they're pretty basic and it's been awhile since I've been."
"Um," Susan looked at Sarah, "is that okay, honey?"
"Sure, why not? Where's your mum?"
"That way," she pointed, "a five minute walk."
"Okay, sure let's do it then, as long as it's not too stressful on your mum."
"Oh, it might have been a few years ago," she started walking, "but age is cruel and kind in equal measure if you're lucky. It ages us but it can also make us more tolerant and she feels guilty for the things she let him get away with," she glanced over her shoulder.
"Where are you staying?"
"Out in Earls Court, the Mercure?"
"How Australian," she smiled crookedly.
Susan bowed her head as they headed out of the park and let her mind slip back twenty three years to the day she first set eyes on a vivacious English girl.
~*~
Croydon Uniting Church, Friday 25th May, 2001.
Susan looked up as a woman cursed. She'd dropped a few tins of soup a second ago and they were now rolling across the floor of the church hall that was a food bank for the night. The patrons turned to look at the tins of Campbell's cream of mushroom soup and she imagined a brawl over extra tins of soup. One man picked up a tin for her as she bent down to get the rest of her tins. The bag she'd had them in had a large hole in it.
"Oh dear," the woman beside her muttered, "how's she going to carry all those tins home?"
"I'll get one of those bags from the kitchen," Susan replied, "we don't need them now."
"I'll get it, I need to grab some more bread," her companion nodded.
"Thanks," Susan stared at the woman who'd dropped the cans. She looked to be about the same age as her with long black straight hair and a tanned complexion. Her outfit was a little odd, she wore a white blouse and black tie, a black waistcoat, and trousers. Granted, middle class folk used the food bank too, but still. She stepped out from behind the table and walked over to the woman, who had managed to grab a couple of tins.
