I can't stop thinking about these two. They're so perfect. Thank you Rachel for giving me most of the ideas in this fic :)
"There's a reason I've... There's something I have to tell you."
Jocelyn walks over to the fridge to find that jar of pickle.
"I don't know how you eat this awful stuff, Margaret Radcliffe," she mutters to herself, opening the jar as far away from her nose as possible to try to avoid the smell.
"The things I do for you." She manages to make Maggie's ham and pickle sandwich without being overcome by the stench and quickly replaces the jar in the fridge before wrapping Maggie's sandwich in Clingfilm and placing it in the hamper next to her own – plain ham.
The phone rings and Jocelyn wanders over to pick it up.
"Hello."
"Hi, Jocelyn." She would know that voice anywhere. It gives her butterflies. Of course, Maggie would ring just before Jocelyn was planning on inviting her on an impromptu picnic. "How are you doing?"
"I'm OK." Well, as OK as I can be when I'm about to tell the perfection that is Maggie Radcliffe that I love her, thinks Jocelyn.
"Good."
"Actually, Maggie, are you doing anything this evening?" Please be free, I've put all this effort into making food for you. You know I don't even make food for myself. And I have to tell you.
"Do you want me to come over?" Maggie's worried voice has always been so endearing.
"Well-"
"Are you worried about the trial?" Maggie interrupts. "Don't worry about the trial. I know that's a stupid thing to-"
"Maggie," she says softly. "Listen." Sometimes she's surprised Maggie went into journalism and not the caring profession.
"I'm listening."
"Meet me on the clifftop in... 15 minutes?" That'll give me enough time to find that packet of Jaffa Cakes and make my way up there.
"Ooh, cryptic! See you then, then." Jocelyn smiles at Maggie's intrigue.
"Ta-ta." She puts the phone down and suddenly remembers that bottle of red wine. The one Maggie has had her eye on for, well, years.
Right, what about this one?
No, not that one, Maggie.
Why not?
I'm saving it for a very special occasion.
Ooh, cryptic!
Jocelyn smiles as she remembers that night. How long ago was that? Oh, yes. It was the new millennium, of course, when Jocelyn was down from London to stay with her mother for Christmas. The fireworks and waves were just background noise to their chatter about everything and nothing. It wasn't the plan to fall asleep on each other under a thick blanket. They were woken up the next morning by Jocelyn's mother, with that knowing look on her face.
A sad smile crosses her face as she hears her mother's words.
Why don't you just tell her? You're both adults. I'm sure you'd manage to work things out if she doesn't feel the same.
"I'm doing it, Mum. I'm going to tell her."
She manages to find the packet of Jaffa Cakes in a cupboard and puts it in the hamper as she goes back to planning the conversation.
"I lo- No, too direct. It's you." She frowns. Too vague. "It's always been you." I bet she'll make me say it, thinks Jocelyn. The word 'love' suddenly seems too cliché, not strong enough to express her feelings about Maggie.
She places two wine glasses in the hamper and goes to put her coat on.
"Come on. You gave the best closing speech of your entire career, surely you can do this." It's feeble, she knows, running through what she's going to say. But this has been 15 years in the making and she's not going to ruin it.
She doesn't notice the weight of the hamper as she walks up the cliff to their spot. She's too busy working on the wording.
"Ever since you came here, I..." That sounds very saccharine, Jocelyn. Saccharine, but true.
Instead of sitting on the bench, she walks a little further along and decides on a spot. The sky has a hint of orange. It won't be too long before sunset. Perfect.
Blanket on the ground and wine poured, she looks out over the sea. She'll miss the views when her sight goes. She'll miss watching over the town from her house high up on the cliff. She'll miss Maggie's beautiful face, the way her eyes light up when she laughs, her wonderful smile.
She looks over to where the path rises up over cliffside and smiles when she sees a familiar flop of blonde hair appear, followed by the rest of Maggie. She decides that she likes Maggie's hair shorter.
As Maggie gets nearer, Jocelyn remembers why she's doing this and her stomach flips. No, she tells herself. Maggie will be fine with this. She won't run away.
She smiles, and when Maggie gets within hearing distance, she says hello. It's obvious that she's surprised about the fact that Jocelyn's managed to do some catering for once.
Deep breaths, Jocelyn. This is it.