Her elbow was on the desk, her face cupped in her left hand, and with her right hand she was scribbling nonsense on a page. Her hair was tucked behind her ear as she concentrated, glaring at the page as if it offended her.
"What a bunch of complete and utter bollocks. I used to be good at this, didn't I?" she asked herself quietly, and then she let out a gusty breath of pure frustration.
"Hey," came a quiet voice from the doorway. Helena looked up, and there she was. Myka Bering, the youngest lecturer at Salford University, and Helena's favourite colleague, leaning against the doorjamb with a fond smile on her face. Helena's face broke out into an answering smile immediately.
"Myka. What can I do for you?" She leaned back in her chair, twirling a little to face the tall American.
"Nothing, really. I just came to say hi. It sounds like maybe you need some help - or maybe just some tea?" Myka said, producing a disposable drinks carrier from the cafeteria with two cups in it from behind her back.
"Myka, you're a lifesaver." Helena held out her hand, not even bothering to disguise her eagerness. It had been a long day, and a chat with Myka over a decent brew was exactly what she needed.
Myka handed over the tea and sat in her customary place, the high backed leather chair that usually had a student crying or cowering in it as Helena tried to either console or intimidate them, depending on their particular attitude. Helena had to admit that she preferred it when the chair was inhabited by Myka. The long-limbed American was not only very pleasant to look at, but she was a true friend – even if Helena's feelings about her extended to the more-than-friendly, a fact which she wasn't entirely able to ignore, try as she might.
"So, what is it that's got you sighing like a teenage girl who just heard that Zayn left One Direction?" Myka teased, eyes twinkling.
Helena took a sip of her tea. It was, as always, perfect. Myka Bering was nothing if not meticulous, and she had remembered how Helena liked her tea from day one. It was one of the many things that Helena loved – no, liked about Myka. Because she didn't love Myka. She loved Giselle, and Myka was her friend.
"I have been trying, without much success, to engage the creative part of my brain. I am afraid it is hopelessly atrophied after so many years dealing with young adults and their love for horrifically badly written pop songs. Do you know, one of the little buggers actually asked me if we could study – study the works of Girls Aloud. Girls A-bloody-loud, for Christ's sake! All of their songs have been written by other people, they were entirely manufactured for a television show, and they come in here, these bloody teenagers, and ask if we can study them? As if they've ever produced anything of note!" She sputtered in indignation, taking another sip of tea to calm herself. Myka laughed, taking a sip of her coffee, wincing a little at the taste.
"You know, we have this same discussion once a week at least – only the name of the band, or the artist, varies. So do you want to tell me what's really bothering you?" Myka smiled at her gently. She knew Helena well, after all their time working together.
Helena smiled back. Myka really was a true friend.
"I just – I used to be able to write, to get out what I was feeling. I made quite a living from it, at one point," she smiled ruefully. "But now…"
Myka tilted her head sympathetically.
"You say you made a living from it, but since you won't tell me what you wrote, or who you worked with – how can I possibly make any sort of judgement on that?" She asked, gently chiding, but with a smile to soften it. "I bet you could get some of your feelings out on paper if you weren't so damn tired, Helena."
Helena smiled at Myka for a moment, and then looked away, frowning thoughtfully as she examined her nails.
"I know, I just – I have been so busy keeping things running here, and with Giselle being away, Christina needs me too."
"Why don't you scale things back here, then, for a while? I'm sure Leena wouldn't mind taking over some of the administrative responsibilities for you. And then you could be at home more."
Helena sighed.
"I wish it were that easy," she said, running her hand through her hair. "Leena is a wonderful administrator, but I can't ask her to take on all my duties, it's not fair. That's what I get paid for, after all." Helena's title was Reader in Music, but in practice that meant she was the course dean and all round counsellor and head honcho.
"Leena is always offering, Helena. And you need some rest. Look at you! You're falling asleep at your desk at 3 o clock on a Monday. What are you going to be like by Friday?"
"I know, I know. But I can't just abandon my responsibilities, Myka. I do appreciate it that you care so much, though." Helena gave her a wide smile, and Myka returned it, and then changed the subject.
"You know, you'd think that in a supposedly civilised country, they could produce a decent cup of coffee! The damn cafeteria even has a real machine, but what comes out of it really doesn't fall under the description of coffee." Myka shook her head in mock outrage. Helena laughed.
"I suspect that if I was living in your fair country, my dear Myka, I would have all the same complaints, but about tea. Apparently one can only truly appreciate a hot beverage if it's made in one's own country." She smiled again, sipping her perfect cup of tea and raising it to Myka in a mock toast.
Myka shook her head.
"Always with the mockery, Dr Wells."
Myka returned to the cafeteria after her chat with Helena, grabbing another atrocious coffee and wondering what to do with herself now she'd finished her lectures for the day. She didn't really want to go back to her empty flat, but there wasn't really anything else for her to do here. She was caught up on work. And the only person she really wanted to spend time with was the woman she'd just left, the woman who was practically married to Giselle Williams. Giselle was a beautiful and accomplished fashion journalist who, if Myka was being brutally honest, she absolutely detested. Giselle was smart and sexy – on the surface, she was perfect for Helena. Other than the fact that Myka, and pretty much everyone else, was fairly sure that she was only with Helena because Helena was well-off and happy to keep her in the manner to which she apparently wanted to become accustomed. Take this trip. She was in Milan at some charity fashion event – a trip that Helena was funding, of course – and in the meantime Helena was struggling to look after her daughter and keep the popular music course running. The paperwork alone was crippling. Helena refused to have a nanny, insisting that Christina had two parents who were capable of looking after her without resorting to a nanny, of all things. Her nose wrinkled with distaste when she said the word "Nanny". Myka thought it was cute as hell. But once Helena had given that little speech at a party when Giselle was in the vicinity, and Myka distinctly saw Giselle's nose wrinkle in distaste when Helena had referred to her as Christina's parent. That was when Myka's mild dislike of the woman had slipped over into hatred.
Myka wandered through the Adelphi building, not entirely sure where she was going, but her feet took her unerringly to the music practice rooms on the ground floor. She heard the sound of Pete's sax from the furthest room. He always practiced after his session musicianship group on Mondays. She knocked the door and stuck her head in to make sure it really was Pete and not one of his students.
"Myka! Mykissimo! I missed ya babe. How are you?" Pete grabbed her up in a hug, slightly encumbered by the sax hanging from the strap around his neck.
"Hey Pete. How are things?" She smiled at him. Pete always made her feel better.
"Ooh, that's not a good smile, is it? What's going on, Mykes?" He gave her an almost comical look of concern.
"Nothing, really," she sighed. "Just thinking."
"About Sam?"
"No, about Helena actually. Giselle is away again and you should see her, Pete. She's so exhausted. And that woman is just out gallivanting, spending Helena's money while Helena is working herself into the ground. It's so unfair."
Pete frowned.
"I probably shouldn't say this, but I really hate that woman," he said, fiddling with the strap around his neck, swinging his sax back and forth.
Myka sat down on the chair next to the piano with a sigh.
"You're not the only one. I hate watching this – her, using Helena, and Helena half-killing herself to make sure Christina is happy and then working her ass off here to make sure things run okay."
Pete patted her shoulder sympathetically.
"You wanna go get an early dinner?"
"Sure, that sounds great. Where do you want to go?" Myka asked, relieved that he'd suggested it. She needed the company.
"Ooh! Now, that's gonna take some serious thought…" Pete took off the mouthpiece and put his sax in its case, grabbing his other case - he played alto and tenor sax. (Courtney Pine was his idol. He'd once spent an hour – a full hour – explaining the concept of circular breathing to Myka. Myka had tried telling him that she was well aware of the technique, but she gave up explaining after seeing how enthusiastic he was. One of his best moments in life was hearing Courtney Pine performing live – the man played his sax for 20 minutes without stopping to take a single breath, which Myka had to admit was pretty awesome. She was pretty sure that Pete himself must have been using circular breathing to talk for so long that day. Had he stopped for a moment, she could have informed him that the official world record for the longest note held by a wind musician using circular breathing was 47 minutes and 6 seconds. Sometimes having an eidetic memory was useful. But having a motor mouth friend who wouldn't let you get a word in edgeways was less so.)
"We could go to Red's for barbecue, but maybe we should go to the buffet again – you know I love that place!" Myka chuckled as he went off on a rant about how every restaurant should be like the world buffet, because sometimes you wanted a hot dog along with your sushi. Myka hated the damn place, but it was better than spending the night alone, again. She followed an animated Pete as he chattered on about food and smiled to herself.
"What would I do without you, Pete Lattimer?"
He grinned and took her arm chivalrously.
Thursday nights were a bit of an occasion for the faculty of the popular music department. Claudia Donovan was a former student and current instructor for the Introduction to Music Technology Course. The story that Myka had been told was that, after several months of pestering, Claudia had persuaded Helena to join her band, The Caretakers, and thus a legendary partnership was born. The other members of the band were wonderful musicians, but the arrangements were Claudia and Helena's department. Steve Jinks was an instructor for drummers on several different courses in the media department, and he played percussion for The Caretakers. Pete played sax and Leena was their lead singer. A tall, statuesque blonde from the dance faculty called Amanda Martin was their bassist. Myka had initially been a bit reluctant to go to the gigs but after the first one she was hooked. She had only missed a few gigs since she'd joined the staff here. She always tried to make a bit of an effort, dressing up a little more than usual. Tonight she was in tight jeans and a leather jacket. She knew Helena liked that outfit – she had caught her staring on more than one occasion when she wore it. Myka internally admonished herself, every Thursday, for thinking about Helena that way. She wasn't dressing up for Helena, she told herself. She just wanted to look good, that was all. She checked her hair which was wild, as usual, but just the right side of wild to look good, she decided. She sighed and silently berated herself again as she did every week. Helena was taken, Helena was her friend. But she still dressed up, every damn week.
She made her way into the crowded student's union and ordered two pints of bitter to save her an extra trip to the bar later. It had never been her habit to drink beer in the States, but there was something about the bitter they sold here – it was so mellow and went down so easily. She took her customary table near the stage, staring a little at the empty chair. She and Sam used to sit here every week, drinking bitter, laughing, cheering, and then they'd go home and have crazy drunk sex. She grimaced and drank half of her first pint in one swallow.
"Miss Bering? Sorry to bother you."
It was Jeff Weaver, one of her students. Lead guitarist, with all that went with that. He thought he was God's gift to women and he was an entitled little shit too.
"Jeff, hi," she said, without any enthusiasm.
"Can I sit?" he asked, sitting before she had a chance to say anything in reply. She gritted her teeth.
"What can I do for you, Mr Weaver?" she asked, trying to put things back on a more professional footing. That was the trouble with the gigs being in the student's union bar; they made a lot of money for the department, but some students had a problem remembering that the boundaries between lecturers and students still existed, especially when alcohol was involved. This wasn't the first time Jeff had invaded her personal space.
He took her response as encouragement and leaned forward, a smirk on his handsome but extremely annoying face.
"Look, Myka. I know you're a lecturer, and I'm a student, but I know there's something between us. I can tell you're attracted to me. We just have to keep things on the down low, like you Americans say, right?" He winked in a cocky manner and put his hand on her knee. Myka froze.
"Mr Weaver, I strongly suggest that you remove your hand if you wish to remain in this program." The crisp English accent came from behind Myka. She breathed a sigh of relief. Thank Christ for Helena.
Jeff stared at Helena in horror and removed his hand as if he'd been burned.
"I would also suggest that you absent yourself from this particular event, because if I see your face again tonight, I will not be held responsible for my actions. Do I make myself clear?" The boy paled and disappeared faster than Myka would have believed possible. Helena sat down in the chair he'd just vacated and looked at Myka in concern. The look on her face just about stopped Myka's heart. It was so…tender.
"Are you okay, sweetheart?"
Myka smiled weakly.
"Yeah, I'm fine, Helena. Thanks for the rescue. I couldn't think of anything to do that didn't involve violence. Although it seems like you couldn't either."
Helena grinned in a rather feral manner.
"I very nearly kicked him in the bollocks straight away, Myka. It's only because of my position that I held myself back at all. Little shit. Who the hell does he think he is? I'm so sorry, darling." She took Myka's hand. Myka smiled at her. She would never quite get used to the way Helena touched her so casually, seemingly ignorant of what it did to her. She was blushing furiously but Helena never seemed to notice.
"On with the show, then, I guess?" Myka said brightly, to cover the blush that was spreading down her chest – the chest that, she suddenly noticed, Helena was examining with great interest. Helena's head snapped up.
"Um…yes, sorry, of course. On with the show!" Helena shot her an abashed grin and ran off with a little more vim and vigour than she'd arrived with. Myka smiled to herself and sat back to watch the gig.
The band were incredible. They were all professional musicians so it shouldn't have come as such a surprise to Myka, when she first heard them, that they were so exceptionally good. They played mostly covers with a few originals thrown in, but they had an audience that came from miles around. They'd been approached by a few management companies over the years, according to Pete, but Helena and Claudia turned them down each time. Their day jobs were the important part; this was just for fun. Myka settled back in her chair and, well, ogled Helena, for want of a better term, as she played the Yamaha electronic baby grand that she'd bought with her own money and donated to the university.
It was only six months or so ago that Myka went with Helena to the music shop in Manchester where she'd tried the piano out. They had both geeked out a little over the technology. The piano could be played both as a live instrument, or the strings could be damped and it became a purely electronic instrument. Myka had watched in awe that day as Helena lost herself in playing the beautiful baby grand, first testing the mechanics and acoustics of the actual piano, then playing it silently using headphones to test the electronics and the various sounds. Myka remembered the day vividly, because that was the day when she had to admit that her feelings for Helena were more than simple attraction. The salesman had invited Myka to listen through some headphones attached to a mixing desk at the back of the store. Watching Helena's long thin fingers coaxing amazing sounds from the silent instrument, she'd felt something well up in her chest, and her eyes had filled with tears as the beauty of Debussy's Clair de Lune washed over her. When Helena finished playing, Myka and the salesman had exchanged looks of awe.
When she played in the band, Helena stayed back in the background, but the piano and Claudia's guitar held the music together. They played cover versions, but with a distinct twist that was all Claudia and Helena. It was mostly acoustic, but with a depth and a kick to it that you didn't normally get with cover bands. Their soul-filled version of Prince's "Purple Rain" got requested every week. Leena's voice was low and sultry – she'd been compared to Corinne Bailey Rae – and Steve's voice, when he could be persuaded to sing from behind his drums (Claudia calling him Karen Carpenter when he did was not helpful in persuading him), was similar to Damien Rice's rasp. They updated their setlist often to incorporate new music, and as a result were probably one of the most popular cover bands in the North West of England.
Myka thought back to the first night she had come here, to the Adelphi student union bar. She was new to the UK, new to teaching, and had decided to try and get "out there" and make some friends. Leena, the course administrator, had urged her to visit the union on the Thursday night before her official first day. When she sat down, she was hit on approximately seven times by horny students – of both sexes, much to her amusement - before Sam Martino swept in and pretended to be her boyfriend to drive away the vultures. Once the last of her hopeful suitors had disappeared, Sam introduced himself as the drum guru for the music department. She introduced herself politely as Myka Bering, guitar and lecturer in pop music history.
"I'm impressed. I had you pegged as a lead singer," Sam said, all easy confidence and smiles.
"Why?" Myka had asked, curiously.
"Because you're so beautiful, of course," he said, in his thick Salford accent that she suddenly found strangely pleasant. She rolled her eyes at him, but then smiled. He was arrogant, but she had always kind of liked that.
They talked together that night over pints of bitter – a beverage that Sam introduced her to – until the band started playing. Myka became entirely absorbed in the music and the way the band played together. And the dark haired pianist was incredible. Her playing was flawless, but that wasn't what held Myka's attention. Even in the background as she was, she was the most interesting person in the room. Her rather eccentric style, rock mixed with Victorian elegance, her striking features, her incredible smile – everything about her intrigued Myka. She wouldn't meet her - Helena - officially until the following Monday at her induction, but that night they shared plenty of looks that, for Myka, fairly crackled with electricity. Sam noticed and tried to coax her into dancing with him to some of the faster songs, but she turned him down politely so she could carry on watching the band. Watching Helena.
The following Monday, Myka was doubly nervous. Not only was it her first day at a new job in a new country, but she was going to officially meet Helena. When she arrived, Myka sat herself hesitantly in Helena's office, in the high-backed chair she now occupied so often during the working week. Helena introduced herself and in the course of welcoming Myka to the university and to the UK, casually mentioned her partner Giselle with a rueful smile that said everything Myka needed to know. Myka was crushed. She felt – she knew – that there was something there, between them. But she learned quickly that Helena was devoted to Giselle, so she moved on, losing herself in her work and eventually accepting one of Sam's many invitations to go out. She liked him, and after a few months she fell for him. They dated for a year before he asked her to marry him. She met his parents, Becky and Jack, who were wonderful, salt of the earth Salford folk, and that helped to cement her decision. She married Sam a few months later. They had a delirious first few months of marriage after an amazing honeymoon in Tuscany. Myka was happier than she'd ever been. She loved her job, she had some great friends, and she was madly in love.
Four months after their wedding she arrived home after lectures and found Sam lying on the sofa. Sam hadn't arrived home until 2am, so him taking a nap during the day wasn't surprising. As was her usual habit when she found him like this, she leaned over the back of the sofa to kiss his neck and wake him. That's when she realised. His neck was cold. He had an aneurysm that ruptured, probably when he was asleep. He would have felt no pain, the coroner said. Myka had spent months obsessing over it, researching abdominal aortic aneurysms and their warning signs, wondering whether she should have known, should have noticed. But it ultimately made no difference - everything she'd been building, her new life in the UK, it all crumbled at the moment when her lips touched his cold skin. Her love for Sam was the centre of her new life, and now he was gone. She was 28 years old and a widow.
She seriously contemplated moving back to the States at that point and maybe teaching somewhere in Colorado, but it was the support of her friends here in Salford that changed her mind. All she had at home was her disapproving father and her perfect sister, and a mother who could be replaced with a wet lettuce leaf without any discernible effect.
"Hey Myka," came a voice from behind her. She mentally steeled herself in case it was yet another of her unwanted suitors. When she turned round, though, it was Abigail Cho, Leena's roommate and best friend.
"Hey, Abigail! It's great to see you. How are you?" Myka said, genuinely pleased to see her. She didn't know Abigail well, but she had always found her to be engaging and amusing. She was from somewhere in the South of England, not quite as posh as Helena but pretty close.
"Do you mind if I sit with you? I was supposed to meet Joshua but he's running late."
Myka nodded, smiling.
They listened to a few songs in companionable silence before Abigail turned to her, put her hand on top of Myka's, and asked her the question she'd dreaded since she arrived in Salford four years ago.
"So, how long have you been in love with Helena?" Abigail's eyes were narrowed, a sly smile on her face. Myka could feel the intense blush that was, once again, spreading across her chest and neck.
"What…what do you mean? Helena? We're just friends." She tried to brush it off, tried to be dismissive, but she knew she was failing miserably as Abigail's smile swiftly became a grin.
"Oh, come off it, Myka. You are practically drooling. You've barely taken your eyes off her since I got here. I mean, I get it, she is seriously fit, and if I wasn't with Josh, I would be tempted." Abigail was openly laughing now at Myka's attempts to dissemble. Myka gave in, sighing in resignation.
"I knew it was a mistake to let you sit here," Myka grumbled. "Damn psychiatrists, sticking your nose in…" She smiled. "Okay, I guess it can't hurt to be honest. As long as you promise not to tell anyone," she said, shaking a finger at Abigail in warning.
Abigail smiled.
"Of course. I'm pretty sure Leena knows, to be honest, but I won't say a thing. And Joshua wouldn't notice if you and the entire band were dancing naked in front of him, he's so obsessed with his bloody cello. I'm actually jealous of the thing. It gets between his legs a hell of a lot more than I do, I can tell you." She laughed again, and Myka joined in this time. All the while wondering how obvious she had been.
"So, how long? I know she's with that awful Giselle witch, isn't she? Or has that crashed and burned?" Myka shook her head ruefully at that last question.
"Sadly, they are still together. I wouldn't mind so much if Giselle actually cared about her, you know? But she's such a…" Myka lowered her voice to a whisper and leaned closer to Abigail, "bitch."
Abigail laughed.
"You know, Myka, bitch isn't even really a swear word over here. You certainly don't have to lower your voice to say it! But you are right, Giselle is a right bitch. Nobody likes her, and Leena is always saying how much she takes advantage of Helena's good nature."
Myka nodded, taking a sip of her pint thoughtfully. The band were playing "Smooth Operator," by Sade, a total classic, in her opinion. She took a moment to appreciate it before returning to the conversation.
"She is such a manipulator. Do you remember that night, at Professor Nielson's Christmas Party, when Helena was talking about her daughter and how she didn't want to get a nanny because Christina had two perfectly good parents?" Abigail nodded.
"And Giselle made this…this face, like she was disgusted that Helena had called her Christina's parent. I had to rein myself in to avoid slapping her."
Abigail nodded, a little more soberly this time.
"I saw that, too. She is a real arsehole. I mean, who does that? Being a gold digger is one thing, but when there's a child involved – that's really shitty." Abigail took a long drink from her gin and tonic.
"I just hate the idea that Helena's being taken for a ride, you know? I mean, she's such a nice person. She works so hard, and she's doing such a great job with Christina. She deserves somebody who sees that, who will really be a parent to that kid," Myka said, plaintively. She was glad to have someone to talk with, finally, about her concerns.
"Someone like you?" Abigail asked, her eyes suddenly sharp as she looked at Myka.
Myka mumbled, "Well, I'm not saying I'm perfect. But I would definitely appreciate Helena more than that woman does."
Abigail smiled.
"I agree, Myka. Helena is so smart, I don't understand why she can't see what Giselle is really up to. And I also think you guys would be perfect together. She's obviously interested in you."
Myka blushed and smiled simultaneously as Helena caught her eye and winked at the exact moment that Abigail made that observation. Helena smiled at her softly, fondly, and turned her attention back to the piano.
Abigail laughed again, a full throated chuckle.
"Talk about timing! I'd say that more or less proves my point, wouldn't you?"
Myka was too busy blushing to even get any words out.
When the band took a break, Helena came to join them. Myka had a drink for her already, a pint of Guinness.
"So, how are you two ladies this evening?" asked Helena, cordially. She and Abigail chatted for a while about inconsequential things. They knew each other but not terribly well so it was mostly small talk. After a few minutes Abigail excused herself to use the bathroom. Helena turned to Myka and smiled, but it was lacking her usual sparkle.
"So," she began, conversationally, while drawing patterns in the condensation on her glass idly, "you and Abigail seem to be getting on well." She smiled again, but she wouldn't meet Myka's eyes, and her smile was tight. Myka was a little confused, so she smiled back warily.
"Uh…yeah. Abigail is nice. She's really funny."
Helena's smile got a little tighter.
"That's nice," she said, taking a large swallow of her Guinness and looking off into the distance.
Myka was even more confused now.
"Do you…do you not like Abigail?" she asked, trying to get to the root of this weird tension. Helena was drumming her fingers on the tabletop in agitation. She turned her head sharply at Myka's question, finally meeting her eyes.
"What? Of course, I get on very well with Abigail. Whatever do you mean?"
"I…well, you seem a little…annoyed or something, I guess," Myka said, beginning to stammer.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Helena said, in a rather haughty manner. She sounded like the old lady from Downton Abbey. It was at that moment that Joshua finally turned up.
"Hey guys," he said, giving them both a quick wave. "Have either of you seen Abigail?"
Myka answered while giving Helena the side-eye worriedly.
"Hey Josh - she's just in the bathroom. She asked if she could sit with me because you were gonna be late."
He sat down at the table next to Helena, who was looking from him to Myka in confusion. Joshua smiled across the table at Myka.
"Thanks for taking care of my girl for me, Myka," he said cheerfully.
Abigail returned to the table just then and said, "You better not be talking about me, Josh. I am a grown woman, not a bloody girl." She gave him a mock glare and then smiled and leaned down to kiss him.
Myka was still giving Helena the side-eye, wondering what she had done to offend the other woman. When Abigail kissed Josh, Helena's eyes widened and she blushed slightly.
Myka spent most of the rest of the band's break confused and quiet, watching Abigail and Josh chat, and trying very hard not to stare at Helena, to try and work out what that was all about. Normally Helena couldn't wait to talk to her to see what she thought of the new songs they'd arranged or just to gossip about work. A few minutes before the band were due to go back on, Helena turned to her.
"I'm sorry, Myka," she murmured, eyes downcast.
"What for?" Myka asked, confused.
"You were right," Helena sighed, "I am in a bit of a mood, and I was grumpy and ungracious. I apologise."
Myka still didn't know what to make of all this.
"Um, sure. No problem. Are you okay?"
Helena smiled sadly.
"I had an argument with Giselle. She got back from her fashion thing two days ago and I asked if she would stay with Christina tonight. She said no, she was too tired. I got a little bit…wound up, I think, because I've been so tired while she was off in Milan. I was rude to her, and now I've been rude to you, too. I am dreadfully sorry, Myka."
Myka put her hand on Helena's arm hesitantly and gave it a quick squeeze.
"It's okay, Helena. I'm sorry you guys are fighting."
Helena gave her a grateful smile.
"So who is looking after Christina tonight, then?" Myka asked, taking a sip from her glass.
"Charles. He was supposed to be attending some sort of do for the Guardian – his company advertises a lot in their publications - but you know how much he adores Christina. I felt rather bad for asking, but I couldn't very well let Claudia down. I just wish Giselle would…" she trailed off.
Myka just smiled sympathetically, squeezing Helena's forearm again before letting go and taking another sip from her beer. She wasn't about to get in the middle of another couple's fight. She'd seen how that ended way too many times in the past. It was a good way to lose friends.
"Thanks for listening, Myka. I better get back up there. Thank you for the drink." Helena smiled at her and grabbed her hand for a moment, giving it a squeeze. She wandered off to leave her empty glass at the bar and went back up to the stage as Myka watched her in confusion.
Abigail moved to take the seat that Helena had just left, pulling it closer to Myka.
"What was that all about?" she asked excitedly.
Myka shrugged, her eyes slightly wide.
"That was weird, right?"
Abigail nodded. "Completely, utterly awkward. What did she say to you?"
Myka told Abigail about the short conversation they'd had, and that Helena had been asking about Abigail before Josh showed up. Abigail's face lit up in excitement.
"Oh my God - she's jealous! She thought you were going out with me! That's why she got so pissy!"
"No - she said she had a fight with Giselle," Myka said, shaking her head.
"Well, she might have done, but that? That was the green-eyed monster in all its glory. She was fine as soon as Joshua got here, wasn't she?"
"I guess," Myka said doubtfully. She wasn't convinced.
"Trust me, Myka. She really likes you. She was really pissed off. I've known her for years and I've never seen her that annoyed." Abigail seemed almost gleeful at just how pissed off Helena was. Myka was still confused, and was even more so when Helena spent the whole second half of the set watching her and smiling. Myka decided to go home a little early. She was confused by Helena's behaviour and she was tired and sad and tired of being sad. She gave Helena a little half-wave as she left. Helena smiled at her quizzically, unable to do anything else as her hands were occupied with the keys of the piano. Myka just smiled and left.
