Another vicar arrived, clutching a bottle of wine for the hosts to be added to the creaking table of goodies. She turned to look at the newest arrival, her heart suddenly slamming through her chest and leaving her gasping for air. She hadn't seen that woman in a long time. She looked the same. Same messy blonde hair, same rangy walk, same smile. She hadn't seen that smile in years. But there was something different about her that she couldn't figure out.

Bernie chatted with friends of friends, gratefully accepting a drink and attempting to master the art of small talk. She had always been terrible at it.

'Where's your tart this evening?'

Bernie let out a single honk and thought how lucky she was to get away with being the vicar. All black, check, dog collar check, she was sorted.

'My tart's just parking the car' she informed them. They made noises of approval and slurped their drinks. Bernie peered round and made a note of where the Shiraz was kept. Before she knew it, a hand wound its way around her shoulder to settle on her collar and a familiar voice crept in her ear. She was surrounded on both sides.

'There's my favourite dishy vicar.'

Bernie chuckled delightedly as her tart planted a smacking kiss on her cheek. She felt like she was in an episode of Keeping Up Appearances. Any minute now and the hostess who looked suspiciously like Hyacinth Bucket would come out and bellow at them for indecency.

She had never been a giggler. There was a glow about her that was different. She was light hearted, tension gone from her shoulders. The reason for the revelation seemed clear enough, clasping her from behind, hand in her pocket. Serena's hand in Bernie's pocket.

Bernie drew in her breath and glanced down when she felt an unexpected motion around her trousers. Typical tactile Serena, teasing her by slipping it in there as she made effervescent small talk, gratefully relieving the vicar of that duty.

Bernie hadn't noticed the lurker. She only had eyes for Serena. Dressed in a sheer black top, a black tulle skirt with fishnets and those red heels, she seemed charmingly vulgar and somehow, a good match for her sombre vicar. She wielded kissproof red lipstick like a weapon, warding off evil and possible lurkers. Bernie had to be got hold of alone.

She was still unsure of Serena. Cam said she was great fun and a good match for Bernie but she'd refused to believe it. She was starting to think that she was wrong. They looked good together, smiling and teasing each other over the drinks. There was real affection and love there. Her mother looked happier than she'd ever remembered seeing her. Heart beating fast, she threaded her way to the quiet corner where Bernie took out a sneaky cigarette. Hearing the swish of an approach, she turned to a familiar but unexpected face.

'I thought you'd given up.'

Bernie dropped the cigarette in shock.

'Charlotte! What are you doing here?'

Her daughter stood in front of her, belligerent and scowling. She'd resented seeing the woman she'd sworn never to contact again, turn up at a party she was serving at. With another woman. Not even with the one she'd helped broken up the marriage up with. A flamboyant flirtatious creature, so far from Bernie's personality, she could barely see how it could work. But it did work. It pissed her off. This other surgeon had no right to make her mother happy.

'I'm waitressing for the summer.'

She knew Bernie wanted to ask her about her life and her studies but she wouldn't let her.

'You're with that woman.'

Bernie flinched. She hated that tone of voice.

'Cam has no problem with Serena' she replied tremulously. Charlotte hated seeing her mother look so pitiful.

'I've heard' she said scornfully. 'She's so fun, she's so wonderful, how great Serena Campbell is. I'm bored of hearing about her, this apparently magical woman you've turned into a raging lesbian.'

Bernie could see how angry she was over the idea that this woman that Cam liked, that Charlotte could like herself if she'd let herself, was the most stable thing in her mother's life. Charlotte wanted her punished for what she did to the family and Bernie understood. But she wouldn't take it anymore.

'Am I supposed to be miserable for the rest of my life?' She asked gently. She saw her daughter torn between wanting it to be so and to not. She settled for vindictiveness.

'You chose her over us.'

'It's not either/or. You refused to see me so what was I to do?'

'You crept into her family instead. And she let you. I graduated university without you all those years ago.'

Bernie remembered that month, the worst timing ever.

'Her daughter had just died! I had one who didn't want to get to know me, how could I take time in choosing who to spend time and energy with? If it had been you lying brain dead in that hospital bed, she would have done the same for me.'

Charlotte couldn't fault that.

'Nothing compared to what happened with Elinor. Even if you didn't want to know me I was assured that you were safe. It was the least I could be happy about. But she'll never get to see her daughter again. She'll never see her get married or be a grandmother or be a first class journalist. Even if you were thousands of miles away and had done all of that without me, I still would have had more than her.'

Charlotte was taken aback. In all of her bitterness, she'd never thought of it that way.

'Both your father and I would have dropped everything if that had been you, despite everything.'

'You never loved dad.'

'I did love him.' Bernie's face softened, an expression that Charlotte remembered seeing once upon a time.

'I just wasn't in love with him.'

Her daughter didn't understand.

'It's the same thing.'

'No, it's not. You can love someone and that's that. But being in love is so much different. There's a spark there that renders everyone and everything else invisible when you're in that bubble. I didn't even know it could exist until a few years ago. And I never could have had it with your father.'

Bernie could pinpoint the moment when she'd realised that something in her wasn't quite right. She'd come across a rutting couple in the park and hid behind the bushes, eyes focused on the picnic blanket and ears picking up on the low moans and growls. The woman's voice evoked a tingling in her belly that turned into an ache in her cunt. She'd listened very hard and even edged round to watch them. She could only see the back of his head so she concentrated on the woman. It was her that Bernie was transfixed by. Her voice, her body, her hair, everything was attracting her. She looked wonderful spread out on that tartan picnic blanket. And Bernie knew that she longed to be there, not being the one underneath but the man, making another woman groan and pant with pleasure. She wanted to give a woman what a man could, to hear her and watch her pliant and aroused beneath her. She'd been married for years, didn't understand why this kept running through her head, making her think things. Things that would haunt her for a long while. It wasn't until Alex had kissed her that she'd felt it manifest in such a physical way. But she could never tell her daughter that. Too much information.

'She makes me feel safe. I can be who I am with her. And I can make her feel safe too.'

She thought back to only this morning, curled around Serena like a protective spoon. Serena knew that it wasn't just a shielding gesture. Every shield needed a teddy bear. Only Serena knew that when Bernie drew her in, it was not just for security, it was for comfort.

Charlotte knew it was beyond her comprehension. But if she couldn't accept it now, she knew she never would.

'Cam understands. I know it's a big ask but can't you?' Her mother asked. Charlotte looked into her pleading eyes and felt her resolve weaken. It seemed like an hour had gone by before she said anything.

'I'll call you when I'm ready.'

Bernie nodded in resignation. But as they walked away from each other, they both realised that the crack in their fault line had inched closer. There was change in the air. They were one step closer than they'd realised possible.

'Everything alright?'

Bernie sat and risked a glance over to where her daughter was tidying up. Serena recognised her from her picture and understood. She snuggled into her side and told Bernie that she would get her daughter back one day. She just had to be patient.

Bernie smiled gratefully at her. Not a note of bitterness or resentment had infected Serena's voice or outlook. It wasn't for nothing she loved this woman. She'd bide her time and her daughter would come back to her. That's what this silly old tart said anyway.

'Hey!' Serena swatted her in annoyance. 'Less of the old.'

Bernie drew her into her arms in response, listening to the beat of their hearts soaring together. There was more horizon to discover and it wasn't time for that yet. It was time for this one now.