1991, Gill's Hen Night
"Right lads, I'm off. DS Pallister's on call duty for the weekend, so I'll see you all on Monday." Julie casts a determined grin round her team.
"See you then, Sarge." DC Jack Thomas looks up from his desk. "Have a good one!" Julie smiles and nods, before striding out of the office, looking every inch the Detective Sergeant. Six months in the post, and she has just about got used to the team in Duke Street nick. Whether or not the men are entirely used to her, or to having a woman as their superior, is another matter, but Julie has always had that touch of being 'one of the lads', and at least to her face, they seem to have accepted her. Keeping the balance of friendliness and professionalism has been tricky enough, but certainly her experience of Frankie has given her a very clear idea of the kind of DS she does not want to be, which is a good start. It has been a blessing, too, to be able to catch up with Gill every couple of weeks and compare notes. Having both passed the board the previous autumn, it was inevitable that they'd end up in different locations. While Julie has to admit she is a tad envious of Gill's posting to Bradford Park and Serious Crimes, she doesn't begrudge her friend - it's one hell of an opportunity for a newly made sergeant, and speaks volumes of her reputation.
She nods at the other officers as she walks through the building, taking particular care to cast a smile at the probationary WPCs who eye her with a mixture of awe and curiosity. It's not surprising, really. Not only is she the first woman to be made sergeant here, but she knows rightly that rumours are rife about her sexuality. The thought makes her smirk. At least the gossip mill can't be speculating on who she fucked to get her post. And with the Chief Con's imminent retirement - not to mention the formation of the Lesbian and Gay Police Association - she has felt a little safer in not being quite so straight passing as in the past. It's amazing, she thinks, as she waves a cleaner through the door in front of her, how a little bit of leeway lightens the load so considerably. And the bond of others, bringing rising hope for more change, has somehow re-energised her, too.
She waves at the lad on the front desk and walks out into the fresh afternoon air. Just gone three-thirty. It'll be four before she gets home, and half past before she gets turned round and on the road again. Why on earth Gill chose to have her hen night in Lytham St Annes, she just cannot fathom, especially when, if they're going to travel all that distance, Blackpool is only a few miles further up the road. But Gill wouldn't budge, and just because Julie is her bridesmaid doesn't mean she's going to take on a battle she can't win. Thankfully, all she has to do is turn up, Gill having allowed to her to wriggle out of the duty of organising the hen night, due to work. At least, that was the excuse she gave.
If she is honest with herself, Julie thinks, as she unlocks the car door, it still floors her slightly that this is actually happening. In two weeks time, Gill Prescott will be Gill Murray. A grimace passes across her face, and, even though she is alone, she forces it to a more neutral look. She is utterly determined not to let on to Gill exactly what she thinks, or feels, about the impending marriage. It was difficult enough to realise that she had an emotional response to it all, harder yet to deal with her feelings all by herself, let alone how awkward it would make their friendship if Gill had even the faintest idea. Which she doesn't, Julie is sure of that. One thing about Gill is that she really doesn't have a clue how other people feel about her, and most of the time, cares even less. There are negative sides to that as well, but right now, it's pretty useful.
In truth, Julie had only just about got her head around the notion that Gill and Dave were dating steadily. It sort of snuck up on all of them, really. First there had been her thirtieth birthday. Then, maybe a few months later, something similar on a night out. A while after that, Gill had mentioned a date, and then another. But at Dave's own thirtieth, held in his home, Julie had taken great pleasure in first beating him roundly at Pool, on his own table, and then by responding cheerfully, drunkenly, to Gill's determined flirting in the little hours of the morning, and bringing her to a wild climax on that very same table. She didn't exactly think of it as revenge, at the time, but the deep sense of glorying satisfaction it had given her had lasted for quite a while, until she realised, one day, as if struck by lightning, that Gill was actually falling for the bollocks.
It had been a unpleasant revelation; not only that her great friend had clearly had a nasty hit to the head, but, more tellingly, that her own horrified response meant that she actually cared who Gill loved a whole lot more than she'd ever let on. Especially when it wasn't her.
She'd gone through three girlfriends in quick succession at that point. Looking back, Julie can see that her usual balance of not wanting to be tied down, whilst enjoying good sex, had been really thrown off-kilter by the realisation that actually, she wouldn't mind being tied down by Gill - in more ways than one - and that in point of fact, good sex did not actually make up for the lack of intimate contact. Not that she'd had that with Gill, exactly, but somewhere, deep in her subconscious, the idea of it had been forming. However, with her usual steely determination, she had clawed herself out of the position of unknowingly jilted friend-come-lover and set to making the best of it. So what if Gill's cosiness with Dave had made her realise she would like a more intimate relationship? That she could have, and promptly did, with great enjoyment for the newness of the sensation. She and Kath had finally broken up a month or so back, but on good terms considering it had been over two years of their lives. She wasn't pining over anyone, least of all Gill.
But it was still odd to know that in two weeks she would precede her friend down the aisle, then turn and look to see her dressed in white, on her father's arm, glowing, and with eyes only for Dave Murray.
Julie shakes her head and starts the car. Enough maudlin stupidity. Tonight will be fun, even if it is somewhere as posh as the Grand Hotel in Lytham St Annes. Providing Gill doesn't want them all to play golf the next day, it'll be fine. Come to think of it, she's not even sure if Gill plays, but it's all she knows about the area.
oOo
It is nearly seven when Julie pulls up outside the hotel, in the beginnings of a glorious pink and gold sunset. The sea dances with colour, white horses made pearly iridescent in the evening light. She hoiks her bag in, only noticing the porter afterwards and feeling a bit uncultured. The concierge books her in, hands her the keys and, to her further embarrassment, announces that she'll be shown to her room shortly. Before she can argue that there's really no need, a few directions will suffice, Gill comes bouncing across the atrium to her, full of glee.
"Finally! You took your time, Slap! The others are all here ages ago."
"Yeah, well, some of us couldn't leave work any earlier... You got the day off, I take it?"
Gill winks. "I might have whispered some nice things to the DI... Mind you, I promised to go in on Sunday instead, so... But hopefully nothing wildly exciting'll happen before then. Anyway, you good? What room are you?" Julie glances at her keyring.
"Thirty-five. You?"
"Ace, I'm in thirty-four. We've got a cracking good view of the sea. Did I tell you we always used to come here when I was a kid? Management's changed since, but I've such good memories of the place..." She breaks off to grin at the amiable looking porter who is approaching. "Come on, let's get you settled in, and then it's dinner time!" She hooks an arm through Julie's, then appears to notice her slight discomfort. "What?" Julie twitches her head in the slightest protest of 'not now'.
Gill prattles - there's no other word for it - wedding talk the whole way up the broad staircase, and along the corridor, 'til the porter opens Julie's door for them and respectfully steps back. Once inside the room, she looks again at Julie.
"What is it? Don't you like it here? Is everything okay?" She actually looks worried at the thought, and to avoid the sight, Julie shakes her head, feeling rather daft, and lifts her bag from where it was put down, onto the broad dressing table. Then, feeling all the more foolish for turning her back on Gill, faces her and answers, all of a hurry,
"Nothing. It's just...well...I've never actually been somewhere like this. I mean, as smart as this. I'm not used to someone taking my bag for me, y'know? It just...takes a bit of getting used to."
"Oh! You'll get used to it." The words slide out easily, and Julie smiles, but inwardly shakes her head. Just now and again, there are some things Gill really doesn't get.
"Yeah, well. You still want us all in white? I was reckoning on wearing that suit again, would that be okay?"
"Viv owes me a fiver then! 'Course it's alright, Slap, that suit's half of why I thought of it. That and if I'm going to look a twat in virginal white, the rest of you can bloody well join me."
Julie laughs, and then picks up, "What d'you mean, Viv owes you a fiver?"
"Well, we had a bet, didn't we? She swore you'd wear a dress for the occasion. I knew damn rightly you wouldn't. You'd be wearing a suit to the wedding if you thought I'd let you get away with it!"
"Yeah, and I reckon you'd even think about letting me, if it weren't for your mother..."
"I don't fancy trying to pull that one off. Her face when I said you were the only bridesmaid was bad enough! Though I think she's come round since we went dress shopping..."
"I thought she was a bit nicer to me, right enough. I take it she's not with us tonight?"
"Good God, woman, who d'you take me for? No, it's just you, me, Viv, Titch, Sal, Nancy and Jackie."
"Still cracks me up that you, of all people, named someone Titch."
"Well, she makes me look normal, and you're a giant by comparison..." Gill giggles. "Anyway, will I leave you to it? You'll find your way down alright. We're in the restaurant for the meal, it's to the right of the stairs when you come down."
"Don't worry, I'll just follow the sound of drunken cackling..." Julie winks ostentatiously and Gill laughs some more as she walks out.
oOo
By the end of the meal, Julie is wondering how the staff can put up with them - not to mention the other guests, some of whom she has caught staring. It baffles her, just how loud a bunch of women can get, given enough excitement and fizzy wine. And how high pitched - Titch is positively shrieking with laughter, a sound far too loud to be coming from such a tiny person. However, in a brief moment of silence, a member of staff calls for the attention of all the patrons.
"Ladies and gentlemen, good evening, and welcome, once more, to the Grand Hotel. I'd just like to remind you that tonight's special guests will be performing shortly over in the St Anne's Suite. It is a great honour to have them back with us, after so long...fresh from touring in Japan, our very own Nolan Sisters!"
Groaning to herself amidst the clamour, Julie glances over to Gill, opposite her, prepared to share a moment of eye-rolling for the excitement over such saccharine pop music, only to find she is cheering as loudly as anyone else in the room. Unnoticed, Julie dips her head into her hands, moans quietly, then pulls herself together. It is, after all, Gill's night, and anyway, at least things can't get worse than the Nolan Sisters.
It's not that she doesn't respect them - she does, knowing exactly how hard the life of a touring band is, even one that, in the past, was as successful as them. Nor does she begrudge them the success that they had, when they had it, even if they are cloyingly cheerful and the antithesis of her kind of music. No, she thinks, as Gill leads them across the reception to the showroom suite, it's the fact that their bloody songs get into her brain, bleed glitter all over it, and don't leave again for at least a week. And it's a bit embarrassing to be found humming 'I'm in the mood for dancing' whilst writing up a report on a dealer with links to gangland crime. Of course, that would be their opening song. Gill pulls her and Titch on to the floor, and the rest of the group follow closely behind, and with one last, longing thought for her sanity, Julie gives in and mirrors the grins of the others.
It's not so hard, really, after a few more drinks, to enjoy the musical equivalent of rainbow sherbert that the four sisters' music brings to the room. It turns out the most of the girls know the words to quite a few songs, and they get a good banter going back and forth between the floor and the stage. Someone - Julie thinks it might have been Jackie - passes a note and a small package up to them, and the next thing Bernie Nolan is pulling Gill up on stage, presenting her with a fake tiara and 'L' plates, and dedicating 'Chemistry' to her. By the time she gets back to the dance floor, her cheeks are scarlet, and all Julie can do is laugh.
"Surprised they didn't get you to do the dance routine with them, love!"
"Don't give them ideas!" Gill shrieks and gives her a whack on the arm. "I mean it, Slap!" She adds, as Julie, eyes twinkling, makes as if to suggest it to the other girls. "There is no way on earth that I am doing that. And if you do, I'll…"
"What, cuff me? Don't think so..."
"No! But I will tell them to get you up there to do a cover." And by the steely determination in Gill's jaw, Julie knows she would and all.
"Oh, bugger." She heaves a sigh of regret. "Alright. I won't."
"Good! Anyway, isn't it time we were moving on...?"
Julie brightens considerably at the suggestion. "Where're we going?"
"Titch has summat planned, she didn't let on totally what it was..." Gill grabs her tiny blonde friend. "Oi, Titch, is it time we were heading yet?" Titch gives a vigorous nod in response. "Right, you lot!" Gill corrals her friends off the dance floor, as Julie feels a surge of relief at such an early escape.
"So, where're we going?" She asks again, this time directing the question at Titch, who grins.
"Well, not wanting to give anything away just yet, but we're going to get a couple of taxis into Blackpool, to the Winter Gardens..."
"Oh, cool!" Julie nods. "I used to love the funfair there when I was a kid..."
"Fun of a different kind tonight!" Titch nudges her in the waist, winking and grinning broadly. Julie feigns being in on the joke, and falls back to chat with Viv and Jackie.
oOo
Fun. Julie's face when they're ushered in to the Winter Gardens' Stardust nightclub is one of momentary abject horror. Titch's idea of fun is a Chippendales tribute act, with extra added foam. Male strippers and a foam party. It's like a bad memory of some of the clubs she slipped in to as a teen, on Canal Street.
She can't help but turn to Gill and hiss: "What is… Tell me you knew nothing about this, Slap?" And is gratified to see the honest shock on her friend's face. It strikes her as slightly funny that Gill, previously so free when it came to dating, is actually a bit flummoxed by the thought of going to a strip show. Makes her feel just a bit less of a square peg in a round hole. But then Sal comes over with a fresh round of drinks, and Gill brushes off her uncertainty with a roaring laugh, a slap to Titch's head and a threat of some unspecified revenge. Julie downs her double with haste. This is beginning to be the night she doesn't want to remember.
At least the bar remains open when the strip act comes on stage. That is the only mercy to be found in a room full of screaming women and half-naked men. One glance is enough to tell her that this really is her worst nightmare. Inadvertently, she shakes her head in horror, hand to her brow, and shudders. Never again will she agree to going to a hen party. Not if this is what one gets subjected to. Corny and crass, and - she dares a glimpse - oily... Worse, one of them even looks like Dave Murray. If he were naked down to the waist and covered in grease. The thought makes her retch. She dares a look at Gill, and notes that rather smug smirk she tends to wear when just slightly uncomfortable but not wanting to show it. Then the foam starts.
In another context she might actually enjoy the side effect of this. There are a number of attractive women in the club - not least Gill - all of whom now have somewhat damp, skimpy clothes clinging to their figures. The material of her own suit is quite thick, but even it is beginning to get a little bit translucent. Gill's light top, underneath the bridal L plate, is positively see-through to her delicate lace bra. As if she can sense Julie looking at her, Gill half turns, and bats a fluffy lump of bubbles up at her, laughing impishly as she dodges it. Julie returns the act with interest, and they become too engaged in their personal foam fight to notice that two of the performers have come down amongst the crowd.
The first Julie knows about it is when a tanned stripper, dressed in some interpretation of police uniform, comes between them and gives them a mock telling off. The entire club turns to stare. Before she can work out where to put her eyes, or even realise exactly what is going on, he's attaching pink fluffy handcuffs to their wrists, and then her to himself and Gill to another lad - the one who, as fate would have it, looks a lot like a deep-fried Dave. Julie glances over at Gill in utter horror, and finds her friend shrieking with mirth, albeit with crimson tinted cheeks. There's no sympathy to be had from the rest of the group, either, who appear to find this all hysterical.
If ever Julie has wished that the ground would open and swallow her whole, it is this moment. They are led forward, through the foam and the envious jeers of the rest of the audience, onto the stage. There they are met by the rest of the troupe, all in these daft risqué cop outfits, all bearing determinedly phallic batons. She hears another loud cry from the crowd, and, out of the corner of her eye realises that two other performers have gone hunting for more victims. Sadly, when they too are brought up, it becomes clear that she is the only one who wishes herself anywhere but. Gill is convulsed with laughter and even beginning to play along a bit with one of her captors.
Her sheer unease must be apparent to the stripper assigned to her, as he, while running through the sexed up routine of booking her in - which somehow involves him removing most of his clothes - whispers to her, "Sorry, love, didn't realise you weren't up for it."
"Why the hell did you pick me?" She hisses back between gritted teeth.
"Got a message through to get the bride to be and the tall one... That is you, right?" He has the care to sound half-concerned.
"Christ, I am going to kill Titch!" But against the fury that rises in her, Julie realises that of course, Gill's friend from school would have absolutely no idea that this is the utter opposite of pleasurable for her. Why would she? Gill's not exactly likely to have told her that they used to get drunk and fuck each other. Without her realising, some of this must show on Julie's face, because the next thing she knows, as the man leans down to roll his baton suggestively up her leg, he whispers archly,
"Don't worry darlin', you're really not my type, if you get my meaning... Just like I'm not yours." Her eyes widen, and for the first time she meets his glance, and sees warm, friendly brown eyes staring back apologetically - rather like a puppy dog.
She gives the slightest nod, and mutters back, "Just get me back down there as fast as you can, please."
He acknowledges her plea with a smile, and coyly announces to the audience, "We've got nothing on this one, can't keep her without evidence." And with a dramatic unlocking of her cuff, he assists her off the stage and into the blissful semi-anonymity of the dance floor.
She makes straight for the bar. Two whiskeys later, she rejoins Gill's other friends, and is able to give a credible performance of laughing and cheering when Gill is finally set free. It's not that she felt at all threatened, or in any sort of danger, whilst being singled out by the troupe. She knows that it's all an act, and that there are boundaries in place to protect the performers as much as the participants, but she would never have willingly chosen the experience at any time, and she is pissed off that Titch volunteered her for it without even asking. However, Gill is still snorting with laughter as she minces back to them, and greets Julie with a reassuring clap on the back.
"You got out of that one pretty quick, cock! Never seen someone released that sharply in work."
Mentally shaking the annoyance from her head, Julie grimaces and retorts, "Yeah and I never expected you to enjoy being arrested so much!"
Gill sniggers, before pulling a mock strict face, and lecturing, "Of course, his protocol was all wrong. Totally out of order. Would never pass a real duty sergeant, eh Slap?"
The girls all roar heartily, and Julie chuckles. It's a little forced, but the drink is having its desired effect, and her laugh becomes more natural. "Aye, and his uniform would never pass standard either."
Gradually, she regains her good temper about it all. It takes an effort to rein in the temptation to ball out Titch the way she would a junior officer who'd completely fucked it up, but the dual reminders that this is, firstly, Gill's night, and secondly, her friend who acted out of assumption rather than malice, help to keep her tongue in check.
oOo
It is gone half one when they finally stagger back into the hotel. Julie is propping Gill up with one arm and Viv with another; Titch and Sal are similarly paired.
"Where you'se all sleeping?" Julie turns to Jackie and Nancy, who are possibly the most sober of them all, not that it says much about any of them.
"Hmm, twenty-two, and Titch is beside me," replies Jackie with a little thought. "Annnn...I think Sal's the other side."
"And Viv and me're upstairs in forty-nine and fifty," Nancy notes.
"Ohh, okay." Julie thinks, a difficult thing by now. "Well, if you take Viv..." She edges over to Nancy and, fumbling, attempts to slide Viv's arm round Nancy's shoulder. "Then we're all set, right?"
"Right!" Chorus the others, in a variety of slurs. The concierge eyes them wearily.
"Right!" echoes Gill, last of all. "Leshts carry on in my room."
"No... The only party you're going to is a slumber party, Slap." Julie makes sure to be audible enough so that the hotel staff know they're not actually planning a knees up. She's not entirely sure they'd welcome the noise levels by this point. "Come on." She leads the bedraggled crowd of revellers to the lift, and ensures that Jackie, Titch and Sal get out on the correct floor. Next it's their turn. "You know where you're going, yeah?" She nods to Nancy and Viv, who grin blearily back. "Night-night, then."
"Goodnight!" they chorus, and something provokes Nancy to add: "Last goodnight I'll be giving you as a Prescott, Gill!"
"S'not true! I got...got...thirteen nights as a free woman yet!" Gill quips back, loudly.
"Keep your voice down, you knob!" Julie hisses, as the lift doors close. "You'll wake the whole floor."
"Don't care. I'm a free woman, I am. Can do what I want. No ones gonna 'rrest me."
Julie groans. "Come on, shut it, at least till we get you to your bed."
"Y'can get me to bed anytime, Slap."
Julie looks sharply at her friend, as best she can given Gill's arm is draped around her back. She is so not going down this road, not again. Not now, of all times. "Why d'you do this to me, Gill?" she whispers to herself as she fumbles for the key in Gill's clutch. Door successfully opened on the second attempt, they stumble in.
"Cause you're Slap." Gill announces.
"What?" Julie's a little distracted trying to find Gill's nightie.
"Cause you're Slap." She repeats. Julie stops, and looks at her questioningly.
"Yes, I know I'm Slap. And you felt the need to remind me...?"
"'Cause you asked...why I do this...an' I answered. Because you're Slap."
Sighing, Julie turns to face her, and watches Gill wobble on her unsteady feet.
"Come on, you mad bitch, sit on the bed before you fall and break something." She goes to guide her over, and gets caught in a bear hug.
"I love you." The words are muttered, mostly incoherent, but Julie catches Gill's drift.
"Yeah, yeah, come on, onto the bed." She removes the wandering hands from the waistband of her trousers, quite forcibly, and plonks Gill on the bed, before going back to her search for the nightie. "Where'd you leave it?"
"What?" Gill looks up at her petulantly, hair mussed, eyes bleary, top still damp in places. She's shivering a little.
"Your nightie, you daft cow, where'd you put it?"
Gill gesticulates towards the pillow. Julie retrieves the soft fabric and throws it at her. "Get that on you before you catch your death. Actually, no, lemme get you a towel first." She moves through to the en suite, marvelling momentarily in the size of the bathtub. "Here!" she chucks Gill the towel. "Go on, get yourself dry and stick your nightie on."
"Why don't you..."
"No." She tries to keep her tone firm but soft.
"...don't you believe me?"
"About what?"
"When I said..." Gill mumbles a bit through pulling her top off, "...love you. You said 'yeah yeah' like you didn't believe me." She pouts a bit more.
Julie rolls her eyes, leans back against the wall and hunches over a little. "It's not that I don't believe you, chuck... But you're drunk. And getting married."
"Still a free woman fer'nother thirteen nights." God, the look Gill gives Julie underneath her strewn hair nearly makes her weak in the middle.
"Damnit Gill, stop this!" It comes out considerably sharper than she intended, and Gill looks as if she'd just slapped her - and not in a good way. "Stop it," she repeats, pleadingly this time, before kneeling on the floor in front of her friend and placing her hands on Gill's knees. "Please. You're my friend. My best friend. But you're getting married, and we can't do this. It's not right. You're marrying Dave, you shouldn't be chatting up anyone else, even two weeks before the wedding, hey?" She aims for somewhere between cajoling and consoling.
"But you're not anyone else, you're Slap." Gill looks down at her insistently, and before Julie can stop it, drops her lips to Julie's in a fierce, breathlessly passionate snog. Her instinct is to fall into the kiss with a will; there is a temptation to accept this for what it is, to buy into Gill's persuasiveness that their relationship is somehow different. Not to mention the potential for revenge against Dave; the glory she could take in being Gill's dirty little secret. But the words seem hollow even as Julie thinks them, and she discards the idea. That is not who she is, nor who she wants to be. It takes her a full minute to be able to place her hands on Gill's shoulders, and gently but surely push her away.
"No, Gill. We can't do this anymore. I can't do this. You're marrying Dave, and that's...great...but that means you can't come on to me when...when..." she searches for words that are less painful than the obvious, and fails.
"Can't?" Christ, she looks so hurt, like a little child, those big darkening eyes staring at her uncomprehendingly.
"Can't," Julie repeats, firmly.
"But...but...s'not like it's with anyone else. Wouldn't do that. Not that kinda girl. But you're different."
"No, love. Not anymore I'm not." The break in Julie's voice is audible, and Gill has the heart to look repentant.
"Mm sorry, Julie. Didn't mean to upset you..."
"I'm not..." She begins, but knows it's a lie. "Come on, let's get you to bed. If you want, we can talk about this tomorrow, or Sunday, when we're sober. But it's long past your bedtime now, bridezilla." With deft hands, she finishes the work of putting Gill's nightie on and taking her skirt off. If she chokes back a sigh, it's inaudible.
"Will you...will you..."
"What?"
"Will you stay? Not like that... Just, just...hold me?" There's a complete lack of guile in Gill's eyes, and Julie gives in.
"Alright, you daft besom. Gimme a mo." She takes her jacket off and wriggles out of her bra. With her belt removed too, it shouldn't be too awful to sleep in her clothes. Safer, too, than slipping next door for her nightie. She slides underneath the covers. "But just this once, and nothing more."
"Thanks, Slap." Gill grasps her hand, and holds it, outside of the covers, up to her heart. Before Julie has reached up to switch the side light out, she's asleep, snoring slightly. There is no one to see the slowly blinking green eyes in the darkness, eyes that don't close for a long time.
"Love you too, Slap."
oOo
In the early hours of the morning, after only an hour or so of sleep, Julie disengages herself from Gill's loose grasp, and, silently as a cat, steals out of the room and in to her own bed. Some time later, she is woken by the shrill noise of the in-house phone, and, when she manages to lift it to her ear - having tried the wrong way round first - she hears Gill's voice.
"Morning Slap, you up yet?"
"Gnnnrrrr." She clears her voice and tries again. "Urgh. Well. I guess I am."
"How did I get to bed last night?"
"I put you there. Don't you remember?"
"Not really... Thanks cock. I appreciate it. You know there's room service here, right? You can phone down for your breakfast..." Julie stifles the groan that emerges at the thought of food. "Or even just a cuppa. Sound like you need one. Tell you what, I'll order for both of us, and come in to you, how's that?"
"'kay." The phone clicks. Julie reaches for the spare pillow, and, pulling herself up the bed, props it behind her. Blearily, she runs her head through her hands. Well, at least that's over. Five minutes later, the handle of her door turns, and Julie realises she'd been that tired she hadn't even locked it behind her.
"Well?" Gill lands on her bed, looking crisp and fresh in a deep green blouse and tight charcoal skirt.
"Urghhhh."
"You're ridiculous." Julie feels Gill's eyes intently on her, and looks up, just in time to catch her looking away. Gill pauses, and then, swiftly, "You're totally right, by the way. I was out of order. Unacceptable. Won't happen again. I promise."
Julie watches her staring at her feet, hair perfectly combed back over her pointed little ear. The skin on her cheekbones is twitching slightly, as she waits for a response. Slowly, Julie begins to smile. "It's alright, Slap."
The relief that edges over Gill's face, and even her body, is palpable. "We're good?"
"Course we are."
Gill nods, a short, sharp dip of her head; a deep breath. "Well then..." Just as a knock comes to the door. "That'll be the tea. I'll get it, shall I?" And as she goes to the door, Julie considers her friend, shaking her head gently. It'll work itself out. She knows Gill well enough by now to know when to trust her word, given in promise.
oOoOoOo
1991, Gill's Wedding
Julie makes her way off the dance floor. The slight fishtail on her full length dress has taken the entire day to get used to, but she thinks she has the swing of it now. The three inch heels help. If she's entirely honest, she quite likes it, as far as dresses go. It's a deep sea green Devoré velvet, simple design and cut on the cross, fitting where it touches. Certainly, Dave's best man, Pete, seems to appreciate it, and Julie has had to make it amply clear to him that just because it's tradition that they dance together does not mean it'll go any further than the obligatory slow shuffle at the beginning of the night. He seems a nice bloke though, and appears to have taken her request on board. She makes her way out to the corridor to find the ladies'.
Instead, she finds Dave.
He's lolling against the wall; tux jacket long discarded, collar undone and tie pulled loose. His cheeks are ruddy with booze, and his eyes slow to focus.
"Ju! My old mate Ju!" He launches himself at her, hands everywhere, ostensibly in a joyous hug. "Hav'n' seen you all day Ju..." This isn't entirely true, she thinks wryly, as they were in the Church together, and in a number of the photos afterwards, and were even sat at the same table for the meal. But it's true, she has quietly avoided him since. Until now. "Ar'n' you happy fer me Ju?" He shakes his head. "Fer us, I mean... Fer us! Ar'n' you happy?" He clasps her by the shoulders and turns wide blue eyes on her, searching her face.
Stifling the urge to run her hand over her brow, Julie forces herself to smile.
"Course I am, Dave. Congratulations, mate. Now..." But he's not letting her go that easily.
"But are you really happy? I mean really, Ju... For Gill as well as me?" There's something hungry in his eyes now, and Julie sighs.
"Of course I am, Dave. Happy. For both of you."
He scrutinises her some more. Finally, grudgingly, he drops one hand, leaving the other still on her right shoulder, grasp wrench-tight.
"Always thought you had a thing for Gill, so I did, eh Ju? I mean, not that it would matter if you did, though..." A wicked gleam comes into his eyes "We could always see how that went, eh?" He winks broadly. "How would you fancy that, Ju? Best of both worlds, eh?" His free hand slides onto her waist. Julie stiffens. There's no one else in the corridor, and the music is loud from the wedding suite. God knows where Gill is. Slowly, calmly, she grasps his wrist and, tighter than she ever manhandled Frankie, removes it from her hip and holds him at bay.
"You are utterly abhorrent, Dave Murray." His lascivious grin turns to a leer, and moves swiftly on to anger. "And if you ever, ever try that again..." She leaves the threat hanging for a moment, before twisting her shoulder free, and turning away in disgust. She has only made it three steps before she feels his hands grabbing at her, turning her round to face him again.
"Don't...don't tell Gill I said that...will you, Ju? It would really hurt her if you did..." She stares at him in total disbelief for a moment, before swiftly pushing him against the wall with the breadth of one arm and twisting his bollocks with her spare hand so sharply he cries out.
"I will never do anything to hurt Gill, Dave Murray. But I swear to the God you just made your vows in front of, if you ever betray her trust, and I find out about it, I will make your life hell, you utterly useless piece of shit. Do you understand?" Dave whimpers. "Do. You. Understand. Me?" she repeats, icily.
Slowly, he nods. "Ye...yes."
She drops her hands and steps back.
"Good." And turns on her heel, striding down the corridor, head held high, until it turns and brings her out of sight. Her pace slows, and her shoulders slump. She walks unseeingly past the ladies', and out to the front door of the hotel. She could do with the air.