Caroline cooked pan-fried chicken and pesto vegetables for dinner. The simplicity of one of Jamie Oliver's quick recipes seemed perfect for the ennui that pervaded the kitchen after the revelations of the afternoon. Relieved Catherine and Cheryl had found the culprits who'd lit the fire at the gym, there were still things she and Gillian needed to discuss in private. Thankfully for them all, Flora was happy to fill the gaps in the conversation as they ate, until she made a startling connection.
"This is chicken!"
"Yes. We often eat chicken...why?" Asks Caroline, hunting for more information after Flora spat out a mouthful. "You usually like it."
"Henrietta's a chicken, and she died a week ago."
Caroline raised her eyebrows in surprise. She'd wondered when Flora would connect the farm animals to the meat on the table. There'd been the odd query before but clearly it was all happening tonight.
"No, Flora, we are not eating Henrietta. She was old and Gillian buried her like we do with all the animals who die on the farm," she says, glaring pointedly at Gillian with the 'If you don't back me up in this I'm going to bury you out there with the fictitious carcass of a dead bird' look before adding, "You were with me when I went to the butcher yesterday. Do you remember?"
"But it's chicken!" Flora demanded, like the statement was enough to explain her thoughts.
Gillian chimed in, catching Caroline's eye, although apparently the essay that started with 'I've been here with Raff and I've got it' didn't quite translate into the language of a glance and a nod. "There's animals grown for different reasons, Flora, and Henrietta were giving us eggs, not meat. So we wouldn't eat her."
"But it's chicken. She might be called Henrietta too," she posited, her mind whirring as she pushed pieces of pan-fried meat around her plate. "Can I be a vegetarian?"
"No," stated Caroline bluntly, hoping the conviction of her answer would mean the end of the matter, although it wasn't the first time Flora had asked and she feared it might be the start of a longer campaign. Flora was becoming more and more like Kate by the day; most days she appreciated how headstrong she could be.
"Those chickens wouldn't have names, and they're not pets, not like..." Gillian hunts for a better answer, aware she's fudging because Henrietta did end up on a plate earlier in the week, as meals for two very appreciative canines rather than the humans seated around the dining table tonight.
"So, they're not like Henrietta and Daisy and Cheryl."
"No. Different breeds from our hens. Almost different animals entirely."
"I think I want to be a vegetarian. Trudy at school is a vegetarian."
"No meat would mean no more hamburgers, bangers, chicken fingers, or even meatballs," Caroline said, to remind Flora of some of her favourite foods. She remembered Trudy, the child of some latter-day hippies from Hebden. "Trudy's parents are...Flora, we're not going to be vegetarians, but we could eat meat less often if you like," Caroline offers. "We could eat more cabbage and broccoli."
Gillian unsuccessfully stifled a laugh at Caroline's mentioning of Flora's vegetable nemeses then grimaced, thinking about the physical energy required for farming. "Idiot vegetarians. What's wrong with a mouthful of dead flesh?" she muttered as she shovelled in another mouthful, not at all surprised by the dirty look from Caroline.
Carefully shifting the conversation onto other topics, Caroline prompted Gillian to tell stories of when Raff was young on the farm. She was grateful Gillian guessed the plan to distract Flora and kept the youngster entertained for the remainder of the meal as only Gillian could do.
Leaving Gillian to clean up, Caroline took Flora upstairs to get ready for bed. After yet another reading of The Gruffalo, and relieved there was no further discussion about Henrietta or chickens, Caroline kissed her daughter goodnight and trudged into their ensuite. She had just finished taking off her makeup when Gillian strolled into the bathroom.
"Oh good. Take a seat. I'll take a look at that," Caroline said, gesturing to the wound on Gillian's face.
"It's fine, Caz."
"So you've been saying all evening. The bruising and swelling have increased and it's looking very red."
Gillian sighed. Aware of the no-nonsense voice and narrowing eyes aimed in her direction, she truculently sat on the closed lid of the toilet.
"It's fine. Really."
"I'll be the judge of that."
Caroline washed her hands thoroughly while Gillian fidgeted, picking at non-existent loose threads on her jeans.
"Bossy. You don't have to treat me like a kid, you know."
"Of course not, Calamity," Caroline said, the exasperation obvious.
"What?" squawked Gillian, not quite sure whether to be offended or delighted.
Caroline pulled a stool over so she could sit directly in front of Gillian. As she leaned forward, carefully pulling off the band-aid, Gillian winced.
Caroline grimaced in sympathy. "I'm sorry. It looks sore."
"It's fine." Gillian tapped Caroline playfully on the thigh. "I'll have you know, I'm the original; Calamity's the copy."
Caroline smirked as she examined the wound. "I know that. I also knew it would get a reaction."
"Mad cow."
"Just the way you like it."
They both chuckled, their benign bickering a comforting habit.
Caroline gently prodded the wound, becoming more serious. "It looks clean, but it is swelling and it could be getting infected. I'll put some more antiseptic on it and we'll see what it looks like in the morning. Okay?"
Caroline's eyes flicked from the wound up to Gillian's eyes, seeing trust and calm reassurance. She nodded, spreading a cool antiseptic on the cut before covering it gently with a larger dressing.
"We are seeing the GP tomorrow."
"Really? I don't need—"
"Stop whining. I know how big and strong you are, Calamity, but it's too close to your eye."
When Gillian squirmed like she was going to argue, Caroline put her mental foot down, used her head teacher voice, and stated firmly, "I know you don't care if you have a scar, but you are going to care if you wind up a one-eyed farmer who can't drive a tractor. If you don't call the GP, I'll ring Cheryl to tell her how much she looks like that chook you named after her."
Gillian scowled despite Caroline's attempt to lighten the conversation. She knew Caroline was being over protective, but she saw it as a sign of how much Caroline feared losing her. Secretly enjoying having someone showing her some TLC, she sighed in capitulation, leaning forward to appreciatively snuggle into Caroline.
"Thank you," she mumbled into the plush softness of Caroline's chest.
"You're welcome," Caroline offered, stroking Gillian's back soothingly.
Teeth cleaned and pyjamas on, they crawled into the middle of the bed. Gillian knew that they needed to return to the conversation that was interrupted before dinner, knew more would unfold for Caroline, but didn't know how far she could push Caroline. Facing each other, as was their habit when they talked, Gillian tucked the errant lock of blonde hair behind Caroline's ear.
"You know, I'm not leaving you. I'm tough and while I might get hurt every now and then, I'm not going to die on you, Caz."
Caroline's fingers reached out to clasp Gillian's hand, holding on.
"I know you mean that, but—"
"What happened with Kate, that was...what are the odds? You've probably calculated that already but it's really unlikely. Never gonna happen, is it? Really."
"It's...it's...it can happen though, that's the point. And I don't think I could lose you. I don't think I'd survive it," Caroline's voice caught and only after a long, ragged breath could she finish, "Again," she whispered.
Gillian pulled her into a tight hug, holding the blonde head close to her heart, the strong rhythm a calming beat for them both.
"I'm here, Caz. I'm not going anywhere, I promise."
Sobs suddenly erupted from Caroline's body as she clung to Gillian, the terror finally clawing to the surface. For long minutes she curled into the safety of the arms of the woman she couldn't bear to lose, gulping for air as she struggled above the waves threatening to engulf her with grief and fear again.
For the next hour Gillian whispered how much she loved Caroline, promised she would outlive her, promised they would both live to a hundred. She'd known the strong woman in her arms could survive most things, but this was her kryptonite and somehow the fire had burnt through Caroline's foundations as well as the gym. At least tonight Gillian felt they'd made a proper start on unpacking some of the burdensome baggage, the acknowledgment giving them a chance to rebuild and leaving them feeling lighter.
As Caroline gradually uncurled after the emotional storm, she gave Gillian the softest of kisses. One kiss, then another, passion escalating until a ravenous hunger for Gillian overwhelmed her and she gave her everything until they were both exhausted and replenished. It was a night of tears and teeth, the softest of caresses and whispers of eternity. When the night ended their bodies were entangled, floating in the tranquility of the morning light and a new dawn.
It was the sound of a distant woodpecker that greeted Caroline as she resurfaced from the land of dreams. She felt the pull of stiff muscles as she moved to roll over and grab Gillian's empty pillow, hoping to luxuriate in the lingering scent of her lover before duty called her from their bed. Her serenity was halted the instant she spied Gillian's clock; not only had she slept deeper than she had in a while, she'd slept longer than she'd intended.
Within the hour Caroline was in the meeting room next to her office, all the architect's designs from the original build of the gym spread out before her on the large conference table. She was trying to look ready for her first meeting with the Governors, but she didn't have a solid plan and the morning rush had left her a little more flustered than she liked.
In the last week she'd spoken to the insurance company, who were not going to pay the entire cost of rebuilding the gym, and then there was the likely increased cost of rebuilding to be considered. The shortfall would be significant, and other than begging the Minister, she didn't have any real idea of how to find the funds at this point. She certainly wasn't going to cut staff and increase class sizes to fund capital works, although that had already been suggested by one of the shiny-suited, neoliberal spivs on the board.
She glumly looked at the old plans, thought of how she'd like to remodel the gym anyway and the library had been damaged by the water too. She wondered how to sell the upgrade to the governors. An upgrade would be more likely to receive a funding grant, so she ran through various scenarios in her head as the governors filed into the room. Normally she didn't make decisions on the fly, but she was going to go with her gut on this; an upgrade was the most likely way to get funding. At least they were meeting before the scheduled Police press conference so Caroline was pleased to be able to deliver the good news about the arrests to the Board.
Laura, Judith's long-suffering and under utilised assistant, was glued to the Police press conference run by Calder Valley's finest. She leaned on the expansive cold marble counter in Judith's magazine perfect kitchen, poking at the remote to increase the volume of the telly. She heard Judith but pointedly didn't turn her head as Judith swanned in wearing her untied and flowing navy silk La Perla robe and matching negligee.
Freshly sprung from rehab following an unfortunate incident her publisher struggled to contain in the media, Judith sighed loudly to get her assistant's attention.
"This is about Caroline's school," Laura said, pointing at the screen in the hope that Judith wouldn't talk over it.
"I couldn't give a fuck about the..." Judith griped before remembering she was supposed to care.
Laura glanced at Judith, wondering again how anyone so unashamedly selfish could write books full of charm and compassion.
Judith spotted the look and changed tack. "You know what I mean."
Laura did, unfortunately. While Laura was grateful the publisher had kept her employed rather than blaming her for Judith's on-going issues, she wanted to prove she was capable of doing more than babysit the perpetually bored author. She knew she had to make an effort to boost her own profile with the publisher, and Judith needed to make amends in the media before her next book came out. They were both in need of some sort of miracle.
She turned back to the telly, watching excerpts of footage of the gymnasium on fire while the police revealed they had the culprits in custody. It wasn't a surprise to anyone that the miscreants were involved in drugs. The shock was that it wasn't any of the students from the school.
"A pity they'll all pay for the appalling choices of people outside the school," Laura muttered to herself, glancing slyly at Judith. She contemplated a more joyful if impoverished life without her job before remembering her mum's high expectations and savage tongue.
"I wonder if their insurance will payout for arson?"
Judith shrugged. "They could have a cake stall."
Laura stared at her, dumbfounded before consciously ignoring the snarky comment. She carefully coaxed Judith into a more positive frame of mind, mostly by reminding her she had enjoyed her time at the school and how the enthusiastic students were the major audience for her books.
When the press conference ended, Laura promptly served Judith a light lunch during which Judith raved about how Caroline had turned the school around, how much the students loved her, and how wonderful her day there with Caroline had been.
"Maybe after lunch I'lI pull out that adult novel about her…her family and give her, I mean it, a go," Judith said distractedly, thankful the quiet assistant had turned her attention to something on her laptop.
Judith toyed with her glass of water, willing it to be vodka, remembering Caroline having a swig in her office. It was the first time Judith had seen behind Caroline's adamantine shell, witnessing a vulnerability she hadn't known was there. She found it strikingly attractive, although she didn't want to admit to herself this was the appeal. There was something compelling about seeing Caroline fall apart, not that she wanted to be the cause of it, but to see up close the havoc, the destruction of someone so well put together had a magnetism she hadn't experienced before. In a small way, it made her feel a bit better for being a mess, too.
Every instance they'd met was now running through Judith's mind, each one mined anew for nuance and flavour, language and emotion. All of it would work in the new book she was planning, although she'd have to change the name of the main character unless she actually was going to write the story of Caroline's mad family.
She found her mind continually returning to those luscious curves, that blonde bob, the hypnotic sway of hips. It wasn't the first time she'd been attracted to a woman, but this was starting to be an obsession, and she'd been there before when characters from her books consumed her attention.
"Bloody writing," she muttered, knowing it was part of her creative process and yet unwilling for that to be the limit of her fascination with Caroline. Glaring at her personal assistant—whose focus on the laptop was so casually efficient—and resenting the intrusion of such positivity in her home, Judith seethed. It was then Laura's words about Caroline's school coalesced into something more solid.
Judith slapped the counter with an excited squeal. "That's it! That's brilliant!"
"Idiot vegetarians. What's wrong with a mouthful of dead flesh?"
From The Durrells, S3E6