Part One Hundred And Ninety Seven
Neither Karen nor George chose to raise the subject of what they'd done that morning, because neither could find a satisfactory way of discussing it. George had fallen asleep afterwards and Karen had immediately taken a dip in the pool. When George had woken, Karen was again stretched out on the sunbed, for the moment hidden behind the barrier of her book. George's body had begun turning a deliciously sun rich gold, making her feel lazily contented in the sultry heat of the mid September sun. On the Saturday evening, Karen drove them to a beautiful little fish restaurant in a nearby town that she'd discovered the week before. It was just above the beach, with fishing nets and other assorted paraphernalia hanging round the door. They sat at a table outside, with the gently lapping waves only a couple of hundred yards or so away from them. As the stunningly tanned waiter came to take their order for drinks, he smiled in recognition when he saw Karen, causing George to smirk when he'd left. "Darling, precisely how often have you been here?" She asked knowingly. "Only twice," Karen told her, seeing exactly where the conversation was heading. "I think I made a bit of an impression on him." "I bet you did," George said dryly. "No, before you ask," Karen told her. "Though the thought did cross my mind." "So why not?" George said with a laugh. "Three reasons really," Karen replied, ticking them off on her fingers. "He doesn't speak enough English, I don't speak enough if any Spanish, and because he is far too young. I'm trying to stay away from men young enough to be my... Well, from men younger than Ritchie Atkins anyway." It hadn't gone unnoticed by either of them that she'd almost said young enough to be my son, but neither of them drew attention to it. "I once picked up someone only just out of university," George astounded Karen by telling her. "I was fast approaching my fortieth birthday, and was feeling very old, very unattractive, and completely dried up. So, I made myself look as young as possible, which in those days wasn't all that difficult, and haunted the kind of place where absolutely no one I knew would have thought to seek my company. I was thirty-nine, and he was twenty-one, and it was possibly the naughtiest thing I've ever done in my life. Talk about a rerun of The Graduate." Karen laughed. "I can just see you playing Mrs. Robinson," She said, making George blush scarlet. "Giving someone orders would be your idea of heaven." This time, it was George's turn to laugh. "You're absolutely right," George said in tones of remembered ecstasy. "There really is something to be said for getting one's chance to play tutor. It was so utterly, unquestionably wrong, that it worked, if that isn't a contradiction in terms. He was very sweet, but then he got a job abroad, at around the time I was considering ending it anyway, so you could say it worked out for all concerned. I used to see him occasionally in the public gallery when I was in court, but he thankfully knew better than to even think of approaching me." "You're outrageous," Karen said fondly, as the waiter returned to take their order for food. When he'd gone, Karen said, "I couldn't have taught Ritchie anything if I'd tried. You never saw him when he was looking incredible, with the charm turned up to maximum, and the lines dropping off him as if from a script. Put John's suave, self-assured confidence, with Fenner's manipulative insincerity, and that was Ritchie for you." "Is, erm, is rough sex as good as it sounds?" George asked, not sure if Karen would really want to tell her. "I suppose it depends on why you want it like that," Karen said contemplatively. "But yes, it certainly was for me. I took a pretty big risk, doing that with someone I knew absolutely nothing about, but I think taking risks was part of my raison d'etre in those days. I wouldn't recommend trying it, unless you're completely sure that you know what you're getting into, but if it works, it's fabulous." "I asked John to try it once, but he wouldn't. He said that he'd never been violent towards a woman in his life, and that he wasn't about to start now." "That sounds like John," Karen said with a smile, thinking that George probably would have liked it if she'd been able to try it.
"I think there's a part of me that thrives on taking risks," Karen said when their starters came. "Like going up on roofs for example," George said a little sternly. "That at least had a good reason behind it," Karen said, though knowing that George did mean well. "It was so seductive up there, George, that I instantly understood why Denny had gone up there. She said that it made her feel free, untouchable, as if she could just fly away and leave everything behind." "And you understanding that wish doesn't bother you?" George asked in disgusted amazement. "Yes, it did, when I got around to thinking about it, but that was the point. Denny went up there because not coming down, or at least not coming down safely, was always a possibility for her, but it wasn't with me." "Try and convince John of that," George told her disbelievingly. "Afterwards, when he came to see me, to tell me you were safe, his exact words were, that you didn't give a damn which way you came down." "I'm not sure I'd go that far," Karen replied, though seeing why John had thought such a thing. "He was so frightened for you," George said, briefly laying a hand over one of Karen's. "So was I, and so were Neil and Nikki." "Neil was furious with me afterwards," Karen put in, enormously touched at the feeling in George's voice. "And I probably deserved it." They talked through the rest of the meal, but without either of them touching on precisely why George was there in the first place. They wanted to leave that until the last moment possible, because its only result would be to raise feelings of hurt and betrayal that neither of them were in any hurry to face.
When at last they'd finished eating and had paid the bill, they stepped down onto the sand and began walking towards the sea. They carried their shoes in their hands, the soft sand creeping between their toes. "Tell me when it began," Karen eventually invited, taking that final step away from their safe, calm shore of surface tranquility. "April," George told her quietly, immediately wincing at the shock she saw on Karen's face. "I figured that it had probably been going on for a while," Karen said, clearly thrown by this information. "But I had no idea it was that long." "The weekend I got drunk," George filled in for her. "Jo was so angry with me, more angry than I think I've ever seen her. I think she kissed me, because she was so relieved that I hadn't got round to taking those pills." "When I saw her the next day, she looked more than a little frazzled. Maybe now I know why. Just tell me one thing, George, why on earth did you keep it going with me for so long?" "Darling, I had absolutely no idea where it was going with Jo, not for at least the next month. I couldn't have given you up, no matter how hard I tried. But as the feelings I had for Jo grew, I knew that it wasn't fair to either of you to keep up the pretense." "That's a roundabout way of saying that you were keeping your options open," Karen said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice, and not entirely succeeding. "I didn't think about it like that," George told her, though knowing that this was how it must seem. "You see, this wasn't ever supposed to happen," Karen said, desperately trying to maintain her iron grip on her unpredictable emotions. "In the beginning, you and me was just supposed to be something light, something fun, something with absolutely no strings, only it never quite turns out like that, does it." "No," George agreed regretfully, as they turned to walk along the edge of the sea, and Karen dug out her cigarettes, automatically lighting one for George. "That's what I thought I wanted," Karen continued. "Nothing heavy, nothing that would ask too much of a part of me that had nothing left to give. I'm loathed to admit it, but over the last few months, you've completely got under my skin. It's not anyone's fault, it just happened." "And do you really think that the same thing didn't happen to me?" George asked, wanting to get this absolutely clear. "It didn't matter that I was back with John," She continued. "Because being with you was so new, so different, and because you made me feel alive. You showed me that who I was didn't matter, and being with someone who simply accepted me warts and all, wasn't something I'd ever had before. Even John, even in his slightly misguided wisdom, he thinks he can change me, whether it's the anorexia or the enjoying being with a woman, he thinks, or at least thought, he could cure it. I didn't intend to fall in love with Jo, I promise you I didn't." "I know," Karen said quietly, slipping a hand into George's, as they walked with the sea lapping around their feet. "And if I'm honest, I think you were always destined to fall in love with her." "I'm not sure I believe in destiny," George replied, wondering just how much thinking Karen had done over the last couple of weeks. "You should this time," Karen said simply, and then tried to explain. "George, you've had something in common with Jo for the last twenty years, or almost that long. You've both loved John, and whilst that has for most of that time only given you two a reason to verbally scrap at every given opportunity, it's not something you should immediately dismiss. That has meant, whether or not you care to admit it, that both you and Jo have been quietly interested in the other's life for far longer than the last two years. Then there's the relationship the pair of you entered into with John. That made it almost unavoidable for you to become far closer than you otherwise might have done. As a result of what you share with each other, in other words John, you've had to get to know each other pretty thoroughly in order to make it work. When you found your way into my bed, because let's face it, that's how it was in the beginning, that's pretty much all we both thought you were there for. You were spreading your wings a bit, exploring a side of you that you'd never before sought to discover, a situation I was entirely happy with. George, as you learnt what being with a woman was like, I think it was only natural for your closeness with Jo to spill over into what you were doing with me. Sweetheart, I might feel incredibly hurt at having to let you go, but I do understand it." "How can you rationalise it so, well, so calmly?" George asked after a few moment's silence, almost wishing that Karen would shout at her, say something to try and equal the balance. "I've had two weeks to work it out," Karen said matter-of-factly. "Dwelling on something that I know I can at least begin to deal with, is far easier than thinking about things that I know I definitely can't." "What first made you wonder?" George asked, badly wanting her curiosity satisfied on this point. "The night you slapped John, I phoned you after he'd left me, because I wanted to make sure you were all right. You weren't there, and I started trying to work out why." "That was the only night I spent with Jo, before last weekend, and it hammered home to me that I had to tell you soon, and Daddy liking you so much only made it worse." "You know he wrote to me, after Ross died." "Did he? He didn't say so." "He told me a lot about when your mother died, but he mainly wrote to tell me that he'd also known about Ross. John asked his advice, when he first found out about him." "I should have known," George said, yet another piece of the jigsaw fitting into place. "John always did go to Daddy when he had a problem he couldn't solve, even after we got divorced."
They walked in silence for a while, beginning to make their way back to the car, but still taking their time. "George, I shouldn't have done what I did this morning, I'm sorry," Karen said after a while, knowing that this subject did have to be broached. "Darling," George said, half laughing. "I wanted what happened this morning, just as much as I think you did. You're right, it probably shouldn't have happened, but I'm not going to lose any sleep over it, and neither should you. I'm also not so naive, as to think that either of us will get through tonight, without wanting a far more satisfactory repeat." When Karen burst into a fit of laughter, George smirked in agreement. "Don't ever change, will you?" Karen said, taking George's hand as they neared the car, and taking in the dark clouds that seemed to have crept in above them. The air was electric, the crickets buzzing in the trees around the carpark, the atmospheric anticipation of the coming storm almost dense enough to touch. They only just made it to the car in time, before the large, heavy droplets began pattering down on the windscreen. "There was a storm last week," Karen told her as they drove towards the villa. "I could have sworn it was going to carry the villa off into the sea it was that powerful." "I don't think this one's going to be any different," George said, as the rain began falling in torrents, drumming on the roof of the car.
When they pulled up in the driveway, they made a dash to the front door, both getting utterly soaked in the process. Karen had reflexively flung an arm round George's waist as they'd run towards the shelter of the front porch, and she didn't bother to remove it as they went inside. Every inch of skin that was in contact with Karen, burned from her touch, sending sparks of fiery recognition up and down George's spine. When Karen had banged the door behind them, and they stood dripping on the tiled floor of the hall, Karen reached up to brush George's slightly bedraggled hair out of her face. "I like the thoroughly drenched look," She said, as their eyes met with that old intensity, that familiar fire that had once burned between them so brightly. "I... I think we ought to get rid of these wet clothes," George said, her voice slightly hoarse from the feelings that were almost swamping her. Neither of them moved, as time seemed to stand still around them, measured solely by the rain on the windows and the rumble of the approaching thunder. Neither could have said who it was who moved first, but they were suddenly held fast in each other's arms, lips seeking out the other's mouth, and hands wandering over well-known territory. They didn't speak as they rapidly cast their clothes aside, somehow managing to move in the direction of the bedroom. They needed each other desperately, their hands and mouths hungry to sample everything the other had to offer once and for all. The raging storm around them seemed to encourage the almost ferocious quality in their lovemaking, sounds being torn from them as if ripped asunder by the lightning itself. Having neglected to close the curtains, they both gasped as the flash of fork lightning shone in through the windows, bathing them briefly in all its revealing glory. As the waves pounded on the rocks lower down the cliff, and the thunder broke regularly overhead, they brought each other to the edge again and again, doing almost everything they'd ever done together in their few short months of happiness. But eventually, as the storm began to drift away, and their energy began to die down, they found themselves crying tears of true regret for what they could no longer have. They were lying in a tangle of limbs and sheets, their bodies glistening with sweat from their exertion, cradling the other as the tears coursed down their cheeks. "I'm sorry," George said between sobs, the guilt at what she had done causing her an almost physical pain. "I'm sorry too," Karen told her, part of her never wanting to let this beautiful woman go from her. Then, as she now had nothing left to lose, Karen allowed herself to say the words she'd wanted to say for so long now. "I love you," She said, feeling as though her soul had been cracked wide open, leaving its entire contents bare for all to see. George just stared at her, having had no idea that Karen's feelings for her ran quite so deep. "I'm sorry," Karen continued, trying to qualify her statement. "I know you didn't want to hear it, but I had to say it, just once." George didn't say a word as they gradually calmed down and drifted towards sleep, more from exhaustion than anything else. She simply lay there and held Karen tighter if possible, trying to soothe the fractured soul she could see was in tatters before her.
Sunday was spent tidying the villa and preparing to go home again. They could both feel the weight of the approaching departure, knowing that this would finally mean the end of them as lovers. There had been no doubt that they had needed what had happened last night, but neither of them wanted to face the far too daunting reality, that last night had been the last time anything of the sort would ever happen between them. They spoke fairly little during the day, both women lost in their thoughts, and when they eventually took a cab to the airport, Karen couldn't help but to dread the return to her even emptier life. They sat next to each other on the plane home, and walked through the arrivals hall at Heathrow, feeling the chill of the mid September evening, in stark comparison to the heat they had left. As George had only been going away for a couple of days, she had left her car in the overnight carpark, and now offered Karen a lift home which she accepted. They were silent on the drive to Karen's flat, both never wanting the journey to end. But end it eventually did, with the car coming to rest in Karen's driveway. Neither of them knew what to say, because everything that needed to be said had been said the night before. "George," Karen said quietly. "I don't want you to feel guilty about this." "It's a bit late for that, Darling," George replied cynically. "I mean it," Karen said firmly but gently. "I know what guilt does to you, and I refuse to let you go through that because of me." "I'm not making any promises," George told her evasively. "But I'll try." Reaching out to the other simultaneously, they held each other close. "Whatever happens, I'm always here," Karen said into her hair. "So don't you dare stay away." "And I'm hardly going anywhere either," George replied a little unsteadily. As Karen eventually disentangled herself and opened the door, George said, "I'll call you soon." "Promise?" Karen said, feeling childish but needing to say it. "Yes, that's one promise I can make," George said with a watery smile, as Karen got out of the car, retrieved her bags from the boot and went inside. Waiting until she saw the light come on upstairs, George switched on the engine, backed out of the drive, and slid quietly away, knowing that there would always be a place in her heart for Karen, because no one, no matter how experienced they may one day be, can ever forget their first.
When she arrived home, she wanted nothing more than to go to bed, and to try and sleep away some of the despair that seemed to be swamping her, but this wasn't to be. John's car was already in her driveway, and George found herself cursing his having a key to her house for the first time since she'd allowed him to keep it. She really didn't want company tonight, and she just knew that everything she was feeling was about to burst out of her, and would probably crash down all over him. John had heard her car arrive, and couldn't help but be curious about her weekend. He'd come over this evening, because he wanted to make sure she was all right, after what must have been a pretty emotional couple of days. He hadn't known exactly when George would get back, so had decided to wait for her. Letting herself in, George dumped her bag in the hall and called John's name. "In here," He said from the lounge, and when she appeared, got up to kiss her. "You're looking good," He said, surveying the progress she'd managed to make on her tan in such a short time. "No, I don't," She said belligerently. "I look tired, and stressed, and could really have done without the welcoming committee." Seeing that he was probably going to be in for a rough ride, John offered to pour her a glass of wine. Relenting slightly, George acquiesced and sank down onto the sofa. When he handed her the glass, she took a grateful swig and put the glass down on the coffee table. "Will I get my head bitten off, if I ask how it went?" He asked, knowing the answer before he'd finished the word will. "What do you think?" She retorted immediately. "I don't think I've ever felt as much of a complete and utter bitch as I do tonight. How did I do this to her, John? How did I manage to hurt her quite so thoroughly? Do you have any idea what I've done to her?" "Yes," John replied, sitting down in the armchair. "You did it to me once, remember?" "Yes, well, there's a tiny little bit of a difference here, isn't there," She replied acidly. "Because Karen hasn't done anything to deserve it." Then, realising precisely what she'd said, she lost her bite immediately. "I'm sorry," She said, putting her hands to her tired face. "That was a bit below the belt." John could see how wound up she was, and didn't take any offense at her thoughtless remark. "Come here," He said, realising that only a cuddle might calm her down, and when she hesitated, said, "come on." When she crossed the carpet to him, he pulled her down onto his knee, always having loved the fact that she was small enough to be enclosed in his arms in this way. "Do you know what the worst thing was about this weekend?" She began when he'd kissed her. "She wasn't in the least angry with me. If this had been you, you'd at least have shouted at me, made it abundantly clear how hurt you were, and then gone out and picked up some random tart, just to achieve some sort of revenge. But Karen's obviously spent the last fortnight working this out, which meant that she'd got rid of all the anger and most of the hurt, long before I turned up. She said she understood why it had happened, and then, last night, John, she said she loved me. Not once has she ever said that before." "I think," John said slowly and carefully. "That she thought you didn't want to hear it. Karen never would have wanted to put any pressure on you, no matter how strong her feelings are for you." "I know, which makes what I've done to her so much worse." "You know, for quite a long time, I thought it would be the other way round. I thought that it would be Karen to find her affections straying off somewhere else, not you." "We're really going to have to keep an eye on her, John," George said seriously. "She really didn't want to come back, which is why she chose to return home with me. She knows that everything is still waiting here for her to deal with, and I honestly don't know how she's going to get through the next few months. Karen may not be my lover any more, but she is my friend, and I refuse to let her go under, purely for lack of a friend." "Jo was right about you," John said with gentle pride in his voice. "Because you'd never have said something like that a few years ago and actually meant it. Karen won't have to get through any of this alone, because it's safe to say that she means far too much to all of us to let her do that."