A NUMBERS GAME, Chapter 5
THE SCOTTISH BORDERS
At the time, it had seemed like a perfectly reasonable bet.
After all the forecast had called for only a slight chance of light drizzle, and intermittent at that. Nothing any self-respecting Englishwoman would be concerned about. Easy peasy.
Of course, that was before the placid grey skies had treacherously unleashed the downpour that was currently beating down on the two young women.
Lara silently cursed their decision not to bring rain gear; they'd opted to travel light, navigating the narrow country roads on her father's old motorcycle. They'd pressed on in the hopes the rain would be a passing affair - another miss.
As a consequence the brunette was drenched to the bone: she fervently hoped that the old oilcloth bags draped over the rear fender hadn't lost their water-repellent properties.
Elsie, to her credit, had continued to clutch to the brunette from behind without complaint, though Lara knew full well she had to be equally drenched.
Pangs of guilt riddled the Englishwoman; she'd hoped their impromptu Scottish holiday would - at least in part - help make up for Lara's shoddy behaviour two days prior.
It was not a great start.
She'd kicked herself vehemently since that shameful day. Her friend had been prepared to sacrifice her career to increase Lara's chances from none to slim; she hadn't deserved Lara's tirade.
Maybe there was something to the blonde's subsequent speculation, after all.
You know, sometimes I think you're not happy unless you're miserable.
Lara had denied the statement out of course - but deep down she was worried the American could be onto something.
Since Yamatai Lara had taken precious little time to savor the little joys in life; and on those rare occasions when she had, she'd invariably experienced guilt pangs - whether due to perceived idleness, or something else entirely, was a question that needed posing.
She shuddered at the possible answers.
In the meantime, there was another question that needed addressing.
Namely, lovemaking. Or rather, the lack thereof.
Elsie's albatross.
Since their disastrous interlude the previous year Lara had been hesitant to initiate, fearful of inadvertently triggering horrid memories in the blonde. She'd been content to let Elsie proceed at her own pace.
It had led to numerous cuddling sessions; beautiful moments all, to be sure. Her friend was nothing if not a wonderful snuggler.
But they'd never progressed to anything more...intense.
The brunette had begun to wonder about something the blonde had once said.
I'm damaged goods, Lara...
At the time the brunette had violently rebuked the notion out of hand. But now...
Lara shook off the thought, her heart twisting painfully. No, her friend was most definitely not 'damaged'. Certainly not in the sense of being unworthy of lovemaking.
...but what about incapable?
Lara worried the psychological wounds inflicted upon the blonde might never heal.
She wondered if Elsie had ever experienced sexual gratification at another's hand. She'd experienced sex - but its context had been beyond horrific. Had the ghastly events of her childhood forever closed that door to her?
The archaeologist bit her lip; it was a door that Lara would have to pry open with the utmost care.
Flames flickered in her soul.
That bastard...
For now at least, her concerns were more immediate.
There was no question of continuing their travels in the current conditions. They had to find shelter, and soon: the insistent deluge was threatening to transform the sand and gravel road into something more akin to the quagmire of Passchendaele.
Lara found herself silently longing for Elsie's old Volkswagen.
Her rain-splattered visor made the search for suitable shelter challenging. It didn't help that the hedgerows framing the narrow path made it virtually impossible to take stock of their environment, the thorn-topped earthworks blocking their view of the surrounding countryside.
The archaeologist slowed as they came up to another sharp bend. She leaned into the turn -
- and swung violently to the left, barely dodging an applejack Mini careening wildly around the bend, the crazed driver shooting past without so much as a glance in their direction.
Fuck!
Lara fought to bring the motorcycle back under control, nearly gasping at the ratchet-like tightening of Elsie's arms around her waist.
The front wheel finally bit into the soft gravel, the motorcycle narrowly avoiding plunging headfirst into the hedgerow.
Bloody Wanker!
The brunette briefly considered chasing down the tosser in the Mini but quickly thought better of it - they desperately needed to get in the dry.
She pressed on.
A few hundred yards on a building loomed through a roadside break in the hedgerows. A sign hung from an iron bracket in front - Lara couldn't make out the writing through her splattered visor, but at this point it was a case of any port in a storm.
Good enough.
She pulled into the narrow lot, taking little note of the complete lack of other vehicles out front. The motorcycle had barely come to a halt when Elsie clambered off and made a beeline for the front door. Lara unhooked the carry bags from the rear fender and followed at a run.
Elsie was waiting at the door. "What is this place?"
Lara shot by the American and thumbed the latch, the two young women quickly scampering inside.
Lara dropped the bags to the floor and removed her helmet, the blonde doing likewise. Intensely relieved to finally be out of the downpour, the brunette surveyed her surroundings.
They were standing in a small landing, a quaint parlour immediately to their right. A narrow hallway before them led off to what Lara surmised was a kitchen.
This was no inn, nor pub. It was someone's home.
"You know, we should've knocked," said the blonde in a low voice, her long blonde hair damp with moisture. "Feels weird just barging in like this...who lives here, anyway?"
"I've no idea," returned the brunette, slowly shaking her head.
Elsie did a double take.
"Say again?" exclaimed the blonde in a shrill whisper. "I thought that's why you stopped here!"
Lara nodded to the door. "Would you rather we go back outside?"
The blonde pressed her hands to either side of her matted hair. "Oh my God, we're breaking and entering!"
"We haven't broken anything," countered the Englishwoman.
"Well, trespassing then -"
Lara called out.
"Hello? Is anyone homphh -"
Elsie clasped her hand over the brunette's mouth.
"What are you doing? Let's get out of here!"
Lara pulled the blonde's arm away from her face.
"Stop it," said the Englishwoman. "We're in Britain, remember. People don't shoot trespassers here."
"We - we should at least go back outside and knock -"
The brunette moved to the door and rapped loudly on the inner woodwork.
"Happy?"
Elsie fidgeted in nervous anticipation. "I'll tell them I'm American...in this day and age they'll probably assume I don't know any better...yeah, they might buy that..."
But there was no response from the home's denizens - wherever they were.
"Maybe no one's home?" mused the brunette.
"But the door was unlocked..."
A fleeting movement from the kitchen caught Lara's eye.
"Hello?"
Elsie grabbed the archaeologist's arm. "They're hiding...let's get out of here, for God's sake -"
But Lara shook off her companion's grip and slowly advanced down the hall.
"Lara, what are you doing? You're getting water all over the floor!"
The brunette waved her companion to be quiet, even though she inwardly conceded the blonde had a point. But she moved forward regardless.
"If you get shot I'm going to be so pissed!" hissed Elsie.
Lara couldn't quite stifle a grin, even as she tensed at the kitchen's entrance.
She leaned in.
At the far end of the surprisingly long kitchen stood a figure.
Or rather, danced a figure, the woman's hips swaying back and forth to some silent rhythm.
"Er...excuse me?"
There was no reaction.
Lara moved into the kitchen. The woman had her back to her, facing the window as she worked over a sinkful of dishes. It was at this point that the brunette detected the faint muffled hum of music. Earbuds!
They'd been concealed underneath the woman's shoulder-length crop of salt and pepper hair. Lara reached out -
- just as the woman turned, clutching a towel full of dried cutlery.
The woman's green eyes widened in surprise.
Lara jerked her hand back.
The woman let out a yelp.
There was a metallic crash as cutlery hit the floor.
The brunette held out both hands, palms facing the woman.
"Sorry! I'm sorry!"
There followed a brief pause before the woman burst into laughter.
Lara slowly lowered her hands as Elsie's rapid footfalls echoed behind her.
"What's happened?"
The woman removed her earbuds. "Criminy, you frightened me half to death!"
"I'm so sorry," repeated the archaeologist earnestly. "I didn't mean -"
The woman gave Lara and Elsie a quick once over. "Look at you two! Ye look like refugees off the blooming Titanic!"
Blonde and brunette glanced at each other.
"I guess we do kinda look like drowned rats, don't we?" said Elsie.
"That'll be my doin'," said the woman, her eyes apologetic. "I shouldn't have made you wait outside on a day like this, but normally I can feel the vibration when guests pull in...I dinnae know how I could've missed it..."
"We're going by motorcycle," explained the archaeologist.
Lily's eyebrows rose. "Och...not the best day for it, eh?"
Elsie dropped to one knee and began collecting the the scattered cutlery.
"In retrospect, maybe motorcycling through Britain was just asking for it."
Lara stepped forward. "I apologize for the intrusion, we thought this was -"
"You thought," interrupted the blonde.
"- this was a pub or an inn...I hadn't realized it was someone's residence."
The woman smiled.
"You're not far off, dear. This is a B&B."
Lara blinked. "Oh...!"
The woman extended her hand. "Lily's the name, by the way."
"Lara," echoed the brunette, the American introducing herself after she'd dropped the cutlery into the sink.
"Sorry for getting your floors wet," said Elsie, nudging her companion. "But some of us decided it might be a good idea to go wandering around someone's home."
Lily waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, no harm done. I canna blame ye for not wanting to stand out in this weather."
"Thank you," said the archaeologist, arching an eyebrow at her companion.
Lily stood back and looked at the two young women. "Now then, why don't we get you two in the dry?"
"Yes, please!" exclaimed the blonde gratefully. "Everything's chaffing!"
Lara rolled her eyes. "Elsie..."
"Right, then..."
The proprietor proceeded to strike the floor with her right foot three times in succession.
"Help is on the way," smiled the green-eyed woman. "So, what say supper at seven?"
Lara hesitated. "Er...we don't want to impose..."
"Oh, rubbish," said the woman, casting her hand downwards for emphasis. "We haven't had guests all week, company would be right lovely."
"Well, since you put it that way," replied the brunette.
"Thank you," echoed the American.
An idea flashed in the archaeologist's mind.
"I was wondering, if you happen to -"
"I'm allergic to haggis!" blurted Elsie, anticipating the Englishwoman.
"No, you're not."
"Am too!" insisted the blonde frantically, clasping her hands in supplication as she addressed the proprietor. "Deathly allergic! I blow up like a balloon!"
"To haggis?" queried Lily. "Ye mean to an ingredient, aye? I can always make it without -"
"No, the whole thing!" said the American. "When they all mix together, I become allergic -"
"That is utter bollocks!" proclaimed Lara.
"It's true!"
"Ah," said the grey-haired woman, understanding. "Don't have the stomach for it, eh, dearie? Don't fret yer pretty little head, there'll be no haggis tonight."
"Thank you!"
"Bugger," returned the brunette, disappointed.
Elsie fired an angry glance at her companion. "You witch!"
"And here I thought you were the heathen," muttered the archaeologist.
"Stop trying to stuff me with animal guts!"
"There be witches...?"
Lara turned at the new voice. At the entrance to the kitchen stood a pretty young woman the brunette estimated to be in her late teens, coiffed in long raven-black hair which contrasted strikingly with the girl's sky blue eyes.
"Customers, mum?" exclaimed the girl brightly.
"Aye," confirmed Lily. She turned to the archaeologist. "Ye'll be staying the night, yes?"
Elsie and Lara shared a questioning gaze.
"I think that would be wise," suggested the brunette.
"No argument here," agreed the blonde.
"It's settled, then," announced the proprietor as she handed her charges over to the girl. "Ivy will show ye to your rooms - ye do have a change of clothes, yes?"
"We do," affirmed Lara, though if their travel bags had lost their water repellent properties it would be a moot point.
"Ivy, eh," mulled Elsie, looking from daughter to mother. "Do I detect a bit of a floral trend?"
Lily smiled. "Me mum is Rose."
Elsie grinned. "Of course."
"Come on, then," prodded the girl as she led her charges from the kitchen. Lara picked up their helmets and tin cloth bags at the door before following the young woman up a narrow staircase to the second floor.
"Where are ye going, anyway?" asked Ivy once they'd reached the top of the stairs. "Not the best day to be biking about."
"Nowhere in particular," answered the blonde, smiling at her companion. "Just giving in to wanderlust, you could say."
The raven-haired girl led them down the hall. "Those are the best holidays...so, one room or two?"
"One is fine," replied Elsie.
Ivy ushered her charges into the first room on the left. "Righto then."
Lara looked at their accommodation: it was a typical countryside B&B's bedroom, festooned with quaint touches meant to enhance calm and relaxation. An old wooden dresser complete with wildflower-filled vase hugged the near wall, while portraits of various floral motifs added to the rural decor. The thistle wallpaper and lace draperies framing the window completed the effect.
Lara's gaze was drawn to the two single beds.
"Um..."
The raven-haired girl seemed to sense something was off.
"Och, I hope it's not too small?" said Ivy. "I know it's a bit of a wee thing by English standards, but it's our biggest..."
"Nah, it's fine," said Elsie as she serenely moved to the left-side bed. Crouching down, she clasped her hands under the frame and slid it over until it hugged its companion.
Lara shifted nervously.
"There," said the blonde, straightening up and looking over the new sleeping arrangements with satisfaction. "That'll work."
An impish grin slowly spread across Ivy's features as she looked from the blonde to the brunette.
"Aye," said the girl, blue eyes twinkling. "That'll work fer sure."
Ivy left to fetch a basket while both women changed out of their wet clothes, Lara relieved that their travel bags had successfully kept the rain at bay.
Lara was intensely grateful to be out of her waterlogged garments. She was used to braving the elements in her travels, but this was hardly an archaeological expedition. She was on holiday, being soaked to the bone was most definitely not a job requirement.
Once Ivy had left with their drenched clothes Elsie turned to her companion, a disheartened expression crossing her pale features.
She flopped down heavily onto the joined bed and let out a despondent breath.
Lara sat down next to her friend, brushing aside a lock of damp blonde hair.
"Our little holiday hasn't exactly gotten off to a textbook start, has it? I'm sorry for that..."
"What? Oh, it's not that, I enjoyed today."
The brunette tilted her head in puzzlement. "What, then?"
The tip-tap patter of rain against the window partly muffled the blonde's sigh. "It's just...why are there so many pretty girls in the world?"
Lara frowned, glancing to the doorway and back to her friend. "You don't think yourself lacking in that respect, I hope?"
Elsie chuckled softly.
"You're kidding, right?"
"Of course not!"
The blonde closed her eyes and pressed the back of her hand to her brow.
"You know, you're the last person who should be lecturing others about self-perception. 'I'm nothing special', my ass...you who looks like you were put together in a freaking design studio..."
"This isn't about me," countered the brunette. "Bugger, Elsie...you're fetching! Why the bloody Hell would you think otherwise?"
The American was quiet, the subtle back and forth rocking of her head conveying disagreement.
"What?" queried the archaeologist.
"Just...nothing."
"Tell me."
"You'll think I'm silly."
"No, I won't...I'll likely disagree, but I certainly won't think you're being 'silly'."
The American fell silent.
"Come on," prodded Lara. "Out with it."
A sigh.
"Fine...my nose is too big," lamented the blonde.
Lara blinked.
"Don't be silly!"
"Hey! You said -"
"Elsie, you're cracked!" blurted the brunette in disbelief. "Your nose is fine! Lovely, even!"
"Look...you asked," said the blonde glumly. "So I told you. All right?"
Lara scowled at her friend. Laying down on the bed, she reached up and pulled Elsie's hand from her forehead, entwining her fingers with the American's.
"It's not just my opinion," insisted the Englishwoman. "Sam for one happens to think you're quite dishy."
Elsie slowly opened her eyes and fixed her gaze on the ceiling.
"She...she told you that?"
Lara smiled.
"She said you remind her of a young Judy Greer," explained the brunette. "I had to google her, but -"
"I know who that is," interjected the American.
"Well then..."
There followed a brief pause, the blonde's expression one of contemplation.
"Yeah, well...Judy doesn't have to cope with a stupid gap between her front teeth," contended the American.
Lara squeezed her companion's fingers.
"Which makes your smile all the more adorable," countered the brunette. "It adds to your rustic quality."
Elsie slowly craned her neck to look at her companion.
"I'm...rustic?"
"I meant in a good way," added the Englishwoman quickly.
"So...I'm unsophisticated."
"I didn't say that!"
"Simple. Unrefined."
"Stop it!"
But Lara could see the glint of amusement shining from her friend's grey eyes.
"Let's start over," continued the brunette, eager to extricate herself from the morass she'd just waddled into, "Do you remember when we first met?"
"How can I forget?" replied the blonde. "You threw up."
Lara was mortified. "That...that had nothing to do with you!"
"Uh-huh..."
The archaeologist pressed on. "My point is...I had no idea who you were, all I knew was that Trinity was out there looking for me. I shouldn't have trusted anyone, and yet...there was something about you. You had a purity of spirit...I felt it then and I still feel it now."
Elsie raised a pale eyebrow. "So...what you're saying is that I'm beautiful on the inside?"
"Ye - No! I mean - yes, but - oh, why are you making this so bloody difficult?"
The blonde grinned, shifting over to press her forehead to the brunette's. "'Cause you're adorable when you squirm."
"- the...the point I'm trying to make is that you're beautiful in every facet of your being, inside and outside. Pretty faces are ten a penny, but you have a loving heart behind yours which makes you infinitely more attractive - and I haven't had the best experiences with blondes."
Their eyes melted into each other.
"You outshine them all, Elsie. I haven't had much luck in life but meeting you is something for which I consider myself eternally blessed. You are a gift from the Fates."
Elsie's breathing stilled.
"I...I don't know what to say," whispered the American, her voice thick with emotion. "Lara, that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me..."
Lara gazed into the same silver orbs she'd found solace in when she'd first regained consciousness in that Maine wilderness. So much had happened since then. So much had changed. Gaping holes had opened in her life.
But her love for this girl had only deepened.
Their lips brushed.
"Right, your clothes should be dr - och! Sorry!"
A scuttle of retreating footfalls sounded behind them.
Lara shot up into a sitting position as Elsie burst into laughter.
Ivy's voice drifted in from the hallway. "You two dinnae waste time, do ye?"
The archaeologist could feel her cheeks flushing. "I...sorry!"
"Just a friendly word of advice, you might want to close the door next time," continued the unseen girl from the corridor.
"I'm sorry!" repeated the brunette as her companion rolled over onto her stomach and buried her face into a pillow, the cushion muffling her laughter.
"It's no barnie to me, mind, but if we were to suddenly get busy..."
"We'll be more discreet...won't we, Elsie?"
The blonde nodded into her pillow, shoulders quivering.
"Anyway, I put your stuff up in the basement, it should be dry by morn...in the meantime feel free to wander about, if you need anything I'll be helping mum in the kitchen."
"Thank you!"
Lara flopped back onto the bed, relieved. The mattress was trembling under the blonde's mirth.
"This isn't funny!" protested the brunette, her own voice laced with laughter. "Imagine if her mother had been the one to walk in on us..."
Elsie came up for air, turning her head to face the archaeologist.
"I'll be good," giggled the American before continuing in a Cockney dialect more reminiscent of Victorian street urchins. "Ah'll be a prim and propah lai-dee...make ye right proud o'me, I will!"
Lara grabbed the second pillow and whacked her companion's grinning visage before pushing off.
~ oOo ~
Elsie's voice drifted down from the kitchen, her words intermixed with clangs of pans and cutlery. Lara hoped the proprietors weren't resenting the American's insistence on helping with supper - the blonde could be so obstinate sometimes. But the tone of conversation was perfectly amiable, she noted with relief.
Lara gazed about the small reading room. It was a rather typical affair of rural Georgian homes: a small fireplace topped by a cluttered lintel graced the far wall, a plush and well-worn chair sat next to the mullioned window. A handful of magazines were stacked on a small coffee table, while in the far corner a box overflowed with toys - no doubt for the tourists' younger charges.
Nothing out of the ordinary.
But one detail drew the brunette's curiosity: dolls were scattered throughout the room, cluttering the shelves and furniture. Lara was hardly an expert, but some looked to be quite aged, sporting distinctly Edwardian styles.
The archaeologist wandered slowly through the room, looking through the collection and wondering if it belonged to mother or daughter. But given the dolls' ages, they were more likely passed down from further back in the family.
Her eye was drawn to a particular figure perched on the fireplace lintel; it was different from the others, not a doll but a porcelain figurine of a crouched faerie, its gossamer wings looking for allI the world as though they'd been plucked straight from a damselfly.
Lara edged closer; the workmanship was exquisite - this was no souvenir picked up at some London tourist stop. The microscopic weave of the silk gown, the individual strands of dark hair, the seeming life in the violet eyes - it almost seemed too good.
Lara was struck by the energy of the figurine's gaze: though unmoving and unblinking, the faerie seemed to be mirroring the brunette's curiosity.
It has to be the skill of the maker, Lara told herself. Otherwise...
She shook her head. No, of course not...wake up, Lara, you're letting your imagination get the better of you...
The Englishwoman raised her hand, her fingers hesitating just inches from the figurine as though worried a sudden move might frighten it off.
The brunette swallowed and slowly extended her index finger - and touched the faerie's arm.
Hard. Unyielding. Cool.
Porcelain, after all.
Lara pushed slightly, the figurine sliding back a half inch along the lintel with the satisfying scraping of ceramic on stone.
She dropped her arm to her side and let out a breath of relief.
Bugger...better keep this to yourself, Croft...Elsie would never let you hear the end of it...
The blonde's voice drifted down from the kitchen and shook the archaeologist out of her near reverie. "Lara, come and take a look at this!"
The brunette drummed her fingers against her thigh before slowly drawing off from the fireplace. Rounding the corner to the hallway, she gave one last glance at the fireplace -
- and stopped in her tracks.
The faerie statuette was gone.