"Mum. Mum! Wake up!"
Serena jerked awake, her neck complaining at the awkward angle she'd had it at. Elinor and she had had, against all the odds, a lovely week in Brittany. They'd arrived back at Heathrow late evening and Elinor has driven them both back to Bristol (she'd driven them both down to the airport in the first place, and had parked the car there for the week). The plan was for Elinor to spend the night in the spare room, and then head back to her own home tomorrow.
"Mum! What am I supposed to do?" Serena blinked at Elinor, confused.
"Supposed to do about what?"
"There's two cars parked in the driveway. It looks like Bernie has someone over." Serena shot a glare at Elinor, and then looked at the extra car parked in the driveway.
"I don't like what you're insinuating there, Elinor, and it's her son's car, anyway. Just park somewhere on the street, the people round here don't mind."
As Serena unlocked and opened the front door, the sound of voices from the living room reached her ears, as did the smell of paint.
"Auntie Serena isn't going to like it. I've been telling you all along that she won't like it." That was Jason, sounding petulant, but also slightly smug.
"I don't know, it's definitely got something about it. She's going to love it, mum." That was Cameron, who sounded like he was barely keeping the laughter back.
"She said she wanted it bright." That was Bernie, sounding very uncertain. Steeling herself, Serena marched over to the living room door and flung it open.
Her brain couldn't quite comprehend what she was seeing. When she'd left, this room had been neat, tidy, and, most importantly, the walls were painted magnolia. A bit boring, perhaps, but at least it was a sane choice. Now, the furniture in the room was all over the place (though thankfully under dust sheets), and the walls were an eye-stabbing neon yellow.
Tearing her eyes away from the atrocity that was the walls, Serena surveyed the people instead. All three of them were staring at her, waiting for her judgement. Jason was wearing what looked like an artist's smock fashioned out of dust sheets, his hands so covered in paint he looked like he was wearing neon yellow gloves. Cameron was grinning, the paint stripes in his hair giving off the impression of a disco wasp on acid. Bernie was looking very subdued, her big doe eyes full of worry, but it was hard to take her expression seriously when she looked like she'd bathed in the paint.
"It's a bit bright," was all Serena could manage. There was a snort from behind her.
"A bit? Mum, it's hurting my eyes it's that bright!" Bernie had dropped her gaze to the floor at that, looking shame faced, and Serena felt a pang in her heart. She had been planning on teasing Bernie, but not if she was feeling guilty about it.
"Yes, well, it was nice of the three of you to re-paint the room for me while I was away. I've been meaning to do it for a while, magnolia does get rather boring." She made her way towards Bernie, with the intention of taking her hand, but stopped just short of doing so. She didn't want to join in with the neon club, after all.
"I did tell Major Bernie you wouldn't like it, Auntie Serena."
"Thank you, Jason." She stared at Bernie thoughtfully. "Why did you get this particular colour, Bernie?"
"You said you wanted it."
Serena racked her brains, but couldn't for the life of her remember saying she wanted a room that looked like the 1980s had thrown up on it.
"I don't recall –"
"It was a few weeks ago. You were talking about how you would re-decorate the house if you had the time, money, and inclination."
Now Serena remembered. It had been after one of Bernie's nightmares, and Serena had employed one of her usual techniques to calm Bernie by just talking. That night, she had picked a topic that was often on her mind, but that she had never discussed with anyone before, it was something that had always felt a bit too personal to just chat about casually (a silly opinion, possibly, but to Serena it did feel personal to share how you would let your personality flow if you had unlimited resources). If she was honest with herself, she had never really believed that Bernie was doing anything more than just listening to the sound of her voice, but that was obviously an incorrect assumption. Or, rather, she was listening as well as someone who was slipping between the grips of a nightmare and peaceful sleep could.
"That'll teach me not to discuss important things with someone who is half asleep. I didn't say bright, Bernie, I said burnt. I've always wanted this room to be a burnt yellow."
Bernie looked from Serena to the paint pot in her hand, to the wall, and back to Serena.
"Oh." It was such a forlorn little sound that Serena couldn't help herself. She found a relatively clean spot on Bernie's cheek and stood on her tiptoes to give Bernie a soft kiss.
"You are lovely." Bernie's cheeks started flaming at that, and Serena could feel the heat rising in hers as she remembered that there were other people in the room. She was actually quite relieved when Jason decided to interrupt.
"Auntie Serena, I don't think Cousin Elinor and Cameron know each other. Shouldn't we introduce them to each other?"
"You're quite right, Jason." Serena said, turning to face the three of them. Cameron and Elinor were eyeing each other warily.
"Elinor, this is Cameron, Bernie's son. Cameron, this is Elinor, my daughter." Cameron grinned, reaching out a hand towards Elinor.
"It's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard so much about you."
"Really." Cameron's grin faltered and he withdrew his hand, shooting a worried glance at his mother. Serena decided it was time to take charge.
"Yes, well, it's getting late. We can all talk properly in the morning. Jason, you can use the kitchen sink to wash your hands. Cameron, if you want, you can wash your hair before you leave, but you better use the pink towels in the airing cupboard if you do. They're the oldest set. Bernie, you go and get yourself cleaned up in the en suite. Elinor, I'll help you get the bags out of the car and get you settled in your room. After breakfast, we'll go out and buy some new paint to tone this room down a little, and I expect you to come back and help with that, Cameron." There was a brief moment of stillness after she finished speaking, and then the three children left the room, leaving Bernie and Serena alone.
"Serena, I am so sorry –"
"Hush, Bernie. It's nothing that can't be fixed. Now, you go and get yourself cleaned up, and I'll be up in a few minutes."
Serena dumped her bags in her room (the shower wasn't running yet, Bernie was probably still trying to peel her paint-covered clothes off without making a mess of the en suite) and headed into the guest room.
"Have you got everything you need, Elinor?" Serena received a grunt in reply, and she shook her head, vaguely amused. Elinor seemed to have regressed to being a teenager again.
"Night, Elinor."
"How do you put up with her?" Serena froze in the doorway.
"I don't understand, Elinor. Only the other day you were saying she was nice, and now you're asking me how I put up with her?" She had turned back round as she spoke, and was staring in confusion at Elinor, who had a nasty sneer on her face.
"I only said she seemed nice and, after that stunt, I actually think she's quite pathetic. Standing there, covered in paint, looking at you with sad eyes in the hopes you won't get cross with her. And it worked. You should have told her off, mum. How can anyone be stupid enough to get burnt and bright mixed up?"
"She is not stupid, Elinor. She was half asleep when I discussed my plans with her. It was an easy mistake to make, and one that is easily fixed. There is absolutely nothing there for one to get cross over!" Serena could feel her temper rising, and tried to clamp down on it. This was not the time or the place to have an argument, especially not when the guest room shared a wall with the en suite. Serena only hoped Bernie couldn't hear them over the sound of running water.
"Honestly, mum, even if you can excuse her for mis-hearing you, how can anyone look at a tin of neon yellow paint and think to themselves 'Yep, this is exactly the colour I want my house to be'."
"People obviously do, darling, otherwise the shops wouldn't stock it."
"Only people with no sense of style would buy it. Not that that is really a big surprise as far as Bernie is concerned. She is a gay woman, after all."
"Elinor!" Elinor ignored her mother's outraged gasp, and ploughed straight on.
"Actually, I'm not sure why I didn't realise earlier that you weren't entirely straight, considering all those awful shirts you wear."
Serena was suddenly very conscious of the orange over-shirt she was wearing, but ignored the insult. That was not the big issue right now.
"I don't know why you're being so horrible about Bernie, Elinor. If it's because you really don't like her, well, there's not an awful lot any of us can do about that. But if you're just being this bitter because you don't like the fact I have a new partner... All I can say to that is you were nowhere near as upset when your father got a new girlfriend, and she's half his age. He may be your favourite parent, but at least I'm not running round with someone I could have given birth to. Or is it because Bernie's a woman? Would you be so upset if she was a he?"
Elinor was opening and closing her mouth, but no sound was coming out.
"Ah. I seem to have hit the nail on the head. Bernie's going nowhere, Elinor, you're just going to have to deal with it. All your attempts to tear us apart with your vitriolic comments are only going to destroy the shaky remnants of our mother-daughter relationship." With that, Serena turned and stormed out of the room.
As she entered her own bedroom, Serena heard the shower in the en suite turn on. A sick feeling climbed up her throat. Bernie must have heard everything. Serena sank onto her bed, shaking slightly. This was so many shades of bad, and all of them were neon coloured. What if Bernie freaked out, and decided to leave? Or Elinor could do her usual habit of stalking after the other person and continuing the argument. Or, and this was definitely the worst option, Bernie might decide that, as well as leaving, that they should stop their relationship, just because Elinor was uncomfortable with it. Bernie had said something along those lines before.
The urge to be sick was growing by the second. It was unfortunate that she'd clogged up all her bathrooms with paint-plastered people. Instead she focused on her breathing, willing the sick feeling away. In for four, hold for four, out for four. She didn't realise how long she'd been sat there for until she felt a hand on her shoulder.
"Serena."
She jerked out of her semi-trance, staring up at Bernie. She had changed into a pair of pink striped flannel pyjama bottoms and a red vest top, and her hair was sticking out at odd angles from where she had towelled it dry. But it was her eyes that had caught Serena's attention. To be honest, she usually was captivated by Bernie's eyes, although right now it wasn't for a good reason. They were full of pain, and Serena could feel her heart stuttering to a stop.
"I heard you and Elinor, I was – I can't be the reason you and her argue. I should head back to my flat and, maybe, we should let things between us cool down a bit. Just until Elinor gets used to it. And if she doesn't, well, I – we – I don't quite know what we'll do, but if us being together is going to hurt you because it upsets Elinor, I can't do it." Bernie had gone straight for the worst option, and Serena couldn't lose her again.
"Bernie, stop." Serena reached for Bernie's hands and pulled Bernie down to sit on the bed next to her. "Elinor is not going to come between us. You mean too much to me for me to lose you over something as silly as my daughter's temperamental moods. I know you don't want to hurt me, and right now you're not the person who is. But, if you do leave, you will be. And, I promise you, if I wake up in the morning and you've buggered back off to Kyiv, I'll follow you and drag you back myself!" Bernie's lips twitched upwards at that, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes, which were fixed on the floor.
Serena reached out a hand and lifted Bernie's chin, forcing Bernie to look Serena in the eyes.
"Trust me, Bernie, I'm not going to let something as silly as my daughter come between us." They gazed at each other for a few seconds, and then Serena leaned forwards, capturing Bernie's lips in a tender kiss. It was just on the cusp of deepening into something more passionate when Bernie pulled back, chuckling.
"You know, laughter is just the sort of morale booster one wants after kissing someone," Serena said dryly, shooting a glare at Bernie, who was still chuckling.
"No, it's not that. You've got paint in your hair!" Serena reached up to her fringe, feeling the clumps that had formed there.
"Never mind. I can't be bothered washing my hair now, I'll do it in the morning. We really should be getting to bed, we have a lot to do tomorrow."
They didn't say anything else to each other whilst they finished getting ready for bed (all Bernie had to do was brush out her hair, but Serena took much longer, struggling to find a clean nightie to put on (it seemed as if Bernie had done some laundry while Serena had been in Brittany, and had a very different idea about the best way to put away clothes)). It wasn't until they were both in bed, Bernie firmly wrapped around Serena (it was actually a bit too warm for Serena to be fully appreciative of this arrangement, but she wasn't going to complain, not tonight), that Serena finally started to work up the courage to say something.
She knew she shouldn't say it. She had got away with it that night on the phone, but she knew she shouldn't push it. At the same time, she wanted to make sure that Bernie knew how irreplaceable she was to Serena. But she really shouldn't say it. Bernie was jumpy enough as it was after what had happened, and saying it would only make matters worse.
"I love you, Bernie." Bugger. She really hadn't meant to say it, but it had just slipped out. There were a horrible few seconds where Bernie didn't respond, and then, unexpectedly, her arms tightened around Serena, and she nuzzled her face against Serena's neck, a little hum escaping from Bernie's throat. Serena felt tears pricking at her eyes. Bernie hadn't pushed her away. In fact, she had done the opposite (although Serena did have to admit that the danger of suffocation was growing by the minute, but she definitely wasn't complaining now). And so, just before falling asleep, Serena decided to chance her arm again, and whispered:
"I love you, Bernie Wolfe, and don't you ever forget it." She felt a soft kiss against her neck in response.
When they'd got up in the morning, Elinor was gone. Serena couldn't lie, she was actually relieved that Elinor had left early. If nothing else, it meant that Bernie was much more relaxed. She hadn't mentioned anything about what Serena had said the night before, but she did seem to be finding every opportunity to drape an arm around Serena and plant a kiss on her temple.
Cameron arrived about halfway through breakfast. He still had flecks of paint in his hair, but seemed unconcerned.
"I'm just going to get covered in paint again, anyway, no point in being too thorough with the hair washing," he'd said, stealing a piece of toast off of Bernie's plate as he spoke. He had also provided a welcome distraction for Jason, who had spent the entire morning going on about all the side effects that came with being around paint for too long (he had apparently spent his night on the internet).
They were just getting ready to head out to the hardware store when the doorbell rang.
"I'll get it!" Bernie yelled. (She was closest after all, since she was putting on her shoes in the corridor. Serena was finishing a cup of coffee in the kitchen, Cameron had gone to the toilet, and Jason was in his room going through his 'going out' routine.) Bernie pulled open the front door, and stared at the person on the other side.
"Elinor!" It was, indeed, Elinor, holding two tins of burnt yellow paint.
"There are more tins in my car, if you can help me bring them in, Bern. I can call you Bern, can't I?"
"Well, I don't actually like it, I'd prefer it –"
"Perfect." Elinor pushed past a shocked Bernie and headed into the living room.
"What's going on?" Serena had appeared in the kitchen doorway, mug of coffee still in hand. Bernie walked past her into the kitchen, dragging Serena with her, and closed the door behind them.
"Elinor's bought paint." Serena stared at Bernie, looking just as perplexed as Bernie felt.
"Paint?"
"Paint. Burnt yellow paint." At that, Serena made a faint noise of understanding.
"Bernie, do you think it's a peace offering, after the things she said yesterday?" Bernie looked away at that, and just shrugged her shoulders. She started to head out of the kitchen but paused for a second, glancing back at Serena.
"Didn't you say once that Elinor hates being called El?"
"Yes. Why?"
"No reason." Bernie smiled mischievously, and headed out to help Elinor with the tins of paint.
Apart from the slight issue of getting Jason on board with the new plans (he didn't deal well with plans changing last minute), the re-painting of the living room was going well. Serena quickly realised why Cameron and Bernie had been so covered in paint the day before. Their aim with painting seemed to be to get as much of it on each other as possible, any of it making it to the wall was a miracle.
Jason had taken Cameron's side in the paint war, and seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. Serena was actually touched to see how well Jason got on with Cameron and Bernie. They made sure to involve him by throwing paint at him, but also made sure not to upset him by keeping the paint restricted to his hands and smock. Serena was also getting her fair share of paint thrown at her, though nowhere near as much as Bernie was. The only person who was safe from the flying paint was Elinor. At least, that was the case until Cameron made a mistake.
He had been aiming to throw paint at Serena, but she had ducked. Elinor had been standing behind her, and had ended up with paint full in the face. Cameron had looked horrified, and had started babbling apologies, which had been abruptly cut off when Elinor had thrown paint right back in his face. Everyone had taken sides then and, oddly enough, Bernie and Elinor had formed a team. They had also kept on referring to each other as 'Bern' and 'El', which Serena made a mental note to ask Bernie about later.
When they had finally finished, they all stood back to admire their handiwork. Where the sun hit the walls you could still she the neon yellow coming through a little, but it now looked like it was an attempt to make the room look more interesting with a splash of a brighter colour.
"Auntie Bernie, that's not very fair to Cameron. And it's a waste of half a tin of paint." At Jason's protest, everyone turned to look at Bernie, who was standing behind Cameron with a tin of paint half-raised as if to pour over him, but instead she had frozen, and was staring at Jason as if he had grown an extra head.
"Auntie Bernie?" Bernie's voice wavered slightly as she spoke, and she was blinking rapidly, as if to hold back tears.
"Yes, Auntie Bernie. I've been thinking about calling you it for a while. You are still Major Bernie, but you are with Auntie Serena now, so that makes you Auntie Bernie. I decided today was the right day to call you it because the two of you have been so happy together. You don't mind, so you?"
"No." It was a very overwhelmed noise, and Serena was once again surprised at how much emotion Bernie could pack into one syllable.
Bernie seemed to be searching for something else to say, but Cameron had spotted an opportunity, and tipped the pot of paint his mother was holding towards her. She yelped and leapt backwards, but seemed to forget that it was she who was holding the paint tin. Everyone else burst out laughing at the state Bernie was now in, and she eventually joined in. Serena's heart swelled at the sound of all the laughter. Her house hadn't sounded this happy in years.