"So…last week you asked if you could sleep here."
Kate looks up from the newspaper in surprise. After another lovely Sunday dinner Caroline hadn't yet initiated the expected cuddling so they were lounging on the sofa together reading the papers, Kate trying to pretend that she was interested in some pretentious film star and his latest masterpiece when all she could think about was being held. And now it seemed like Caroline might want to skip a couple of steps.
"Uh…yes. I did."
"I was thinking about that and you know, I really think that would be all right. If you still wanted to, that is."
She's pointedly not looking at her, reading the education section with her headmistress glasses on and a deadly serious look on her face that makes Kate want to tease her.
"Oh no, I don't want to do that."
Caroline looks up, surprised. "You don't?"
"Nope. Sounds bloody awful. Can't think of anything worse. Might fake an injury just to get out of it."
The serious look remains but she can see a light dancing in her eyes as she glares at her over the top of her glasses in classic schoolteacher fashion.
"Whatever you deem necessary. I should point out that I sleep in a turret. Have you ever slept in a turret? It's very romantic. You might want to think about that before you pretend to break your ankle."
There's nothing to think about, of course, so at 11 o'clock that night, after a quick trip home to get her pyjamas and toothbrush, she finds herself heading up the creaky spiral stairs to the fabled turret. Which is, as promised, very, very romantic. The room's almost a perfect circle, gentle curves all the way round, with walls of exposed stone. The low ceiling and gorgeous sash windows add to the atmosphere – and then there's the view, a stunning vision of trees, green fields and English countryside that makes her catch her breath.
"Told you," Caroline says, smiling.
"You did. Wow. How do you ever leave this place?"
"It's not easy. It helped when John was here, that always motivated me to get out of bed in the mornings. It's much nicer with you."
Kate smiles at her, the smile widening when she spots the embarrassment in Caroline's expression, as if the affectionate words had slipped out entirely without her permission.
"I usually sleep on this side, that all right?"
"That's fine."
Kate's heart does a backflip; they're really doing this. A whole night in bed with Caroline Elliot. She gets changed quickly, not daring to sneak a glance to the other side of the bed.
They both climb into bed and Caroline turns off the bedside lamp immediately, disappointing her – she was hoping to talk for a little while. But then a hand reaches out to her and she's gently pulled into her arms. A few moments of adjustment while they find the most comfortable position and then there's stillness, the unbroken silence of the night and the soothing warmth of Caroline's body.
"It feels like we're in another world," she says quietly, not wanting to break the spell.
"I know. It really was wasted on John, he never much liked it up here, thought it was a pain not to have an en suite bathroom."
"Why the hell would you care about the bathroom when the bedroom's so…enchanted?"
"I have no idea. But he did."
There's a note of melancholy in her voice that suggests John's attitude to their bedroom might have run deeper than the plumbing practicalities. What a fool, she thinks. A home like this, a woman like this, and he throws it all away.
"Are you comfortable?" says Caroline.
"Very. You're always so warm, Caroline. You're my little hot water bottle," she teases.
"You know as pet names go that's not terribly romantic. Although it's a marginal improvement on honeybun."
Kate laughs and snuggles in a little closer. "What would you prefer?"
"You speak French don't you, surely there's something along those lines? Ma petite…something or other?"
"Ma petite bouteille d'eau chaude."
"Well that sounds suspiciously like-"
"It is," Kate giggles.
"Humph. F for you in the romance department."
They lie together in a comfortable silence for a while before Caroline speaks.
"I told the boys. That I'd had an affair too, with a woman, that I'm…interested in women, in that way. And that you and I had become close."
"Wow…how did they take it?" She's shocked; she had no idea that this was on the cards.
"William was wonderful, I'm sure he suspected something at the time. He said he wants me to be happy, he didn't blame me or anything. Lawrence was far less impressed which was to be expected, I suppose, I think he's worried about his street cred. He's still in a bit of a sulk but I don't think the sky's going to fall in."
"Gosh, Caroline. Why did you…I mean, it's good that you're being honest with them, but…"
"I owe them the truth. I did promise myself that I'd tell them when they were a bit older, but I'd been scared in case they had a fit and wanted to go and live with their Dad. But spending all this time with you, like this, it was starting to feel…dishonest. Again. And I hate lies, I hate them, and I've lied too much in the past. So. Told my Mother as well."
Well now she's really gobsmacked. Where was all this coming from? Was she quietly planning a future for them even as she insisted on a platonic present?
"How did that go?"
"Oh, brilliantly, very well indeed. She shouted, I shouted. She helpfully explained that there were plenty of men available and as I'd been hurt by John I was probably a bit under the weather at the time and should forget it ever happened. Not sure what my excuse for you is supposed to be, I'm sure she'll think of one. My Mother sees lesbianism as the sexual incarnation of the flu, you get a virulent attack once a decade or so but thankfully you always recover."
"Once a decade? Does that mean-"
"There've been other women, yes. Or a couple, anyway, a very long time ago, before John and the boys. Both relationships were trainwrecks for various reasons, including the fact that I stupidly decided to tell my Mother about my predilections and she reacted like I'd flung a dozen orphans off Beachy Head."
"And John? Where does he fit into all this?"
Caroline sighs heavily. "Looking back, I have no earthly idea. At the time I think I would have told you that I loved him. I vaguely remember feeling something along those lines. Now I think he's a pillock. But he did give me the boys so I could never regret marrying him. I should have got the sperm and run for the hills but never mind, what's done is done. What about you, has it only been women?"
"No, no. I didn't start dating women until my thirties, I was married too. Richard, five years. Lovely chap, big mistake, women ever since."
"I'm jealous of your other women."
"What? Why would you be…"
A long, meaningful silence.
"Well whose idea was that, sunshine?" she teases gently.
"I know whose idea it was, doesn't mean I have to like it. Or not be jealous of your other women."
"Then I'll be jealous of your other women, too. Especially your latest woman who was apparently shagged to within an inch of her life."
"Uh…excuse me. That is not what I said."
"Pretty close. And here's me having to make do with snuggling and cups of tea."
There's no reply and she sits up a little and peers through the moonlit gloom to see an anxious look on her face.
"That was a joke. I'm not complaining."
"I know, but…if I could change…"
"I know."
They gaze at each other, a mixture of sadness and attraction in the air. She wants to touch her, to feel the softness of her lips, to simply be closer to her. Instead she lies down again and lets herself be drawn tightly against her body.
"Lawrence is 18 in July. Eleven more months and he's an adult. Do you think…do you think you could wait for me until then? I know it's an awful lot to ask Kate but I can't risk it where the boys are concerned, if John got shared custody of Lawrence he might make him trek up to York at the weekends and I'd hardly see him. And there's an outside chance we'd get some bigot of a judge who thought a lesbian affair was worse than a straight one and give me no rights at all, or less rights than John anyway. There'd still be some things to sort out, but once I know the boys are safe, and preferably both away at university and out of the rumour mill, it would be easier."
One more year. A whole year of this, of being so close to her and not allowed to touch? Of a friendship that can never have the emotional depth of a loving relationship? One whole year of unfulfilled desire when there's someone she longs for?
She gives the only honest answer there is.
"I don't know, Caroline. But I can try."
"Caroline," she whispers, barely suppressing an aroused moan, "you have to stop that."
Caroline doesn't stop. Kate's lying in her arms for a lazy Sunday lie-in, both of them semi-upright after she made a half-hearted attempt to get up and Caroline pulled her back into bed and against her body. For the last 20 minutes her hand has been gently caressing the sensitive skin of her stomach. It's starting to drive her mad. Especially when combined with all the other touches that Caroline seems to have deemed permissible over the past few weeks – tender fingers stroking underneath the back of her shirt as they lay snuggled on the sofa, one hand resting dangerously close to her inner thigh as they laid in bed, even the occasional ghost of a touch over her breast that she thought might have been accidental the first time, until it happened twice more within the hour.
It's all too much. The sexual tension has been building to boiling point for weeks and the fact that there was no prospect of sex any time soon was making the excitement almost unbearably intense. If Caroline didn't stop right this second she wasn't going to be responsible for her actions.
But the hand doesn't stop moving. She hasn't felt this aroused since…she can't remember the last time she felt this aroused. Maybe no-one in the history of the world has ever felt this aroused. It seems quite likely, given Caroline's power over her.
"I mean it, Caroline. Stop it."
"Tell me 'No' if you want me to stop," she whispers into her ear, sending a shiver straight down her spine. "Just say the word 'No'."
Her fingers begin to move downwards, inching below the waistband of her pyjama trousers, drawing tantalising circles on her skin. A surge of excitement rushes through her and she can't help but fantasise about a far more intimate touch.
"You're not listening to me," she says, her voice breathy and strained.
"Say 'No' to me. That's all you have to say and I'll leave you alone."
As her left hand moves down even further, dangerously close to her hot centre, her right hand slowly moves upwards and takes hold of her breast.
"Caroline," she moans, her body pushing helplessly back against her to maximise the contact, "What are you doing?"
"Touching you." Her left hand cups her firmly over her underwear, the fingers stroking over the thin fabric. "Making you wet, apparently. Very wet. I like that. I like that I've made you so excited. You know how to make me stop, Kate. Say the word if you want me to stop."
There's no resistance left in her; every cell in her body is begging for her touch. She keeps quiet, trying to keep her breathing under control, trying to pretend that she's not as desperate for her as she really is.
"Well that's a very loud silence," Caroline says, and even through her pleasure Kate can hear that she's not the only one who's having to fight to keep calm. The exploring hand slips underneath her underwear and begins to stroke ever so lightly through her wetness; she squirms helplessly, grabbing hold of the sheet and pulling it roughly from the bed.
"Please," she moans, "no more teasing, I can't take it."
"I've hardly started!"
"I mean it Caroline, bloody touch me."
A quiet laugh from behind her sends a burst of anger through her – this arrogant, infuriating woman – but then her fingers are finally touching her clit and it's clear that this time she's not going to tease her, her skilled fingers quickly taking her to a higher plane of arousal, quickly taking her to the edge. Fighting hard against the inevitable she tries to concentrate on something else, the sheet in her hands, the colour of the walls, anything to avoid coming so quickly and letting this heaven end, but in her overwrought state she can only hold out for so long and the orgasm bursts through her like liquid fire, leaving her conscious of nothing in the world except this magnificent woman and the pleasure of her touch.
Panting, sweating, she gradually regains control. Caroline's hand withdraws but her arm remains resting on her thigh. A sweet, soft kiss is pressed against her cheek, followed by another and then another; the tenderness seems particularly meaningful after such physical intensity and she fights back a few unexpected tears.
There's a contented silence as they lie together, Kate basking in the sheer release of weeks of built-up tension.
"Well I suppose we didn't kiss," she says finally.
Caroline laughs and tightens her arms slightly. "Nope. No kissing. And technically I'm not sure that would count as shagging, do you? It's not as if there was…well, you know."
"I'm pretty sure it would count."
"Mm. You're probably right. Might look it up in the dictionary. But you're probably right. Which means we probably shouldn't do that again."
"You started it."
"I did. I shouldn't have but I was finding it increasingly impossible to keep my hands off you. Maybe we should stop the snuggling if it's going to lead to-"
"But that's my only perk! I'd be down to just tea."
Caroline traces a finger tenderly across her jawline. "Hm. Well, that would never do. We'll just have to learn to control ourselves."