Simone was dressed in her favourite businesslike white shirt and black trousers as she rifled through her drawer for all her bank details. Annabelle quietly fetched her own ID details and moved away, not wanting to crowd her partner and half wishing she had a similar outfit but reckoned that her short white, slightly patterned dress fitted the bill
"I've got everything I want. I wanted ,"she beamed as she straightened herself up. A thoughtful expression started to spread across her face and she put her fingers to her lips.
"Have you got a bank account already?" she asked.
"I've got a school account but, guess what, my mother is co signatory so she controls what I spend,"Annabelle answered in hard cynical tones, her face clouded."When I bought my boots and denim jacket, I sneaked those under her radar. She bought my guitar only because one of her important friends said an acoustic guitar was 'culturally uplifting' and nothing to do with noisy shit rock and roll. It meant she could find something about me she could brag about seeing as I've been such a let down all my life."
"Well, we're going to get out there and prove her wrong," Simone answered in determined tones."And my parents too. They're no better."
The younger woman's face transformed itself with a brilliant sweet smile and her grey eyes caught the sun. Her mood had utterly changed, something that Simone had become relaxed about negotiating their contours. She gave Simone a quick kiss on her lips, picked up the car keys and led the way out.
Once again, they were speeding off around to another part of town, and Simone quietly gave her directions to link into the parts of the neighbourhood that Annabelle had absorbed as a map into her memory. It gave her pleasure to feel centred into a small area of California that she could relate to and be rooted in. Simone lay back, as the wind ruffled her hair and fondly looking at her lover as the sensation of driving them around made her feel good about herself. She pointed out the bank on the last block on the right but one as they drove slowly down the street, set out in a perfect grid shape. They pushed through the glass swing doors and made their way to the customer service desk right at the front, Simone taking the lead. She explained briefly the purpose and was told to sit back in an easy chair to be called forward to be interviewed. She ran an eye round the foyer, noticing that all the women were dressed in the same corporate outfit which she instinctively felt detracted from their individuality. It did not surprise her how this reaction had distanced herself from St Theresa's in a relatively short period of time.
"I'm kinda nervous about this,"confessed Annabelle sheepishly
"What, you Annabelle Tillman afraid of authority?"joked Simone, only half pretending to be wide eyed with astonishment."We're customers and not here for our private life to be judged."
The younger woman grinned as she remembered her fearsome reputation as a trouble maker at successive schools. She briefly departed from their primness of manner while awaiting judgement by briefly squeezing her lover's hand though she longed to do more to express her gratitude.
"Miss Bradley to desk 5," intoned the acceptably businesslike female voice, distorted through the tannoy experience. Simone blinked and looked round in bewilderment before the dark haired woman discreetly nudged her upon which she rocketed to her feet. She let Annabelle ease them into approaching the oval desk equipped with a purposeful computer matched by the sleek looking woman with neatly brushed long dark hair, pulled back away from her face..
"So Miss Bradley, you wish to convert your bank account into a joint bank account? I'm sure that could be done."
"Not quite," corrected Simone as she nervously fiddled with her top shirt button. No one was more conscious than her that their preference made no sense on the face of it."We wanted to leave that account as it is and open up a second account, jointly with Annabelle here."
"That's strange. Your idea isn't the obvious one I'd choose," queried the woman with upraised eyebrows, freezing Simone's blood and mental functionings. Her mouth went dry and she couldn't speak. A pause hung heavy on the air before the younger woman chipped in without thinking.
"It's just that I'm inheriting income from my father's trust fund and my parents don't like my relationship with Simone, I mean Miss Bradley. They've fixed it so the income gets paid into her solo account. We're share and share alike so we need a second account to switch the money into. That's the only reason why we're not OK with your idea," explained Annabelle in a fluent flow of words that surprised her. Simone shot her a grateful look.
"What is your full name?" the customer service assistant asked politely, switching her attention to this intelligent young woman whose quiet manner she'd not taken account of before.
"Annabelle Tillman. Here's my driver's licence,"came the taut reply, being disinclined to elaborate. Long ago, she'd vowed as a point of honour never to introduce herself as the daughter of Senator Tillman when that would have opened so many doors. When she'd met her first schoolmates on her first day at St Theresa's, she'd held out her hand to Kristen Edwards and introduced herself as plain Annabelle. It was left to the other girl to make the connection and rhapsodize how her mother was such an inspiration as potentially America's first female President. Luckily, this woman was smart enough to put two and two together.
"I have no problem with your choice. Your private arrangements are your own business so long as the bank account isn't used for criminal purposes and, aside from the usual procedural checks, I have no problem with this arrangement. I can even fix it that it gets transferred over automatically with no more than a two day time lag. As I say, your private life is really your own business."
The customer service assistant saw both women smile freely and emotionally open up before her very eyes, their nervousness revealed and her smile and the peculiar emphasis on her last words pulled back the curtain of her professional manner to reveal the real woman underneath. She was signalling to them in this clinically professional environment that she understood the nature of their relationship perfectly and she was part of the same club. She knew that her real self wasn't obvious behind the surface shield of her corporate clothing and businesslike manner.
"That's great," Simone said with palpable relief."This means a lot to us."
"Just bear with me while I go through the formalities. Annabelle, have you an existing bank account of any kind?"
"Only a school account my mother controls. There's nothing in it and it's not going anywhere. Here's a letter from the bank if it helps," the younger woman politely replied
The woman tapped away studiously on her keyboard while Simone and Annabelle allowed themselves the luxury of briefly squeezing each other's hand. Finally, she looked up with a pleasant expression on her face which was entirely personal.
"That's all fixed up, Simone and Annabelle and you'll get letters of confirmation, cheque books, paying in books and two cheque cards.
"I've also a cheque to pay into the new account," Simone said, producing the cheque written by Senator Tillman. The amount for Annabelle's eighteenth birthday looked generous enough until the sky high salaries her parents commanded were taken into account.
"That can't be done as all new accounts take a few days to be authorised and go through the system. I'm sorry but the system works that way."
"Pay it into Simone's account," cut in Annabelle decisively, seeing the look of disappointment on her partner's face and knowing her feelings on the matter. "We'll manage till the letter comes through and we can transfer the money to the new account. I'm cool with it, anyway."
Sensing relief on the face of the fair haired woman, the customer service assistant promptly processed the cheque and also handed over a wad of dollar bills for their upcoming celebration meal and sat back with a satisfied look on her face of having used her skills to help this loving couple out. She looked at the clock hanging in the spacious atrium of the building and noted with satisfaction that it was time for her lunch hour.
"Right, that's everything complete. I'm going to have my midday break in the bar round the corner. It's friendly, I promise you. Want to join me?" the customer service assistant
suggested brightly as she got out of her computer programme and switched off. The two women exchanged glances and nodded in agreement.
The three of them walked down the street, following their new friend's lead who turned the corner and strode confidently into the bar which was nothing much to look at except the atmosphere felt right even if those in the bar were unremarkable at first glance. It was lunchtime and all kinds wandered in to grab a drink and a bite to eat on their lunch-breaks. She bought them a drink each and they found themselves around a corner table. They'd hardly taken their first sip when their friend burst into animated conversation.
"There were a thousand questions I was dying to ask you back there but I couldn't with everyone watching us. I know it's only the trashy newspapers but I've read about you both. My name's Sadie."
The three women started chatting away as though they'd known each other for ages. Both Simone and Annabelle gave Sadie a quick resume of their recent experiences, including the late unlamented Michael which their friend drank in with obvious sympathy. Their obvious closeness kept away the jock student types who were hanging around on their vacation who were looking for a little action and who drifted into the bar.
"I guess you are like on your honeymoon?" Sadie asked in a way that was not intended to pry. The twin expressions of delirious joy confirmed her conjecture.
"I don't want to interfere but have you any friends left you hang out with?"
"That's just it," Simone broke in eagerly to this tentative enquiry."My life was bound up with St Theresa's and I've left my ex and his friends far behind. We're not close to both our parents and there's only one or two of Annabelle's year that we can talk to. That's the one thing we haven't got round to discussing after a week or so of sun, sea and sex."
Annabelle's face was a picture as her lover freely rattled out a frank description of their life together to a perfect stranger and Sadie grinned appreciatively.
"There's a kind of scene around here where women like us can hang out. A few of us come in here this time of day but, in the evening, it's a typical straight bar. Friday night at Chico's is where the action is. Here's the card. I'll be there for sure. There's a English lesbian couple due in that have gone through shit like you have ,"Sadie said in a breathless rush of excited words.
A jolt of electricity jolted through both women's systems. There could be one couple that fitted the bill, both thought at the risk of being egocentric. Annabelle just beat Simone in asking the question.
"Where did you hear of them? Do you know their names?"
"I think it's in some English magazine called Diva and I think they're called Helen and Nikki. Classy ladies by all account. I've got to dash now. Back to being Ms Customer Service for the next four hours and then I go home to crash out."
Sadie kissed them both briefly in the cheek and she was gone, accompanied by a clattering of high heels on the fake wood tiles. The two women looked at each other with triumphant glee.
Meanwhile, in a hotel room separated only my miles along the freeway, Nikki and Helen were undergoing the after effects of the total ruination of their body clocks and the shattered fragments of their night's sleep on the plane. They had been warned to expect the reaction and had planned to take the first full day very easy. Somehow, they staggered downstairs to enjoy their continental breakfast in the huge restaurant that seemed to stretch for miles and they reached gratefully for black coffee with sugar and bread rolls with sachets of butter and jam or marmalade, the international cuisine. Their perception and concern for how the general public saw them, never extensive, shrank down to nil and in the same cotton wool state, they tottered to the lift and went back to their bedrooms and showered together in the faint hope of refreshing themselves.
It was only in the afternoon that they sat out on the terrace and sampled a half bottle of best Californian white wine. It was now that the balmy air and bright sunshine started to make inroads on their consciousness. They looked out on the street that passed by them at an incline and the shapes of gleaming sleek metal made their beloved red Peugeot look homely and, well very English in its proportions. They knew very well that to get about, they needed an American sized hire car to explore even a fraction of the size of the single state let alone the inconceivable vastness of this country. They would get onto that and also make plans for their explorations and attend the function they'd given their good name to attend.
Nikki went to a random drawer to fish out a packet of face wipes she was sure was there and her fingers fumbled at a newspaper instead. In a moment of idle curiosity, she looked at the front page of an old copy of the Los Angeles Tribune. A picture stared out at her of an attractive blond haired woman, trapped and strained under the photographer's flashbulb glare. The peculiar intonation of the headline,"No charges to be filed in teacher student sex scandal"brought Nikki up short. There was a strange ring about it. She started to read the article further. "Unexpected last minute developments have taken place in the police investigations against Miss Simone Bradley, a teacher who had been arrested on charges of sexually assaulting an under-age pupil in her care while attending the exclusive St Theresa's Catholic High School. As a consequence Miss Bradley walks free. The headmistress of the school had originally called in the police to investigate the matter but has declined to proceed further for reasons best known to herself. When questioned on the matter, she was unavailable for comment as were Miss Bradley and the head of the Los Angeles Police Department. The pupil concerned is none other than Annabelle Tillman, the wayward daughter of Senator Tillman who had been twice expelled from previous schools for various insubordinate behaviour." Alarm bells of recognition started to ring out throughout Nikki's nervous system.