Back under golden skies in California, Colins and Jane were sitting in the very same bar that Sadie had once taken Nikki and Helen to a couple of months back. The usual lunchtime crowd came and went amidst desultory conversations and the clinking of glasses. Both women had got to the stage in life that challenges to produce their ID were beginning to tail off. Both women wore lightweight sleeveless T-shirts and short skirts which they were grateful for as the temperature was already escalating. Colins was fanning herself with a plastic snack menu. They were happy to sip a beer together as their demonstration of having won the right to consume alcohol.
Colins had bought a copy of the Los Angeles Tribune and, looking lazily through the mixture of banal chitchat written up as journalese, a picture caught her eye. It was a publicity photo of 'Creation' which was marred by the tasteless title of "EX TEACHER AND SENATOR'S DAUGHTER MAKE MUSIC TOGETHER." As Colins read further, she became angrier at the innuendo that was worked into the text. She was sure that if Miss Bradley saw it, she would have a thing or two to say to the journalist about the meaning of words and sentence construction. Jane caught the drift of her lover's thoughts by the way her fists became clenched and silently begged to be let in on the secret. She shuffled her chair so as to sit next to Colins and read the offending article. The final paragraph encapsulated the venom behind the piece.
"Readers will remember how charges were dropped against Miss Bradley after allegations were made of a sex scandal involving the wayward daughter of Senator Tillman, having hit the headlines for being expelled from two schools prior to her year at St Theresa's High School. It is ironic to see this group feature songs about the thrills and constraints of forbidden love that was supposed not to exist in the first place between the two woman. Of course they weren't singing from personal experience, were they? Neither Miss Bradley nor Miss Tillman were available for comment."
"That is so much crap. The guy's really pissed off that Miss Bradley didn't get burned at the stake so he's still trying to shit on her and Annabelle," Colins said heatedly with an unusually hard edge to her voice.
"You really care for them,"Jane said tenderly, touching her friend's hand. She was pleasantly surprised by Colins's spirited reaction, unexpected even after the last few months.
"They were both really kind to me at St Theresa's when I thought I was just nothing. I owe them so much."
Jane was equally angry at this shitty article deliberately designed to put them down and all the women who went to Chico's, them included. She figured out that it was one more factor bringing them together. She drank from her glass, feeling the heat.
On the other side of the world, the wind strengthened force and started to whip through the two women's inadequate clothing whose lifestyle was being tried in print in their absence and unknown to them. Grey clouds swirled low overhead their clothing. They looked across the road at people wearing thick winter coats and scarves and realised that they were locals who knew what they were doing. They figured that they would have to do something about this problem at some stage but their attention was grabbed by the imposing stone mansion with wide open doors which was like nothing on earth. It's magic spell invited them to cross the time threshold of the twenty-first century and into the process of history. Simone's long immersion in cultures of all ages and countries wasn't prepared for this. The reverent hush impelled the two women to speak quietly and respectfully as they floated towards the middle aged man with grey swept back hair at the ticket office.
"Two tickets if you please," Simone asked politely.
"You come from America I see,"the man said prosaically but with the pleased intonation that they'd come here off the beaten track.
"We're staying with English friends who told us of this exhibition. We've heard great things about it," Annabelle replied politely. She smiled softly at the long way she'd travelled in the last year and a half from the tearaway high school senior with dyed streaks in her hair, long boots and a defiant look that said 'kill'.
"You won't be disappointed. This is the chance in a lifetime to see such a range of Waterhouse's paintings in one location," replied the man enthusiastically. He was charmed by the two young women's attitude..
The two women paced slowly into the solemn peace of the exhibition area as the paintings were laid out at ninety degrees to each other, drawing in individual scrutiny. They were at once transfixed by the first picture with its classical backdrop in the centre of which a tall woman with long dark tresses falling over her shoulder, a long straight nose slightly turned up at the end, shapely lips wearing long colourful robes.
"My God, she's beautiful," Simone gasped faintly.
"She looks like a hippie princess," Annabelle added dreamily, words which lodged in her partner's mind as extraordinarily apt.
"I think you're right honey though I haven't got the research to back it up,"Simone slowly replied. Her partner laughed affectionately. How like Simone this was. She took up the challenge offered with instinct and intuition, speaking slowly and gently.
"I'm certain that some really intelligent, really creative women were right at the beginning of all that scene. They knew Waterhouse and figured out how good it could make them look and feel. I don't know but...it feels right."
The two women moved slowly from picture to picture, delighting that the same woman appeared in different paintings in different guises. It seemed so right that the woman represented so many facets of her personalities. Finally, they came to a painting that stopped them dead in their tracks. This time, the woman had a more confident demeanour as she brandished a goblet up on high with one hand and a sorcerer's wand with the other. Her top was an "off one shoulder" creation and her long skirt to floor level was made of see-through material. She was all-woman, all powerful in her strength of purpose and command.
"Tori Amos. That's her," gasped Simone in wonder. Annabelle reached for her lover's hand and squeezed it wordlessly. Both women were caught up in a state of emotional and intellectual rapture as they stared at every lineament of the living woman in front of them, totally disengaged from any sense of time and oblivious to the periodic person who peered at the picture and moved on. Finally, Simone drifted gently back to earth totally unaware of how long they'd been viewing the art treasures and an idea popped into her mind.
"Guidebooks. They must have guidebooks somewhere. Any serious establishment must have one," she said, her mouth feeling dry.
"I think I can see somewhere across the way," grinned Annabelle who had regained her bearings a little before her lover and was ahead of the game. Simone glanced at her watch and, to her surprise, they'd only been in the gallery for an hour or so. As little time as that, she wondered to herself.
To both women's delight, the shop held on display a range of postcards, prints and, best of all guidebooks so Annabelle reached out with trembling hand leaving trickier decisions to be made.
"We must buy a poster of Circe for Erin and Diane. They'd love it," exclaimed Annabelle.
"You think so?"
"I'm sure so. You really think that a rock and roller like Erin hasn't been quietly listening to you all these months? She'll love it and so will Diane," Annabelle said confidently, dispelling the other woman's doubts. Her brown eyes looked lovingly at the woman she'd got to admire so profoundly.
"Right,. That's one for them, one for us and one for Nikki and Helen. They like pictures."
Soon the transaction was done with Simone's card on the very day the trust fund money went into their joint account as the younger woman noted with grim satisfaction. It was as well that the ill gotten gains from her grandparents went to good use. They took themselves a little way outside the shop while Simone started leafing through the guidebook which she'd fished out of the carrier bag.
"Hey, this book tells you what these paintings are about," exclaimed the perpetual student within Simone. Annabelle pretended to roll her eyes at her in despair but she was all fired up to do their research but with one proviso.
"All right but we need to figure out where we're eating. You know what I'm like."
It was Simone's turn to pretend to groan inwardly. As she was starting to feel peckish herself, they resolved to head off for the nearest restaurant at half-past one. While the two women earnestly checked the guide against each painting Annabelle surprised herself by getting pleasure by boldly throwing herself into unknown waters of their research. It added depth and meaning to their early unabashed pleasure in admiring so much female beauty.
"These paintings were painted more than a hundred years ago? I can't believe it," the younger woman said softly, her eyes shining. The fair haired woman squeezed her hand affectionately, the two of them politely respectful, casually dressed, sun-tanned and glowing all over to the casual observer.
Finally, they reluctantly emerged back into the light of day and stood of the pavement, not really wanting to leave such a visual treasury behind. To their great surprise, only the lower half of the sky facing them was covered by a ragged stretch of grey sky as a brilliant blue winter sky had replaced the earlier gloomy vista.
"Hey, the weather's changed," Simone said unthinkingly. That very second, she knew she'd put her foot in it.
"We're in England now," chanted the dark-haired woman gleefully, clinging onto her partner's arm while madly dancing around her.
"OK honey, so I screwed. We need your expert homing instincts to find a place to eat. Go find it- I'm hungry," came the masterful reply.
Grinning at each other, the two women gambolled along the city streets like schoolkids. They chattered away as they admired each building in turn, each a little bit different from the one before as they were in the older part of the city. They were in high spirits as they felt at one with the city streets. People of all different kinds came into their vision but they never troubled them, as they went about their own business. A slight breeze had got up, making the air cold, fresh and bracing. Presently, the city streets gave way to a mixture of pubs, a McDonalds and a Starbucks on the corner but none of them was what they were after. They fancied a traditional restaurant and kept their eyes open for the image conjured up in their imaginations but nothing materialised before their eyes so they ground to a halt in a state of indecision. It was only at that point when a snatch of last night's conversation came back into Annabelle's mind when the solution popped out of nowhere.
"...You turn right and walk a while along the main drag and when you get to a Starbucks on the corner, turn left down a side street and walk fifty yards. You'll find a nice restaurant at we use when we're in the area..." Nikki had said to them fairly late into the night. They'd only paid part attention to the remark as both women were tired.
"Come on," Annabelle called out loudly," Nikki told us a place they go to. We're nearly there."
The promise of being very close to their destination acted like a tonic to the two women's flagging spirits as they were both getting footsore, having been on their feet all morning and getting into the afternoon. All at once, a very quiet discreet frontage presented itself for their inspection with a wide range of menu that fitted their palates to a T. They pushed the door open and the subdued lighting and relaxing atmosphere was immediately to their liking. The waiter showed them to a table for two with a white linen tablecloth and they sank into the chairs with a sigh of relief.
"This is really shit,"exclaimed Diane to a surprisingly domesticated Erin who busied herself knocking together a tasty salad salad. She had just recently showered and slipped a T-shirt over her long damp hair. On such a hot sunny day like this, her long locks was certain to dry out in short order. "They can't leave leave them alone."
"I'm really glad that our friends are out of the country so they don't have to face all that crap. Does this mean that those creeps have been sniffing round their place?" Erin said slowly she started to sift her way through the insulting and disgusting headlines.
Diane looked at her partner in surprise. She had thought that her strong-minder lover would have grasped the offending paper with her bare fists and rent it apart. This time, she wasn't reacting- at least not outwardly.
"That creep is sucking up to the mindless and ignorant everywhere and will please the religious right. The woman who like our music are a million miles away from them. There are those out there who haven't heard of us and might think- oh we're so bad we must be good. I think they've just drummed up some backhanded press publicity for us and shot themselves in their foot," Erin added slowly in considered tones as she slowly ate the salad. After live on the road and eating junk food, eating healthy was surprisingly attractive and suited the hot weather.
"So what so we do?" Diane pursued, slowly savouring the food and not gobbling it down being perpetually on the run.
"Nothing," Erin said shortly."We know when they're due back and we'll head out to the airport. We'll tell them before they get home so they're prepared and take it from there. Right now, we'll go out and get some food in so we can head back to bed."
Diane grinned. That suited her just fine. Since they'd come off the road, they'd hardly set foot outside their apartment and had made up with some pretty strenuous lovemaking. It was how they'd been most comfortable and this debate about the lousy newspaper article was a diversion from the serious things of life.