Drill's Motors was the closest garage around town that serviced motorcycles, Constance had checked. And it was not as if Dimity Drill was surly or churlish, on the contrary she was always smiling. But it was that damn cheerfulness that irritated her, that bellow of 'oi HB!' that made her want to throw something at her, that relentless whistling.

'Must that thing be on?' She asked exasperatedly on the days she approached the garage to hear the radio rocking on the shelf, beats and squawks emanating through the atmosphere. This modern music just didn't do it for her.

'Can't be deathly quiet around here can it?'

'And why not?' Muttered Constance as she took her helmet off and entrusted her bike for the annual inspection. 'Might be an improvement.'

'Do your students know what a cool teacher they have?'

'A motorbike hardly proves status' lectured Constance.

'Then why do you have it?'

'Because I don't have space for a car' the logic reply came.

Dimity was getting used to this customer to whom modern life nonchalantly passed by. She lived in a cottage, foraged for ingredients and bottled remedies for prevention for minor maladies. Dimity was more of a beer and pizza kind of woman although it didn't stop her from trying out a bottle or two of elixir when she got the sniffles.

'You should sell these. People would down them like smoothies.'

'They're common sense. If people are too lazy to eat some Vitamin C or take some ginger once in a while, there's no hope for them.'

Dimity sniggered, knowing that she was the fool who was too lazy to do it herself. She wouldn't like to be in Miss Hardbroom's class when homework was due. Miss Hardbroom was a stern presence. When she had first walked in, Dimity had stopped what she was doing to stare at the amazon in leather. Now she knew that Constance changed back into a long skirt when she went to many places, it was less of a surprise but to start off with, it was quite the entrance.

'You service motorcycles' she stated, not a question. Dimity unfroze and nodded.

'Yes, when is your MOT due?'

If it was a scene in a film, it would have been the start of a beautiful relationship. But it was real life and Constance was not in the habit of forming beautiful relationships. If she was, Dimity would be an unlikely choice. But when they saw each other around town, they nodded to each other, stopped to chat if they had time. Dimity learned that Constance was a chemistry teacher and head of sixth form. She had a sleek black cat whom she walked around the park. Dimity loved Morgana, an elegant well behaved creature who had a weakness for fabrics, smushing her face in and rolling around in velvet and muslin. It was endearing and Dimity had taken to hunting down spare pieces of textured fabric once in a while for a treat. Constance had received the presents graciously. She couldn't abide people feeding her cat but giving her toys to play with was acceptable. Dimity surprised her with her creativity and she was better disposed towards her from that point on.

She hadn't realised how much until Dimity needed a lift to her mother's house.

'Silly woman forgot her insulin, got to get it to her quick.'

Constance handed her the spare helmet and hopped on. She sat astride until she got impatient.

'Well, what are you waiting for?'

'You're giving me a lift?'

'Obviously. Get on.'

The drive had been too short. Dimity wished it could have gone on for an hour. Zooming past, steadying herself with her hands on her thighs, it felt like freedom.

'Thank you, appreciate it HB.'

Constance said nothing for once on the irritating nickname. She wondered if it was the filial responsibility, willingly and freely given that had prompted her consideration. She had never been able to cultivate more than a stiff formal manner with her own mother. Perhaps this was why she had unwisely sought out company from someone who felt as if they could have been a replacement, only for it to backfire on her. Dimity seemed devoted to her mother.

'She's the centre of my world' said Dimity cheerfully. 'I'd go to the ends of the earth for her.'

Constance wondered how that felt, wanting to look after someone out of love rather than out of duty. For someone to bake a cake for her because they wanted her to enjoy it. To tenderly tuck someone up and administer medicine because she was happy to care for them. Her own mother was out of reach and she felt an unfamiliar pang of envy. It almost felt like heartburn. She thought that was what it was at first. She'd known nothing else but self sufficiency and that had rarely failed her.

She never talked about her mother until she went for a drink with Dimity. Dimity would have preferred a beer but Constance preferred a café off the main square.

'I take it she's not around anymore.'

'Not in the sense that you mean.'

Dimity nodded.

'It's hard when someone dies. Sometimes you feel like they are around even when they aren't there to speak to. You want to tell them things and then remember you can't.'

'Well, yes. But you misunderstand me. She's not dead.'

Dimity stared at her over a cup of Earl Grey.

'I speak of her in past tense because she is not the person she used to be. She has dementia' said Constance briskly.

Dimity found the silence so awkward that it took a while to think of words and then try to phrase them in the correct order.

'I'm really sorry…not quite sure what to say.'

A poor response as she'd never had to deal with that.

'No matter, I rarely have to mention it.'

'Are you her carer?'

'I used to be.' Constance's gaze was direct, steady. 'I used to juggle work and her welfare, not realising how it gradually got to the point when I had a mental breakdown. The last straw was when I was accused of harming her. The bruises on her arms were from me restraining her. When I showed the hospital staff my own bruises, they only believed me when she later demonstrated that particular mood. I had to apologise to the nurse that she pushed. After that they told me there was no choice but to give her over to a care home. She's barely been able to recognise me since. The last time I saw her, she thought I was the grim reaper.'

Constance's tight twitch of the lips was humourless. With her sweeping black dresses, it was understandable but the situation was beyond comedy. Dimity felt upset swell up inside her. She didn't know to say but she sensed the underlying steady anguish residing just underneath the other woman's skin.

'She sometimes talks to me, about me, as if I am still at teacher training college. Now I know her true thoughts, things she never said to me back then but now she chats to me as if I am a stranger on the train.'

'Like what?'

'Sometimes she says she's proud of me. Sometimes she says she's worried about me, that I am living my life like I'm in a tunnel. Or that I'm too dismissively independent and she admits that she could have been a little harsh on me at times. That I look more like my father and it annoys her. That I can be too exacting, my standards too high and if I insist on shutting myself away, I don't deserve anyone to court me.'

'Wow.'

Dimity was in shock.

'She also thinks I've got a tattoo of a bat on my right bum cheek.'

Dimity spluttered tea all over the table. Constance sipped hers with a straight face.

'I had to take a year off work to grieve and mourn for her like she was dead. Every time I tried to do any work, it wouldn't let me. This stone in my heart. So I had to learn to do other things to fill my time. I swam for two hours most days. It helped me focus my thoughts. Took a trip to the south of France, stayed for a month. It was glorious. I ended up buying the motorcycle, feeling properly free for the first time in my life. The only reckless thing I've ever done. I know the risks but it's the only rebellion I've allowed myself. It wasn't until she went to in the care home that I've realised just how single minded I've been. I came back to work much healthier and stronger and have been much more balanced ever since. Which is why she thinks I'm someone else. Shall we go?'

Dimity nodded, couldn't help flickering a glance downwards. Constance raised an eyebrow.

'I don't have a tattoo of a bat on my right bum cheek.'

'Don't you?'

They both registered the tone of slight disappointment. There was the slightest hint of a smile on Constance's face.

'I have a tattoo of a lizard on my left hip.'

She swept out and left Dimity frozen in slight shock.

'Are you walking back?' Came the impatient query, floating through the door. Dimity bolted onto the bike, thoughts whirring. Saved a slice of lemon drizzle for when she saw her next. Invited her round to meet her mother, ply her with more cake. Bit by bit, she learned more about this elusive creature who had confided more than she had intended to. Constance seemed discomfited the first time they had met after that, Dimity made no mention of it. In return she received herbs that Constance grew in her garden. Dimity recognised it as a sign of friendship. She reciprocated by divulging all sorts of tales about herself, the things that she liked and disliked. Constance didn't always appreciate hearing about the pranks she got up to at school but she did manage to find a smile here and there, a comment that if the students ever plotted to climb the school roof to plant a flag of the headmistress's knickers, she'd be wise to stirrings of rebellion hopefully before it happened.

'I do appreciate your company' she said stiffly as they walked along the canal, watching barge life bustle about.

'Don't get soppy on me HB.'

Constance frowned.

'I don't appreciate the juvenile nickname.'

'Sorry, hard to get out of the habit.'

There was the time where Constance had been invited for dinner. There was the time where Dimity had been invited to the ice-skating rink. There was a month where they didn't see each other due to the intense workload and there was the time where Dimity got drunk and had locked herself out and spent overnight in the other woman's spare room, a curious Morgana for company. She got no sympathy the next morning, just tea and toast. She knew what Constance thought of drunkenness. She had a few uncharitable thoughts until she knew that Constance had been to see her mother the day before and was in a more severe mood than usual.

'Does she know you have a motorcycle?'

'No, she thinks it's the pizza delivery man.'

'I could do with a pizza right now.'

'For breakfast?' Constance was scandalised.

Dimity grinned.

'Any chance of a spot of jam?'

'I have ivy honey.'

Of course she did.

'Do you keep bees as well?'

Of course she did. They spent the morning harvesting honey. Dimity felt a sense of peace, enclosed in her suit, coaxing the bees out and whistling to them. Finding the gold. She drew the line at gardening though. She no had green fingers to spare. She was good at convincing Constance to relax with a book on the picnic blanket though. It was companionable, the two of them lying side by side with their book of choice, although Constance didn't think that manga comics constituted as proper literature. Dimity took time to show her that she was wrong. It took a lot of effort. They were at an impasse until Dimity gave her some to take to her mother.

'She liked them then?' Asked Dimity airily, expecting to be snapped at. Instead, Constance looked thoughtful.

'She said they were…engaging.'

Dimity beamed.

'At least your mother thinks they are good enough. I bet your students read them.'

'How much reading can you do with so many pictures?'

'The illustrations tell half of the story, you get how the character feels from them, much of the descriptive words that would normally be written, are in picture form. It's not too wordy, great for students who are dyslexic or have ADHD.'

'Hmmmm' was the grudging reply but Dimity knew that Constance was rethinking her view of manga comics somewhat.

The next time Constance took her somewhere it was the bookshop. The one with three floors of pent-up words and emotions trapped within the pages. Sometimes Constance felt the desperate wish of the words to escape, sensing a relief when the pages were opened. It sounded silly, she confided but to Dimity, it was one of the best things she'd ever heard.

'You're not wrong, HB. Words are alive.'

Constance was too surprised to be annoyed at the nickname. None of the English lit teachers at work had ever said anything so perceptive. She nodded in appreciation.

'How wise of you.'

Dimity felt a flare of warmth trickle into her heart. She liked it when Constance complimented her. it was a rare and wonderous thing. Constance couldn't take a compliment too much herself. But Dimity never gave up trying.

She had a chance on an unaccustomed dinner out.

'Don't get to see you so late in the evening. Thought you were an early to bed, early to rise kind of person.'

'I don't need much sleep. I'm more of a late to bed early to rise sort of person.'

'So you'd be up for a night out then?' Asked Dimity hopefully. Constance shuddered.

'I can't stand too much noise. It drains me of energy.'

'So late dinner is ok then? Maybe the cinema.'

'Yes.'

She ate like a bird at dinner but Dimity was delighted that she could coax her out after work. This time she came straight from her evening job from the pharmacy, clad in her leather trousers. Dimity was astounded that she delivered medicine to people in the evenings, even on Saturday if she was needed.

'How do you have time for more work on top of everything else?'

'It takes a mere hour or so from my evenings, gives me a rest from staring at marking, refreshes my mind, it provides a much needed service and the pharmacy pays me enough for it.'

By that, Dimity assumed correctly that it was for her savings account. Constance was prudent with money and only purchased when she needed to replace something. Paying for her mother's care home took up a lot of her salary and the only alcohol she imbibed were the ginger or redcurrant wines her friend, Miss Crotchet sold. She did not go clubbing or pub crawling, unlike the miscreants standing outside the nearest door, smoking and chatting. The music was pumping and spectators were eyeing up the leather as Constance strode past.

'Those trousers are very tight' murmured Dimity. Constance raised an eyebrow.

'Just saying, walk into that bar and you'll have phone numbers being thrown at you.'

'I am not interested in men's intentions' snapped Constance. Dimity remembered when the other woman had recounted the time where a DJ tried to whisk her away to the south of France. He ended up tipped onto the floor for touching her. She went there on her own a year later.

'Never said anything about men. That bar is not for men.'

Constance stopped and glared at her.

'Your mother is wrong, you know that? You've learned your lesson, you're not such a hermit anymore and you will always be able to find someone who will court you. She'll never know it but you will.'

'There are lots of things my mother never knew.'

'Like what?'

The other woman walked away from her, fists clenched. Dimity tailed her to her bike ad leaned on the handles.

'Now that you have someone to tell, why not tell?'

Constance considered sharing her shame. She eventually decided to have to take a leap of faith and trust someone. She didn't have much choice anymore. Sometimes it ate away at her. Dimity was an everyday blabbermouth but she had kept everything Constance had told her, to herself. They settled in Constance's living room and she began the sad sorry tale of when she had put her trust in someone else, only to be manipulated and burned.

'Do you realise that's grooming? An adult grooming someone underage? She had no right to involve you in all of that. Did you report her?'

'I tried. Once. But she was influential and is now on the board of governors. Nobody believed me.'

Once Dimity knew the name, she was astounded. Even she had heard of Miss Broomhead.

'If I hear of anything inappropriate with a student, I will say something. But I've heard nothing yet. She's good at covering her tracks.'

Dimity didn't think it was possible to see Constance so frightened and forlorn. Her hand trembled as she sipped her tea.

'Don't you dare feel guilty about what she did. You can only do what you can do and if that means keeping vigilant, nobody will think any less of you. One day she'll slip up and you'll be there to report her.'

'My mother thought she was one of the best teachers in the county. She never would have listened to me. I went to the head of year but she told me I was making up malicious rumours. Miss Broomhead punished me for the rest of the term.'

'I think you need to rest. We don't need to talk about her anymore today.'

Dimity tucked her in, gave her a hot water bottle to help with the shaking and sat beside her until she drifted off to sleep. Perched Morgana on her feet and went off to the spare room. She was up early the next morning, refreshing herself with a quick shower, brewing Constance's favourite rosehip tea, feeding Morgana and waiting for Constance to wake up. She heard the shower going so she added some toast and trimmings to the table.

Constance looked weary but resigned. Dimity asked her when she would visit her mother, asked if she could come with her. It was about time she had some support.

'I do appreciate it.'

'What's it?' Teased Dimity.

'Your friendship. I find it difficult to make friends. And then keep them. I'm not built for this modern world.'

'I'll find you some music you'll like' vowed Dimity. 'Lots of alternative stuff on YouTube. And staying in is the new going out. I'll help you beekeeping and brewing and all sorts. You don't need to do everything on your own. I'm sure I'll cultivate a taste for ginger wine.'

Constance felt a gentle honeyed spark waver between them. She felt it melting in her veins. It was unthinkable to not have Dimity in her life, as messy and noisy as she was.

'I'd like to keep you as a friend.'

Dimity was waiting for the moment where Constance would realise what they had. From her softened expression, it looked like she had. Taking her chance, Dimity timed it to perfection.

'I'm only after one thing.'

'Yes?'

'To see that lizard tattoo.'

Constance smiled in a way that Dimity had never seen her do.

'I'm going to make you work for it.'

I bet you will thought Dimity.

'Game on.'

Constance did not stop her as Dimity leaned over to give her the best kiss of her life with the promise of many more to come.