3. Futile

"Come on, mate, eat something. You're wasting away."

Stacey's tone is one of a sympathy usually adopted at the bedside of a dying relative.

Eve doesn't bother looking up from the table. Her head pounds. The bender in Brighton had seemed like a good idea at the time. But now all she's been left with is a sense of overwhelming sickness and a heart that's still broken. Her mouth feels sour and woolly. She can't even remember the faces of the women she bedded with reckless abandon.

Suki's is still there, burned beneath her eyelids, everything about her threaded into Eve's very DNA.

"I'm not hungry," she says now, talking to the tabletop.

"I can bring you a bacon sarnie," says Stacey.

"Just the smell of that would make me throw up."

"In that case, I think it's best if you stay home today. We don't want you putting the punters off by emptying your stomach by the side of the van."

"Yeah, it wouldn't be quite as successful as the naked burgers."

Even that light-hearted attempt at humour makes Eve's throat close over. She can still remember that conversation with Freddie, the joke that she might save her own show until Pride.

The way that she'd shared it with Suki, tangled up in a bed in Leeds, naked, one arm pillowed beneath her head, the fingers of the other hand tracing idly up and down Suki's spine as she lay curled up at her side, with her head in the crook of her shoulder.

"You'd better not," Suki had said, warning blunted slightly by the mischievous curl of her lips.

"Oh, ordering me around outside the bedroom now, are we?"

"I'd be jealous."

"Well, I wouldn't blame you there," Eve had teased. "This banging hot body would draw the crowds in no problem."

"Yes, but I don't want anyone else looking at it. It's all for me."

"Absolutely," Eve had groaned as Suki had rolled on top of her, pinning her down with the weight of her body. She'd been acutely aware of every delicious inch of her lover's skin against hers, the intoxicating press of her breasts, the silk of her thigh against her hip, the smouldering desire in those dark eyes. And then Suki had kissed her, with an aggressive assertiveness that had left her aching; it hadn't taken them long to lose themselves to the desire that always bubbled so close to the surface, in a playful tussle for dominance that had left them both reaching the pinnacle of ecstasy.

When the fit of passion had cooled, they had laughed about it together, Eve relishing the press of Suki's jaw against her shoulder, the smile Suki imprinted to her cheek when she moved to press her mouth to her. Content. Free.

She's never going to have that again. Her eyes burn.

Stacey pulls out the chair opposite her, reaching out to cover her hands.

"I'm worried about you, mate," she says softly. "I can tell you ain't eaten properly for days. Liquid lunches don't count. I need you to take care of yourself. You're literally the best thing that's happened to me for years, and I can't stand by and watch you waste away. Look, even if you just have a slice of plain toast, it'll make me happy."

It hurts. It hurts to know that she spreads herself so thinly for others, but gets nothing in return. Not from Stacey—she is the best friend she's ever had, fiercely loyal and protective, and Eve knows she would do anything for her if she asked for help. She does it as much as she can, trying to protect her from Suki, giving her space to vent if she needs it. But, sometimes, Eve thinks that she's living in a glass box. That people don't even look at her. She's just the goofy lesbian, unimportant unless legal advice is needed, nothing more than surface-level entertainment. When was the last time someone asked if she was okay? She doesn't remember.

How fucking sad is that?

Stacey drops an affectionate kiss into her hair, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "Look, you stay at home today, gather yourself. I can manage the van no problem. Do whatever you need to do. Cry, smash something, lie in bed all day—just promise, no more drinking. It's only gonna make you feel worse. I'll make that toast for you before I go."

Eve finds she can't answer for the lump in her throat. If she didn't have Stacey, she doesn't know what she'd do. But Stacey seems to know, offering her another tender kiss to the crown of her head before moving to pop bread in the toaster. She keeps up a stream of inane chatter about the kids to fill the silence. Eve tunes it out, burying her head in her arms and closing her eyes against the headache and the heartache.

For Stacey's benefit, she nibbles at the toast before throwing the rest of it away, dragging herself back to the comfort of her bed. She tucks herself in, fighting hard against the urge to be sick and losing spectacularly.

A truly shit day.

She doesn't emerge from her nest until the following morning. Stacey fusses, the other Slaters tiptoe around her as if she's a ticking timebomb. Jean offers to take the kids to school, evidently looking for an excuse to leave the house.

This morning, she opts for a slice of toast with no cajoling. Coffee, black. It'll only worsen her sleep-deprived jitters, but she needs something to keep her awake.

She can't hide forever.

"I'll come with you to the van today," she says.

"You don't have to rush," Stacey reassures her.

"I've already taken the piss by sloping off for the week."

"Which I encouraged you to do. You needed to get the hell out of this place. I don't expect you to come straight back."

"And I'm grateful you always have my back, Stace, I really am. If I worked with anyone but my amazing wife I wouldn't have the luxury of running away from my problems. Except they're still here, aren't they? And they're going to be for a while. I've had my blow-out. I need to get my head back on straight."

"But what if you see her?" says Stacey.

"She lives across the road. She owns the corner shop. She goes into the Vic. Today, tomorrow, a month from now, there's gonna come a point where we're in the same room."

"That doesn't have to be today. Or tomorrow, for that matter."

"It's done, Stacey. For good. There's no coming back from this now. I was stupid enough to let my heart get in the way of my head. I knew it was a bad idea to get involved with a married, closeted woman. I've been here before. It doesn't have a happy ending. I should have listened to your warnings."

"We all make stupid mistakes when it comes to love," says Stacey. "I don't blame you for that. She should have known better. She's done nothing but drag you along like a loyal dog begging for scraps. You should never have let it get this far, but neither should she. You were in love enough to hope that one day she'd leave him. She always knew she wouldn't. It don't feel like it now, but trust me, one day you'll look back on all of this and thank God you had such a lucky escape."

Eve's too tired to argue with her. And a part of her is still angry, still hurt, silently thinking those same things.

Clinging on to that might be the only way she survives this.

"I need to start my life again," she says now. "That chapter is done. I need to come to work and start building myself back up. Drinking and wallowing will only make things worse."

"Okay," says Stacey reluctantly. "If you're ready, I'm not gonna stop you."

"Thanks, mate. I need a shower and a change, and I'm all yours." She tries for her old humour. "Y'know, all of this would be so much easier if I were yours."

Under normal circumstances, Stacey would have fallen about pissing herself. Now all she manages a weary quirk of the lips. "Yeah, sometimes I wish I weren't straight an' all. Be easier for the both of us, I reckon."

"Well, my door's always open should you wish to give it a try, babe," Eve jokes, but her heart is far from in it. It's a long way away, across the street, still beating for someone it can never have.

And now she has to live with that.

Nothing for a week. Eve makes sure that if they need change, Stacey is the one to go. She avoids the Vic. Refuses to even look in the direction of the Minute Mart. Tunnel vision. One step in front of the other.

And then she sees her.

Early morning, very few people around. Stacey on the school run.

The click of heels echoing on the pavement, the cadence that Eve has learned by heart.

She knows it's foolish to look up, but her heart betrays her.

Their eyes meet across the square.

For a moment, time seems to freeze.

Eve feels her world tilt on its axis, disorientated all over again by the sight of the woman she is so desperately in love with.

Even from this distance, she can see the subtle shift in Suki's expression, the twitch of the muscle in her cheek that lets Eve know that she's fighting against every instinct to crack.

For that one heartbreaking moment, hope is renewed.

And then it's over.

Hope shattered.

Suki tears her gaze away, a stoic mask in place, and Eve's heart breaks anew.

And she knows it's futile to pretend not to care, that she feels nothing for the woman who turned her life completely upside down.

But it's the only thing she can do. So she turns around herself, pasting on the most charming smile she can muster, and starts laying it on thick, ramping up her cheek for appreciative laughs, pretending that all is fine, because Suki has made her choice, has made it clear that she will never be enough, that no matter how much she tries, she can never compete with the things that matter most to her: her children, her community, her faith, her image.

She doesn't resent her or blame her for that. Suki has obstacles that she couldn't even begin to understand. But that doesn't mean it hurts any less.

I will never be brave enough.

We were almost there.

I've been lying to you.

She hopes that one day, as she had said to Vinny when he had squared up to her, that Suki will find the strength to break free from the prison that has been built around her. She couldn't do it for Eve, and she understands that, had never even wanted that: she had wanted Suki to find the courage for herself. She had just hoped that she might have been enough for her to take that leap, but it wasn't to be. Suki has made it clear that they're over, but Eve still hopes that one day Suki can be brave enough to leave the shadows behind. She will be the first to congratulate her if she does, but that part of their life is over now. Suki has made her choice, and she has to respect that, by putting it behind her too.

And so she tries to move on. Because, hopeless as it seems right now, it's the only hope she has of salvaging the fragmented pieces of her heart.

All she can do is hope that one day, she will be enough for someone.