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  "Of course," Bill replied, placing his hand into Eddie's firm handshake and briefly acknowledging Elsie with a smile. "Nice to see you all again," he said, looking at them all with one sweeping gaze.

  "Well, Paul," he said, turning his attention back to him, "looks like a full house tonight." He beamed. "Some of the big fish are here, let's just hope we can reel them in," he said, nudging Paul with his elbow. Paul smiled politely.

  "Well, I'd better get in there, then," he said, taking Genevieve's hand in his.

  "I'll see you later," Bill said as he welcomed a handsome couple coming through the door.

  Paul led Genevieve and her parents into the main hall where his exhibit was being held. He paused at the doorway for a moment, drinking in the noise, the crowd, and the buzz of excitement. He was buoyed up by the scene. His paintings, which once leaned up against his studio's walls, now hung on large white walls, the new setting making them look larger than life.

  "You've done yourself proud," Eddie said, placing a firm hand on Paul's shoulder.

  "Yes, you have," Elsie said meekly, feeling inadequate in her conservative grey suit compared to the glamorous-looking women and well-heeled men who littered the hall. She deplored her own insecurities, but she couldn't overcome them, no matter how hard she tried. A weary feeling of acceptance fell over her as she stood by Eddie's side.

  He, in comparison, looked as though he was the star of the show. He was like a chameleon — he could quite easily adapt to any situation.

  "I'll get Elsie and myself a drink. Why don't you two go off and socialise and catch up with us later?” Eddie said.

  Paul wrapped his arm around Genevieve's waist as a gesture of ownership and walked into the throng of people. Her outward tranquillity hid an inward tremor of uncertainty. People were saying her name in a very familiar tone, but she didn't recognise any of them. All she could do was smile at them uneasily and be grateful when they moved on. She couldn't help but feel that people were discussing her rather than Paul's art.

  They were stopped several more times whilst Paul spoke to people as they made their way slowly to the area where he was going to make an opening speech. He walked up the stairs to the makeshift stage and someone in the crowd yelled, "Quiet please!"

  The room quietened down and Paul stood there under the bright light, feeling like a king among men. This was his time. He thanked everybody for attending, gave a brief background on why art was so important to him, and finished his speech by talking about the inspiration behind the paintings. He held his glass up in the air.

  "To Gen, without whom none of this would have been possible." The crowd echoed, "To Gen."

  She stood rooted to the floor while everyone around her clapped and smiled and Paul made his way back down the steps to join her. She wished the floor would swallow her up.

  Genevieve wasn't the only one wishing she was somewhere else. Rebecca was standing to the side of stage and had a clear view of Genevieve. She found it hard to tear her gaze away. Genevieve's vulnerability made her even more appealing. Rebecca longed to touch her, to look into her eyes and see the warmth and love that she once held there for her. The intensity of her longing was amplified by the fact that Genevieve's parents and Paul had literally built a wall around her. She recalled the words of the poet, Luke Davies, who they both loved. The words described how they felt when apart from each other: "Desire can occur in the brain, the mind, as well as elsewhere, whereas longing, true yearning, tends to bypass the rational centres and take place in the limbs. It's even beyond the heart, quite possibly."

  She was brought back to reality by Tia, who looked like she was about to explode.

  "I can't do this, Becca — I really can't. I'm going to have to say something." She started to walk away but Rebecca grabbed her arm.

  "That's not the way. She won't even know who you are. Can you imagine if it was the other way around, and someone who you didn't know approached you and started ranting in public that you were a lesbian?" Tia smiled.

  "Yes, I can see how that would pose a bit of a problem."

  "And you'd probably be thrown out for making a nuisance of yourself. It's a good thing you know people in high places," Isabel said, standing behind Tia. Tia swung around and embraced her.

  "What are you doing here?" she asked

  "I invited her," Rebecca said offering her cheek to Isabel.

  "And in what capacity are you here, may I ask?" Tia said, raising one eyebrow.

  "Personal, but that's not to say I won't be on the lookout," she said and winked at Rebecca.

  Rebecca and Tia felt dejected as they stood looking in the direction of Genevieve and Paul.

  "Well, one thing we can do," Tia said, taking three glasses of champagne from the waiter's tray in both hands, "is get drunk." She handed Isabel a glass, but before she could hand one to Rebecca, the critic shook her head.

  "No, that's not the way either," Rebecca said tersely, suddenly overcome with anger. She'd had enough playing by everyone else's rules. She walked through the crowd until she came to the small group where Paul was standing with Genevieve.

  "There you are," she said brightly to Genevieve, edging past Paul. "I heard you were going to be here tonight." She reached over to kiss Genevieve's cheek and thought she was going to cry when her lips made contact. She noted that the woman she loved no longer wore her favourite perfume. She stood back, taking in the whole view of Genevieve.

  "You look very well," was all she allowed herself to say, feeling the presence of Paul's glare.

  "Thank you," Genevieve replied, her cheeks flushed, embarrassed by Rebecca's familiarity. Rebecca turned to Paul, ignoring the disdain on his face.

  "Paul, tonight is obviously going to be a great success; you have really excelled yourself this time." She smiled through gritted teeth. "I'm sure you won't mind if I steal Genevieve away for a few moments," she said, taking Genevieve by the arm. "An old friend wants to see her," she said sweetly, leading Genevieve away. The colour drained from Paul's face as he stood there with his mouth open, unable to form a sentence.

  Rebecca guided Genevieve through the crowd to where Tia and Isabel stood. Tia looked on at her, amazed. She couldn't believe she had just literally stolen Genevieve from under Paul's nose. Tia could tell immediately by the way Genevieve looked at her that she didn't recognise her. What a cruel world this is, she thought to herself.

  "Genevieve, this is Tia, an old friend of yours. You wouldn't believe it to look at her, but you used to follow some of her pretty bad ways," Rebecca joked.

  "She's lying!" Tia feigned innocence and embraced Genevieve. Like Rebecca, the sadness of the situation made her feel like crying. She squeezed her tightly before letting her go, Genevieve's face revealing her uneasiness. Her name or face didn't ring any bells to Genevieve.

  "Hi," was all she could say. She looked over her shoulder to see where Paul was and found him staring hard at her. She couldn't read his face, and wasn't sure if he was angry with her, but he certainly didn't look pleased. She smiled at him and he smiled tensely back. She returned her attention to the women.

  "And you remember Detective Smith?" Rebecca continued.

  "Isabel, please," she said, shaking Genevieve's hand.

  "Hello again." She didn't know who to speak to first. All eyes were on her and she was at a loss of what to say. Turning to Tia she said awkwardly, "So you were responsible for leading me astray, were you?"

  "Maybe it's a good thing you can't remember," she said jokingly, then put her hand to her mouth. "I'm sorry, that was in poor taste." Genevieve smiled.

  "It's fine; it's nice to be treated normally."

  "So you really can't remember anything — not Rebecca, not your flat, job...?" Tia asked, encouraged by what she saw as an open opportunity to try and jog her friend's memory.

  "I'm afraid not. I know my work instinctively, but as for everything else — no."

  While Genevieve was talking with Tia, Isabel was watching Rebecca. The expression on R
ebecca's face spoke volumes and how Genevieve could not see how madly and utterly in love Rebecca was with her, she didn't know. She really must be straight, Isabel thought. All Rebecca needed to do to complete the picture of a love-sick puppy was to start drooling. The hunger in her eyes was undeniable.

  "So is Paul helping you put two and two together?" Tia's voice broke into Isabel's thoughts.

  "He tries his best, but so far no luck. It's very frustrating not being able to remember anything about him."

  "It must be awful for him," Tia muttered under her breath, smiling sweetly at Genevieve.

  "I haven't seen you since I came out of the hospital," Genevieve said to Rebecca, feeling herself blush under her scrutiny.

  "No, I thought it best to wait for you to settle down first," she lied.

  "Oh, right." The conversation tailed off into a painful silence.

  "So anyway," Tia said, aware that no one else was going to steer the conversation to where they really wanted it to be, "does this gallery look familiar in any way to you?" Genevieve shook her head. "You had your first break here. This is where your career took off, not to mention your friendship with Rebecca," she said nodding toward her.

  "I know I had a showcase here, but I didn't know this was where I met you," Genevieve said to Rebecca.

  "Yes, in fact..." Tia was on a roll, but before she had a chance to complete her sentence, Paul had appeared at Genevieve's side, all charming and handsome, like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

  "Sorry to interrupt you ladies," he said, taking hold of Genevieve's hand. "I'm sure you've still got lots to talk about, but Gen, there are some people I would really like you to meet."

  "Okay, well it was nice to see you all. Hopefully we'll catch up later," Genevieve just managed to say before Paul dragged her away from them.

  He led her out into the spacious foyer.

  "So, what were you talking about?" he enquired, his eyes fixed on the floor.

  "Nothing in particular, just about my memory loss really."

  "You all seemed to be pretty pally," he said.

  "Paul, why wouldn't I be pally with them if they were my friends?"

  "You'll just have to take my word for it that you are better off without those two."

  "Says who?" she demanded to know.

  "Look, let's not have a scene here," he said, looking around him.

  "A scene?" she asked in a hushed, angry voice. "Is this is a scene? You drag me away from my friends and then tell me I'm better off without them! To tell you the truth, Paul, I'm getting pretty pissed off with all these secrets that I feel are being kept from me."

  "There are no secrets," he said, getting worried that he'd pushed her too far. "I'm sorry, it's just nerves."

  "No Paul, I don't believe it is because of your nerves. I want to know the truth. What is it about Rebecca that you and my parents don't like?" She stood there with her hands on her hips — her body language telling him he was not going to get out of this easily.

  "How about I tell you the whole story later? Now really isn't the time."

  "Paul, at the moment, all I have to go on is what you're telling me and I'm hoping that putting my trust in you is not being abused in any way."

  "Of course not, darling," he said, shepherding her back toward the gallery. "If you don't trust what I say, you only have to ask your parents..." he added.

  * * *

  An hour later, Genevieve stood out on the small balcony to get some fresh air. Paul had been cornered by some VIPs and her parents were basking in the glory of his success. She breathed in the cool evening air.

  "Hot in there, isn't it?" a by-now familiar voice said behind her. She turned sideways to see Rebecca.

  "Yes, not to mention my aching feet," she said, lifting up her foot to show off her high heels.

  "You always insisted on wearing heels even when you knew you had a long night ahead of you," Rebecca said softly.

  There was not much of a gap between them and without Paul present, something about the close proximity felt comforting to Genevieve.

  "In that case, it's true that old habits die hard."

  "Yes, they do." Looking directly into Genevieve's eyes, the smile faded from Rebecca's face. She ventured, "I miss you." Genevieve didn't know what to say.

  "Was I that good a flat mate?"

  "Yes, you were." She put her hand to Genevieve's face. "You've got an eyelash on your cheek," she said, removing it slowly, savouring the contact. Both women's eyes were locked onto one another. Neither spoke — in that moment, it was as if just the two of them existed. Genevieve felt glued to the floor and couldn't move. There was something so intimate about the moment that it made her blush. Rebecca took her hand and put the eyelash in it.

  "Make a wish," she said, closing her hand into a ball and reluctantly letting go. Genevieve closed her eyes and after a few seconds opened them.

  "Let's hope it comes true," she said, smiling sadly.

  In that moment Rebecca knew in her heart that she could not simply blurt out who she was to her. She knew it wouldn't be fair to Genevieve, not because of her parents or Paul, but because she didn't want to add to the confusion she could see Genevieve going through. She could see her mentally fighting to understand what was going on between them and it wasn't up to her to shatter Genevieve's world. Regretfully, she turned to go back inside.

  "I hope we can stay in touch, Genie," was all she said as she walked away without a backward glance.

  * * *

  "Paul you're a star," a drunken blonde slurred in Paul's ear. Her flimsy black dress was in real danger of exposing her large attributes and she was flirting outrageously with him. She was flattering him with comments about his artwork and how she could open doors for him in the art world. His focus, however, was on the balcony. Paul had seen the exchange between Rebecca and Genevieve and had frozen in fear when he saw Rebecca reach up and touch Genevieve's face. His fear turned to anger as they both stood motionless, looking into each other's eyes. He couldn't let Rebecca do this to him again. He had waited patiently, using all of his willpower not to go and drag Rebecca away from her. When she eventually left the balcony he went out there to join Genevieve.

  "You okay?" he asked.

  "Yes, of course. Are you having a good time?"

  "The best," he beamed, "and having you by my side makes it all the more special, Gen." She was afraid to meet his eyes in case of what he'd see.

  "I love you, Gen."

  "I know you do," she replied, keeping her gaze averted.

  "But you still can't say it to me, can you?" She didn't answer. There was an unbearable silence between them. "You know your parents are getting pretty anxious about where we're heading?" he said, trying a different angle. "In fact, I would go so far as to say that they're disappointed by the lack of progress we've made."

  "This is not about my parents, Paul."

  "No, no it's not; it's about us, it's about you and me, and it's about me losing the only person I have ever loved to something I can't compete with. I can't compete with your mind Gen, because it has more power over you than I do. I love you and I want this to work, I really do, but I can't do it on my own. You once told me I was your life — was that a lie?"

  "I don't know."

  "Oh come on," he said irritably, "get off the fence and make a decision, do you want me or not?" This was his last big gamble. He was relying on her sense of fair play to make the decision for her.

  "Well, do you?" He pulled out the diamond ring from his pocket and got down on his knee. "Do you want to be my wife?"

  "Um... yes?" she said hesitantly.

  "You won't regret this Gen, you really won't." He embraced her tightly, kissed her briefly, and then grabbed her hand, taking her through the door. He hurriedly made his way to the makeshift stage with her struggling to keep up with him in her heels. Jumping on stage with energy, he pulled Genevieve up onto the platform with him.

  "If I can have your attention please," he said in a ra
ised voice. The room echoed with sounds of shushing as people tried to quieten each other. When the noise level was low enough he spoke triumphantly.

  "Tonight, I am pleased to share with you my good fortune — Genevieve Simmons has agreed to be my wife." The whole room erupted with applause. Egged on by the crowd, Paul took Genevieve in his arms and kissed her on the mouth, much to the delight of the crowd.

  For what seemed an age, Rebecca didn't move a muscle, staring at the entwined figures on the stage. He thought he had won; he thought they were playing a game, but he couldn't have been more wrong. Tia stood beside her friend, utterly mortified.

  "This is getting way out of hand now. God knows if the two of them have been —" She couldn't finish the sentence. It made her feel sick to even imagine it.

  Isabel looked at Rebecca, wishing she could have the love and admiration of a woman like her and hurting because she thought she never would. Genevieve's parents were on the stage affectionately patting Paul on the back as though he had just walked on water. He had done it, just like he said he would. Genevieve just stood there in the spotlight, unsure of what to do, but feeling like she had just made the biggest mistake of her life.

  CHAPTER 19

  THE NEXT MORNING, Genevieve was startled awake by her mother knocking on her bedroom door with great urgency.

  "Come in," Genevieve groaned, pulling the cover from over her head. Her mother had a cup of tea in her hand, and her face was beaming.

  "Good morning," she said brightly. "Did you sleep well?"

  "Yes," Genevieve lied.

  "Just to let you know, your father and I are over the moon about you and Paul. We really couldn't be happier for you." She sat down on the bed, oblivious to the turmoil Genevieve was experiencing at that moment.

  Genevieve didn't know why she felt so unsettled, but it had something to do with her flat mate, Rebecca. There had been such intensity to their meeting yesterday, it was unnerving. She consciously pushed thoughts of Rebecca to the back of her mind and focused on what her mother was saying.

  "So, we were thinking that the wedding should take place sooner rather than later. I mean, there's no need to procrastinate, is there?" her mother was rambling on. "If we start arranging it today we can set the date for a couple of months away." She didn't even wait for a response. "So I thought you and I could go wedding dress shopping today... and look what I have," she said secretively, withdrawing a credit card from her pocket. "Your father said the sky's the limit! Now come on, young lady." She stood up with the energy of a woman half her age. "Get your tea down you, get ready and let's go!"