Accidentally Together Read online

  Lauren wound a strand of hair around her finger. Fiona’s call had put her on edge. Despite her efforts to convince herself everything was okay, she feared something was bound to blow up in her face and send her scuttling back into hiding. She’d told herself that things were different. She was back in the city, older, and under a pseudonym. Nobody knew who she was or where she was. Nothing could happen to her, could it?

  Then why did she wake up in the middle of the night unable to breathe, with her heart pounding? Why did her eyes have dark shadows in them?

  Because you can walk away from the past, but it still whispers your name in the dark, taunting you.

  Chapter Six

  During times like these, when darkness blanketed the city, Emma regretted living in a two-bedroom apartment. The spacious accommodation somehow reinforced her loneliness. As much as she’d tried to fill her home with multi-coloured tables and chairs from Ikea and oversized fabric sofas from DFS, the pressing silence was a constant reminder that she was alone. It was crazy when she thought about it. Over eight million people lived in London. How could she not find her soulmate? No one serious had been in her life since forever.

  That’s what happens when you fall in love with a fantasy. But what a fantasy. Long, lustrous hair. Dark, brooding grey eyes. A luscious mouth so full and soft, ripe for kissing. And—Oh God, don’t let me even think about her fit body. A sensual, hot rush flooded downwards. After all of these years, she still has an effect on me.

  Before Emma could dwell on the memory of Lauren any further, the doorbell chimed. Overwhelmed by the memory, she stood too quickly and banged her knee against the coffee table. Rubbing the sore spot, she limped to the door. Emma lifted the intercom phone then buzzed Hope in before leaving the front door ajar and returning to the living room.

  ‘For you.’ Hope handed her a gift bag in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other as she walked in a few minutes later.

  ‘Sweet,’ Emma said, forgetting about the dull ache in her knee. She peeked inside the bag. ‘Ooh pink champagne and raspberry truffles. You know how to treat a girl, don’t ya?’

  Emma gave Hope a hug then led the way to the kitchen. She gestured for Hope to take a seat at the table while she filled a vase with water.

  ‘How was work?’ Hope asked.

  ‘Let’s just say I was glad to escape today. Tell me something?’ she said, untwisting the wire from the champagne bottle. ‘Why are women so bloody bitchy? I mean seriously, we’re all at work trying to make a living, but there always has to be one queen bee making it shit for everyone else.’

  ‘I take it Wendy’s pissing you off?’

  Emma snorted. ‘When isn’t she? Honestly, that woman’s snooty attitude makes my blood boil. She’s always looking down on people. She was actually complaining about the way the kids who come for counselling dress. Can you believe that? Like it really matters.’

  ‘I must admit, after meeting her for the first time, I wondered why such a hard-nosed cow would be in a job that requires compassion and understanding.’

  ‘That’s neither here nor there when you’re good at getting sponsors to part with their cash. In that sense, she’s a star.’

  ‘That’s why I prefer working from home. The less contact I have with people, the more I can convince myself that humanity on a whole isn’t devolving. You know the saying, “The more people I meet, the more I like my dog”. Well, that’s me, and I don’t even have a dog!’ Hope laughed sardonically.

  Emma eased the cork from the bottle with only the slightest pop, poured the fizzy liquid into two tall glasses, and handed one to Hope. ‘Some of us aren’t lucky enough to work for ourselves.’

  ‘Believe me, I count my blessings every day.’ Hope lifted her glass in a toast. ‘Happy birthday.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Emma raised her glass and took a sip of her champagne. The bubbles danced in her mouth, and she licked her lips. ‘Hmm, now this is nice.’

  ‘Do you wanna hit a bar and get hammered?’

  Emma looked down at her jogging bottoms and slippers. ‘I haven’t got the energy to change again. I was gonna order pizza and watch a film on Sky Movies.’

  ‘Or better still,’ Hope said, scrambling to her feet. ‘We can check out the sky with your birthday present. You never know, we might get lucky and spot a UFO.’

  ‘Yeah right.’

  ‘Come on, don’t be a spoilsport. You might as well try them out.’

  ‘Oh, all right. Let’s finish this bottle first, then I’ll go and grab them,’ Emma said and took a swig of her drink.

  An hour later, they were standing on Emma’s small balcony, which she referred to as her garden in the sky. Wilted plants and flowers lined the railing, which she had every intention of reviving once spring arrived.

  ‘Just as I thought,’ Hope said. ‘I can’t see anything. Not even a plane’s visible in that miserable, dull sky.’

  Emma looked up. ‘Maybe it’ll be better in the summer?’

  ‘Like I’m waiting for the summer. You know what we can do?’

  ‘What?’ Emma was feeling tipsy and desperately wanted to go inside; a double cheese meat feast pizza beckoned.

  ‘Some serious spying.’

  ‘What, looking at people in their homes? No thanks. I’m no pervert.’

  ‘Go on. It’s only a bit of fun.’

  ‘What if someone sees us?’

  ‘We’re twenty-two floors up. Who’s gonna see us?’

  Emma shrugged, mortified at the thought of spying on people. ‘I dunno. I feel a bit uneasy about it, that’s all.’

  ‘Okay, goody two-shoes, you don’t have to look if you don’t want to.’

  ‘Oh, all right then,’ Emma said. ‘But promise me that if anyone’s naked or doing the deed we’ll stop looking.’

  ‘Boring, but if you insist. Now let’s see what your neighbours get up to behind closed doors.’ Hope lifted the lenses to her eyes and swivelled her head from left to right.

  ‘Can you see anything?’

  Hope’s nose twitched. ‘Some bird on her phone, having an argument by the looks of it.’ She tilted her head back. ‘A couple having drinks. Ooh look, look, he’s making a move on her.’

  ‘Let me see, let me see. Are they having sex?’ Emma said, grabbing at the binoculars.

  Hope brushed her hand away, lowered the binoculars, frowned, then lifted them for another look. ‘Wait a minute.’

  ‘What are they doing? Tell me.’

  ‘Nothing. These lenses are shit. Everything’s blurry. I don’t know what your mum thought you’d see through them.’ She spat out the words as if they made her physically ill.

  ‘Well they wouldn’t be state of the art on their budget, even if they’d bought them especially,’ Emma said, retrieving the binoculars from Hope to look for herself.

  Straight ahead, she caught a pair of dark curtains closing. Too late! She moved across to the next window and saw a mother sitting in an armchair, breastfeeding a child. Boring! Moving on, she settled on a window showcasing a large, sleekly furnished living room. Two women were sitting on a sofa. Emma gasped when one of them stood and began swaying her hips from side to side to unheard music. Now this is what I’m talking about.

  Suddenly, she was very happy with her ‘unusual’ birthday present. As much as she wanted to lower her gaze, she remained transfixed by the window show. Lithe arms pulled the shirt over a dark head, bringing a slim torso and lace-covered breasts into view.

  When Hope called from the living room, Emma reluctantly returned inside.

  ‘They shouldn’t have bothered giving you those.’

  ‘I don’t know. They might come in handy,’ she said cryptically, her mind fixed on the dancing woman in the apartment across the road. She wondered if she was naked yet and giving her lover a lap dance. Emma was tempted to go and have another peek, but thought better of it. Wasn’t this exactly what she had told Hope she didn’t want to do? Hope would never let her live it down if she found out.
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  ‘Come in handy for what? Giving you an eye ache? If you want, I can flog them on eBay for you,’ she said, switching on the TV with the remote control.

  Emma laid the binoculars on the window ledge and went in search of the pizza menu. ‘That seems a bit mean.’

  By midnight, Hope had fallen asleep in the armchair. Emma rubbed her eyes, gathered the empty pizza boxes by her feet, and stood. She looked down at Hope and decided to let her sleep. Hope would go to bed when she woke up with a numb arm like she normally did when she leant on it for too long.

  Emma did a quick tidy and was on her way back to her bedroom when she remembered she’d left the binoculars in the living room. Retrieving them, she headed back up the hallway. Despite her best intentions, she found herself at her window, looking out with her spyglasses at the apartments opposite hers.

  ‘Oh well,’ she said when she saw that the lesbian couple’s curtains were drawn.

  There’s always tomorrow night.

  Chapter Seven

  What I need is a hot sea-salt bath and … yes, Lauren admitted to herself, sex. One drawback of single life was the lack of a warm body next to you. And that’s why the rampant rabbit was invented: for frisky, single women like me.

  Lauren padded down the hallway to the bathroom, stripping at the open doorway. She spied her nakedness as she passed the large mirror. Weekly kick boxing lessons had kept her in shape and the muscles in her slim arms were well defined. Bending over the bathtub, she turned the tap, releasing a gush of hot water, and sank the plug in the hole. As she poured in the sea salts, she heard the faint ring of her phone. She considered leaving it, but then remembered Frankie had said earlier he’d call to see if she wanted to go out for a drink. She hurried from the bathroom to the living room.

  Snatching the phone from the sofa without looking at the caller ID, she said, ‘Hello?’

  ‘Ma belle, please don’t hang up,’ Fiona said quickly.

  Lauren groaned. ‘What is it, Fi? I’ve just got home. I had an interview today and I’m really tired.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but we need—’

  ‘Need? I thought you didn’t need anything?’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘No, actually, I don’t. As far as I’m concerned, you needed the freedom to fuck whoever you wanted. I’m sure you’re making the most of it.’

  ‘You know that’s not true. I really am sorry. I overstepped the mark once and I’ve regretted it ever since. Je le jure,’ she protested.

  ‘Oh get real, will you? Regret isn’t even in your vocabulary.’ Lauren shivered. She glanced down, saw her pink nipples were fully erect, and locked her free arm over her chest.

  That was the problem with exes. They were comfortable, like slipping your feet into a pair of worn slippers. No matter how much you knew they needed binning, ‘what ifs’ always played at the back of your mind. What if I never find anyone else? What if I’m just chasing a dream and the perfect relationship doesn’t exist after all?

  Right then, when she was feeling a sense of loneliness, it would have been all too easy to give in. To tell Fiona to fly over and welcome her into her bed as if nothing had happened. To carry on as if Fiona hadn’t broken the bond of trust between them. It would have been easy, but not logical or even possible. Not now. An untraversable distance existed between them, preventing them from being together again.

  ‘I want you to stop calling me. I don’t want to have to change my number again.’

  ‘So that’s it?’

  ‘That’s it.’

  ‘Over one meaningless shag?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Lauren hoped Fiona could hear the finality in her voice. This constant rehashing of apologies that changed nothing had grown tiresome.

  ‘If you could put yourself in my shoes, you’d understand.’

  Lauren unconsciously moved her hand to her throat. ‘Are you seriously putting the blame for this at my feet?’

  ‘I’m not saying it’s all your fault. I’m saying it’s not all my fault either.’

  ‘Piss off with your psychobabble. Go and tell it to someone who gives a flying fuck.’

  ‘I’ll never let you go, Lauren.’ Her voice was low and threatening.

  ‘In this instance, you don’t have a choice.’

  For the second time in two days, Lauren hung up on Fiona. She quickly dialled Frankie’s number and arranged to meet up with him. Her date with the rampant rabbit would have to wait. The comfort and security she desperately needed could only come from a bottle.

  Chapter Eight

  Although there weren’t any lingering signs of the emotional stress evident in their last session, Emma studied Louise from across her desk, not totally convinced she was ‘fine and doing great,’ as she’d said when she arrived forty-five minutes earlier. Something other than family life was clearly bothering her, but Emma didn’t know what the source of her concern was. Not yet anyway.

  Louise’s gaze darted around the room as she gnawed on her nails. Emma noted that Louise had shifted in her seat at least ten times to find a comfortable position. Now and again, she glanced at Emma then averted her gaze. Several minutes had passed since Louise last spoke, then suddenly, without looking up, she said, ‘Do you think I’m gay because of what my uncle did to me?’

  Emma rested her hands in her lap. The question didn’t surprise her. Survivors of sexual abuse commonly asked this question, and it was difficult to answer, so she took a few seconds to respond.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said honestly. ‘But let’s look at it like this: if it were true, there wouldn’t be any heterosexual female survivors of abuse.’

  Louise grunted an agreement.

  ‘And anyway, does it really matter whether you’re gay or not?’

  Louise grimaced and rubbed the back of her neck. ‘Not really. It’s not so much about being gay. It’s about knowing where I belong. Where I fit in. Isn’t that what everybody wants?’

  Emma empathised with feeling like a square peg in a round hole. She had felt displaced her entire life. ‘There’s nothing wrong with being unique. There’s no rulebook that says you have to be like everyone else. Imagine how boring life would be if we were all the same?’

  ‘Suppose so. But what if I go with a woman and it feels wrong? Then what?’

  ‘Louise, you’re in control of your life and your body. Nobody can force you to do anything you don’t want—’

  ‘Unless they’re bigger and stronger than me.’

  ‘In which case that would be an assault. It’s not the same as consent. If we can’t fight back, that’s not our shame to carry. It’s the abuser’s.’

  ‘Do you think I should at least try and, you know, date men? To make sure it’s the right choice?’

  They were treading in muddy waters. Emma’s interpretation of ‘dating’—going to the cinema and grabbing something to eat after—was very different from Louise’s, who was implying she wanted to have sex with men in order to find herself.

  Emma crossed her arms over her chest. ‘You’re eighteen years old. You have the world at your feet. Trust yourself to know what you want without doing anything too drastic. And when you find yourself, accept who you are with open arms. Gay, straight, or even bisexual.’

  ‘You forgot asexual.’

  ‘Even that,’ Emma said with a reassuring smile.

  Outside, dark skies had replaced the daylight. As usual, she’d gone well past their allotted time, not that it bothered her. It wasn’t as if she had anything—or anyone—to rush home for.

  ‘Am I allowed to ask you a personal question?’

  Emma nodded slowly, hoping it wasn’t too personal. ‘Sure.’

  ‘The incident you told me about, the one at school with that girl. What do you remember most about her?’

  ‘Her ears.’

  Louise looked at her quizzically. ‘Her ears? Why?’

  In her mind’s eye, Emma pictured Lauren’s small, rounded ears that stuck out ever so slightly. ‘Because I
loved looking at them from behind when she wore her hair in a bundle on top of her head. They were the cutest ears I’d ever seen.’

  A gentle tap on the door preceded Gina, her bespectacled manager, poking her head inside the office. ‘We’re getting ready to lock up, Emma.’

  ‘Okay, won’t be long.’ She gave her a brief, apologetic glance.

  Emma remained with Louise long enough to arrange their next appointment, and then she packed up for the day and made her way home. She stopped at the corner shop and bought a bottle of white wine, a large bag of toffee-coated popcorn, ready salted crisps, and a salsa dip. I hope those women will be on view again.

  Emma wondered what Hope would say if she knew she had bought snacks for her dabble in voyeurism. She would probably be delighted that Emma had done something out of the norm.

  Letting herself into her apartment, she kicked off her shoes and stooped to retrieve her mail. She sucked air through her teeth as she sorted through the letters. Junk, junk, and more junk. She tossed the mail onto the hallway table and hung her jacket on the knob.

  Emma headed to the living room and turned on the TV for background noise. After spending the day listening to people’s problems, she should have been happy with the silence living alone afforded her, but it only reaffirmed her single status. Maybe her dislike of solitude came from growing up as an only child—well, until Hope came along, but by then she was a teenager. Growing up, she had longed for a home full of fun and visitors, but it was never meant to be. After her father had died of a heart attack, the little energy present in Emma’s life was sucked away. That was until her mum met Alex, but even then, her mother just wanted to make him happy.

  Emma brushed her hair away from her face and stretched her arms above her head, loosening the tension in them. It was good to be home.

  She walked into the kitchen, retrieved a glass, and filled it with a generous amount of wine. She deserved it after the long day she’d had. Opening the cupboard door, she took out a large wooden bowl and tipped the popcorn into it.