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"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. Please, sit down and finish your meal," he pleaded.

  "I will; I just need to freshen up a little."

  "Gen, I really am sorry if I've made you feel uncomfortable."

  "It's not you, Paul, it's me."

  "There's nothing wrong with you Gen; you're just pushing yourself too hard." She smiled.

  "I take it that is another one of my traits?"

  "Yes, but it's what makes you such a great artist," he said sincerely. She was grateful for the diplomatic way he handled the situation.

  She excused herself and went to the bathroom. Splashing cold water on her face she tried to calm her beating heart. She looked at herself in the mirror.

  "Are you a virgin?" she asked herself. "Is that what all this is about?" She shook her head. "Now I'm going crazy, talking to myself," she said. "I must be crazy!" she concluded. "There's a drop-dead gorgeous guy less than fifty feet away; intelligent; fantastically talented; great cook; caring and understanding; and obviously in love with me even though I'm being neurotic and standing in his bathroom like a sodding nun! God, if this is me I'm glad I don't remember anything about myself!"

  She was interrupted by a soft tap on the bathroom door.

  "Gen? Is everything alright?" Paul asked.

  "Yes, I'll be out in a second," she called. She ran her fingers through her hair, told herself off in the mirror and went back to the kitchen. They ate the rest of their supper, stopping at intervals to talk about Paul's upcoming show. It had been rescheduled the day Genevieve was attacked.

  "Are you nervous?" she asked, eating the last mouthful of food on her plate.

  "Yes and no," Paul said, as he went to the wine rack to get another bottle. "Yes, because some of the fiercest critics will be there, and no, because you'll be by my side. Top-up?" he asked, the bottle of wine hovering over her glass.

  "Yes, please," she said.

  "Why don't we go into the lounge and make ourselves comfortable? I'll clear up later."

  Several photo albums were scattered on the coffee table. Once they were seated side by side, Paul brought an album onto his lap. They were filled with photos of Paul and Genevieve. Even though she couldn't remember anything about the pictures, she could see that that they were happy as a couple. He also showed her DVDs of holidays they had been on together and various family gatherings. When Paul finally kissed her again later in the evening, she made an effort not to resist.

  CHAPTER 11

  "COME ON, IT'S BEEN well over a month and you've been living like a hermit," Rebecca's friend, Tia, bellowed down the telephone.

  "No," Rebecca answered, "I have not been in hiding; I have been working my arse off —"

  Tia interrupted her, "All the more reason to come out and let your hair down. Come on, two drinks and you can return to your castle," she said playfully. Rebecca reminded herself that she hadn't seen her friend in weeks and she could do with some company other than her work colleagues.

  "Okay," she said with a smile in her voice.

  They arranged to meet in a bar in Soho later that evening. She spent the rest of the afternoon catching up on household chores and cleaning Genevieve's work studio. She'd received a request from Genevieve's mother to forward her belongings, and rather than cause a scene, she'd just packed some of Genevieve's clothes, her camera and one of her paintings, all of which was now in the hallway awaiting collection. The past month had been hard, having had no contact with Genevieve at all, but Rebecca had thrown herself into her work, often returning home well after midnight only to be out reviewing or writing early the next morning. She had even broken her number one rule of not working on weekends. No one knew how hard it was when, no matter how or with whom she surrounded herself, there always came a point when she had to turn off the lights and finally go to bed — alone.

  Several hours later, Rebecca had a quick shower, dressed casually, applied a small amount of makeup and left her apartment. She arrived at the bar first. Tia was working nearby so she wouldn't have to wait that long. She ordered a glass of white wine and sat down at one of the vacant tables. Looking at the Friday night crowd made her think of how different the gay scene was since she had very briefly passed through it many years ago. The bars were now more stylish, the women younger, more feminine, and more confident of their sexuality. A lot had changed in the space of only a few years.

  She was sipping her wine when she felt someone brush against her. She looked up and for a second had to do a double-take. Dressed in soft pastel colours, the woman standing before her looked nothing like the police officer who had once made her feel like she was being interrogated. She appeared softer and more approachable.

  "Isabel," Rebecca said, smiling.

  "Rebecca," Isabel said, returning the smile. Both women were quiet. Rebecca, because she was shocked to see Isabel in a gay bar, and Isabel, because she felt exposed in front of this woman who sat there as much in control as she always was.

  "How are things?" Isabel asked, having finally found her voice.

  "As well as they could be under the circumstances," Rebecca said. Isabel saw the pain in Rebecca's eyes.

  "Do you mind if I join you?" she asked.

  "Are you here alone?" Rebecca asked.

  "No, there're a few of us here; but they won't miss me. I'll just get my drink." Within a few minutes, Isabel was seated at the table with Rebecca. "I'm sorry about how things have turned out for you, Rebecca," she said sympathetically. "I've met Genevieve a few times and she seems a very nice person." Rebecca hated that this stranger had seen Genevieve more times than she had. "This whole situation must be very frustrating for you," Isabel added.

  "Yes, you could say that. Are you any closer to finding out who was responsible for attacking her?"

  "I'm afraid not." Isabel sighed. "I interviewed all of the people you gave me on the list and they all have air-tight alibis, and to be honest with you, none of them seemed to have a motive for such a vicious attack."

  "How is she?" Rebecca asked, not wanting to, but needing to know.

  "Well, she looks fine to me, but then again I don't know her in a personal capacity."

  "So this is what you do in your spare time when you're not looking for muggers or murderers — hang out in gay bars?" Rebecca asked, changing the subject. Isabel was unsure whether she was being genuine or slighting her.

  "We all get some time off for good behaviour, believe it or not, and what better place to spend my free time than with women of my own kind." There, she had said it. No more confusion, no more "Is she or isn't she?" She had told her outright that she was a lesbian. She didn't expect a reaction, and she never got one. Right at that moment, Tia joined them and embraced Rebecca as she rose from her chair.

  Watching Rebecca hold Tia in her arms, Isabel couldn't help but think again how beautiful Rebecca was. She had thought so the first day she had met her in the ICU. She had been unnerved that day, but the second time she saw her at her apartment she felt more at ease. She didn't know if she was intruding now that her friend had arrived, but thought she'd better find out.

  "I'll let you enjoy the rest of your evening then," she said, getting up.

  "Please don't leave on my account," Tia said. "I'm Tia, nice to meet you. I'll get some more drinks in; wine is it?" she asked. Isabel nodded.

  "She would make a good detective," Isabel joked as Tia went to the bar. She was surprised when Rebecca laughed so easily; it was unexpected. Her features softened, revealing a more vulnerable side to her. She was glad of the distraction when Tia brought the drinks back over to the table.

  "So," Tia began when she had sat down, "how do you know each other, then?" Isabel looked uncomfortable so Rebecca replied, "Isabel is the detective investigating Genie's attack."

  "Oh," Tia said. "Don't I feel like I've put my number tens in it?" The three women sat quietly for a few awkward moments. Looking at Rebecca and Tia, Isabel saw a glimpse of the damage that had been done to the two women who'd literally had t
heir loved one torn from their lives. Tia broke the spell.

  "I take it there's still no news then?" she asked Isabel directly.

  "No, I'm afraid there's not."

  "This really makes me fucking mad," Tia said angrily. "Some bastard has attacked someone in broad daylight, ruined God knows how many lives, and is walking about out there scot free. Where's the justice in that, can you tell me?" she asked, gulping a mouthful of wine.

  "We will catch who did this to her one day," Isabel responded. "Either through Ms Simmons' memory recovery or something we might have overlooked because we didn't think it significant at the time. This person is bound to talk to someone about it."

  Isabel felt taken aback by Tia's criticism, which she felt was aimed at her capability of handling the case. She could understand her frustration, but she'd been doing the best she could.

  "How's Genevieve's rehabilitation progressing?" Rebecca asked, tactfully changing the subject. She didn't like the path the conversation was going. As much as she agreed with Tia's feelings, they weren't going to get anywhere taking it out on Isabel. After all, she was one of the good guys in this mess.

  "From what Mrs Simmons tells me she's doing very well, but —" she stopped before she said another word and began toying with her glass of wine.

  "But what?" Rebecca asked, leaning towards her, the fragrance of her perfume making Isabel feel heady.

  "Look, I shouldn't even be discussing this case with you," Isabel said, leaning away from Rebecca. She took a few moments to weigh up the options. What she was about to tell her had no direct bearing on the case so it really shouldn't be a problem.

  "We are under direct orders not to mention you or any of her friends who are gay. Basically, we're working in the dark with our hands tied behind our backs. As far as Ms Simmons is concerned, the only people who have been in her life are her parents, fiancé and childhood friends."

  Tia looked dumbfounded and tears welled up in her eyes. The loss of her friend and the heartache it was causing Rebecca sent a crippling torrent of sadness through her.

  "I'm sorry if you find it upsetting," Isabel said, her eyes on Tia.

  "But is this legal — what her parents are doing? I mean, how can they lie to Genie and get away with it? Why can't you tell her the truth?" Tia asked incredulously.

  "They aren't doing anything illegal. If I had my way I would tell her, but the family has made it clear to my superiors that any kind of information we give her that could cause a setback to her rehabilitation would result in action being taken against them. They only have Rebecca's word that there even was a relationship. Genevieve's whole family is denying it, saying they were only flat mates, so there is nothing we can do until she remembers something," Isabel said, looking and sounding frustrated.

  "So I'm just stuck in this situation with no way out," Rebecca said dejectedly.

  "Look, let me take you both out to dinner. I know this great Italian restaurant around the corner," Isabel said, trying to repair some of the damage she felt she had done.

  "I love Italian food," Tia said, brightening up immediately. "What we waiting for?"

  That's Tia for you, Rebecca thought, smiling. Her emotions change direction like the wind.

  After the shaky start to the evening, things improved rapidly. Rebecca and Tia were impressed with Isabel's choice of restaurant and like three single teenage girls, they went bar crawling. By midnight, the three women were exhausted, but totally exhilarated, and the alcohol was only partly the cause. Tia declined the invitation for a nightcap at Rebecca's place because her parents were staying with her for the weekend, but Isabel accepted and they caught a taxi home.

  Inside Rebecca's apartment, both women sat on a sofa opposite each other. Music played softly in the background and a bottle of cold champagne relaxed in the ice bucket in the middle of the coffee table. Neither woman could remember the last time they had been so drunk.

  "I'm dreading to think what price we're going to pay for this tomorrow," Rebecca said, taking another sip of champagne. Isabel nodded in agreement.

  "But that's the beauty of living in the now; you enjoy every present moment to the fullest," she said, raising her glass to Rebecca.

  "And sod the consequences," Rebecca said, raising her glass to Isabel.

  "Yes, as long as it's within the law," Isabel joked. "Did Genevieve paint your portrait?" she asked her more seriously whilst pointing at the image hung on the wall. Rebecca closed her eyes.

  "Yes," she said softly.

  "It's amazing. Do you ever think she'll find her way back to you?"

  "I honestly don't know, Isabel. A part of me thinks she will, because I believe she inherently knows who she is and it doesn't matter how many times they ram lies down her throat about who they want her to be, her true self will eventually out itself."

  "I wonder if any of them realise, ever, the disasters they are creating. I mean these families that force lies upon their children — that homosexuality is a lifestyle choice that can be changed with a click of their fingers...."

  "So you believe being gay is biological as opposed to the environment argument?" Rebecca asked, playing devil's advocate. Isabel shrugged.

  "Let's look at it like this. When I was growing up I knew I didn't like boys in the same way other girls knew they did. Why anyone would believe that people would choose to join a group that people despise so much that they turn families against each other is beyond me. It's not like joining a millionaire's club where everyone looks up to you, where you're held in great regard and people want to be like you. The club we're in you're more likely to be attacked than admired!" She drank some more champagne, enjoying the cool sensation in her throat.

  "To be honest with you," Isabel continued, "whenever I've heard or read of people discussing homosexuality, it's as if they're discussing an insect, something totally different than a human being. It's like asking if it's natural for men to find blondes attractive. And then there's the terminology — the opposite of 'natural' is 'unnatural,' but how can something nature creates be unnatural? Not to mention the lame arguments that homosexuality involves using body parts in ways that nature clearly didn't intend. So what about kissing? The mouth and lips were not designed for it, or — shock, horror — nor were they designed for oral sex. People will try to use any kind of propaganda to justify their belief system," Isabel said, becoming more animated.

  "I know what you mean. Listen to this," Rebecca said as she picked up a newspaper from the coffee table and found the page she wanted. She began to read the first paragraph aloud, "A lesbian novel was banned after official medical advice said it would encourage female homosexuality and lead to a social and national disaster. In nineteen twenty-eight, Radclyffe Hall's The Well Of Loneliness, which got no more racy than 'she kissed her full on the lips like a lover,' led to an obscenity trial, which considered the implications of the national shortage of men and two women in bed making beasts of themselves...." Rebecca laughed sarcastically.

  "I mean, can you just imagine the social brainwashing that went on in nineteen twenty-eight when most women didn't have the opportunity to hear unbiased information?" she continued. "They were indoctrinated with male propaganda, and still are today. How many women do you see making the news — and I mean making it — from their own perspectives? Not bloody many I'll tell you."

  Isabel nodded and carried on Rebecca's line of thought.

  "I think there's a problem with all sorts of information. You don't know how many times I've had conversations with people and they all talk about the same subjects: whatever's in the media. I'd be hard pushed to find someone with a view that differs from the paper's stance. I can tell exactly who reads what just by listening to what they say."

  Rebecca shook her head sadly, adding, "Do you know, I heard that when Labour got into power the reason why they wanted so many women in the House of Commons was because it was easier to get unpopular bills pushed through. Now that may sound like a conspiracy theory, but there are
actual figures that showed that women voted a lot more for the government bills than men did."

  "So what we have concluded here this evening is that people just find it near impossible to think for themselves or — God forbid — out of the box!" said Isabel with an attempt at a grave expression on her animated features.

  "Yes," Rebecca said, "because if you think out the box you are instantly demonised and so deemed unnatural. It's like that analogy about the nails in the fence — which is the first one to get whacked?"

  "The one that stands out," they said in unison and laughed.

  "I think that calls for another bottle of champagne; what do you think?" Rebecca asked.

  "Sounds good to me."

  Rebecca walked into the kitchen to get another bottle while Isabel relaxed back into the sofa. She had really enjoyed the evening and found Rebecca more interesting than she'd originally thought. She wasn't going to kid herself — she knew she had feelings for her and that they went further than the friendship Rebecca was offering. She had never been in this situation before; it was normally her that was being chased, not the other way round. I have to play this one carefully, she thought to herself. She didn't want to overstep the mark and lose her as a friend, but she didn't know if she could handle being so close to her and having to hide her feelings at the same time.

  Rebecca made her way back from the kitchen to the living room. As she opened the champagne and bent over to pour the liquid into the glass, Rebecca was so close, Isabel was tempted to kiss her.

  "Do your colleagues know about your sexuality?" Rebecca asked.

  "Some do; it's not something I go around yelling at the top of my lungs. I tend to tell people on a need-to-know basis; i.e. a guy asks me out and I tell him no, because I don't date guys. What they choose to do with that information is up to them. Can I ask you something, off the record?" Isabel said curiously.

  "Now is as good a time as any," Rebecca responded, refilling her own glass.

  "The situation with Paul – I don't quite get the connection," she said, knowing she had to tread carefully.