Out Late with Friends and Regrets (30 page)

“Well, this is brilliant,” said Fin.
 
“Pleasant surroundings, a beautiful glass of wine, and the ability to look you in the eye and say I absolutely and truly don’t want to buy that place.”

“You don’t? With all the original features and the gorgeous garden, and the woman looking for a quick sale?”

“That’s right.”

Petra took the glass from Fin’s hand and put it down with her own, then sat beside her on the chaise longue and hugged her, kissing her firmly, half on the mouth.

“Wow, this gets better and better,” said Fin.
 
“Oh, excuse me,” she added, “I didn’t mean to be saucy.”

“You be as saucy as you like,” replied Petra, winking, “you’ve just made my day.
 
Come on, drink up, let’s have another one.”

“Don’t forget there’ll be other people interested.
 
And a surveyor’s report may have a few nasties in it.”

“Mason’s said it only went up for sale on Monday.
 
And I’ll cope with the nasties.
 
Now you’re quite sure you’re not in the running?”

“Positive.
 
But why have you left it so long, Petra?
 
Everyone keeps telling me how much Harford has gone up in the last two years.”

“Oh, I got this funny little house when Hamish and I split up, and it was perfectly adequate, and handy for the shop.
 
But as you can imagine, I’ve got a lot of beautiful things languishing in storage, costing me a fortune, and I need somewhere I can put them out and enjoy them. I
need
my lovely things around me.
 
I could never afford what I wanted before, but I’ve just had a small bequest of few thousand from my godmother, and I know she’d have loved to see me in The Laurels.”

“You’ve been looking for a house to fit your furniture?
 
Get
you,
Petra!”

“I know, I know.
 
It’s not as if it’s all Chippendale or anything.”
 
She laughed.
 
“The nearest I get is certain young men I’ve brought home to while away the lonely nights...”

“Ah, I can see I’m drinking with a lady almost as debauched as I am!”

“No Fin
, I’m
debauched,
you’re
deviant.
 
Vive la difference!”

They clinked again, the velvety wine slid down delightfully, and soon a second bottle was open and its fragrance rising from their glasses.

“Hasn’t had time to breathe, I’m afraid,” said Petra, “Hamish would say I’m murdering a decent wine by not giving it time to develop; I’m sorry if it’s not as mellow as it should be-”

“Here’s to crime,” replied Fin, sighing happily.

“So, how are you finding city life?”

“A few accommodation problems as mentioned, but that’s short-term.
 
I just love the social possibilities, and the sheer excitement of living in town - that’s all of ten days’ experience, of course, but I feel as if it’s where I was meant to be -”

“You were in the heart of the country before, weren’t you?
 
Won’t you miss the peace and quiet?”

“No.
 
So where are you from originally, or have you always lived in Harford, Petra?”

Even a poor wine would have started to taste good by the third bottle, Fin reflected, but this wonderful stuff just got better and better, and she also had the impression that she had retained her faculties better than usual.
 
That was good.
 
The conversation was easy.
 
She was on top of it. She had come a long, long way since Paul’s death.

“-spaghetti?”

“Oh, God, sorry, I missed that, what did you say?”

“No, ’s’all right, this stuff comes up from behind and seduces you without you knowing it.
 
Just asked, d’you like spaghetti, it’s, oh, it’s definitely dinnertime, and it’s all I’ve got in the fridge.”

“Great.
 
I didn’t realise I was hungry, but yeah, love it.
 
Mm, love it.
 
Can I use your loo?”

Before coming downstairs again Fin peeped round the door of the front bedroom.
 
Big, soft bed.
 
She imagined Petra with her hair down, astride a Chippendale still wearing his collar and dickie bow.
 
She giggled.
 
Lucky boy.

Petra’s kitchen was well laid out, seeming bigger than it was.
 
The Bolognese sauce was just beginning to make its presence felt, the herby waft permeating the air, and sticks of spaghetti lay on the counter waiting for a pan of water to boil.
 
Petra wore an apron embellished with the words: “
Come woo me, woo me, for I am in a holiday humour and like
enough to consent.
 
As You Like It
 
Act 4 Scene 1”
, and her neat hair had begun to wisp around her face.

“Here, I’ve topped us up again,” she said, indicating the two glasses.
 
They were full to the brim, and Fin had a little worry about lifting them without spilling any of the contents.
 
But the elegant Petra bent over the worktop, and slurped off half an inch of the nectar with a loud sucking sound.

“It’s the sheer sophistication of city loving that I live,” said Fin, following suit.
 
“Sheers.”

“Wasn’t worth leaving that little bit left in the bottle, so I had to get it into the glasses instead,” said Petra.
 
“Did it, too.”

“Well done, that woman.”

“Hey, watch the cooking, got to go to the lav.
 
Get the parmesan out, will you?”

When she returned Fin had the block of hard cheese on a board, and was opening drawers in search of a grater.

“Here, gimme,” said Petra.
 
Whilst in the bathroom she had discarded her hairpins, and put her hair in a scrunchie.
 
She had such a young face without that severe hairstyle, thought Fin.

“So, how’s the love-life?
 
Lotsa girlfriends, or anyone special?” asked Petra, her voice slowed by the drink.

“Still getting to know people here.
 
Lots of nice.
 
Not any special yet.
 
Feeling my way.”

“Is it different? With women, I mean.
 
You were married before you slept with women, Ellie said.”

“Oh yes.
 
Different. Yes an’ no. No an’ yes.”

“You can tell me.
 
You’re amongst friends.
 
Friend.”

Fin thought back to Ellie’s words on the subject; “You’ll find,” she had said, “that straight women are often mad with curiosity to know how we
do
it
. Some will even try to get you into bed to find out.
 
It doesn’t actually mean they fancy you, so watch out for that scenario!”

Petra suddenly let out a gasp of pain, having lacerated her hand with the grater.
 
Fin instinctively lifted the hand to her lips, put the finger in her mouth, and pressed her tongue against the abrasion.
 
The ooze of blood tasted rather pleasant.
 
Petra put her other arm round Fin’s waist.

“D’you know, she breathed into Fin’s ear, “that’s really, really sexy...”

“’Sh’all we do,” garbled Fin, her mouth still full of finger, “jush shuck eash uvers’ hingers.”

Petra laughed, nuzzling Fin’s ear.
 
“I’ll shettle for shumma that, any day.
 
Or night.”

Oh, dear, sorry Ellie.
 
That weird chemistry was taking over Fin’s body, numbing her judgment, and driving the urge.
 
But she had to resist it.
 
Straight woman.
 
Just curious. Slowly she expelled the finger from her mouth, drawing her tongue along its length, minutely nibbling its tip before letting it drop from her lips.
 
Petra pressed her body close, and Fin moved her own forward, pushing Petra’s backside against the kitchen units.
 
It was Petra’s mouth that sought hers, the warm taste of the wine on her tongue.
 
Fin was lost.
 
She groaned through the kiss, then ran her hands lightly down Petra’s shoulders and arms.

“Make love to me, Fin.”

I’m not one of your Chippendales.
  

“Please.
 
Now.”

Oh, all right, then.

“Gasoff.”

“Uh?”

“Turn, the, gas, off,” whispered Fin.

“You do it.
 
Hurry.”
 
The gas ring made a popping sound as Fin reached for the control and turned it off.
 
Then Petra seized her by the hand.

“Not here.
 
Want to lie down.”
 

They stumbled up the stairs and onto the big, soft bed.
 
Fin shed her jeans swiftly and removed Petra’s clothing an item at a time, kissing and stroking all the while, one knee between Petra’s thighs.
 
Then she wriggled out of her shirt and underwear, rather more clumsily than normal, and abandoned herself to the delightful novelty of feeling experienced and in control for once.

Four nineteen, if the moonlight didn’t deceive her.
 
The blued steel hands of the miniature carriage clock on the bedside table weren’t very reflective, but they stood out quite well against the white dial.

Door... over there.
 
She slid from under the light coverlet and made for the bathroom, pausing to lower the window blind before passing in front of it.
 
Her head thumped, and she knew she was due to pay for her overindulgence, but even so she felt elated.

The pull cord of the bathroom light clicked alarmingly loudly, and Fin hissed in a breath through clenched teeth.
 
Sitting in a relaxed hunch on the lavatory, she peed what felt like several pints, and on rising she grinned at herself in the mirror as she washed her hands.
 
There was a tube of interesting-looking herbal toothpaste on the basin unit, and with care she squeezed a little out, rubbing it over her teeth with one finger.
 
Funny taste- fennel? Nice and refreshing, though, and perhaps it would prevent her mouth from being as sour as the last time.
 
She scooshed several mouthfuls of water through her teeth and spat, ending with a gargle that was as quiet as she could make it, then crept back to bed.

“Fin?”

“Oh, Petra, I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you...”

“Don’t worry.
 
I need to go myself.
 
I’ve got a whopper of a head, how about you?”

“’Fraid so.”

“I’ll get us some Alka-Selzer.
 
The sooner we start the cure the better.”

“Oh thanks, I’m really, really thirsty.
 
Must be all that spaghetti.”

“Must admit, it’s the best batch I’ve ever made.
 
We probably just overdid it a bit.
 
How did you enjoy it?”

“Glorious.
 
Wonderful.
 
Very
satisfying.
 
How about you?”

“Compares very well with the best I’ve ever had.
 
Oh excuse me, Fin, I’ve
got
to go.”