Chapter Text
The world was conspiring against her, Bernie was sure of it.
The ward was horribly short-staffed which meant that they were both working long, unsociable hours. At home, Jason was involved in a long-running battle with his film club over the provision of bourbon biscuits, so he was refusing to go to their evening meetings – and also, for a reason she couldn’t begin to understand, refusing to go to Alan’s house at the weekends because he did have bourbon biscuits. And while Jason tried hard to respect their privacy he was also prone to knocking on their door at very inconvenient moments to inform them that they had selfishly drunk all the orange juice or he had individually counted the Rice Krispies and they were down to their last 412.
On top of that Serena had been suffering from an awful cold and now she was finally feeling better Hanssen had given her some imbecilic report to write about admittance procedures. Outside of theatre she’d hardly seen her for days. And they hadn’t made love in weeks and weeks.
The upshot of it all was that she was tired, irritable…and frustrated.
Very, very frustrated.
It was odd, really – she’d almost forgotten what it felt like. Her marriage had been so physically unsatisfying for so long that in some ways she’d become resigned to it, an unhappy but bearable state of denial that let her live undisturbed with a good, kind man and two healthy children.
Meeting Alex had led to an explosion of pent-up desire – until an even more powerful explosion meant that passion was replaced by pain. There’d been a brief, heady gap between realizing how much she wanted Serena and going to bed with her, but at that point she hadn’t known what she was missing.
She knew now.
It was like seeing the face of God and being condemned to a world without him. It was torture. Finally, after all these years, she had a wonderfully satisfying sex life full of mutual lust and love and now it had suddenly been cut off. And it wasn’t remotely Serena’s fault, so whenever she saw her, in theatre or over a hurried meal at home, she had to try to hide the rapidly building, burning desire without getting cranky.
Which was easier said than done.
“Did you cook this salmon with a blowtorch? I believe it’s supposed to be pink. You’re lucky Jason’s had fish and chips, if he was eating this there’d be an almighty tantrum on the horizon.”
Serena looks at her with such surprised hurt in her eyes it makes her feel like the anti-Christ for ever uttering a cross word.
“Sorry, I know it’s a bit overcooked.”
“Bloody burnt is what it is. Look, I’m sorry, I don’t care about the chargrilled fish, but God the week I’ve had, you’ve no idea. It’s endless, bloody staff who think I’m their mother, bloody patients who insist on dying, bloody biscuits…”
Her tirade continues; she’s so wound up now she can’t seem to stop. One hour, she thinks, if she can just get that much she can cope…one hour alone with her, completely alone, just one solitary hour and her hands all over her, her mouth all over her, her tongue…
Serena’s talking now, trying to soothe her, calm her down. She’s so gorgeous in her red shirt, the line of her elegant neck, her beautiful hands…oh her hands…
“You need to get some rest, sweetheart, you’ve been working so hard, you need a few days-”
“What I bloody need is a month in bed with you!”
Well. She certainly hadn’t meant to say that. Certainly not in that tone, accusing her, as if Serena’s been neglecting her conjugal duties. Serena’s staring at her, now. She’s probably put her off women for life.
“I didn’t mean to shout it at you, it’s just…I’ve hardly seen you. Not at home. And I need…” A heated blush starts to spread across her face; she stares sheepishly at her salmon. “I need to see you. I can cope with all the other things but I can’t…I can’t work with you for 12 hours a day and sleep in the same bed and never touch you, I can’t go weeks without feeling you close to me…not now…not now I know how it feels…”
There’s silence. Bernie sits frozen, hugely embarrassed now and with no idea at all how to save herself.
And then Serena suddenly gets up and heads out of the kitchen. “Wait here,” she says firmly.
“Where are you going?”
“To talk to Jason.”
“What?!”
From the kitchen she hears the muffled sounds of a conversation in the living room, followed quickly by Jason’s heavy footsteps on the stairs. Five minutes later he comes downstairs again.
“Goodbye Auntie Serena, goodbye Bernie.”
The front door slams. Serena returns to the kitchen looking flustered.
“He’s gone to Alan’s for a few nights.”
“But…but the biscuits…”
“I’ve taken care of the biscuits. And now I’m going to take care of you.”
She straddles Bernie’s lap and pulls her into a deep, long kiss. As soon as they break apart she starts trying to undo Bernie’s jeans but they’re tight and the position is too awkward to get them open.
“Let’s go upstairs,” says Bernie.
“No. Here. Right here. I’m going to take you now, do you understand? I want to have you now.”
“Here’s fine…” she says breathlessly.
Serena gives up on the jeans and cups her between her legs, rubbing hard, over and over. It’s fantastic and not nearly enough, the pressure simply adding to her arousal without any hope of release; she suppresses a frustrated moan and tries not to beg for more.
“Get up,” Serena orders impatiently, climbing off her lap and taking a few steps away from her. “Come here.”
As soon as she stands she’s shoved back against the kitchen counter. A few seconds of fumbling with her jeans and then finally, finally, Serena’s touching her, swift, firm strokes of her fingers making it clear that she’s almost as impatient as Bernie is.
“Please,” she whispers and Serena slips her fingers inside of her as the heel of her hand rubs deliciously against her. She leans back against the kitchen counter to take some of the weight from her trembling legs, acutely aware of how wet she is, how quickly she’s responding to Serena’s touch, the helpless urgency in the movement of her hips. With each thrust she loses herself a little further, feels the tension coil and flame inside of her, the focused, flushed look on her lover’s face only adding to her arousal.
“I can’t stand,” she gasps. Through the haze of pleasure she feels Serena pull her arms up to rest on her shoulders, supporting her. The pleasure is so intense, so precisely what she’s longed for, that it’s all she can do to keep breathing.
She’s right on the edge in an embarrassingly short amount of time.
“You’re so beautiful,” Serena says earnestly. “You’re beautiful and you’re mine and I love you like crazy, do you hear me? Only ever you.”
She closes her eyes, manages to resist the climax for a few more delicious seconds and then grips onto Serena’s shoulders for dear life, the orgasm bursting through her with an almost unbearable intensity, powerless to suppress the long, deep groan that escapes from her. When it’s finally over she takes in a long, deep breath and then another. And another.
“Wow,” Bernie says weakly, dropping her head down to rest on Serena’s shoulder.
Serena laughs, resting her head gently against Bernie’s. “I’m honoured, I don’t usually get a ‘Wow’.”
“You certainly deserve one tonight.”
“Shall we go to bed and shag each other stupid?”
“Oh, that sounds splendid. Yes please. Just give me a few minutes.”
Serena kisses her hair, waits for a little while and then gently withdraws her hand. Bernie zips up her trousers with shaking fingers.
“Ready?” she says.
“Ready. Let’s go.”
They head towards the stairs, Bernie walking slowly behind her as she tests her wobbly legs.
“Serena?”
“Mm?”
“That is definitely going on my list.”
OOOOOOOOOO
The door to the roof creaks as it opens, followed by the sound of Dom’s footsteps on the concrete. Bernie decides to fire the first shot.
“No we don’t scissor, yes I know what it means, no you can’t tell people I thought it was called stapling.”
There’s no reply from behind her so she turns round, expecting to see Dom’s smirking face. Instead she’s met with an astonished Serena.
“I have clearly been missing some fascinating conversations,” Serena says. “Do go on.”
Bernie opens and closes her mouth a few times. “I thought you were Dom,” she says eventually.
“Yes of course, that explains it, I often talk to Morven about cunnilingus.”
Bernie just looks at her, not at all sure what to say. Serena sits next to her on the step and bumps against her gently with her shoulder.
“Don’t look so worried you daft thing, you’re allowed to talk to your friends about me, there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“It’s not usually about anything remotely like that, it’s perfectly innocent.”
“It can be about anything you like, including our sex life. I trust you. I’m sure you wouldn’t reveal anything I wouldn’t want you to.”
“Only good things, I promise.”
“I hope not. It’s very healthy to have a good moan about one’s partner now and then, you know I whinge to Jason about your lack of housekeeping skills and occasional grumpiness.”
“Ah, but anything you tell Jason he’ll tell me. And often a selection of other people.”
“Well that’s true. I wouldn’t say Dom was a master of discretion either, bearing in mind how I learned you loved me. But the point still stands, you can talk about us to whomever you please. He’s in theatre, by the way, Dom is, he got called in at the last minute and I said I’d let you know.”
“You could have sent a text.”
“I wanted to see this little hideout of yours, see where the cool kids are hanging out these days.” She looks around. “The view’s great, but it’s chilly and awfully hard on the buttocks.”
“We don’t sit here for hours, it’s just a…”
“An escape?”
“That doesn’t mean…not from you…” That’s not quite true, she realizes guiltily – working so closely with a lover meant that there had actually been a few times when an escape from their relationship was the sole reason she came up here.
“A roof of one’s own. As Virginia Woolf never quite said. Any relation, do you think? You’ve got an extra ‘e’ so probably not. Bright woman, though. I’m going to leave you alone.”
Serena stands up.
“Wait, no, you don’t have to go.”
“I should get back to work.”
“But I haven’t seen you today, not properly.”
Serena smiles at her and tenderly pushes a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “You’ll see me tonight.”
Bernie watches as she walks away, a little confused. At the door, Serena pauses and turns around.
“Bernie?”
“Mm?”
“I want you to know that I won’t come up here again.”
“No, you can, I don’t mind if you-“
“I won’t come up here again,” she repeats. There’s a long pause as they study each other and Bernie absorbs her meaning. “Do you understand?”
“Yes. I do.”
“Good. You’re a bright woman too.” She grins before opening the door. “I shall go and tell Raf about your stapling.”
OOOOOOOOOO
“Can I have your phone number?” the woman says.
“Yes of course, do you have a pen? I might have one actually, let me check.” Bernie starts searching her pockets.
“Here, put it in my phone for safe-keeping. I wouldn’t want to lose you.”
“Mm,” Bernie says as she takes the phone and tries to figure out the unfamiliar screen. “I think that’s got it, I’m not great with technology.”
“That surprises me, I’m sure you’re wonderful with your hands.”
“Portosystemic shunts are a doddle compared to apps and Twitter, believe me. I don’t know how you youngsters cope with it all.” She gives the phone back to the other woman.
“Thank you. It’s been an absolute pleasure to meet you, Bernie. I hope to see you again very soon.”
“It was nice to meet you too.”
The woman leans forward and kisses an awkward Bernie gently on the cheek, gives her a little wave and walks away.
Fletch, Raf and Serena all stare at her.
“What?” says Bernie. “Why do you all look like goldfish?”
“Who was that?” asks Raf incredulously.
“Some woman who recognised me from the hospital, she’s a nurse in ICU. Sarah something or other, I think she said. Cindy maybe. Might have been Jill.”
“And you just gave her your number?” says Fletch.
“She wanted a few pointers, she’s interested in getting into surgery.”
“She’s interested in getting into-“
“Fletcher!” barks Serena.
“She kissed you,” says Raf.
“Yes that was a bit odd, wasn’t it? Might be a generation thing, she can’t have been more than 35.”
“Younger than that, I’d say,” says Raf. “Very pretty, too, I thought. Did you think she was pretty, Bernie?”
“I hope I typed my number in properly, I wish they’d go back to proper keyboards on those things. I miss analogue technology.”
“OK, look, I have to ask,” says Fletch. “Do you two have a…a bit of an understanding. Bit of an arrangement.”
“An arrangement?” asks Bernie, confused.
“You know what I mean. Doesn’t matter where you get your appetite as long as you eat at home. Wait, no, wrong one – more a friends with benefits sort of thing and you’re allowed to stray if you ever fancy it.”
“I’m not following.”
“Mr Fletcher is asking if you and I sleep with other people.”
“No! I mean, none of your bloody business! I mean no!”
“Bit of swinging on the side, spice things up? Keys in the bowl and all that? Never fancied it myself but maybe the lesbian version’s better.”
“Are you sloshed, Fletcher? It’s very early to be three sheets to the wind but you seem to have taken leave of your senses. One minute I’m talking to a nurse about her career and the next you’ve got me cheating on Serena.”
“Right,” says Serena purposefully, leaning forward. “Let me take care of this shall we or we’ll be here all night. Bernie, say to me in the simplest possible terms what happened with that woman.”
“Happened? We were talking and-“
“Did she come over to you?”
“Yes, I was sitting here waiting for you.”
“So a woman approached you in a bar.”
“Well she knew I was-“
“And then she asked for your phone number.”
“As I said she’s a-“
“And then she said you were good with your hands. And she wouldn’t want to lose you. And she looked forward to seeing you. And then she caressed your cheek softly with her lips before gazing at you tenderly as she waved goodbye. So in the simplest possible terms, my petal, say to me what happened with that woman.”
Bernie looks at her for a few moments; she can practically see the cogs turning in her head. “She wants to go out with me!”
Serena can’t help smiling. “Yes, darling, she does.”
“How dare she!” she says indignantly. “Right in front of you! You’re sitting right there!”
“Funnily enough, Bern, she may not have guessed that we were intimately acquainted just because I came and sat at your table.”
“What a cheek though, pretending to be interested in trauma surgery. That phone number was obtained under false pretences.”
Serena leans back in her chair and gazes at her fondly.
“Gentlemen, you might think that loving a woman this gorgeous would mean I was constantly fighting women away from her with a stick. But the enormous advantage I have in this area is that Bernie wouldn’t know a woman was flirting with her unless she stripped naked, swung from the chandelier and said ‘Berenice Griselda Wolfe I want your sex’.”
Fletch and Raf hoot with laughter; Serena winks at her triumphantly and sips from her wine glass. Bernie crosses her arms and glowers.
“Even then she might ask for an affidavit,” Serena adds.
“It really isn’t that long ago that I was a highly respected member of the British armed forces. I do distinctly remember that being the case.”
OOOOOOOOOO
“Left or straight on?” says Bernie.
“Hang on, I don’t know where we-“
“Which is it?”
“The sea was on our left so the cottage would be-“
“For God’s sake do I turn left or not?”
“The post office was behind us and the sun’s over there…” Serena peers out of the window at the afternoon sun before turning back to the large map.
“Stop faffing about and just-”
“I’m doing my bloody best, keep your hair on, we might have gone wrong at those sheep, or maybe that crossroads with the honeysuckle-”
“AM I SODDING TURNING LEFT!”
“OH JUST KEEP SODDING GOING!”
She does. There’s silence. Then some more of it. And some more.
“Oh no, Bernie, why ever would we buy a satnav, Bernie, you’ll have me there to read the map for you, Bernie.”
“Sarcasm is your least attractive trait.”
“Map reading is your least apparent trait.”
“Oh put a bloody sock in it and drive the car.”
“We’re going to end up in Peru.”
“If we do I’m leaving you there. Forever. I’ll tell people you died suddenly in a tragic but self-inflicted boating incident. I bet they’d hardly miss you, I certainly wouldn’t.”
“You do that.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
Some more silence. After another few minutes of driving a turning appears on the left.
“Left or straight on?” Bernie says as calmly as she can, which isn’t very.
“No fucking clue, have a gamble.”
“SERENA!”
“STRAIGHT ON.”
She drives straight on. Suddenly there’s a road sign up ahead.
“Is this it?”
Serena checks the map. “Christ alive, that’s it. Turn left here.”
“Now she sodding tells me, when there’s a bloody great buggering sign on the sodding road.”
“This is our first and last holiday, Berenice bloody Wolfe, mark my words. First and last.”
“Oh hush up Wendy.”
Ten minutes of silence later they finally arrive at the cottage. Unlocking the door they enter to find a wonderfully cosy interior and a truly spectacular view of the sea. They stare out of the window and simply breathe for a substantial period of time.
Eventually Serena reaches out and cautiously takes Bernie’s hand in her own; the other woman doesn’t resist as their hands entwine. They continue to stare at the sea.
“Satnav for my birthday then?” says Serena.
Bernie laughs. “No question.”
“Sorry for all the shouting.”
“Mine too. Got a bit hot under the collar.”
“We’re turning into an old married couple.”
“Hardly. If that had been Marcus and me it would be world war three by now and we wouldn’t speak for three days.”
“I was threatened with divorce once at a roundabout in Chichester. Edward spent most of the following month in the shed.”
“You see, we’re not the old married type.”
“No.”
Serena smiles at her but there’s a trace of…something, in her eyes, a touch of melancholy perhaps…and Bernie decides to be brave.
“That’s not to rule out the growing old together part, you understand, or indeed the other part. Just the bickering.”
“Oh?” Serena says, staring intently out of the window. “The other part not ruled out, you say?”
Out of the corner of her eye she can see Serena sneaking a little glance at her. Bernie grins at her terrible attempt to appear casual. “No, I wouldn’t say so. Best to consider all one’s options in a reasonable and orderly fashion.”
“That sounds sensible.”
“If one were ever…considering one’s options, in that area, at some future time and place, would it be fair to suppose that a relatively, um, traditional method of enquiry would be the most effective way to elicit the desired response?”
She cringes at her stilted vocabulary, but Serena has apparently understood her gibberish perfectly well and a surprised smile appears on her face.
“Yes, I think that would be preferable.”
“I was hoping you might say that.”
She gets down on one knee. Serena stares at her.
“What…”
Bernie takes the ring out of her inside pocket and opens its little box. Her heart pounds.
“What in heaven are you…”
“Marry me, Serena.”
Serena stares and stares. “Because I was talking about old married couples?!” she says in astonishment.
“Of course not, where have I summoned this ring from if I wasn’t planning to ask you anyway?”
“We’ve just had a huge argument about directions!”
“Doesn’t matter. We made up. That’s one of the many reasons I want to marry you, you’re furious in 10-second bursts and then you love me again immediately. You’re the most forgiving person I’ve ever met, take-it-to-the-grave grudges notwithstanding.”
Serena continues to stare at her. Bernie continues to kneel on what she is starting to realize is an extremely unforgiving hardwood floor.
“Please say something, I feel ridiculous-“
“Yes.”
“-down here. Yes?”
“Yes!”
“Really?”
“No I’ve changed my mind, take me home, first turning on the left and - mmph!”
Her words are lost in a kiss.
THE END