The Full Legacy (2 page)

Anyway, if she’d thought of it, she’d obviously changed her mind.

Because, the next thing I knew, she was heading towards me with a cloth and a bucket of water.

‘Don’t want the place smelling like a tap room,’ she grinned.

Ros was a recent addition to our social circle. Kay had met her at some trendy nightspot in town and she wasn’t the sort of person I’d normally get to mix with. She did something lucrative in the City, had a Rolex that was probably genuine and wore Cartier specs with aplomb. A lot of the time, we might as well have been from different planets for all we had in common, but we’d got round that so far by developing a kind of uncomfortable banter that allowed us to have whole conversations with each other without ever having to say anything very much. Sharing a taste in women helped too, obviously.

‘Gorgeous, isn’t she?’ She rubbed vigorously at the spilled lager.

I could see I’d gone up a rung or too on Ros’s respect ladder.

In the kitchen, Turner was still being accosted by well wishers.

‘She fancies you,’ said Ros. ‘I can tell.’

‘Nah!’ Even so, my heart gave a little leap at the suggestion.

She ignored my denial. ‘Strictly for fun though,’ she said.

My heart sank straight back to its usual depressed position. ‘Why?’

‘Well, she does her own thing, but she
is
married... to Adam Shaw, Managing Director of Lightoil Investments.
Not
a man who likes competition. Hostile takeovers all over the world. Nasty piece of work by all accounts, though I suppose
she
must see something in him.’

She slapped her floor cloth into the bucket, then had to take her glasses off to wipe away the spray she’d just splashed all over them. ‘I also have my suspicions about her relationship with Suzanne.’

‘Su?’

‘Mm – More there than meets the eye if you ask me, which nobody ever does of course... Anyway, here she comes.’

I engineered a smile for Turner as she headed back to me. Surprisingly, she
did
choose to sit down beside me, perching on the arm of the chair and looking down at me with interest, even when she’d handed me my drink and could have moved on.

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ she asked.

‘Yes, truly, I’m fine.’ I was too. Now she was back by my side.

A huge jolt of nerves ran through me as I realised I was going to have to think of something more to say to her.

‘Turner’s an unusual name,’ I said, then instantly regretted using the old name line again. I caught my breath, noticing thankfully that she was smiling.

‘Yes. My mother’s American...’ I was already nodding, thinking that explained it, when she continued. ‘She came to the UK as an art student back in the fifties. Her greatest love has always been nineteenth century British art.’

‘It could have been a whole lot worse then.’ I found myself gathering momentum as I blundered on with a mock cheeriness that I hated myself for. ‘Constable, for instance.’ Good grief... where on earth did
that
one come from? I was being tactless now. She probably really liked having two surnames.

To my relief she laughed. ‘Yeah... and you?’

‘Me?... I prefer the more modern artists really.’

‘No – your name?’

‘Oh.’
Of course!
‘Gill – short for Gillian.’

‘Well, Gill, it’s good to meet you.’

She held out her hand to shake. It felt cool and dry, despite the heat. Mine felt sweaty against it. I wished I’d given it a surreptitious rub before offering it to her.

‘How do you come to know Ros?’ I asked.

‘Suzanne introduced us.’

‘Oh?’ I was wary after Ros’s warning. My eyes went down to my drink as I played with my glass, taking in this latest piece of information.

I’d known Suzanne and her partner Mary for years, and I knew that their relationship was sailing pretty close to the rocks. I remembered a comment from Kay only a couple of days earlier, ‘You know, I think Su’s seeing somebody on the side. She’s been working late a hell of a lot recently.’ And Mary herself, a little drunk at Maxine Drinkwell’s party, making barbed jibes at her partner, ‘Suzanne’s not interested in sex anymore,
are
you darling?... Well, not with
me
anyway.’

In many ways, it wasn’t surprising to me that they were having problems. What
was
surprising was that they’d managed to stay together for so long. I’d never come across a couple who seemed more mismatched, and I never could quite understand what had brought them together in the first place.

Of the two, I liked Mary best. She was a nursery school assistant with a pretty face and hair that was a mass of unruly curls. Her dress-sense was... well, somewhere on a par with mine probably, but a whole lot fluffier. There was a bit of an age gap between them; Mary being older by about ten years, and for some reason that had started to look bigger recently. Mary had begun to have a sad sort of look about her too, even, I think, before she started having suspicions about Suzanne playing away. She was the kind of woman who seemed born to mother children, but she never had and I wondered if she’d sacrificed that for Suzanne. I couldn’t imagine Su wanting that kind of messiness in her life. She was one of those super-cool City Secretaries who can handle rush hour tube trains, tights and high heels all at once and still arrive at the office in morning-fresh condition. Tall, blonde and reserved, she was eminently fanciable in an icy kind of way but she certainly wasn’t my type. She always made me feel a bit gauche and stupid, like I couldn’t possibly have anything to say that would be of the faintest interest to her. Often, I got the feeling that she was laughing at me behind my back, but that might just have been me being paranoid. I’d never quite known where I stood with her, even though I’d known her for years.

Looking up, I realised that Turner was watching me. There was something unsettling about the way she did it too. The smile had faded from her face and I felt like she could see everything that was going on in my head.

‘Su works for me,’ she said. ‘She’s my secretary.’

‘Ah!’ So
this
was the woman Suzanne battled through the rush hour crowds for every morning. I couldn’t say I blamed her.

I’d already located Su in the crowd. She was in a foursome by the bookcase – in a white pants suit that showed off the tan she’d been cultivating long before her holiday in Lesbos with Mary. She was holding a glass that probably had whisky in it. She was watching me with Turner and she looked away much too quickly when our eyes met.

Turner didn’t miss anything, I could see that. I noticed her eyebrows raising, just slightly, as I shifted my attention back to her. She could have been irritated or amused, or anything else in between, but suddenly my head was filled with the image of her making love with Su. The thought branded itself into my mind’s eye faster than the flash of a paparazzi camera. I felt a sick kind of left behind feeling in my stomach, like when a lift starts to go down too quickly. I pushed the image away, but it hovered at the edges of my mind, like a wasp at a picnic.

‘So, you got to be friendly through work?’ I asked.

‘Barely that... I told you. She’s my secretary.’

I suspected that she was lying to me. And, of course, she would. Despite myself, I found it exciting that she could carry it off so coolly.

‘Isn’t it a bit difficult then?’ I asked. ‘I mean, are bosses meant to socialise with their secretaries?’

Turner took a long drink of something that looked like American Dry Ginger. ‘There’s no law against it,’ she said. ‘What do
you
do? For a job, I mean.’

‘I’m a photographer.’

‘Sounds exciting.’

‘It’s okay. I teach a night school class; do studio portraits – some weddings, though people usually want somebody who’ll look slightly more conventional in a suit... Recently I’ve branched out into the “boudoir” business... You know the kind of thing... soft focus poses in nice French underwear... all very tasteful... well, most of the time, at least. It seems to be going quite well.’

Turner smiled. ‘Perhaps I could have a session with you.’

‘For your husband?’ Damn – I couldn’t resist it. And anyway, it was best that she knew that
I
knew.

‘No,’ she said. ‘More for the sheer bloody exhibitionism of it really.’

She didn’t bat an eyelid as she said it, and again I felt that strange tug of respect for her. I guess if you’re going to play away from home there’s no point getting yourself all bent out of shape about it. She stretched in her seat and instantly I was sizing her up photogenically. She certainly knew how to use make-up but even without that she would have been stunning. Her dark brown hair was swept back from her face, tapering down to her shoulders in a cut that must have cost a fortune. Her skin was tanned, her cheekbones high. On her forehead, just above her left eye, was a faint scar, maybe two inches long, not quite hidden by the sweep of her hair. I felt a bit breathless and tingly when I looked at her. I could have looked at her all night.

‘Could you make me look good?’ she asked.

‘
Make
you look good?’ I shook my head in wonder.

I was gazing into her eyes now. They looked almost black in the dimmed light of the room, though I could see a faint hint of lighter brown circling each pupil.  All my objectivity was dissolving. She was moving closer to me, softening as my eyes lost focus. I found that I wanted to kiss her, quite urgently.

She obviously had the same idea... And, yes, she
was
drinking dry ginger.

‘Sorry,’ she said, letting go of me eventually. ‘I hope you don’t think I’m being very forward.’

‘If you are, I like it.’

Her eyes held mine for a very long time.

‘You know a lot of people here, don’t you?’

‘Yes - almost everyone. Some better than others.’

‘Does it get boring?’

‘Maybe, a little. Not tonight though. Would you like to dance?’

For a shy person, I’d always had a great love of dancing. It gave me a way of being with women without having to think of anything much to say to them.

And somebody had exchanged the Suede CD for a mix-tape of dance tracks. The beat of ‘All That She Wants,’ was tugging at me and I found myself smiling as Turner stood up and held out her hand to pull me out of the armchair.

It would have been easy enough to dance apart to a rhythm like that. Turner, however, had other ideas. She held me close, her hands travelling down my back, warm through the silk shirt, her body moving gently against mine as her breath misted my earlobe again and I felt goose bumps running up and down my arms.

I knew that eyebrows would be raising around the room.

‘How well do you know Suzanne really?’ I asked.

‘Oh, not
that
again... I told you...’

‘Well, she can’t keep her eyes off you.’

Turner didn’t answer, and maybe there was nothing she could say. I weighed up the complications. Suzanne, maybe... The husband, for sure. Turner had the feel of a married woman. It went further than the gold band on the third finger of her left hand. Everything about her said that she wasn’t really used to being in lesbian company.

She was evasive too – very.

‘Does your husband know you’re here?’ I asked.

Turner shifted rhythm with me as Shaggy growled ‘Oh Carolina,’ from the hi-fi.

‘You ask a lot of questions, don’t you? – He knows I’m out.’

‘At a lesbian party?’

‘Not specifically.’

‘Would he mind?’

‘Not in the slightest. Look, do you want to dance or do you want to talk?’

We danced, and without the distraction of words my body started to move to a beat I’d almost forgotten; the low anticipatory throb of desire. It was so many years since I’d felt like that, it took me by surprise. I felt both exhilarated and scared.

Then Suzanne came back into my vision.

‘Su’s waving. We’d better go see what she wants.’

I guess what she wanted was to put an end to seeing us so close.

‘Mary’s starting with a migraine’ she said. ‘We just wanted to say goodbye before we go.’

Her eyes, meeting Turner’s were very cool – angry, I thought. I glanced away.

Mary was standing by, looking helpless. I hugged her, but she seemed a bit distant with me. Perhaps she saw it as disloyal, the fact that I was so clearly on the verge of sleeping with the enemy.

‘Hope you feel better soon love,’ I whispered.

‘Thanks.’ Maybe she really did have a headache. I probably would if my lover looked at another woman like that.

‘Bye then,’ they both said.

‘Sure, yes, bye.’

Somebody had put k.d. lang on now and loads of women were dancing.

Turner wanted to leave.

‘I’d like to drive you home,’ she said.

‘But I live in North London.’

‘That’s okay.’

I looked around for Kay, who was still in the kitchen talking to Ros.

Turner put her hand on my arm.

‘Just you,’ she said.

She had a top-of-the-range Rover in black. It was a sleek, sexy beast of a car with air conditioning and cream leather upholstery. INXS blasted out as she fired the ignition and I felt relieved to know that I wasn’t going to be expected to talk. I felt like I was in a bubble, locked in there with Turner. She was a smooth, confident and slightly fast driver. I didn’t feel entirely safe with her but I didn’t care. I felt very drunk though I’d spilled half my first drink on the carpet and abandoned the second almost untouched when Turner kissed me.

We seemed to be taking the country route, quite a long way round, though with her hand on my knee, I wasn’t about to complain. It felt nice to be naughty for once. I wondered if I should do it more often.

I was still playing with the idea when she bounced the car into a deeply rutted lay-by and turned off the engine, plunging us into silence. My ears buzzed as they struggled to adjust. Then the headlights were out too and we were blanketed in darkness. I heard the high pitched slither and clunk of her seat belt sliding home.