Chapter Text
And that's the thing about illicit affairs
And clandestine meetings and longing stares
It's born from just one single glance
But it dies, and it dies, and it dies
A million little times
illicit affairs, Taylor Swift
Charity.
It begins, like all those years ago, in the pub.
“Just a pint please, Charity,” Vanessa says, rummaging through her bag for her purse.
Charity nods, moving away and grabbing a glass. Vanessa’s hair is tied back in a plait and she has a light pink flush to her cheeks that Charity knows to be the tell-tale sign she’s spent the whole day outdoors. It’s an adorable kind of look and, since Charity knows she’s not allowed to voice the compliment aloud, she observes Vanessa out of the corner of her eye instead.
Vanessa’s just pulling a note from her purse when Charity goes to settle the pint on the counter between them. Vanessa’s path changes it course, reaching for the pint, and Charity automatically lets go, thinking Vanessa’s got a grip on it.
Which, of course, is the exact moment it topples over and spills all down the front of Vanessa’s very lovely, very pristine white t-shirt.
Vanessa gasps, the glass shatters on the floor, and there’s a hush in the pub for a moment before a few nervous titters of laughter break out.
“Babe — “ Charity begins, but Vanessa’s already moving away, disappearing through the doors to the toilets.
Beside her, Chas makes a snarky comment that Charity pays no mind to, rounding the counter to sweep up all the glass before anyone can get to thinking of pulling a health and safety move on them. Her eyes dart to the toilet doors every now and then, waiting for Vanessa to reappear, but she’s still stubbornly hiding away by the time she’s done.
Never one for cowardice, Charity lets herself into the toilets, where she finds Vanessa standing in just her bra, scrubbing at her t-shirt in the sink.
Vanessa squeaks, hand flying to cover her bra-clad chest, and Charity rolls her eyes.
“I’m not a perv, babe. I don’t think a bit of water is gonna get that stain out, do you?”
“Well what else do you suggest? I can hardly walk home with it like this!”
Vanessa holds up the t-shirt between them, sopping wet from its stint in the sink, vaguely brown-looking from the pint. Water drips onto the floor between them.
“Here,” Charity says, shrugging off her brown jacket, “you can take this.”
“I can’t — “
“Ness, I’m not going to leave you to parade through the village with all your goodies on show. Poor Eric will have a heart attack.”
“That bad?”
“More like that good, ” Charity drawls. “Take the bloody jacket, babe.”
“I’ll get it dirty. I reek of beer.”
“Contrary to popular opinion, us Dingles do own a washing machine. Go on, before I start selling tickets for the show in here.”
Vanessa smiles shyly, cheeks rosy, and takes the jacket from Charity. She dumps the t-shirt back in the sink and then Charity’s suddenly very aware of how much skin Vanessa has on show.
She tries to look anywhere except Vanessa’s bare skin, but as Vanessa pulls her jacket across her shoulders, she notices the way the scar from her surgery ripples on the side of her abdomen, a remnant of the stabbing. The scar itself is fainter than she remembers, a pale white pattern against unmarred skin.
Charity spots an unfamiliar scar just above it, a straight line barely an inch long.
“What happened here?” Charity finds herself asking, the tips of her fingers pressing against the scar.
Vanessa looks down.
“Oh. I took on some locum work while I stayed at my mum’s. A skittish horse knocked me over while I was examining her and I landed awkwardly. Only needed a couple stitches and I was right as rain.”
“Right. So you’re okay then.”
The look Vanessa gives her is careful, measured.
“Yeah. It’s like I said, I just landed awkwardly.”
Charity nods. She feels oddly sad, seeing this scar, this proof that she’s no longer privy to the intricacies of Vanessa’s life anymore. Without thinking, she lets her thumb brush over it, committing the raised skin to memory.
Vanessa lets out a shaky breath.
Charity’s jerks her hand back, an apology on her lips that dies the second she looks up and sees just how dark and just how wide Vanessa’s eyes are.
She knows that look.
If she were a better person, she’d step away. She’d let Vanessa go back to her life and she’d go back to hers, following their individual paths that diverged from one another long ago.
But she’s never been any good at doing the right thing . So she steps up, hand sliding beneath her jacket to curve around the soft skin of Vanessa’s waist, and when she pulls Vanessa to her she steps forward readily, their hips pressing together.
“Charity,” Vanessa whispers.
Charity lets the fingers of her other hand drift down the length of Vanessa’s jaw, humming.
“What’re you doing?” Vanessa asks shakily.
“You know what I’m doing,” she says, heart pounding, and when Vanessa doesn’t move away, she grows braver: “Tell me to stop, Ness, and I’ll stop.”
Vanessa shakes her head. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t stop, ” Vanessa all but whines.
Charity kisses her. Hard. Vanessa clings to her forearms, swaying, arching against her so that their chests brush. Her pulse roars in her ears.
The kiss feels effortless, her body responding in a way she’d have thought she’d long forgotten by now. But she remembers to dig her nails in the soft skin of Vanessa’s nape, making her shiver. Bites down on Vanessa’s lower lip, delighting in the moan Vanessa lets out. Tugs on the end of her plait, remembering how that used to drive her crazy.
All at once she doesn’t want anything but this ever again.
Praying none of the mid-afternoon punters will decide they’re suddenly busting for a wee, Charity hooks her hands under Vanessa’s thighs and lifts her onto the sink counter. She keeps waiting for Vanessa to come to her senses, but she never asks her to stop. Not when her lips descend down her neck. Not when she pulls Vanessa’s jeans down. Not even when she kneels.
Instead, Vanessa begs for more.
We need to talk. In private.
Charity takes her break early and paces the back room of the pub. She’s sure she’s wearing grooves into the floor.
The text had come through from Vanessa an hour ago; the first thing she’s heard from her since they slept together two days ago. Unsurprisingly, Vanessa had practically vanished into thin air afterwards, which Charity considers a feat considering the village is comically tiny.
Part of her had wanted to chase after Vanessa — to win her round with silky words and hands that buzz at the thought of making Vanessa fall apart. She’d expected this reaction from Vanessa, whose morals were always black and white, and she's invented countless scenarios in her mind of how she would talk her into — what? An affair?
She hadn’t wanted to scare her off. She remembers how far that’d gotten her last time. So she’s kept quiet, not asked after her, never texted her. Waited.
But she’d be lying if she said she’s thought of anything but Vanessa, spine arched, thighs trembling, since.
Vanessa creeps into the room, jaw set, gripping the strap of her shoulder bag. Charity leans back against the kitchen counter, crossing her arms across her chest, and watches. Patience has never been her strong suit, but the ball is in Vanessa’s court. She’d made it clear where she stood two days ago.
That was nice, wasn’t it? She’d murmured, raising an eyebrow and lifting her chin. Round two upstairs?
Vanessa had grown wide-eyed and pushed her away. She hadn’t even said anything. Just pulled on her clothes and left, as though Charity was nothing more than dirt on the bottom of her shoe. Her stained t-shirt sat forgotten in the sink.
“Here. I brought this back. I washed it so, you know, it doesn’t stink or anything.”
Vanessa pulls Charity’s brown jacket from her bag and holds it between them.
“Right. And that’s what we needed to talk about, was it?”
“Well, no…”
Vanessa lays the jacket and her bag across the back of the sofa and takes a few tentative steps towards Charity. She’s still too far away for Charity’s liking.
“About the other day — “
“Oh, did something happen?”
Vanessa huffs. “I knew you’d be like this.”
“You’re the one that ran off!”
“You were trying to talk me into bed!”
“Wasn’t very hard, as far as I remember,” Charity snaps.
Vanessa sucks in a deep breath, stepping closer. Charity refuses to move, hating her body for the way it reacts to Vanessa’s nearness.
“You’re married, Charity.”
“Like that means anything.”
Vanessa’s eyes turn sad. “Why wouldn’t it?”
“Because — “
Charity stops. She’s getting dangerously close to saying things she’s not even sure she means.
“Look. Me and Mack, that’s my business, yeah? And whatever you’ve got going on after Suzy is yours. But you can’t just run off and pretend nothing happened. Not when it’s us, Ness.”
Vanessa sighs, scrubbing a hand against her forehead. She looks tired and Charity’s stomach pinches, thinking of her tossing and turning these past two nights, trying to forgive herself for what she’s done. Charity’s never had much of a moral compass, but she knows Vanessa has always tried to do the right thing.
The thing is — the thing is that this feels right to her. Everything else feels far away when she’s around Vanessa, more so now that she’s had a taste of her again, held her like putty in her hands.
She’s not an idiot. She knows that she can never go back to what they had — she’d thrown that away years ago. But if there’s just a scrap of Vanessa she can have, then she’d do just about anything to keep it. Even if this is all there’ll be: stolen looks and secret meetings in the back of the pub.
“I don’t know what to say,” Vanessa says into the silence.
“Then don’t say anything.”
When Charity crosses the distance and kisses her, Vanessa’s body trembles. Charity gently pushes her up against the wall, eventually breaking the kiss but keeping her eyes closed. If Vanessa’s going to turn her away, she doesn’t want to see it.
All she hears is a tiny, shaky little breath released between them. Then she feels the pads of Vanessa’s fingertips against her jaw. Vanessa’s mouth finds hers again, soft in a way that feels unsure.
“Ness,” Charity whispers after, their noses brushing.
She dares to look at her then. Those blue eyes stare back at her. The expression on Vanessa’s face is unfamiliar. Almost, she thinks, angry.
But then everything else is a distant echo, because Vanessa bunches Charity’s blouse in her fists and kisses her again: open-mouthed and hungry. There’s no pub full of punters waiting for her, no sound of cooking in the kitchen. It goes on and on and on, the ball of her desire unravelling endlessly in her stomach, her lips growing numb, but there’s no limit to how much she wants.
Vanessa’s hands move up, thumbs brushing against the sides of her breasts. Charity arches against her and then Vanessa’s pressing her down against the pillows of the sofa. They fall together in the easy, practised way they always did, those familiar hands unbuttoning her jeans without faltering, then finding all of the places that make her gasp and sigh.
Charity falls apart suddenly, in a way that surprises them both, Vanessa’s eyes on her the whole time.
“We should set some rules.”
“God, babe, can’t a girl just enjoy her afterglow?”
Vanessa laughs and the sound does something strange to Charity’s stomach.
“I’m serious. You’ve done this before, you should know how this works.”
Charity lifts an eyebrow. “Careful.”
“You know what I mean. I just — we can’t have this getting out. It’s just a bit of fun, right?”
“Right,” Charity says, her stomach filling with lead.
Vanessa sits up, golden hair shifting around her shoulders, gathering the covers to her naked chest. Charity rolls onto her back beside her, not bothering to cover herself.
She's not sure what she thought an affair with Vanessa would look like. Maybe a part of her had expected it to be like all those years ago, when she and Vanessa had been on-and-off-again, drawn back to each other repeatedly by something more than chemistry. But that’d been fun. It’d been giggling and cheeky snogs after the pub had closed and the promise of, potentially, maybe, something more.
There’s none of that here. Sure, they laugh together, and they have a good time, but there’s always the same tension filling the air, the acknowledgement that this isn’t permanent. The knowledge that she’ll go home to Mack and Vanessa will go back to grieving Suzy. Their moments together are rushed, sharp: Vanessa never as soft with her as she remembers her being, and Charity never vulnerable enough to make sense of the feeling in her chest.
But a part of her should’ve probably predicted that Vanessa would want rules.
“We shouldn’t speak in public,” Vanessa says.
“What, are you never gonna order a pint again? That’d be obvious, babe, that’s basically cheating 101.”
Vanessa’s cheeks flush. She doesn’t like that, Charity’s learned over this last month: the words cheating or affair. Sometimes Charity wants to shake her and get her to admit it; to have Vanessa take on some of the guilt that comes with it.
“Alright, well, we shouldn’t speak more than we normally do. And no sleepovers.”
“As if I’d want to spend all night with you, drooling and stealing all the covers.”
“I don’t drool! ”
“Well, what else could that wet patch in the sheets have been every time I did the washing?”
Vanessa eyes flash. “You’re so bad.”
Don’t pretend you don’t love it, she wants to say, but bites her tongue.
“Look, babe, it’s hardly rocket science is it? We act just like we did before, keep the texting vague and to a minimum, and never stay the night. Got it?”
“Got it.”
They stare at each other for a beat, silence filling the room. She wants Vanessa to lean down and kiss her. Softly, not in the biting way she’s started doing. She’d never had to ask Vanessa for tenderness before, she had always offered it willingly. Her tongue doesn’t know how to form the question: can't you just pretend that we're how we used to be?
But soon enough Vanessa looks away and pulls her t-shirt on, leaning down to the floor for her underwear. Charity shuffles to sit and looks about the room. Her old room in The Woolpack. It looks the same, Vanessa had said the first time they’d snuck up here together, a distant kind of look in her eyes.
This is the only place they’ve been meeting and, so far, Chas hasn’t noticed anything. They’ve been careful: always waiting until Chas was behind the bar, or busy with the drayman, or out for an appointment, or for Charity’s break, or, or, or. Charity’s always on alert now, waiting for a small moment where she can steal Vanessa away. No matter the hour, Vanessa always comes running, and she has no idea what to make of it.
“Johnny wants Moses to come over for tea tomorrow. I thought it’d be nice,” Vanessa says, standing and shimmying into her jeans. “I can pick them both up from school and then drop him back to yours after?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“And Rhona and I have been talking about going out soon. Proper girls night out. With everything Trace has going on, I was wondering if you could have Johnny? I don’t want to put anything more on her than I have to.”
“Of course, babe,” Charity replies, feeling faintly queasy talking about their kids when they’re sneaking about in the dark like this. “Just let me know when.”
“Perfect. Well, I’ll let you get back to work before Chas has your head for disappearing.”
Charity snorts. “I’d like to see her try.”
Vanessa grins. She’s all soft edges and rosy warmth. Charity pulls the covers over her chest and tries to think of something clever to say to keep Vanessa looking at her like that.
The moment passes and Vanessa’s out the door, barely making a noise as she heads down the stairs. Charity rests her head back against the headboard and lets out a long, slow breath, needing a second to gather herself before she heads back down to the pub.
The rest of her shift passes uneventfully, save for the lecture Chas gives her for skiving off for twenty minutes. What’ve you been doing, fighting with the barrels downstairs? She snipes, and Charity darts off again to run a brush through her hair, Chas complaining loudly the whole time.
By the time the punters are gone and she gets home for the night, all of the kids are in bed. Mack’s waiting for her on the sofa with a smile and a glass of red wine.
“Thanks, babe,” she says, accepting the glass and taking a sip.
They chat about their day and the mundanity of it all feels like someone’s drilling a hole into her skull. The life that had seemed so vibrant before is washed out and she doesn’t know what to do about it, what to do about the numbness she feels for the house that should be her home, for the man sitting in front of her: her husband, closing the distance to kiss her.
Her eyes close and she goes with it, content enough, but when his hand curls around her neck she can’t help but notice it’s more calloused than Vanessa’s. And when his mouth opens against hers memories come back to her in flashes: Vanessa sitting astride her, naked, cheeks flushed and eyes dark.
She pulls back sharply.
“Everything okay?” He asks.
“Yeah, just, um… I think I might be due on.”
He frowns. “I thought that was the other week?”
“Right. Just a bad headache maybe. From Chas, no doubt, always nagging,” she says, rolling her eyes dramatically, and he grins.
She chugs the glass of wine.
“You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, fine. Upstairs?” She says, jumping up.
He must mistake her guilt for eagerness, because he follows all too easily. Her body itches all over. Tell him, the rational part of her brain screams, just tell him. But she can't figure out how to get the words out. Vanessa had turned her down before, for trying to leave Mack for her — had looked at her with disgust in her eyes and insults spilling from her lips. It's not what Vanessa wants. She's chosen secrecy instead.
So she goes to bed with Mack, but she thinks about Vanessa the entire time.
Vanessa
“Someone’s happy. Anyone I should know about?”
Vanessa looks up from her phone and finds Rhona watching her.
“What d’you mean?”
“That smile on your face. I know you, missy. So go on. Who is she?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Vanessa says, pocketing her phone and sipping her outrageously colourful cocktail.
“Ness, I think it’s healthy for you to move on. After everything you’ve been through, well…” Rhona gives her a small smile and bumps her shoulder against Vanessa’s. “Maybe just let yourself be happy?”
Vanessa flinches. The word happy isn’t exactly what she’d use to describe herself. More than anything, she feels anger: anger at Mary and Suzy; anger at herself for being so blind to it all; anger at Charity, for being a beacon she’s found herself drawn to, for being the only reason her mind quietens for ten minutes a few times a week.
She’s been without Charity longer than she’d been with her and slipping back into her arms should terrify her. But it doesn’t feel the same way it used to. Charity always wants what she can’t have and Vanessa knows, if Charity were forced to choose, that she wouldn’t be her first choice.
So she doesn’t ask her to choose, and she forces herself to be okay with nothing more than sex. If this is the only part of Charity she can have, she’ll take it.
“Am I way off base here?” Rhona asks.
Vanessa laughs shakily. “Just a bit.”
“Well, have you thought about it? Dating, I mean.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”
“It might never feel like the right time. You'll have to do it sooner or later. You won't be alone forever, Ness.”
“Right, enough of the soppy talk,” Vanessa says, mustering her bravado. “Tonight’s supposed to be fun!”
“That it will be,” Rhona promises.
Rhona’s ordering shots before Vanessa can stop her, and soon enough they’re jumping around on the dance floor, less graceful and more stumbling than their uni days. But she’s the right amount of drunk, where everything is funny, and for a moment there is no grief for Suzy or anger at Mary, just relief that she has Rhona, her best friend: attempting and failing to dance to the beat, laughing with her, at the silliness of it all.
Her good mood lingers when they share a kebab on the pavement outside the club and wait for a taxi. They’re propping each other up, shoulders pressed together, giggling at nothing and going over stories from their uni days they’ve told each other hundreds of times.
But then her phone buzzes in her jacket pocket and she knows it’ll be Charity — despite her insistence that keep the texting to a minimum, she’s hardly let up tonight, which Vanessa thinks has something to do with the way Charity’s eyes had done a very obvious once-over of her outfit when she’d dropped Johnny off earlier. The happy mood vanishes all at once and the weight of guilt settles on her, thick and cloying.
She wants nothing more than to confess to Rhona. To show her what a horrible person she’s become. A person who has an affair. That’s not who she is, not really. Even with Rhona it hadn’t been that, it’d been about Rhona’s addition. And Adam had been a one-night stand, something that wouldn’t have been important if it hadn’t been for her pregnancy. This, what she’s doing with Charity, it’s different than anything she’s done before. She doesn’t know why she keeps doing it. Every time, she tells herself she’ll break it off, that this isn’t what she wants. But then Charity calls and she goes running.
It’s been two months now and it still feels like she’s holding her breath. The feeling only fades when they’re together. When Charity kisses her hard and she forgets how to think of anything else but the feeling of her body against her own.
So Vanessa doesn’t say a word. Rhona falls asleep in the taxi home and Vanessa stares unseeing out of the window.
Her phone buzzes again when she gets home after making sure Rhona had got home safely. Vanessa keeps ignoring it, hanging her jacket up and stumbling when she slips her heels off.
Then there it is: the quiet but unmistakable knock against the front door.
Vanessa knows who it’ll be before she opens it. Still, the cool night air feels like a shock, and she freezes. Charity doesn’t hesitate, stepping into the small space by the doorway and kissing Vanessa fiercely enough to make her stagger and clutch at her elbows. She barely registers the front door closing.
“Mmm. Fruity,” Charity jokes, one side of her mouth curling up lazily.
“What are you doing here?”
“What d’you think?”
“This isn’t the right time, Charity — “
“Why? Pulled, did you?”
Vanessa eyes narrow. “Is that what this is about?”
“Don’t be daft. You’re single. You can do what you want,” Charity says, fiddling with the zipper of Vanessa’s dress.
“Exactly. So what if I did pull?”
“Well, I’d be wondering what you’re doing standing around with me instead of cuddling up with her.”
Vanessa sighs. “You don’t want to make this easy for me, do you?”
“This isn’t just about you, babe.”
Vanessa doesn’t say anything, just nods, because she’s right: as much as she wants to shift the blame to Charity, label her some sort of seductress like everyone always has, she knows she has no-one to blame but herself. It's not like Vanessa’s played hard to get lately.
She reaches up and brushes the hair from Charity’s eyes.
“Won’t Mack ask where you are?” Vanessa says, hating that his name is always falling from her mouth.
“Thinks I’m closing up, doesn’t he,” Charity says with a shrug.
Vanessa leans back against the wall, picturing him: Mack, checking the time, waiting for Charity to come home, the same way she used to do when Charity was on a late.
“Don’t think about him.”
“It’s hard not to.”
Charity shakes her head. “It’s easy.”
They kiss, and Charity’s right: the sad image of Mack disappears immediately.
More than anything, Charity’s familiar. A reminder of the happiness Vanessa used to have and that, she hopes, someday, she could have again. Not with Charity. Charity made her choice long ago.
But this is all she has, and it'll do for now.
“We have to be quiet. Tracy’s home,” she says, letting Charity tug her dress over her hips.
“ We? ” Charity repeats incredulously, grinning when Vanessa laughs.
Spring turns to summer and before she knows it, it’s August, and she and Charity have been sleeping together for four months.
The sun makes it easier. They’re no longer restricted to Charity’s old bedroom at The Woolpack. Charity catches her between call-outs and she tries not to give it meaning, the fact that Charity’s willing to drive out to the middle of nowhere just to be with her. This is just her new normal now.
They’re sitting on a blanket Vanessa's thrown over the grass, watching out over the dales and talking about the daft things the boys did when they were toddlers, the mischief they got up to when they all lived together, but the joy that made the stress worth it; a time that doesn’t hurt to talk about anymore.
Charity had kissed her when she’d arrived, but she hasn’t tried to initiate anything more. Vanessa studies her profile now. Charity’s face is turned up to the sun, leaning back on her elbows, curls pulled up in a ponytail with a few loose strands brushing against her jawline. She’s gorgeous.
“D’you know what, babe, I used to think the younger they were the more hassle it was. But it’s easier, isn’t it? Way less attitude, for one thing.”
“Oh, don’t. Sometimes the way Johnny talks back to me makes me think I already have a teenager in the house.”
“That’ll be the infamous Dingle attitude kicking in,” Charity says with a grin.
Vanessa has no idea what to say to that one, so she mimics Charity’s pose, closing her eyes and turning her face up to the sun.
“How much longer d’you have left?” Charity asks.
“I’ll have to shoot in ten minutes. So if you, you know…”
“What?”
Vanessa peeks at her. Charity’s frowning.
“Well, we’ll have to be quick.”
“Wow. Way to make a girl feel special, babe.”
“So you don’t want…”
“I don’t know about you, Ness, but I’m roasting. Summer’s great for the old bones, but it’s not really got me in the mood to take all kit off and work up a sweat.”
Vanessa cringes at the thought of having to pull her overalls on afterwards to go vaccinate a herd of cows. Maybe Charity has a point.
“Well, what’d you come out here for then?” She dares ask.
Charity shrugs. A light breeze picks up for a moment and the loose strands of her hair dance in the air for a second. Vanessa lifts her own hair to let the breeze cool the skin at the back of her neck.
The breeze has stopped by the time Charity speaks again.
“Just fancied a change of scenery, didn’t I,” she says, voice strangely distant.
Vanessa looks out to the view again. They can barely see the village from up here: just a smattering of houses between vast swathes of green. Up here, it doesn’t feel like they’re a secret. There’s no Mack. No guilt. They’re just two women sitting side-by-side, enjoying the sun, talking about their children. It’s the sort of thing they used to do.
Tentatively, Vanessa shifts closer and lays her head against Charity’s shoulder. She wonders if Charity ever thinks about it, all the could’ve-been that lingers between them.
Charity lays down properly, bringing Vanessa with her. The skin of Vanessa’s cheek already feels sticky from being pressed against Charity in this heat.
“S’pretty,” Charity murmurs.
Vanessa looks up at the sky: endless bright blue on a summer’s day.
“Yeah, it is,” she agrees.
The first time she’d run into Mack, after this thing between her and Charity had started, she’d felt nauseous. They rarely crossed paths and so it’d taken a full month for her to bump into him in the shops. Literally.
He’d been polite enough, nervous as he always seemed to be around her. Sometimes she’s still not sure why. When she’d first come back she’d understood it. Mack had had to face the reality that he’d helped break something real and he’d felt threatened by it. By her. Surely he no longer feels that way.
She’s grown accustomed to seeing him every now and again. Slowly, a strange sort of apathy has snuck up on her. When she sees Mack, she doesn’t feel guilty anymore. She’ll remember the feeling of Charity’s hot breath against her neck, her hands in her hair, and smile to herself.
She doesn’t owe Mack anything. He’d broken what she and Charity had. This is what she’s choosing to do with all the pieces left behind.
She doesn’t know what to do when she sees them together, though.
She, Paddy and Rhona are enjoying a drink on a Friday evening, since Sarah’s keeping an eye on Johnny and Moses and Marlon has Leo. It’s been a nice enough night. Rhona’s in a good mood, Paddy's only put his foot in it twice so far, and Charity’s been throwing her sidelong glances the whole time, which she takes to mean she should find an excuse to stay behind when Charity locks up later.
But then there he is: Mack, leaning up against the bar, Noah with him, and there’s a funny taste in her mouth, and a bitterness twisting in her stomach.
“Ness? Are you listening to me?”
Vanessa blinks. Rhona’s staring at her expectantly.
“Sorry. I was miles away.”
Rhona gives her a strange look. “You want to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Right. So it’s got nothing to do with Charity, then?”
“Why would it?” Vanessa answers, rubbing her sweaty palms against her thighs. Paddy looks at Rhona like she's grown a second head.
“You’ve been staring at her. It’s weird.”
“I’ve not. I’ve been…”
“What?”
“Thinking about a top up. You want one?”
“Who's going to say no to a free drink?” Paddy says, and Rhona's mouth clamps shut.
Her stomach knots up when she reaches the bar. Noah smiles at her, which only makes it worse. Charity’s mid-conversation with Mack and doesn’t notice her approach.
Vanessa fiddles with one of the beermats for something to do. Not being the centre of Charity’s attention is strange. She’s too used to sneaking off with her.
Noah sidles up to her. “You alright?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Same old.”
Vanessa finds herself smiling. “You’re so tall now.”
“Everyone is compared to you.”
“Noah!” She swats at him with the beermat. “Less of the cheek, mister. You can talk back to me when you can grow more than two hairs on your chin.”
Noah rubs at his attempt at a beard and Charity slides over to them.
“I’ve been telling him to shave it off for weeks,” Charity says. “It’s embarrassing, Noah.”
“It’s not,” Noah argues hotly.
“Your mum does have a point," Vanessa says.
“Case closed,” Charity adds, bringing her palm down on the bar.
“I think it looks fine,” Mack says.
The three of them turn to look at him. Mack sips on his beer and stares back at them. Noah grins smugly.
“See?”
“I’d hardly take that as a win, babe. Clearly someone needs to get their eyes tested,” Charity says, glaring at Mack, who shrugs. “Anyway, what can I get you, Ness?”
Vanessa glances between them all. Charity; Noah; Mack. Mack shifts a little under her gaze.
“I…” She hesitates. Charity raises an eyebrow. “You know what, don’t worry about it.”
Charity frowns. “You what?”
Vanessa just shakes her head and goes, not bothering to say goodbye to Rhona. The sky outside is a dusky pink as she marches back home. She’s grateful that there’s no sign of Tracy and Frankie once she gets back in, falling onto the sofa just as hot tears burn in her eyes.
What the hell is wrong with her?
It's not like she hasn't seen them together before, him and Charity. But that was always before all of this. Somehow seeing them together makes it more real. This isn't just a bit of fun. She's messing with someone's life.
A few minutes into her self-wallowing, she hears the door open. She doesn’t have to look up to know who it is. She rubs at her eyes as if she can hide the evidence of her crying.
Rhona sits beside her. “You want to tell me what that was about, or do you want to hear my theory?”
“Just a wobble,” Vanessa says, chest tightening with panic. “It’s the drink getting to me, I didn’t have much to eat for dinner — “
“Because what I was thinking is that there’s something going on. With you and Charity.”
They fall silent. Vanessa swallows roughly. The way Rhona's looking at her is too knowing.
“Don’t be daft," she says quietly.
“Ness.”
Vanessa's hands curl into fists in her lap.
“Is it that obvious?”
“Probably not to anyone else. Certainly not Paddy. But I’ve seen you. Hiding your phone when you get a text or making excuses to stay behind at the pub — after spending half the time we’re there mooning at her.”
Vanessa laughs bitterly. “And there I was thinking I was hiding it so well.”
“How long has it been going on? You and her?”
“Um. I don’t know. Four months, maybe.”
“That long?” Rhona’s eyes widen. “God, Ness, why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was ashamed,” Vanessa admits, voice breaking. “Rhona, I — I have no idea what I’m doing.”
Rhona sighs and Vanessa breaks a little, crying freely. Rhona ropes an arm around her shoulders and leans her head against Vanessa’s. She doesn’t try to tell her it’ll be okay, which Vanessa’s grateful for. Nothing about this situation is right. What the hell is she doing? It’s been so easy to pretend that it’s just the two of them in this. But it wouldn’t just be Mack’s life she’d ruin if this gets out, would it?
Eventually, Vanessa pulls away, wiping her tears away.
“Ness, I’m not going to tell you what to do, but are you sure this is a good idea? She broke your heart.”
“It’s never felt like a good idea,” she says miserably, “but I don’t know, Rhona, she’s… she’s different. What’s going on, it’s different to before.”
“Different how?”
“I don’t know. I just — after Suzy, I was so angry. And then there she was. Charity. And it gave me something to do with that anger, you know? And sometimes I caught myself thinking, well, why not? I don’t owe Suzy anything. I don’t owe Mack anything, either.”
“I don’t trust it, Ness. It’s Charity. She’ll be up to something.”
“Probably. But it’s not like I don’t get anything out of it. I'm hardly innocent, am I? I knew exactly what I was doing.”
Rhona shakes her head. “You deserve better.”
Vanessa stops herself from arguing with I don’t want better.
The front door goes again, Charity appearing in a whirl of barely restrained anger, stopping short when she spots Rhona sitting with her.
“I’ll leave you two to it,” Rhona says, squeezing Vanessa’s hand before she goes.
Rhona and Charity exchange a look as she leaves. Charity crosses her arms over her chest as Rhona brushes past her.
“She knows, then.”
“Turns out it wasn’t that hard to figure out.”
“Yeah, well, when you put on a show like earlier it’s hard not to.”
“Don’t, Charity.”
“What were you thinking, Ness? Do you want to get caught?”
“Of course not!”
“Then what was that all about?”
“I don’t know.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “I just — I can’t be around you. The two of you together, I mean.”
And even worse: the two of them with Noah, the familiarity in which they interact with each other feeling like a blow to the stomach. Proof that their life had carried on after Vanessa had fallen from it. Noah’s no longer the awkward, sullen teenager she used to know: he’s a grown man now, an adult, just like Sarah. And they live with him. Mackenzie. Just another step-parent in their lives, like she had been once.
Replaceable.
The weight of the sofa shifts and then Charity’s sitting beside her, one hand on Vanessa’s knee.
“I'm not asking you to be okay with it, but it is something you’ll have to deal with if you want this.”
Vanessa opens her eyes again to look at her. “Want what?”
“Us.”
She wants to argue. Wants to end it all right there and then. Wants to give in to her self-pity and hurt Charity the way she's hurting.
But what would be the point? How would that even work? How could she go back to the way it was before, pretending like she hasn’t spent four months relearning Charity’s body? She doesn’t think she could go back to barely glancing Charity’s way, behaving like they don't have all this shared history sitting between them.
She knew what she was getting into. And she knows that this can’t last forever. And still, she wants it.
“You’re right,” she says softly.
Charity gives her a strange, sad smile.
“We’re alright, then?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
Charity nods. “Suppose I should go before Tracy gets back. Unless she knows?”
“No. Just Rhona.”
“Right.” Charity hesitates. “I’ll go, then.”
They just stare at each other. Vanessa wants to tuck her head underneath Charity’s chin, wants her arms around her to steady her, wants to ask her, just this once, to stay. To choose her. But she stays still, not daring to move, not trusting herself to speak. Something changes on Charity’s face.
Charity kisses her softly, like a first kiss, their bodies apart, hands hesitant to reach out. Vanessa kisses her back just as softly.
Charity pulls away slowly, green eyes shining under the light. Vanessa’s heart, despite her best efforts, tumbles.
“See you, babe,” she murmurs.
“See you,” Vanessa replies quietly.