Chapter Text
Carol, through to November.
Carol had intended to take things slowly. She truly had. But, since declaring their love for one another in April, things seemed to escalate out of her control. They’d overcome such an arduous climb together, and it was so monumental, so taxing, that everything that came after it felt easy - a blissful suspension, like falling in zero gravity.
Every day, every kiss, every shared glance was as perfect and intentional as cascading snow, blanketing the city and its imperfections.
Of course, that wasn't to say their relationship had been plain sailing - they did have some sticking points, to begin with. In May and June, they struggled through their fair share of tears and painful late-night discussions; Therese still worried Carol might push her away or act dishonestly, and Carol still feared Therese might hop on the train to god knows where again. But their love was always true. They never doubted it, not for one second. And, at the end of every day, before sleep, they intrinsically knew that they were on the same page, heading towards the same destination. It was reflected in their love-struck eyes, it coursed through the warmth of their fingertips, it beat in their chests in perfect synchrony.
Their love was a living, evolving thing.
Yet still, for three months, they had tried to take things slowly.
Therese held off on moving in and Carol, through some miraculous display of self-restraint, hadn't pushed her. She hadn't wanted to, despite her desire to be as close to Therese as possible, for as many hours of the day as possible.
It had been torturous.
In May, Therese stayed one or two nights a week. Then two nights became three in June, and four in July… But with every week, their goodbyes grew more reluctant, more painful, and more… unnecessary. Therese's feet were heavy as she walked down the hallway to the front door. Carol's hands always itched to grab her by the waist and ask her to stay for another night. And Rindy cried for Britain whenever the door clicked shut and Therese vanished from sight, as though she might never return.
Which was quite funny, in retrospect, because whenever Therese arrived at the flat, she always called Carol for at least an hour before going to bed. And, over the phone, Therese had always sounded pained, as though she missed her terribly and couldn’t wait to see her again.
In spirit, Therese never really left at all. But, physically, it was another story. She left more than Carol would have liked, and time seemed to move dreadfully slowly during every parting.
She supposed Therese needed some control, some independence, before she was able to make the leap, to move in without any lingering doubts.
In August, Therese finally made the jump.
Beyond their growing closeness - and distaste for being apart - the push to move was eased along by Therese’s increasing need for studio time. In the summer, she had reduced her shifts at Abby’s café and spent more time painting commissions for online customers and local galleries. And it had gotten to the point where it was actually inconvenient for Therese to leave.
True to her word, Carol had booked them tickets to a handful of shows over the course of the Fringe festival. That very afternoon, they'd watched a queer two-woman comedy, starring none other than Genevieve and one of her theatre friends. The venue was small and ill-protected from the dreadful August heatwave, but they still had a wonderful time. Genevieve was a natural comedienne, commanding the stage with such bold confidence, extracting laughter from almost everyone in the audience. In their seats, they’d shared a bottle of chilled beer and, despite the heat, Therese had rested her head on Carol’s shoulder for the whole ninety minutes.
It was the perfect way to spend a Saturday.
But as they exited the theatre, Therese seemed to grow restless. Her fidgeting hands toyed with the play programme, her words were quiet and sparse. Her bright eyes flitted around the buildings and people around them, though never landed on Carol.
As they arrived at the pub where they had organised to meet Dannie, Phil, and Genevieve for lunch, Therese stopped in the street, her mouth opening and closing, and stammered, ‘Carol, wait. I- I need to talk to you about something.’
Carol paused, frowning curiously. Why did Therese look so anxious?
She reached out and grasped one of Therese’s hands, squeezing it gently.
‘Is everything alright, darling?’
‘Yes… Yes, it is, but I promised Dannie I’d talk with you before lunch and I haven't yet and now-’
‘It’s lunch.’
‘Exactly…’ she breathed.
Swallowing, Carol pulled Therese into a shaded area underneath a cafe awning and prepared herself for the worst. In the four months since Therese’s return, she had never looked so uneasy in her presence. She had never been so unable to meet Carol’s gaze.
She thought they had been happy. Hadn’t they been happy?
‘Tell me,’ Carol murmured, keeping her voice low and out of earshot of passing strangers.
Therese chewed her lower lip in thought for a moment, her eyes fixed on the floor, serious and worrisome. Carol thought her stuttering heart might suddenly stop and never come back to life.
A moment of silence came and went, and then Therese asked quietly, ‘Can I stay over tonight?’
And Carol almost laughed.
‘Is that… Is that it, darling?’ she asked, smiling incredulously. ‘Of course you can.’
‘What about tomorrow night?’
‘Yes, and tomorrow night.’
‘And the night after that?’
Carol’s laughter broke through and the sound of it made Therese’s lips twitch into a nervous smile. She shook her head and said, ‘You’re in a funny mood. Is it the heat? You can stay whenever you like, for as long as you like. You know that.’
Therese met her gaze, her green eyes brightening in the summer sun, yellowing them like fresh spring leaves. Once again, Carol was profoundly struck by Therese’s beauty.
‘So… If I wanted to stay forever, would that be okay?’
Her heart beat so fast she thought it might leap out of her. Had she heard that right?
‘Forever?’ she repeated, smiling slowly.
‘Yeah. Forever.’
In a flurry of movement, Carol cupped Therese’s face and kissed her with almighty force, pushing her back into a brick wall, not caring whether they were creating a spectacle. It was a delightfully awkward kiss because Therese couldn’t stop giggling and Carol couldn’t wipe the smile from her face.
‘Do you really mean it?’
Therese nodded fervently, reaching up a hand to rest on Carol’s chest.
'Yes. Is that okay?'
‘Oh, darling, yes . Of course it’s okay - more than okay, I-’ She paused, remembering the uneasiness in Therese’s demeanour mere minutes ago. ‘Did you think I would say no?’
‘No…’
‘So what was all the worry about, hm?’
‘Well, it’s- I need to move within the next week. I know it’s inconvenient… Rindy’s going back to school next week and you’re so busy with work. But Dannie and Phil found a new flat closer to the city centre and the landlord needs to know if I’ll be on the tenancy contract. And I don’t - I can’t spend another six months away from you. I can't stand the walk to your house, especially in this heat… And I miss you all the time even though I see you all the time, which I know is stupid, but that’s jus-’
Carol placed her hands on Therese’s backside, lifted her up, and kissed her again. Internally, she cursed their current location and the sheer number of people around them, for at that moment she wanted to be alone with Therese, to show her how happy she was, to show her how much she loved her. God, she was wonderful.
Her mind swarmed with visions of their lives together; late-night philosophical discussions in bed, dancing in the kitchen while making breakfast, showering together after hours of fumbling in the sheets.
‘Give me the word and I’ll go get your things now,’ Carol said as she pulled away. ‘Screw lunch.’
Someone cleared their throat behind them. It was Dannie.
‘I was going to say I’d bought you both gin and tonics, but… I suppose Gen will have to drink them.’ He turned on the spot, smirking.
‘Wait!’ Therese said, laughing. ‘Wait, we’re coming in now.’
She lowered her legs from Carol’s waist, grabbed Carol’s hand, and pulled them inside the pub.
Rindy had practically burst with excitement when Carol had told her Therese was moving in permanently. And even Harge - who had grown more tolerant and amenable in the months since Therese’s return - took the news in his stride. In fact, he had even congratulated the two of them - albeit gruffly.
They moved Therese out of the flat on a swelteringly Saturday. It was the hottest day of the year - the sort of day where the air was too humid to breathe in and the horizon appeared to shimmer thickly with the heat. But Carol didn’t complain, not even when Therese had forgotten to pack some of her belongings into boxes, not even when a taxi had almost hit the rear end of her car in the traffic, not even when Rindy had whined about how boring it was to load and unload the car boot continuously. Despite the back-breaking lifting of furniture and beads of sweat gathering on her forehead, Carol couldn’t help but smile.
They were going to live together. They were going to share everything. They were finally taking that next step.
On the night of the move, they sat on their bedroom floor and sorted through the final bits of Therese’s belongings - trinkets from her childhood that she hadn’t looked at in years. Most of it had belonged to her father, who had passed away twenty years prior. Therese had picked out a few items - a chunky, but broken, solid gold chain, a fob watch, and pewter cufflinks - and handed them to Carol.
‘You might be able to sell these for some money,’ Therese had said. ‘I have no use for them… They’re just collecting dust. But I don’t want to be the one to do it.’
Carol had nodded, had held Therese in her arms and kissed her slowly. But she didn’t sell the items - she couldn’t. Because, deep down, she knew they were important - she knew they would find a new lease of life again.
There was no “taking it slow” after that point.
*************** ***************
Carol had always been enamoured with Therese - had always looked at her lingeringly, had always felt her stomach twist pleasurably whenever Therese so much as glanced at her.
So she hadn’t thought it possible to feel more enamoured. But living with Therese brought it out of her. It made her love swell like a symphony, and it grew and grew until it thundered in her chest, as loud and demanding as Vivaldi concerto.
And there was no one singular reason behind the growing love; it was an amalgamation of everything.
It was the look in Therese’s eyes every morning - the soft openness, the unconditional love that Carol never questioned. It was the hum of her voice in the shower, sweet and quiet and echoing against the bathroom tiles. It was the evenings she spent reading to Rindy, dressed in Carol’s pyjamas, her eyelids drooping. It was the paint smudges on her cheeks and knuckles. It was the mischievous look in her eyes when she pulled Carol into the studio and took her against the wall. It was the notes Therese left on the fridge door that Carol could never take down because she adored rereading them every morning.
I love you. You'll do great in your meeting today! :) Therese xxx
Picked up a shift for Abby - should be back by 5pm. Haven't run off, I promise! Love, Therese xxx
If you've woken up and wondered where I am, we were out of milk… And I'm also craving chocolate. So I'm running to the shop with Rindy - she was awake and wanted to tag along. Also, you snored so much last night... I still love you anyway, Therese xxx And Rindy - she just asked me to write that. She also heard you snore.
Will be at the gallery late tonight. I'll try to call you before 8pm. There are some leftovers in the fridge if you don't want to cook. Love you, Therese xxx
Therese was with her, always. They lived together. They spent time with their friends together. They ate together. They showered together. They slept together…
Yet, selfishly, Carol began to want more. More permanency, more stability.
Oh, how she had meant to take things slowly . But she couldn’t. And Rindy hadn’t helped with her desire to push things along.
It was mid-September. Rindy had spent the day at a local park with Therese, eating picnic food and sketching trees and clouds and buildings. It was one of the many excursions they went on together, which Carol often missed out on due to work commitments.
When they arrived home, Therese kissed Carol hello and then rushed off to take a shower; it had rained unexpectedly and she’d gotten mud all over her bare knees.
Carol’s eyes followed her up the stairs, observing every slight movement of her body and committing it to memory. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest as it always did when Therese was near her.
As she made her way into the kitchen, Rindy looked at her strangely, as though she saw right through her, as though she knew what Carol wanted.
‘Did you have a nice time, sweetheart?’ Carol asked as she poured her a glass of juice.
Rindy’s eyes brightened up slightly, though they still held that quiet, knowing look.
‘Yes! We ate ice cream.’
Carol smiled.
‘Did you bring some home for me?’
‘It would have melted, silly. I did pick you some flowers though,’ she said, thrusting some tulips at Carol.
Carol held them to her nose, breathed in their scent, and then found a small vase to place them in. ‘They’re beautiful, sweetheart, thank you.’
The sound of the bathroom door closing carried down the stairs and into the kitchen, followed by the quiet whooshing sound of the shower coming to life. Unable to help herself, Carol looked in the direction of the stairs again, her mind latching on to the thought of Therese.
‘Mummy?’ Rindy asked, elongating the word.
Carol snapped her head to the left to look at her. She found herself getting lost in her thoughts more and more these days; she often wondered whether Therese's habit of daydreaming had worn off on her. Didn’t couples begin to act more similarly the more time they spent with one another?
She blinked and smiled to herself. She suspected it was just a side effect of being hopelessly in love.
‘Yes?’
‘Are you going to marry Rex?’
She almost choked on air.
‘Goodness, Rindy, I, uh- that’s quite a question, isn’t it?’
And I’ve only just divorced your father. And Rex has only just moved in. And, good god, you're too young to be asking your mother these things so casually.
‘But you live together now… And Rex loves you, she says it all the time.’
Carol paused and her heart skipped a beat. Had they spoken about these things at the park? Had Therese mentioned such a thing to her?
Did Therese want to get married? Was Therese open to the idea?
Her curiosity got the better of her.
‘What brought this about? Did Therese… mention anything about that to you?’
‘Nope,’ Rindy said, shaking her head.
Her daughter didn’t elaborate.
‘So where did you get that idea from?’
Shrugging, Rindy took a sip of her juice and then said, ‘You and Daddy were married when you lived together.’
Ah.
Strangely, the fact that Rindy had made such a connection on her own stirred some disappointment within her. A small part of her hoped that, perhaps, Therese had slipped and said something about marriage.
The jerk reaction - the disappointment - shocked her.
Is that what she wanted? To marry Therese? Had she ever really thought about it before?
God.
It was foolish, she realised. It was absolutely foolish to want such a thing.
Because Carol had written marriage off for life. Carol had sworn she would never wed again - would never want to - because her marriage to Harge had been so terrible. Terrible to endure and terrible to wiggle her way out of. Did she really want to put herself through that again? Did it really matter, one way or another, if she and Therese were married or not?
No, it didn’t... And even if it did matter, it was too soon anyway, wasn’t it?
The sound of the water pattering in the shower upstairs stopped. Carol imagined Therese’s bare feet padding onto the bath mat, her wet hair dripping beads of water onto her collarbones, her careful hands wrapping a towel around her body.
Her heart stirred, beating unevenly, excited to see Therese’s fresh, smiling face again.
She envisioned Therese in a white dress, with confetti in her hair.
And then Carol turned to face the kettle, holding her head in her hands, cursing softly to herself. She busied herself by preparing a cafetiere with ground coffee and boiling water. But the thought wouldn’t leave.
She had never wanted to marry Harge. She had never loved him, had never felt her body respond so intensely or automatically to his presence or voice or touch. No. Carol had married him out of fear and shame and obligation. She had married him because it was expected of her…
This was different. She loved Therese. She loved her so desperately, in a way that was somehow both selfless and selfish all at once. And if they were to marry, their marriage would be a wonderful thing - truly equal, full of love and laughter. Carol wouldn’t ask her for anything, not her money, not her last name. She only wished to refer to Therese as her wife, to introduce her as such, and to build some stability… to give Therese the opportunity to be a legal stepparent to Rindy, in time, if she wanted to be.
Footsteps sounded behind her, waking her from her thoughts. And when Carol turned, her eyebrows raised gently and her lips softened into a yearning smile.
Therese’s hair was still damp, the water droplets shining brightly under the kitchen lights. She was wearing a white summer dress.
*************** ***************
She wanted to marry Therese.
And the desire was one of the biggest secrets she had ever kept, for she kept it alone. She didn’t elaborate when Rindy asked her twice more if she would marry Therese. Hell, she didn’t even tell Abby, her closest confidant, about the insatiable urge to propose.
Carol pushed the desire down and down, deep within her, and hoped that it might vanish in time. But no matter how many pep talks Carol gave herself in the bathroom mirror, it wouldn’t leave. It only evolved, like a tree sprouting from a seedling, stretching towards the sky. And every spent minute with Therese seemed to water it, edging it on.
It grew and grew until it hurt.
Looking at Therese made her throat constrict; it bred a lump in her throat that couldn’t be suppressed. Referring to Therese as her girlfriend or partner didn’t sound at all right anymore. When they held hands through the Edinburgh streets, Carol’s fingers searched for a band of gold on Therese’s ring finger, and the absence hollowed her out.
It was greedy, she knew, to want and want and want her when she already had her.
So Carol tried her best to be reasonable, to keep her desires inside, to tamper them down. And when their bodies collided every evening, clothed or unclothed, and she felt Therese’s lips on her, the desires eased a little.
It was going well… until it wasn’t.
One day in October, she slipped up.
She had accidentally referred to Therese as her wife on a client call. And it had sounded so good, so right , that Carol didn’t bother correcting herself.
‘My wife has her first gallery showing this Friday evening,’ she had said. ‘She’s utterly brilliant - truly. If you have a spare moment, do try to pop down.’
And her client, a sweet woman called Sandra who owned a little sandwich shop in New Town, had hummed in excitement and agreed to come.
In hindsight, she shouldn’t have extended the invitation.
They walked into the gallery arm-in-arm with their friends by their side. Therese had chosen to wear the green velvet dress, even though it still looked somewhat squiffy at the back, because she thought it might bring her luck. And Carol had put on a suit at Therese’s request because she struggled to deny Therese anything.
Ten minutes after their entrance, Therese left her arm to talk to the gallery owners and curators.
And Carol couldn’t help but think back to when they had first met. It was a year to the day. A year since she had met her by chance on the dimly lit, liminal train to Edinburgh Waverley. A year of knowing Therese, and almost a year of loving her.
How quiet and shy she had been then, Carol thought. A year ago, Therese could barely stomach showing photographs of her artwork on her phone, never mind hanging them up in a gallery for a whole city to peruse. Therese hadn’t even entertained the thought of becoming an artist.
It was enough to conjure tears.
Therese had come into her own and Carol couldn’t be more proud.
Throughout the evening, she kept her distance, because this was Therese’s night, and she was more than able to navigate the new introductions and social encounters without her. Carol wandered through the gallery with Abby and Alexandra, drinking white wine and admiring the paintings.
Since her return to Edinburgh, Therese had expressed a fondness for the colour blue. Specifically a blue-grey tone. It was always the first colour she mixed on her palette. It was always the colour that seemed to stain her tattered aprons and oversized shirts. It was always the colour she used when painting portraits of Carol and Rindy.
Even though Carol had seen all of the paintings countless times before, she lost herself within them. She lost herself completely.
So, when Sandra walked through the gallery doors and made a beeline for Therese, Carol didn’t see her.
That being said, she was close enough to hear their conversation, like submerged voices in a dream.
‘You must be Therese!’ Sandra exclaimed. ‘Oh, your wife has told me so much about you.’
The word ‘wife’ snapped Carol out of her reverie. She glanced to her right, embarrassedly catching Therese’s wide-eyed, confused gaze.
It only lasted a split second, and then Therese looked back at Sandra and questioned, ‘Carol?’
‘Yes, your wife, Carol - I’m one of her clients.’
It was too late for Carol to intervene, too late for her to say anything that might make the situation less awkward. So she decided to play it cool, nonchalantly looking around the room with steady eyes as though it hadn’t bothered her at all.
In her periphery, she watched Therese and Sandra shake hands and go their separate ways.
Therese hadn’t corrected her use of ‘wife’.
‘Did Sandra just call Therese your wife?’ Abby muttered in her ear.
Carol blushed.
‘Mm. I think so.’
And then Abby laughed. ‘Christ. At least she didn’t say husband.’
Carol thought Therese might forget about it once the evening came to a close. But when they bundled themselves into Carol’s car, shutting out the chattering of their friends, and silence descended upon them, she could feel the tension. The thick, awkward tension that slotted between them like a wall of glass.
They kissed, as they always did before Carol started the engine, but Therese looked shy.
‘I’m so proud of you, darling,’ Carol said as she turned the key in the ignition. ‘You did wonderfully.’
She hoped talking might break the awkwardness.
‘Thank you, it…’ Therese’s voice faded, vanishing into the space separating them. She sighed and then smiled a little. ‘It’s a year today since I moved here. Since I met you.’
‘I know,’ Carol murmured, smiling herself. ‘How could I forget?’
They fell into a calm silence, broken only by the soothing rumble of the car engine.
The roads were clear and the stars were twinkling in the midnight blue sky. They had shone just as brightly a year ago. Carol placed a hand on Therese’s thigh, squeezing gently.
And then Therese inhaled a staggered breath and said, ‘The funniest thing happened this evening. One of your clients - Sandra, I think - referred to me as your wife.’
The car juddered slightly as Carol’s foot twitched on the clutch.
‘Did she?’ she asked, attempting desperately to level her voice.
‘Yeah.’
For an October night, it was incredibly hot, Carol thought. She retrieved the hand from Therese’s thigh and raised it to her throat, loosening one of the top buttons of her shirt. Therese’s eyes were on her the whole while, heavy and demanding.
And then, to Carol’s surprise, Therese laughed.
‘You’ve only just freed yourself from a marriage,’ she joked. ‘Sorry if it made you feel awkward, and I’m sorry I didn’t correct her, but she seemed so sure of it…’
Something snapped in Carol, quietly, like a stem of a dying flower. Therese thought she couldn’t possibly want to marry her. Therese worried the idea of it might make her feel awkward.
It was all the conversations about Hargess, she supposed. The conversations that had spanned months and months, since before they had initially gotten together.
Quietly, Carol choked out, ‘It didn’t make me feel awkward, darling.’
If only Therese knew how it really made her feel. If only she had the courage to talk openly about her foolish desires.
*************** ***************
The evening before her fortieth birthday, Carol had felt significantly low. Forty was such a terrible-sounding milestone, wasn't it? Forty made her feel awfully old. Forty made her strikingly aware of all the time she had wasted and the shrinking years ahead. It was completely ridiculous - and she hadn’t expected to feel so overwhelmed by it - but it was what it was. It was the experience of living in the society they lived in, of being a woman and ageing, of having a younger lover.
She had joked that she might not wake up the next day; if she didn’t wake up, forty couldn’t claim her, and she’d stay young enough for Therese to want indefinitely.
Well, it clearly hadn’t been a very funny joke. Therese had almost gotten angry at her for saying such a thing. Her eyes had flashed with a dark, reprimanding look, though she hadn’t commented on it. Instead, Therese promised to make the morning of her fortieth birthday the best morning of her life.
And she hadn’t been kidding. On the morning of November 2nd, Therese awoke Carol at an ungodly hour with a series of kisses to her throat. She was naked underneath the sheets and there was a devilish smile toying at her mouth.
When Therese’s lips kissed lower and lower, and her hands fumbled to untie the drawstring on Carol’s pyjama trousers, and her hair tickled Carol’s bare thighs, and her tongue lapped at her hungrily, Carol thought she might be right. It was definitely one of the better mornings of her life.
And the rest of the day had only improved from that point on.
Rindy had made her breakfast in bed, with Therese’s help, before they dropped her off at school. And on the way home they stopped off at the Black Cat Coffee cafe for coffee and cake, only to find that Abby and Genevieve had decorated the place with brightly coloured bunting and balloons.
With eyes that were filled to the brim with love, Therese gazed at her across the cafe table and showered her with the most infuriatingly thoughtful gifts. Gifts that only made Carol love her more, as if she could possibly love her any more. Gifts that made her want to marry her there and then, in the small cafe where they had met for the second time the previous November.
First, Therese handed her a series of presents she deemed ‘small’ - a lipstick in the shade of red Carol loved, a wool coat with a handsome lapel, a handbag that Therese had seen in a shop window and said reminded her of Carol.
Then, she slid a hand-bound book across the table, filled with forty handwritten memories of their time together, each one accompanied by photographs, sketches, or mementoes - ticket stubs, receipts, even an old car air freshener from one of their road trips to the Lake District.
Finally, there was a painting of Edinburgh castle with warm hues, encased in a mahogany frame that Carol recognised from Abby’s house. In the foreground, Therese had painted Carol, Rindy, and herself holding hands, looking up at the castle. The sky was perfectly clear, painted blue-grey.
‘I promised to paint you the castle again,’ Therese said, her eyes scanning the painting, ‘do you remember? I promised to paint it when I was happier…’
Carol blinked back tears, remembering the ruined painting of the castle Therese had attempted in January. They’d come such a long way since then. They’d righted all the wrongs, uprooted up all the bad memories, planting better ones in their place.
‘I remember. It’s beautiful, darling, thank y-’
‘That isn’t to say I haven’t been happy before today - I have. Of course I have. I just wanted to wait until your birthday to gift it to you. I actually painted it in August, I think.’
Carol smiled and pointed to the three of them in the painting. ‘There’s some life in this one,’ she observed.
‘Yes… Edinburgh isn’t Edinburgh - home isn’t home - without you both. I’m happiest when I’m with you: my family.’
It was the first time Therese had referred to them as a family.
It was the final straw for Carol.
Fuck taking it slowly, she thought, because they weren’t taking it slowly. And why should they? When she loved Therese and only Therese, and Therese loved her and only her.
She was forty, for Christ’s sake. And she had spent most of her forty years on planet Earth making all the wrong decisions, appeasing all the wrong people, hiding her true identity, repressing her desires, living lovelessly and stupidly and recklessly.
She was forty now, and she had lived enough of life to know herself well. She had made mistakes - too many to count - and she had learned from them all. She knew what she wanted, and she knew it as familiarly as the creases in the palms of her hands and the weight of her feet.
Carol wanted Therese.
To hell with it, she thought. She would do it. She would ask her.
When Therese and Genevieve left to find a cake knife in one of the back rooms, Carol turned to Abby with love-drunk eyes and a stupid smile and said, ‘I’m going to ask her to marry me.’
Abby’s eyes widened. She had almost dropped a mug of coffee.
‘N… Now?’ she stammered, her eyebrows creasing in confusion.
Carol shook her head slowly.
‘No. At some point. I don’t know yet. But I’m going to do it.'
Abby was too stunned to respond, or perhaps fearful of Therese and Genevieve overhearing their conversation. She simply nodded and gave Carol a funny look, somwhere between bewilderment and happiness.
The very next day, while Rindy was at school and Therese was busy painting in the studio, Carol found the small box of trinkets Therese had asked her to sell in August. Inside, right where she had left it, was Therese’s father’s broken gold chain. Carol held it in the palm of her hand, feeling its cold weight, and toyed with her lip.
Then she ran to the best jeweller in town and didn’t look back.
Therese, December 31st.
Therese applied the last stroke of detail - a greenish-white highlight to the woman’s glasses - and then took two steps back, scanning the canvas for any possible imperfections. While she was never fully satisfied with her pieces, particularly the portraits, at some point she had to stop.
Therese wiped her brush on a rag and then dropped it into a container of white spirit.
It could have used some more expressive brush strokes to add character, and the dark tones could have been warmer. But it was perfect in its own way, she thought. And the customer, one way or another, would be more than happy with the commission. They couldn’t possibly see the imperfections that she did because they lived outside of the process.
Therese made peace with it, as she did with every painting.
There was beauty in the unpredictability and happenstance of art. Despite how methodical it looked from an outsider’s perspective, the painting process was usually just one fluke after another: a series of snap judgements and decisions, choices that the artist may come to love or loathe. No matter how many errors were made, the finished product was always wonderful in its own way. And perhaps there was a bittersweet beauty in knowing that a painting was never really finished at all. One could always strip away the varnish and add more. Or, in some cases, start afresh.
Therese looked at the studio clock as she untied her apron. It was approaching 5pm and they’d have to leave soon. Hurriedly, she tidied up the space, locked the studio, and headed inside the house. With any luck, her face would be free of paint smudges and she’d only have to throw on a dress.
Before darting up the stairs, she peered into the living room, searching for her. It was dark, save for the blinking lights that hung in the window and draped around the Christmas tree. Unable to help herself, she leaned her head against the doorframe and smiled lazily at the sight of it.
Christmas had come and gone in a joyful blur, but the memories were still as fresh as snow in her mind. This year, there were no chainsaws, wobbling ladders or near-death experiences. Carol had stayed true to her word and picked a tree that actually fit in the living room, much to Therese’s relief. And they had managed to spend the entire day with Rindy, as Harge and his parents had agreed to have her over the New Year period.
Therese thought Carol might have forgotten their Christmas tradition - the one initiated by her father over twenty years ago - but she hadn’t. No. After eating their Christmas dinner, they had driven to Portobello beach with towels and flasks of hot chocolate in the boot. While there was no snow this year, the water had been just as bitingly cold. To save Rindy from the sting of it, Carol had lifted her up and placed her around her neck, careful to ensure that not even her toes skimmed the water.
Rindy, now eight years old and prone to misbehaving, had repaid Carol by sinking her underneath the crisp water. And Therese had thought their high-pitched screams and laughter could be heard throughout Edinburgh and further afield.
It had been such a joyous Christmas, she thought, the sort of Christmas she dreamt of as a lonely child. It had been wonderful… save for Carol’s strange aloofness.
Therese ran a hand through her hair and sighed.
There was something off about her - something so slight that no one else seemed to notice it. Genevieve and Dannie had called her mad, had thought that she was self-sabotaging herself and fearing the worst. But Therese knew Carol.
She’d first picked up on it in November, a day or two after Carol’s birthday. At the time, Therese had dismissed it as Carol’s silly age-related anxiety. But as the weeks passed and her strange behaviour only grew stranger, Therese wasn’t so sure.
Frustratingly, whenever she asked what was wrong, Carol always dismissed it with a smile and a kiss. Nothing’s wrong, darling , she would say. But it only made Therese worry more, for they had promised to be honest with each other, to never lie. And Carol wasn’t being honest.
It was like trying to solve a mystery with little to no clues. Lying awake at night, Therese had tried and tried to understand the cause of it, exhausting every single outlandish possibility, but there was… Nothing. It couldn’t have been Carol’s business, she reasoned, because her business was booming. It couldn’t have been Rindy either because Rindy was more than content at home and school. It most certainly wasn’t Harge because he had been nothing but pleasant to them in recent months.
And it surely couldn’t be herself, Therese thought exasperatedly, because, despite her aloofness, Carol still looked at her like she had put the moon in the sky. Carol still kissed her with enough passion to burn down a city. Carol still wanted to spend most of their time together, even on the days when Therese was in a foul mood.
So why was she acting so strangely?
It was driving her crazy - the restless fidgeting of Carol’s hands in the evenings, the apprehensive looks across the dinner table, the hushed phone calls to Abby out of her earshot.
Pushing herself away from the doorframe, Therese ascended the stairs and tried not to think about it anymore. It would only sour her mood. It would only taint their New Year’s Eve celebrations.
As she suspected, Carol was in their bedroom, applying the final touches of her makeup.
Therese caught her eyes in the vanity mirror and felt her heart stop. It was funny, really, how she still had such a profound response to her. Every look was like an electric charge, a bolt so strong it rewired her. She seemed to fall more in love with Carol every day.
‘You’re beautiful,’ she said, crossing the floor to stand behind Carol. She placed a hand on her shoulder and bent down to kiss the top of her head.
Carol smiled and, with a sinking stomach, Therese noticed a resurfacing hint of nervousness. The unexplained nervousness that had followed her around for weeks, passing between them like an unshakeable cold. The question she wanted to repeat for the thousandth time - What’s wrong, Carol? - lingered at the tip of her tongue, daring to spill out into the room. But she knew Carol wouldn’t answer it.
Knowing her so well was beginning to hurt these days.
Carol reached up a hand to hold hers.
‘Are you sure you want to head to Abby’s tonight, darling? We can stay here, just the two of us, if you’d prefer?’
Oh, the irony of it. The one year Abby had decided to throw a New Year’s Eve bash and Carol didn’t want to go. It was yet another indication that Carol was clearly going through something because Carol loved to socialise, didn’t she?
Truthfully, Therese would have rathered stayed at home. She would have rather lit the fire and listened to Ella Fitzgerald and read a book. In part, she knew, because the previous New Year’s had been so tumultuous, so exhausting, that she feared a repetition of it. She feared a rupture, an intrusion, a catastrophic event that might threaten her happiness.
But the thought of staying at home, alone, with Carol’s shifting gaze, didn’t seem like the best thing to do for either of them. So Therese had told Abby they would come to the party.
‘Are you sure?’ Abby asked, wiping a plate with a tea towel.
Perhaps there was something in the water, Therese thought, because why on earth would Abby ask her if she was sure ? Of course she was sure she wanted to come. Why else would she express an interest?
Before she could respond, Abby sent Genevieve a quick, uncertain glance.
And Therese almost face-planted the counter. Was she going mad?
‘I think it’d do Carol good,’ she drawled, flitting her eyes between Abby and Genevieve, as though waiting for one of them to slip up and say this had all been a silly prank. ‘I get the feeling she needs cheering up.’
Abby laughed and flicked her hand dismissively. ‘Oh, don’t be silly. I think she’s just tired from work.’
Therese balled her fists tightly, feeling the sting of her fingernails on her palms.
‘I don’t think that’s it.’
Abby slowly put down the plate and shot her a fixed smile. ‘I think Carol would like to spend the day with you alone. But… let’s see, hm?’
Slowly, Abby’s lips faltered, and then she pulled out her phone and rushed into the kitchen, leaving Therese and Genevieve alone by the coffee machine.
Genevieve opened her mouth to speak, but was disturbed by the sound of Abby squawking down the phone behind the door. They couldn’t quite make out the words, but Therese knew in her gut that Carol was on the end of the line. Abby wouldn’t talk like that with anyone else.
‘What the hell is going on?’ Therese groaned, bumping her forehead against the wall.
Genevieve patted her shoulder.
‘I dunno… But don’t worry, Belivet. I have a feeling New Year’s Eve is going to be engagingly good,’ Genevieve said, smiling to herself.
Therese withdrew her hand from Carol’s shoulder and inhaled a deep breath.
‘If you don’t want to go, we won’t go,’ she said quietly and with some resignation.
She must have sounded upset, for Carol’s eyes splintered like broken glass and her eyebrows flinched. It only made Therese feel sadder, to know that she had hurt her.
She turned to open the wardrobe on the opposite side of the room, her back to Carol, and closed her eyes.
It had been nine months since her return to Edinburgh and in that time she hadn’t once doubted Carol - not for a second. But this unending shift in Carol’s behaviour was so jarring, so inexplicable, that Therese’s stomach couldn’t help but twist in that uncomfortable way again. With every confusing interaction, she worried more - worried about her heart and what Carol might do to it.
This time, there was more to break. They lived together as a family, they had built a happy and stable life together… If Carol were to knock it all down, she might never recover.
After all that they had been through, Therese really didn’t want to start another New Year feeling so uncertain, so fragile.
A pair of arms wrapped around her waist. She leaned back into Carol, her eyes still closed.
‘I’m sorry. Of course we’ll go, darling,’ Carol murmured, planting kisses on the back of her neck.
Her voice was so gentle, so careful, so full of love. Her kisses were soft and warm. They weren’t the words or kisses of a woman who wanted to end things, who was about to break her heart. Quite the opposite. But that look in her eyes, which replayed in Therese’s mind over and over again, seemed to convey something else. Nervousness, anxiety, apprehension… And she couldn’t help but ask herself, Does Carol love me or fear me?
Therese turned in Carol’s arms and looked at her searchingly.
She was done questioning it.
‘I want you to tell me now,’ she said softly. ‘Whatever it is, tell me.’
Carol’s eyes glazed over with that signature defensive look - that impenetrable wall she had perfected so well over the years.
‘I-’
Therese held up her hand.
‘If you say there’s nothing wrong one more time, Carol, I swear to god I’ll lose my mind.’
Carol closed her mouth and glanced away for a moment.
When she returned her gaze, she asked, ‘Can I tell you later? Once you’re dressed?’
‘Once I’m… dressed?’
Carol wet her lower lip.
‘Yes, I want to take you somewhere.’
It was enough to give her a migraine. Nothing was making any sense anymore. And didn’t Carol want to stay at home anyway?
‘Where?’
‘Just… somewhere.’
Just somewhere.
Therese stepped back, pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. ‘I feel like the only place I need to go right now is a psychiatric ward. Maybe it’s the paint fumes or Rindy’s weird storybooks… I feel like everyone’s acting so strangely but me.’
A hand smoothed her cheek, warm and gentle, and the scent of Carol’s spicy perfume wound its way into her nostrils, stirring something within her. Her eyes fluttered shut as she remembered the previous New Year’s Eve - holding Carol tenderly in the garden, their friends out of sight. Ella Fitzgerald had played as they counted down to midnight. And she had been so intensely in love, so painfully at the mercy of Carol. She still was; she would always be.
A tear rolled down her cheek.
And then Carol made a strange, pained noise as though she couldn’t bear the sight of it.
‘I’ve been atrocious, haven’t I?’ Carol murmured, her thumb now swiping away Therese’s tear. ‘It hasn’t been intentional… It’s only that I’m nervous, darling.’
‘Why?’ she croaked out, opening her eyes again. ‘Why on earth are you nervous?’
There was a beat of silence.
‘Because I love you more than anything, Therese, and sometimes it’s quite frightening to love a person so much…’ Carol’s breath hitched and then she withdrew her hand. ‘I really have been trying to rein it in, to stay put together, but it clearly hasn’t worked because, well, now you’re in tears… And I don’t want to upset you. You know I hate it when I upset you. So… I’ll tell you now. Here.’
Carol retrieved her coat from the bed and pulled something out of the pocket, hiding it behind her back.
Therese watched her carefully, following every slight movement, her breathing slow.
‘I had it all planned out - loosely. I was going to take you up to Arthur’s Seat before midnight so we could watch the fireworks over the city. But then you wanted to go to Abby’s party and, well… I didn’t want to do this in front of other people. Abby tried to put you off the idea but… Anyway.’
Carol approached her tentatively, each step increasing the tension, stretching out time like a tightly wound spring. And then Carol reached her hand out in front of her to reveal a small, green velvet box. Without a word, she opened it with her other hand and held it up for Therese to see.
Inside lay a gold ring, set with a hexagonal blue-grey aquamarine and a few small diamonds on either side. It was stunning.
‘It’s- that’s…’ Therese stammered, unable to find the right words because she still didn’t understand what on earth was going on.
It was a ring. Carol had bought her a ring. A ring that looked strikingly like an engagement ring.
But Carol wouldn’t… Carol surely didn’t want to… Therese’s mind seemed to cut out, as though a fuse had blown somewhere within. She hardened her gaze, trying to extract meaning from the blue stone and glimmering gold.
And it would be a lie to say she hadn’t fantasised about it, because she had. She had fantasised about it in bed, gazing into Carol’s eyes before they kissed. She had fantasised about it in the bathtub, staring at the patterns in the bathroom tiles. She had fantasised about it in the cafe and the studio, the garden and the kitchen… And it would be a lie to say she hadn’t wanted it. She had wanted it quietly, almost every time she looked at Carol’s ring finger. She had wanted it when Carol had carried the last of her belongings into their house on her moving day, a goonish smile plastered on her face. She had wanted it with every ring of a church bell reverberating through the old Edinburgh streets. She had wanted it whenever Carol spoke of their future together, of all the trips they would go on to New York City and Paris, of all the days they would spend with Rindy.
But Carol had always seemed so against marriage, so set on renouncing the concept for good; and Therese hadn’t blamed her, not after all that had happened with Hargess.
So she quelled the fantasies. She never brought the subject up. And, besides, they had only known each other for fourteen months. Wasn’t it too soon? Was Carol sure? Had she thought it through?
Maybe she really was going mad, Therese thought.
Perhaps it was just a ring. A beautiful ring that happened to look like an engagement ring. And perhaps Carol had been acting so strangely because she was uncertain about the sizing of it or the colour of the stone.
The silence seemed never-ending. And Therese didn’t dare assume, one way or another, what the ring meant.
She lifted her eyes to meet Carol’s gaze. There were tears swimming atop her lower eyelid.
It couldn’t just be a ring.
They held the wavering eye contact for what felt like minutes, until Carol eventually whispered a broken, ‘Marry me?’
The words split her in two. Her heart was ablaze.
Suddenly, Therese was crying again.
‘I know we’re perfectly happy as we are, and I know you must think I’m crazy for asking so soon,’ Carol continued, talking so quickly Therese could hardly keep up. ‘But I love you so permanently, so eternally . And I want to be with you in that way, darling. I never wanted it before - not with Harge or anyone else - I never really understood it. But I do now, with you, you know? I don’t want to call you my girlfriend or my partner, I don’t want Rindy to call you Rex forever - though she probably will, won’t she? I don’t want you to feel like a temporary thing or an add-on to my life. You’re more than that.’
Carol looked like she might crumble, and suddenly it all made sense - the nervous glances and suspicious phone calls to Abby, their friends’ terrible gaslighting, Carol’s secret that Therese now realised had to remain a secret. How could she be mad at any of that?
Therese wanted to pull her close and tell Carol she was stupid for worrying, but her feet were frozen and her throat was dry and her brain was incapable of stringing together a single coherent thought.
Somehow, she managed to utter, ‘It’s the colour of your eyes.’
Carol tilted her head quizzically.
‘The ring,’ she explained, pointing at the box in Carol’s trembling hand. ‘The stone. It’s the exact colour of your eyes.’
Carol glanced down at the ring as if seeing it for the first time. And then her eyebrows lifted ever so slightly, creasing her forehead, and she smiled.
‘I hadn’t noticed. I chose it because you seem to use that colour in every painting.’
Therese returned her smile, endeared by Carol’s obliviousness.
‘Yes, I use it because it’s the colour of your eyes,’ she said, laughing in between her tears. ‘And I love the colour of your eyes.’
Carol straightened up, now more confident. She took the ring out of its box and turned it around in her fingers, admiring the gold as it glinted underneath the warm ceiling light. The gold looked old and familiar, as though Therese had held it before, had clutched it in the palms of her hands and felt something from it.
‘I should also say… The gold is from your father’s chain, the one you asked me to sell on. I hope it’s alright that I kept it, but I just knew I had to. The jeweller smelted it down, though was somehow able to retain the maker’s mark.’
When Carol’s eyes glanced up, catching Therese’s, they flashed with nervous panic.
‘Oh, darling, you’re crying again. Was it the wrong thing to-’
Therese grabbed her waist and pulled her in, kissing her fiercely, not caring that her face was damp with tears and Carol had only just finished her makeup.
‘No! It’s wonderful, it’s…’ The words caught in her throat.
‘Are you sure?’
‘It’s perfect… And I love you. And I’m so stupidly happy , but mostly relieved. For weeks, I’ve been thinking you were going to end things, o-or say or do something terrible. You don’t need to worry, or think that I don’t want this… I love you .’
Carol shoulders sank and she breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Okay.’
And then Therese looked down at the ring and back up again, smiling playfully. ‘Are you going to put it on my finger or not?’
Carol waited for a beat.
‘I would, but you haven’t said yes yet,’ she teased.
Hadn’t she?
Perhaps she had only said it with her eyes.
‘Oh… Well, yes. Yes,’ she said, her smile growing. 'I'll marry you.'
When Carol slipped the ring onto her finger, it fit perfectly. And when Carol looked at her, the trepidation had vanished, leaving only love in its wake. And when they kissed, it was somehow better than every kiss that had come before it. And when Therese watched the fireworks bloom over Edinburgh that night, surrounded by her friends, wrapped in Carol's loving arms, she felt them in her chest. And she knew that it was only the beginning of something wonderful.