Hoff and Hols, a Romance Ch. 08

My memories of the next day or so after Papa's death are jumbled. The ambulance and Dr Sturgess arrived simultaneously; I remember the Doctor holding my hand; I remember getting into the ambulance with Papa, and the Doctor telling me he'd follow on. When we got there, the doctors confirmed the obvious; Papa was dead. I had expected tears; they did not come. I was numb. I remember Mama turning up and taking me home. I texted AK. An hour later, just at the end of Boxing Day, she said she was going to come to see me the next day. That enabled me to fall asleep without a sense of foreboding.

Love, Shakespeare says, is not love if it alters when alteration is found; AK's love for me was real love. That, so close to Christmas, she chose to drive two hundred and fifty miles to come to see me in my hour of need made me feel so grateful - and honoured to have her love. She also helped with Mama. The latter liked AK, and her presence actually made life easier.

AK arrived just before noon. Always glad to see her, I was even happier than usual. She folded me into her arms and just hugged me until I felt better. As she stoked my hair and comforted me, some of the pain seemed to drain away.

AK went with Mama into town to see the undertakers, and I phoned Mother Emma to tell her the bad news. She comforted me too - and offered to come and take the funeral if she could. We managed to time it so she could.

I have no idea what supper alone with my Mama would have been like - except it would have been an ordeal AK made it lighter, talking with Mama about sport and about the police and politics. Yes, I reflected, Mama was right about one thing, AK would have made a better daughter for her. After supper Mama said she was going over to see Lord Howard, which gave me a chance to fill AK in on what had been happening.

"She said what?" That was said at least four times by AK as I recounted what Mama had said.

"So if she and her fancy man are shacking up, where are you going?"

"No idea. I have not lived here except in the holidays, and the Rectory belongs to the Church anyway."

AK looked at me.

"Seriously, Pix, something has to be arranged."

"It's okay," I said, still really on autopilot. I was going to move out of Coll next academic year anyway, so I will be fine."

"Look, love, if all else fails, I have a spare room, and, well I was going to tell you this on New Year's Eve, but you may as well hear it first - Cris and I are going to get married next Easter - after which I may even let the house out - so if you need it?"

Golly, I thought!

"Oh AK!!! What good news!"

I threw my arms around her and hugged her tight. Looking up, I could see her eyes shining.

"I am delighted, but sorry at the same time," she said to my surprise.

"Well I am just over the moon, my love, I could do with some positive news. Why sorry?"

"Because, my lovely and loving Squirt, it means I should start being faithful to Cris, and I do so adore making love with you."

Bless her! She looked sad. I was not having that.

"Now look you, AK Hols, you are marrying a man who loves you and whom, I hope, you love. Fucking your little girlfriend was and is fine until you make that commitment - but be sure my love, there is no way I'd do anything to threaten your happiness with Cris!"

She hugged me tight into those wonderful breasts I knew so well. Well, it occurred to me, she was not married yet!

If AK's presence was a blessing, Mother Emma's arrival was a veritable Godsend.

Mama did not even mount a pretence of being in mourning, and had no time for my tears. Fortunately she was too busy being what I called a "professional widow" to bother with me at all. It was wonderful to have AK there, but I needed some spiritual help, and Mother Emma gave that to me without stint

By "professional widow", I mean Mama was accepting all the condolences and sympathy, but doing next to nothing. She was happy to leave everything to the undertaker, who would simply have done a funeral at the crematorium. I knew Papa wanted to be buried in the graveyard of the Church he had served for the last fifteen years and made sure his wish was granted. Mother Emma and I arranged the service and got the service sheets printed, and did the obituary for the "Church Times", Mama? She was the "professional widow."

AK had to go back north for New Year's Eve as she and Cris were holding a party to announce their engagement. I thought I was going to be spending the evening alone, not much minding. Mama, of course, had a party to go to. Then, at four o'clock I heard a car coming up the drive. I looked out of the window, and it was Emma's car.

Delighted to see her, I opened the door.

"I checked with your mother, and am proposing myself as a guest until the funeral - then I am taking you back to Oxford, young lady."

I got her a sherry, and she helped me make supper, and in the end, we had our own little party, phoning AK just after midnight to congratulate her and Cris.

Emma's presence made everything easier, and on New Year's Day, over breakfast she told me she had a plan to deal with my need for accommodation.

"Have you heard of Lady Ffitch?"

"The widow of the late Archbishop Ffitch?"

"None other. She is in her eighties and her mobility is not what it might be. She faces having to go into a home, which she dreads, but there is another possibility - which is where you might come in?"

I knew of Lady Ffitch, indeed I had seen her at least once at St Ebbs, so I knew she lived locally.

"One way forward would be for her to sell the London home and use the house in North Parade which she uses of a week-end only at the moment. But to do that would require someone else there."

"But" I protested, "I am not a nurse."

"She does not need a nurse, Pixie, she needs a companion, and I think you might make rather a nice Lady's companion - you have a nineteenth century air about you!"

I smiled, taking it as it was meant - a compliment.

"Well, I can see that. What would the arrangement be?"

"If you are amenable, I will introduce you to her ladyship. If she takes to you, then at Easter you would move into the house of North Parade. Your job would be to keep her company, make sure she is safe and looked after if anything happens. How does that sound?"

"Sounds fine," I said.

"Typical you Pixie!"

"What is, Emma?"

"You have not asked about the financial side. Well, the deal would be this. You would live there free of charge in return for your duties, plus an allowance to help out. How would that suit?"

"Golly! So instead of paying for my room, I get paid to have one? I think that might suit me very well. But why me?"

"Well, it may not be you, of course, but you are a good Christian girl, you are not the type to have noisy parties or take boyfriends back - and you are reliable and nice."

I blushed, but glowed with pride.

"Could you tell my Mama, Emma?"

"Darling," she said (and I noticed the slip) "I doubt anyone has ever been able to tell your Mama anything she did not want to hear!"

I gave Emma a hug. It was just so, so kind of her, and so typical.

We had set the funeral for 8 January, and the weather was unusually kind to us. It was one of those blustery winter days when the sun hung low with clouds above it, giving the impression that it was shining just for us.

I shivered as I got out of the car, as the wind whipped around the bottom of my coat. I had come with Emma, leaving Mama to hog the "family" car. She received the usual condolences, and I went with Emma to robe up.

It was a mark of the love and respect in which Papa had been held that the Church was full, everyone from Lord Howard to the lady who cleaned the Rectory had turned out to pay their respects.

Emma, who took the service, did it, as Papa had wanted, in the old Prayer Book style, and I gave one of the Readings, choosing one of his favourites from Revelations 21:1-7, and as I began, my voice almost cracked:

"Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more..."

but I kept going, although by the end of the second paragraph tears were streaming down my face:

"God himself will be with them; he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away."

Then I felt Him with me, it was as though I could see Papa urging me on, and remembering his last words on this earth, I resolved to make him proud of his girl.

As I finished, I looked at Mother Emma, who smiled back. I looked to the front where AK was sitting with Cris, tears streaming down her face. I knew I had done as he would have wanted. Only Mama looked unmoved.

Emma gave an encomium, to which I, and many others, had contributed. It was fitting. The pain would pass; his life had made a difference. I needed to brace myself and follow him.

As we stood by the grave for the interment, AK came to me, looking beautiful in black.

"Pix, you were so good, your Papa would have been so, so proud, and I am so glad to be your friend. Wasn't she good, Cris?"

Cris, tall and handsome in a dark black suit with waistcoat and pocket watch, came and did something her never had; he hugged me.

"Pixie, you're the best. I knew AK was the one when I saw the quality of her best friend!"

All nonsense, of course, but balm in Gilead.

After the funeral we went back to the Rectory where the ladies of the Parish had arranged fine banquet. So many people told me how proud Papa was of me, and I realised something I had not consciously known, that he talked about me to others in the same way he talked about me to myself.

As proceedings came to an end, I thanked the ladies, despairing that Mama would. Lord Howard came over to say that she was tired, and he was taking her back to his house.

"She needs understanding and care, Pixie."

I looked at him.

"I understand her, Lord Howard. I am glad you care. I can't, not anymore."

And with that I turned to AK and Cris, who wanted to say their farewells.

Back at the Rectory, Emma and I rested - neither of us needed a thing to eat.

As I got ready for bed, Emma asked me to sit down as she had something to say.

"Pixie, you noticed, I know you did, that I called you darling."

Blushing, I admitted I had.

"Well, I don't recant it. But I can't go back to Oxford with you leaving that hanging. At this point we cannot have a sexual relationship, even assuming you want one with an older woman, it would be wrong. It would be wrong because I am one of your tutors, and it would be wrong because the Church does not recognise same-sex love as being without sin. I have been celibate for some time. But that does not mean I cannot love you."

I looked at her as she sat there in Papa's old armchair. He had died in that chair. And now...!

Her shoulder-length brown hair was tousled by the wind, and she had not brushed it back into place. Her grey eyes were lidded with tiredness, and I could sense the effort this was taking.

"Emma," I interrupted, "the short answer is the same as the long one, not only would I love a relationship with you, but we have one. It is not - yet - sexual. I have no idea whether my desire, which is that it should be, will be fulfilled. I do know, however, that I would never do anything to threaten either your position as tutor at Coll, or you vocation. If all I have to do to achieve that is not have sex with you - yes, reluctantly, I can pay that price!"

Emma looked shocked.

"Think carefully, Pixie. I am nearly twenty years older than you. You can find another AK, you are far cuter than you realise, don't tie yourself to someone who can't be fully yours."

My heart ached to see the strained look on her face. I came and sat on the floor next to her, resting my head on her lap. As her hand stroked my hair, I knew. I did not quite know, then, what it was I knew, but something significant had occurred.

"Emma," I said, "I can't be with AK because she is going to be faithful according to her marriage vows, and I respect that - as she does. It does not mean we have stopped loving each other. Whoever I end up with is always going to have to accept that I love AK. Cris, being a man, does not feel threatened by a woman. I am gayer than the Gay Gordons, and if I have a female partner, she may feel threatened - so let's give this, whatever this is, a go. Celibate, loving friendship has a lot to be said for it."

She pulled me up to sit on her lap. I snuggled into her breasts. And there I still was when suddenly I felt cold. The fire had died. The grandfather clock showed it was just before one in the morning. I looked at Emma. She seemed perfectly at peace. She, too, stirred and stoked my hair.

"Bed, darling?"

"Bed, darling!"

We stripped to our underwear, and I snuggled in next to her. She felt so good. But I was good. It was a test - and I liked passing tests.

We drove back to Oxford later that morning, still in a daze. Emma asked me over breakfast whether I had changed my mind, and snuggling into her, I told her not to be silly.

That evening we both went to supper at Lady Ffitch's house.

Let in by the maid, we were shown into the Drawing Room. Lady Ffitch was a striking figure.

Tall, towards the gaunt side of things, her shock of white hair gave the impression almost of being a halo. Her features were sharp, but mobile, her bright blue eyes shone with life.

"Pardon my not rising, " she excused herself, "you, young lady must be Pixie. Interesting name. You are Hector's girl, yes?"

Emma had prepped me that her ladyship would cut straight to the chase.

"I am, your ladyship, and delighted to make your acquaintance."

"We shall see about that, m'dear. Call me Kate, all that 'your ladyship' stuff only came when Donald became Archbishop of York. So, why does a young thing like you want to babysit an old crone like me? Free accommodation? Hector was not a poor man?"

I would come to recognised this as typical of Kate's methods of conversation. She would cut to the heart of the matter and begin by eliminating options she thought unlikely, the quicker to get where she wanted to be. It was as though she has no time to waste.

Smiling at Emma, I said:

"Mother Emma got it in one when she said that she thought the role of Lady's Companion would suit me as it has about it a nineteenth century air; I do like the nineteenth century, despite its attitude to women."

Kate clapped her hands.

"Oh I DO like that! Oh YES! Emma, you have found me my own Jane Eyre?"

Emma laughed.

"Oh I can see you two will get on well. Just don't get her onto Newman."

"Why ever not? I like Newman."

"I know," she replied, "but Pixie is firmly of the view that he was wrong to convert!"

"Oh is she now? Well young lady, we shall have fun. Sherry?"

Kate rang the bell, and the maid brought in a bottle of sherry with three glasses.

"So, Pixie, why the name? Tell me all about yourself."

So, until the maid called us for supper, and then over supper, I explained that my Papa had called me his little pixie for as long as I could recall, and that given my lack of stature, the name had stuck. She asked about my career plans, and I was suitably vague.

Then she and Kate talked about mutual acquaintances in the Church, careful to bring me in, as though I had anything to offer; it was kind of them.

Over cheese and biscuits, Kate put a question which had been hovering about all evening.

"So, if you came, how can I be sure there would be no noisy boyfriends - and don't tell me you aren't pretty enough to have them. I know men!"

Well, there was nothing for it, this was either where it all went pear-shaped, or it worked.

"Thank you for the compliment, your..., Kate. I am not attracted to men."

Looking straight at me, her back ramrod straight, she asked:

"Are you a lesbian?"

"I am, but a celibate one."

"That is an interesting state. Why celibate?

"Because I cannot be with the woman, I love without harming her marriage."

(Well, as I told Kate later, she was married to Christ and the Church, so it was as true of her as it was of AK).

"That is noble, Pixie. When can you start? I am planning to move here permanently after Easter. Emma, do you want to show her the basement flat?"

To describe it as a "flat" was something of a euphemism. It was huge. Emma explained that it had been Lord Ffitch's "bolt hole" whenever he needed to be away from the pressures of the job, and, since his death, it had been let out to a variety of young lecturers. It felt palatial.

And that was that I was hired.

Of course, the first person I told was AK.

"Well, Squirt, I know you like older women, but an eighty-year-old is going it, you little perv!"

"It's not like that, as you well know!"

We giggled our way through it - and then I told her.

"But there is a lover, AK, and she is older than me."

"Oh, that must be Emma!"

"You knew!"

"Squirt, I love you, and the way you and Emma worked together reminded me of me and Cris. I am happy. Are there problems because she is your tutor?"

I explained the celibacy thing, which had AK snort-laughing.

"So what are you going to do when you get horny? Hey, remember that Garfunkel and Oates song we did at the final concert? You can take it in the arse and God won't know!"

We were Skyping, and I could see her laughing.

"I don't think that would quite work for lesbians, darling, though you and Cris must be long beyond it?"

"Maybe not, Squirt, but it's a serious question. What are you going to do when you are horny, like now?"

"AK!"

"Oh don't give me that you randy little Squirt, I can almost smell you from here. Go on deny it?"

"Not denying or confirming, AK!"

"Pull your skirt up and put your hand inside your knickers and tell me you are not wet for me?"

I felt a thrill pass through me.

"Do it!"

AK was right, I was feeling aroused, or "horny" as she liked to call it, in her earthy, sexy way.

"Show me your finger, Squirt!"

I removed it from my swollen pussy and showed it to AK.

"Suck it for me! Love your taste, Squirt."

Blushing, I did what AK suggested, aroused ever more by the way that her hand had found its way into her knickers as she rucked up her skirt. She sucked her own finger.

"Remember what that tastes like, Squirt?"

Oh golly, did I! I felt a sudden spasm to my core.

The look on AK's face as she took her top off to reveal a black lace, half cup bra which struggled to contain her girls, made my nipples ache and my clit tingle.

"You like these, Squirt, big girl tits, not like your titlets!"

She slipped the straps down and began to lift her breasts out; her swollen, dark pink nipples seemed to ache for my lips, which longer for them.

As she pinched her nipples with one hand and masturbated with the other, I could hear how wet she was. I was conscious of my own state of advanced lubrication; glad I was on a wooden chair, I thought.

"Rub that clit, I want you to squirt for me, Squirt," AK said, her voice husky with passion. "I want you, Pix, fuck I want you on all fours, ass up...."

It was too much for her - and me, and we came together!

"Fuck, but that was hot, Squirt! Did you?"

"Well, it's a mess here, and next time you want to do this, I will have a towel handy!" I said in response.

"We could snuggle now," she added, "I love that as much as you do. Great as Cris is, he tends to fall asleep after he cums!'

"That is because you exhaust him, darling!"

AK smiled.

We chatted as we cleaned up. Then that curious beep after we had said our farewells. The night suddenly seemed empty.