Hoff and Hols, a Romance Ch. 15

You suck AK and I spent that night together. I even got up to bring Issy for her feed, which made us both giggle.

It felt comforting. I asked her what I should have asked her the night before, which was how Keith would react.

"Oh, he'll probably want to watch next time, Squirt! He knows about Chloe and Colin. He's the most non-judgmental bloke I ever met - which is just as well given he is marrying me. Anyway, you're gay, so I don't consider it cheating anyway!"

I just loved AK's logic. It worked so well - for her!

I made us all breakfast, and Lady F commented, knowingly, that I seemed more cheerful.

AK laughed.

"Ah, I see. The old firm back in action?" She smiled approvingly.

"You know, Squirt," AK said, "I don't know why you never took advantage of the 'baby dyke' fan club!"

"Just DON'T!" I told her.

The 'Baby Dyke' fan club was one of the odder by-products of the summer's media storm.

The "St Dyke's" site was never taken down, but some lesbians, taking the term used about me there, and in The Sun, had set up a fan club!

AK thought it hilarious and had taken to reading me some of the posts, especially anything she considered "juicy".

I was embarrassed and a little mortified. I had to admit some of them were jolly imaginative, and there were times when I responded to AK by saying:

"Is that actually physically possible?"

In addition to the 'fan club', I was also profiled in Gay-orientated publications. It was an interesting experience. It was lovely to have sympathetic journalists to work with, but it was clear that they had no understanding of the Church or its position.

There were times, I will admit, as I ached for Emma, that I was pretty cross with the Church myself. I understood why she could not write. Footy, to whom she did write, explained that she had been told that the best way forward was simply to break off all contact with me. I understood; it was just my heart which didn't; it broke. And truth to tell, that was why I didn't want another woman. AK was different, she was not "another woman", she was my precious "Hols" and knew me better than anyone else. I felt so violated by what had happened that the idea of opening myself up to anyone else was anathema.

"It's fine, Squirt!" AK said to me the Saturday after our wander down memory lane.

"What is?"

"I told Keith, and he's just got back. Agrees with me, it's not cheating!"

I grinned at her. To be honest, I was not sure I agreed, but it was their relationship, and as Keith told me at Christmas, if it was (and it was) a choice between AK being with me or being with Chloe and her boyfriend, he knew which he preferred. It felt, I told AK, good to have his approval.

AK and I would sleep together a couple of times a week, and I fell into the habit of getting Issy for her feeds. One morning, after the early feed, AK looked at me.

"You have no idea how horny that makes me sometimes!"

"What? Breast-feeding? You perv!"

"Come here, let me show you!"

As she pulled me to her, she also pushed my nightie up, and, lying me down, she began to lick my nipples. Because of the size of my breasts (or was that lack of size?) they tended to get little attention, but AK's licking, and sucking, got me worked up. I moaned and whimpered. It felt as though my nipples wanted to burst.

AK looked up at me.

"And now imagine milk coming through when you feel like that!"

"I take the perv allegation back - just keep sucking!"

AK did just that. As she pulse sucked my nipples, one after the other, I felt myself flood. AK's hand took care of that by touching me, so my wetness was massaged into my aching clit. The ecstasy was intense. As I ground myself on her fingers, she sucked my nipples harder.

"Sod it!" She exclaimed, and, moving so that her pussy was above my face, she manoeuvred us into her favourite position.

I loved the taste of her. But she was teasing me wonderfully by letting her breasts brush against mine; our nipples rubbing as hers swayed. Skilfully, she parted my lips so that she could lick and flick, as I was doing to her. Rocking up and down, we licked and sucked and flicked. I gripped her arse tight, wanting to push her into my face so I could get all her nectar. And as we came, it was as though the flood gates had opened. She collapsed on me, almost suffocating me.

Once we had recovered our breath, AK pulled me to her.

"You are the best cunt-muncher Squirt!"

"You ain't too bad yourself. And I take it back about the feeding - I can't begin to imagine how it feels when something actually does come out of your nipples."

She giggled.

"Oh, it's quite a thing, Squirt. I know several friends at Mums and babies who rub themselves to orgasm after, or even while feeding."

Well, I thought, one learned something every day!

Our lives settled down into a good rhythm that final Michaelmas term as an undergraduate. The academic work went even better than Footy had expected. I loved having her as my teacher. She was the most demanding, stretching and challenging of tutors. She drew the best out of me. I loved being challenged, and the harder she pushed me, the more I enjoyed it.

Lady F, who celebrated her eight-second birthday in style, was in fine form, and continued to get a fresh lease of life from "her girls" as she called us.

With Keith away until Christmas leave, AK and I took to spending even more nights together.

But inside, well, there was an ache about which I could do nothing but pray. I knew it was unreasonable of me to expect to hear from Emma, but I hated the fact I never did. There was a void where once there had been a living, beating heart.

With Emma gone, I went to St Ebbs rather than St Mike's. People there knew me, and they were welcoming. It was after my last tutorial that I decided to go into the cathedral, just in time for Evensong.

One of the things about St Mary's, as with any Cathedral, is the anonymity it affords. As I listened to the familiar words of the service, it was as though I heard my father's voice. What, I wondered, would he have made of all of it? It was, it struck me, odd (or was it?) that throughout the events of the summer, my mother had not once got in touch.

After the Dismissal, I sat for a while with my thoughts amidst the encircling gloom. After a final prayer, I crossed myself and went to light a candle or two for the memory of my father - and my lost love. Having done that, I turned to head back to Radcliffe Square.

"Pixie!"

I turned - and saw Sheila Barber, my father's former lover.

"Oh, Sheila!"

"I was on my way to find you but stopped in here. Hector always loved Evensong."

"He did, and oddly, I was just thinking of that, and him, and you turn up. What can I do for you?"

"Do you mind if we grab a coffee? I can go back to yours if you like. It won't take long; but it matters."

So, I took her to Blackwell's where we could be surrounded by books - and have a nice coffee; close to heaven in my view.

As we sat with our coffees, taking our coats off, I wondered, with a heavy heart, what she wanted.

"Have you done anything about your legacy, Pixie? You are twenty-one now."

"Oddly, after all that happened in the summer, I decided not to celebrate my birthday. But no, I have done zilch about the legacy. Why do you ask?"

"Well, you know your mother is getting married soon?"

"No, news to me!"

"Oh, it's been in the papers since Lord Granville was appointed Lord Chancellor."

"Again, oddly," I said, "I have tended to avoid the press, and politics disinterests me to the point of boredom."

"You mean she has not been in touch at all?"

"I mean just that. Sheila, I know your intentions are the best, but can we not go here? It is still raw."

"Pixie, I don't think I told you that I am a lawyer. If you authorise me to act for you, I can. You can't let her just run off with money your grandparents meant for you. You are their only heir."

"You, you would do that? Act for me? I wouldn't have to get involved?" I stammered, with relief.

"I would. Pixie, once she gets remarried, especially to him, it will get more difficult to unravel where your money is. Your father wanted you to have that money. He and your grandparents were the ones who made sure you came into the world."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, they threatened to cut your mother off entirely if she had an abortion. Once she agreed to have you, they changed their will to leave most of their estate to her, but with a portion reserved for you. Hector often said that where morality had failed to persuade your mother, Mammon worked every time. I know," she said, holding my hand, "that you'd rather not deal with it, but I think you owe it to him and to them."

"Why on earth didn't you tell me?"

Holding my hand, she looked at me:

"I had hoped I would not have to. But you are as bad as Hector, money is not your thing!"

"Well," I said, "I thought we had none."

"Oh," she replied, "there was for what she wanted."

I agreed with Sheila that she could act for me.

Walking back through the pre-Christmas bustle of the High, I pondered my situation.

The hiatus of the vacation allowed room for wounds, old and new, to open.

I thought back two years to my papa's death, and then to Issy's birth, which recalled Cris's death. So much death! It brought home to me how much AK must have suffered and made me love her even more intensely. She was such a tough person. And now, in the new year, she would need to make decisions: was she going to go back to work? When were she and Keith going to get married? Then there was Emma and myself.

In my (many) gloomy moments, it seemed to me as though in losing her, I had lost too much. I loved her, still loved her, so much; but that could not be. I had wanted to try my vocation in the Church; but it was plain that I was "damaged goods" as one person had put it to me. The chance of my being accepted for ordination had a minus sign in front of it. Emma, my Emma! How happy we had been! I felt bereft.

AK, seeing how sad I looked, asked what was up? I told her about Sheila. Both she and Lady F fully approved.

A few days later I got a call on my phone from a number I did not recognise. I clicked accept.

"Pixie. This is your mother. What are you playing at?"

"Hello, Mama, and how are you too?"

"Cut it out. What's this lawyer about? Why not ask me direct?"

"Because, Mama dearest, you never mentioned anything about it to me."

"Did I not? How did you know then?"

"Papa mentioned it to me," I lied fluently. I was not going to get Sheila into trouble.

"Look, Pixie, Gran and I will be in London on Saturday, come and have lunch with us at the Savoy. I think we can sort this. I'll text you the time."

Without even asking whether I could make it, she rang off.

I mentioned it to AK and Lady F. The latter advised me to phone Sheila, which I did. She told me to take a note of anything said, but not to sign anything.

It was somehow typical of my mother to assume I would make time; but she was right.

I caught a cab from Paddington to the Savoy. Even asking to be taken there made me feel embarrassed. It seemed so, well, extravagant.

I got there, as required, for noon, and was met, to my surprise, by Lord Granville.

"Pixie!" He said, kissing me on both cheeks. "Do one thing for me, please. Let your mother speak before replying!"

To say I was totally taken aback by his greeting would be to understate things. The kiss, then the request. Still, I promised I would take his advice, He led me into the dining room - my Mama was at a corner table looking, as ever, glamorous.

"Look who I found, darling!" He said, as though that was the case. I went along with it.

"Right, drinks, and I will order some menus. What will you have Pixie?"

I ordered a glass of white wine, while he and Mama had the same.

There was an awkward silence, which I broke.

"I am sorry, where are my manners. Congratulations on your impending nuptials."

"Thank you, Pixie," Lord Granville said. "One of the reasons we wanted to see you was to invite you to the wedding, wasn't it, darling?" He added, turning to my mother as though to bid her speak.

"Yes, yes it was. Look Pixie, I don't want to beat about the bush, and tact was your father's thing, not mine. I have been, and am, and will continue to be, a rotten mother. One of the reasons I did not want a child was I knew I'd be useless as a mother."

I was flabbergasted. If she was expecting me to disagree, I must have disappointed her because, as per my promise to Granville, I said nothing.

"If I said sorry, it would be the truth, but, well, there we are. It is how it is. The second thing though was to say that I saw you on TV in the summer, and I read your piece on the paper."

That was a surprise. I had not, for a moment, imagined she had taken an interest.

"Can I say I was proud of you? For the first time I felt you were MY daughter! Everyone always went on about how like Hector you were, but what I saw on Newsnight was not Hector, but me."

Now I really was in strange and uncharted waters. Mama, actually congratulating me!

'I thought you did well, Pixie. Gran wants to talk with you about it in a minute. But you want to know about the legacy."

"Please Mama."

"I shall be honest. I have been dreading this as I thought I had spent it. The London flat and the political world required more money than I had."

Well, I had to give her ten out of ten for honesty - of a sort. Despite wanting to intervene to say something horrid to her, I waited as Granville had said.

"Your solicitor's letter made me go back and look, and here, I want Gran to take over."

"Your mother was wrong on two counts, Pixie. She should not have spent your legacy, and she did not spend all of it. They left you £100,000 and I asked your mother to let me invest some of it, in case she did spend it all. I took some and added it to an investment I made in a friend's business start-up."

Oh great! I thought, everyone was spending my inheritance. Then what he said next took my breath away.

"That friend is called Jeff Bezos."

"What?"

"Yes, that one. I bought a couple of thousand shares when they were fifty bucks a share."

I looked at him.

"I just had them valued, Pixie. Those shares are now worth six million dollars!"

I felt faint! I had gone, in seconds, from feeling robbed to being told I was a millionairess!

"Of that six million, half of it is yours, Pixie. So, you are a very rich young woman. I hope you can forgive your mother!"

Dumbstruck, I looked at them both. Mama looked almost ashamed; Gran looked concerned.

"Yes, yes, Mama, of course. Even if you had not done what you have done, Lord Granville, I would still have forgiven you Mama."

"Oh, for goodness' sake, call me Gran, everyone else does. And that brings me to my other business with you."

At that point the waiter came, and we ordered lunch. Once that was done, Gran continued.

"Not everyone in my party is a shit, Pixie. We did, after all, bring in gay marriage, and as Lord Chancellor, I have some influence where it matters. I have asked the Archbishop of Canterbury to set up a joint Church/State commission to look at the whole issue of same-sex relationships and the Church. I'd like you to join it!"

By this stage I was so shell-shocked that I seemed to have lost the power of speech.

"I want you to say yes, Pixie. We need to bring people with us. I am not theologian. I think the Church is living in the past, but I admired the way you sought to find common ground with your opponents; we need that. Just nod, Pixie, I am not taking no for an answer."

So, I nodded.

"The other thing I want, Pixie, is for you to write up your story. We will only get across to people through personalising it. I know that your write-up for the press went well. We can weaponise that in the struggle to get justice for women like you and Emma."

Mama intervened.

"You see why I love him, Pixie!"

I could indeed see that. I realised I had tended to prejudge him on the basis that Mama and he were cheating behind Papa's back; but it was clear that there was more to it. Gran did, indeed, seem to be a man of integrity as well as charm.

"I have to say, Mama, yes," I giggled. It was the first time I had ever giggled with my mother. I suddenly saw her in a new light. She loved Gran, and he was bringing something out of her that had been long suppressed. Her face, which so often seemed grim, had a light in it; love was, I reflected, a marvellous thing. I felt a pang for my lost love.

And so we ate, and we chatted. Gran seemed incredibly well-balanced, and quite caused me to revise my opinion of him and his party; I was prepared to suspend judgement. Mama was relaxed and happy; I do not think I had ever seen her that way.

"Now, Pixie, three things," Gran said over coffee after lunch. "The first is that as we are going to spend the rest of the week-end over Oxford way, let us give you a lift back. The second is that it will allow me to go through a few details with you. The third is that we must do this again. I know you and your mother have never been on good terms, but let's see what we can do as we go forward shall we?"

Mama seemed almost nervous, and I could feel her willing me to be positive. I wanted nothing more. She was my mother, and yes, she was right, she had been a terrible mother, but there was, as Scripture says, more joy over one repentant sinner than over the ninety-nine righteous.

And so it was that instead of the train, I was taken back to Oxford in style. Gran told me all about the Commission and what he wanted from it. Mama talked about the wedding with real enthusiasm and then surprised me:

"Pixie, would you, could you give me away?"

I was stunned. Was this my Mama? Of course, I said yes and, to my amazement she hugged me!

They dropped me off outside my front door. I asked if they wanted to have a drink or a rest, but Gran said her had to press on.

I could see AK at the window, and as I opened the door, she descended on me.

"Squirt, was that your Mama?"

"It was!"

"What gives?"

"Let's see Lady F, I might as well tell you both. Where's Issy?"

"Sleeping!"

So, we sat down, AK prepared a light supper, and I told them the whole story.

"Oh Pixie," Lady F said, "that makes me happy. I am so pleased that after all she has not done for you, that you are prepared to reach out."

"It's the right thing to do Lady F."

"It may be, but not everyone would do it."

"So, what about the dosh, Squirt?"

"I just don't know, AK." Turning to Lady F I started to say, "about the house" when she cut me off.

"I am not changing my will, Pixie. I want this place to be yours after me."

And that, as Footy would have put it, was bloody well that.