Risen Star - Back to the Fuchsia

"Where are you working?"

She poked her head around the bathroom door. "Your place."

"Then I give you the morning off. Come back to bed."

Later, dressed for work, she drove me in her filthy van to my house. Heather made us both coffee. "Nice party, was it?"

"Perfect," I said.

"The best," said Nadine.

She went off to work in the garden and I stood in my drawing room and watched her in the distance, squatting, contemplating some recalcitrant plant, her hair hidden under that scarf and I started to cry, tears running down my face, slowly at first.

"Oh, Faye, whatever is the matter?"

Heather came to me, took me in her arms and the tears were like thunder raindrops, large and plopped onto her white blouse's shoulder and I started to sob, to sob like a child; great racking sobs that made my belly ripple and she held me and stroked my hair.

"What's wrong?" Hamish's voice.

"Leave us alone, you old fool."

I vaguely heard the door shut.

Heather held me at arms-length, her hands holding my cheeks, her thumbs wiping away the tears. "She probably does too."

"Does what, Heather."

"Love you, silly girl." Then she held me as I wept again until there were no tears left.

"Why didn't she say so?"

"Did you?" I shook my head. "Well, you'd better go and do it now, hadn't you?"