Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Present day

The thump of a red-wine induced headache had woken Tina Kennard. They hadn’t drunk much - enough to loosen them up, not enough to forget a memorable evening - but she knew she should have had a glass of water, maybe several, before sleep. Alas, they’d barely made it through the door of the hotel suite before clothes were coming off. Weeks of pent up frustration burst forth the minute they stepped in the lift to head up to the suite. All those late night chats over scotch, charged looks across rooms, and touches that lingered a little too long to be just friendly had led to this very moment. 

Hours later, they lay back in each other’s arms, satisfied, content, and at peace. The first feelings of peace either woman had felt for months, perhaps years, enabling them both to fall quickly into a deep, boozy sleep, the type of sleep that is dreamless and feels inadequate when you wake in the morning and the hangover is forming along with your regrets. But as Tina looked over at the sleeping brunette to her right, she didn’t feel anything like regret. In fact, being with Bette felt nothing like regret. It was right. It made sense. Like a pot finding its lid, they fit . So yes, she’d fallen quickly into that deep boozy sleep, but as she stared at Bette, she felt like she might be falling quickly into something else too, and perhaps had been falling for some time.

But as quickly as these thoughts rushed into Tina’s mind, they dissipated, distracted by the banging inside her head and how her mouth felt like cotton. She didn’t want to disturb Bette with the sound of the faucet and decided she’d high-tail it out before she woke, grabbing a bottle of water from a store on her way home. A cowardly move, but right now she simply wasn’t capable of having whatever conversation would need to be had with her friend. Did the word “friend” even make sense anymore? Had it ever? 

Tina took one last glance over at Bette. Bette, whose lips had tasted of cinnamon and merlot. Bette, whose entrance into her life had been unexpected, but whose presence she now couldn’t imagine being without. Bette, who had looked at her in the orange glow of the lamps along the Embankment like she’d lasso the moon for Tina if she asked. 

Quietly, she left the bed and lifted the covers back over Bette’s bare back. For a fleeting moment she recalled how her mouth had traversed that very same back some hours earlier and she licked her lips reflexively. Turning away, Tina couldn’t help but smile to herself when she found her clothes strewn across the suite, but just as she finished smoothing the creases on her blouse and slipped her heels back on, sleeping beauty stirred. The blonde tried desperately to ignore the rustling of the covers and continued to tiptoe to the door, but it was too late. 

“Are you going already?” Bette rasped from the bed. 

Tina winced and turned back slowly just as Bette switched on the bedside lamp. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of Bette, all soft and warm and inviting, wanting nothing more than to catapult herself across the room and back into waiting arms. 

“Um, yes. I was just–”

“--sneaking out?” Bette finished, giving her a wry smile as she sat up on her elbows and ran a hand through mussed up hair. 

“Okay, you caught me red handed,” Tina replied coyly as stepped back towards Bette’s side of the bed. She sank into the mattress and leaned over Bette, tucking a rogue curl behind her ear. “It's better if I just go.” 

“Better for whom?” 

“Both of us. Last night,” Tina inhaled, “was–”

“--amazing? Mind blowing? Long overdue?”

Tina chuckled. “You have an extensive vocabulary for 5.30 a.m.” 

“I can keep going if it means you’ll take your shirt off and get back into bed with me.”

Bette leaned up and nuzzled into Tina’s neck, placing one kiss, two, three against the creamy, soft skin. 

“You smell so good, T.”

“Now I know you’re still drunk. I think we both probably smell like a vineyard.”

“We didn’t drink that much. And now,” she mumbled as she continued her assault on Tina’s skin, “I’m stone cold sober.”

Tina felt her resolve crumbling with every touch of Bette’s hot tongue against her throat, and it took a herculean effort to halt her progress.

“Bette…” Tina trailed off as she moved her head away slightly, Bette’s lips disconnecting as she did so. “I have to be at the studio at 8 a.m. You’re not making it easy for me to leave.”

“I wasn’t trying to. In fact, I was trying to make it very hard for you to leave,” Bette said as she leaned back slightly and tried to get Tina’s eyes to meet hers. “What’s going on, T?”

Tina slowly lifted her gaze. Bette had learned over the preceding weeks how those hazel eyes told whole stories, voicing words that Tina couldn’t find, but now her learning failed her. The blonde was unreadable.

“I…” Tina started, her hands coming up to stroke Bette’s cheek, grounding herself. “I don't want to be a complication for you. You have enough of those right now.”

Bette reached up and grasped Tina's wrist in her hand as she tried to withdraw it.

“Who said you're a complication? What if I want you to be a complication?”

“Bette…” was all Tina could say in reply. She gave Bette a small smile before it faltered, and she looked away again.  “No one wants complications. Not you, not me.”

Bette wrinkled her brow. “T–”

“Bette, please–”

“I’m not the only one here with complications. Find me one person in the whole of London who doesn’t have shit going on in their life that they wish they didn’t.”

“Bette, we’re just friends. Remember? Friends, ” Tina emphasised. Suddenly the vastness of Bette’s suite felt as if it was shrinking in on her. She shook her head briefly as she stood and straightened before making for the door. “In a few hours’ time, in the cold light of day, you'll thank me for walking away at this exact moment. Trust me.”

“So we’re back to being friends now? It's too late for that,” Bette shouted after her before glancing towards the window where the first rays of blue morning light filtered through the curtains. “It's already light and my bed is much colder now you've left.” 

Tina couldn't help but smirk over her shoulder at the brunette, mostly at her levity even as the conversation had started to deepen. 

“I’ll call you, Bette.”

“But when–”

The door shut gently behind a departing Tina. Bette threw her head back with a soft thud on the pillow and threw her hand across the still-warm but empty space to her left. 

“Fuck.”

*

The chilly morning air soothed Tina's face as she stepped out of the hotel foyer and onto the street. London was groaning into life as early risers marched past her left and right and a newspaper truck rumbled along the road. She glanced at her watch and winced again, reminding her that it was early but she would still be hard pressed to make it to Elstree on time even at this hour.

She stepped forward with her arm high to hail down a black cab, as she had done so many times over the years, but something felt different this morning. Her clothes from the night before suddenly felt uncomfortable and ill-fitting. Yes, lots had changed since last night, irrevocably so, and Tina looked back just once as a cab slowed to the curb. She craned her neck up, trying to remember if Bette's suite overlooked the street or not, and wondered if she was looking out onto the scene below perhaps, still wishing Tina would say “fuck it” and return to the comfort of her bed. Or, more likely, whether she had fallen straight back to sleep. 

There would be time to figure out the whys and whats later. Right now, she needed to get home and prepare to start her day. She slammed the door shut, gave her address to the driver, and the cab lurched away.

Unbeknownst to Tina - and as her mind had subtly suggested - several floors above the pavement stood Bette at the large window of her suite. She peered down through the gap in the thick curtains with a fresh cup of coffee warming her hands and watched the scene below with a dreamy smile on her face. The blonde looked up towards her briefly, the soft curls of her hair wafting in the morning breeze, but before Bette could work out if their eyes had met, Tina entered the cab and drove away. 

When the cab was out of view, Bette lifted her eyes towards the horizon and out over the green expanse of Hyde Park and chuckled to herself as she recalled the passionate night they had shared.

“We’re just friends.” 

Chapter Text

Several weeks prior 

Bette Porter swept down the steps of the courthouse and came to a halt on the Strand. The air was crisp and she was glad of the thick, wool scarf wrapped tightly around her neck. At least it wasn’t raining, for a change. Sometimes it seemed as if the rain would never end and it was on those damp, chilly October days that she had a rare yearning for LA, but on a day like today, when the yellow and copper leaves of the plane trees were painted against a clear blue sky, Bette wouldn’t be anywhere else. Especially on a day like today.

She pondered for a moment whether she should call James for a car as she watched an endless stream of occupied cabs and packed buses trickle past her and weave through roadworks, and then thought better of it. By the time he’d have made the booking and it had wound its way through gridlock, she could have done the journey on foot twice over, even in her heels. 

Bette used her height to her full advantage and peeked her head above the rows of traffic. Aha. A few yards along the road she spotted a cab with its light on. She lifted her arm and smiled as she watched it pull into the layby outside the courthouse. She marched towards it, unfazed as always by the three-inch stilettos she wore, but then just as she made it to the door handle, a flash of blonde hair jumped in front and beat her to it.

“Excuse me,” Bette said firmly, stunned by the minor theft. “I just waved that cab down.”

The blonde woman turned and Bette was disarmed immediately by how attractive she was. As she looked more closely, she could also see the woman’s amber eyes were ringed red as if she had been crying. Bette’s annoyance vanished as quickly as it had arrived.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the woman replied as she stepped back to allow Bette to reclaim the cab. “I wasn’t paying much attention.” 

Bette was surprised to hear a soft American accent, possibly with a southern lilt. Uncharacteristically, she relented.

“You know what, take it. There’ll be another one soon.”

The blonde smiled timidly and entered the cab. Bette heard her name Hyde Park as her destination and watched as the cab rejoined the traffic. 

“Well,” she sighed, “I suppose that’s my good deed done for the day.”

Seeing no other available cabs, she turned on her heels and headed off on foot. 

*

Tina Kennard tugged the leather glove off her left hand. It felt sweaty in contrast to the rest of her body. The cab driver had had the heater on full blast as she took the short trip west across town, but the cold was biting once she exited. Autumn in London could be desperately cold one day and strangely warm the next. In her fifteen years of living here, she still hadn’t quite adjusted to its changeable climate and would often forget an umbrella or a sweater when out for the day. When she’d return home from working on set with wild and wet hair, Carrie would chastise her like a mother does a small child. It seemed even in the early years of their marriage, it was the small things that irritated Carrie the most. The big things would come much later.

Tina shook off the thought, not wanting to expend any more energy than she needed to on that woman. She looked out across Serpentine Lake and inhaled deeply, watching the cloud of her breath fog in front of her as she exhaled. The water was still. Tina let herself be still for the first time in… well, a long time. Calm. Her eyes were drawn to a heron as it stretched and flapped its long wings just before it lifted off the water’s surface and took flight. It left a gentle splash in its wake. Her hazel eyes flicked down towards her bare left hand and she mirrored the heron, flexing and straightening her fingers. Tina took a gloved right finger and trailed the pad over the white indent where her wedding band had been. A small smile played on her lips, another first in many months.

Taking another deep breath, she fished around in the pocket of her double-breasted coat and felt for the small piece of gold inside. She’d held onto the ring throughout the separation, even though she hadn’t worn it for over a year now. Tina had a superstition that if she disposed of it prematurely that the divorce proceedings might be scuppered in some weird twist of fate.  As she brought it up to her face, Tina looked through the ring to see the low beams of autumn sun slanting through it at her and warming her face. She smiled brightly and, without warning, swung her arm back and hurled the ring far into the distant water before her. A pair of ducks beat their wings and quacked as the ring broke the surface with a plop. 

Yes, Tina felt still. Calm. Free.

*

“Bette, is that you?”

“Who else would it be, James?”

James peered around into Bette’s large, wood-panelled office as she hung up her coat and scarf and took a seat at her desk. As soon as her feet were under the desk, she deftly slipped off her heels for relief. 

“Sorry. Bad morning?” James was pleasantly surprised to see Bette break out into a grin. 

“It was a great morning, actually.”

“Oh? It’s all over?”

“Yes.”

“Feels like it’s taken a long time to get to this point.”

“It has taken too long,” sighed Bette, but her smile continued, “but back to more pressing matters, how have things been here?”

James noted the quick change of subject.  

“Everything is running smoothly so far today. It’s mostly school groups here this morning. Tourists, the usual. There’s a pile of paperwork that I need you to look at at some point this week, but there’s no immediate rush.”

Bette rifled through the papers James laid on her desk and spent a few minutes studying them before she sighed. There were invoices and proposals needing her well-trained eye, but she felt exhausted mentally.

“I don’t think I’m in the headspace for this. I’ve gone through enough paperwork today to last me a lifetime. Do you mind?”

James shook his head. “You’re the boss.” 

“In that case…” Bette smirked. “I’m gonna play hooky.”

“Really?” James exclaimed in shock.

“Really.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Bette Porter? You didn’t even take a day off when you had the flu.”

“Turning over a new leaf,” Bette shrugged, “or something like that.”

James pressed a finger to his lips. “Your secret is safe with me. I’ll take care of things here for the day.”

“Thank you. Don’t get too comfortable, though, I’ll start work early tomorrow.”

“Of course you will,” James chuckled. “Do you want me to book a ride home for you?” Bette was silent for a moment as she meditated on the word “home”. James realised he might have put his foot in his mouth and tried to correct it. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say home like, you know, I know things are up in the air–”

Bette held her hand up to interrupt his sputtering. “It’s fine, James. No ride, thank you. I think I’ll take the Tube.”

James' eyes flew up. “Wow. Are you sure?” 

“I am. You never know, I might like the smell of engine grease and the sweat of twenty bodies crammed into a sardine can,” Bette joked. She gathered her belongings, waved goodbye, and left. 

The walk to the Tube station was short in distance, but took much longer through the endless flow of tourists and office workers. Fifteen years in London and she had become an expert at this unique game of dodge-the-oncomer. The key was to keep your head up high and look straight ahead. Don’t carry your phone in your hand, lest you be bumped and bashed along the pavement, or worse, pickpocketed. 

As per her usual routine when taking the signal-free Underground, Bette hovered at the entrance to the station and discreetly reached into her handbag to check her phone for any messages or calls. There was one message waiting for her. 

J: Return the spare key.

Bette wondered if this message could wait. No use delaying the inevitable , she thought, as she tapped a reply. 

B: Busy. Next week? 

She waited a few minutes before watching the three dots appear to signify a response was imminent. 

J: Don’t be deliberately difficult. 

B: Me, difficult? If you’d bothered to attend the courthouse this morning we wouldn’t need to have this conversation, but I’m sure you had somewhere else more important to be.

Bette pursed her lips, her bright mood quashed. 

J: Where I was is no longer your concern. FFS - just get the key to me.  

B: Fine. I’m at the Dorchester. 7.30 p.m., Artists’ Bar. 

J: Noted.

Bette shoved her phone roughly into her handbag before continuing her descent into the station. The platform was almost empty when she made it down the escalator to the westbound trains. It was unusual for Bette to take public transport, much preferring the comfort of a private taxi, but today felt like the sort of day to take a different route, to switch things up. Her life, unencumbered by a marriage that had been failing for way too long and perhaps had never quite got started, was a blank canvas, but in the quiet of the station, a sudden sadness smothered her. At the yellow safety line, Bette stood and watched as a mouse scurried across the concrete floor, picking at the crumbs of some dropped food, and then going on its merry way again. The mouse dropped down onto the tracks and she wondered how it hadn’t already been squashed. How it must have known every crevice, every hiding spot to fold inside when the train inevitably came barrelling through the tunnel. What an existence, she thought, this lonely little creature, flitting here and there, an aimless wanderer. 

The grumble of the oncoming train, increasing in volume as it approached, cut into her gloomy thoughts. Bette boarded and immediately sought out a few empty seats at the back of the carriage. She sank into the seat farthest away from her fellow passengers, closed her eyes, and waited for the train to carry her to her temporary home.

*

Tina had barely made it to the bandstand when she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. She hadn’t taken any leave in a while and felt rightfully annoyed that on today of all days, the day of her decree absolute, work would harass her, likely with issues and problems that could be easily sorted tomorrow. But as she grabbed her phone out of her purse, Tina looked down at the screen and breathed a sigh of relief. Though Helena was technically a colleague, she knew this would be a personal call. 

“Hi, Helena, good to hear from you.”

“Darling! How are you? It’s all sorted, I presume?”

Tina sighed again. “Yes, it’s done. I was at the courthouse this morning to tie up the loose ends. How are things on set?”

“Oh we don’t need to talk about any of that. Today is a day for celebration.”

“I’ll take that to mean the shit’s hit the fan somewhere along the line?” Tina laughed.

“Well… perhaps, but let’s not get into it now. We should have a drink this evening if you feel up to it.”

“Up to it?” grinned Tina. “I feel like I could do cartwheels all the way home. What did you have in mind?” 

“I’ll come to you, if you like? I’m heading that way home anyway.”

“Yeah, I’d love that,” she replied, glancing at her watch. “I’m gonna head home for the afternoon and rest up.”

“Didn’t get much sleep last night?”

“Not really,” Tina answered as she rubbed the back of her neck with her free hand. “Understandable, I guess, I had a lot on my mind. Why don’t we go out? A change of scenery would be good and I don’t wanna be cooped up at home all day.”

“Where shall I meet you?”

“Hmm,” Tina murmured as she sorted through her mental list of bars that she could guarantee would be safe from sullen ex-wives. “How about the Dorchester?”

“7.30 work?”

“Sure. I’ll be in the Artists’ Bar.”

Chapter Text

“Another drink, Ms Porter?”

Bette smiled wearily. “Alex, please call me Bette . You make me sound like an old maid with the ‘Ms’ business.”

“Sorry, Ms Porter,” he replied with a small smile of his own. Bette rolled her eyes affectionately. 

“I’ll take another Scotch, one ice cube.”

Alex would continue to refer to her by her formal name, Bette knew this. He was excruciatingly polite and obligingly shy and had been calling her “Ms Porter” for the several weeks she had been a resident at the Dorchester. It had been at least a year since she had been unceremoniously kicked out of her former marital residence, coming home from work one evening to find the door bolted and directions to a storage facility pinned to the front door. 

I’ll get the key another time. Do not try to break and enter or I’ll call the police. 

Brutal. Unfeeling. Final. It was weird, Bette thought at that moment, how little she actually cared as she read the words in her ex-wife’s scrawl. If anything, she was relieved. 

Through her numerous connections, she had quickly found herself renting a remarkable - if not slightly dated - apartment in the Barbican, which she had now purchased and was waiting on an extensive renovation to be completed. She’d briefly considered staying put and living amongst the chaos, but within two days she’d grown sick of the dust, dirt, and din and decided to upsticks for a few weeks. Bette knew where her money and time would be more comfortably spent.  

“One Scotch, Ms Porter. Shall I put it on your room bill?”

“Please,” Bette nodded as she took a sip. 

“Of course,” Alex acknowledged with a familiar blush in his cheeks. 

Such was the Porter effect on most people. Well into her fifties, Bette remained a formidable presence and seemed to only grow more beautiful with age, and someone of Alex’s youth was easily bowled over by her charm and confidence. In his naïvete, he hadn’t realised that Bette had zero interest in men, but how could he possibly know? Bette hadn’t dated since one of the earlier - and longer - separations from her ex-wife and the divorce had taken up much of her time and energy in the previous year. She wasn’t avoiding women per se, but she didn’t have the desire to dip her toe back into London’s enormous dating pool. It would take an extraordinary woman to make her reconsider. Right now, sat on a barstool as the hotel pianist tinkled a tune behind her, dating was far from her mind. 

Bette glanced at her Rolex and realised with frustration that her ex-wife was late again. 

“Some things never change,” she muttered to no one. 

*

Helena would usually make a joke of Tina’s lateness, especially in light of the fact she hadn’t worked today, but she was unsure how fragile the blonde was really feeling. Helena had spent endless nights - and days too - consoling her good friend and colleague in the immediate aftermath of the separation from Carrie some 18 months ago, notwithstanding Tina being the instigator. Marriages, even unhappy ones, leave indelible marks when they end, and despite Tina’s chipper tone on the phone earlier, Helena wanted to gauge the mood before she engaged in even the most gentle of banter with her friend. 

“I know, I know,” Tina quipped as she rushed over to Helena’s table and started to first remove her jacket, and then her pashmina, throwing it haphazardly onto the back of the chair. “However, I want it on record that I’m only fifteen minutes late and that’s not too bad for me.” 

Helena brightened immediately, relieved to hear Tina full of humour. 

“It’s fine, but I did decide to get a headstart,” Helena replied and nodded towards the champagne flute in front of her. She waved over a waiter. “G&T for my friend, please. Yes, Boatyard is fine. Double, Tina?”

“Absolutely,” Tina chuckled as she lowered herself into plush grey velvet. 

Tina and Helena frequented many London watering holes over the years of their friendship and working relationship. Carrie preferred to mix with her fellow lawyers in dark and dank gentlemen’s bars, where in times gone by women wouldn’t have even been granted entry, but Tina favoured the dazzling colours and shimmering crystal decor of the Artists’ Bar. Being far from home in the States, there was something delightfully camp and comforting about this space, like stepping through the door into Liberace’s home if it had been lifted from Las Vegas and dropped into central London. Carrie hated her one visit. Tina had made a point of returning repeatedly.

“You look fabulous,” Helena observed once the waiter had brought Tina’s drink. “A day off suits you.”

Tina was both chic and sexy in fitted jeans, a black shirt, and a brown houndstooth blazer. Heeled boots finished the look. Helena looked her up and down and realised she hadn’t seen this Tina for quite some time. It was a welcome return. 

“Thanks,” Tina replied as she sipped her gin, “I napped, I watched trashy TV, I ate packet soup. It was wonderful.”

“No less than you deserve after this last year. Did she…” Helena hesitated, “make an appearance?”

Tina sighed and leaned back in her chair. 

“She did, albeit a brief one. We did the formalities and then she was gone. We didn’t even exchange a word.”

“Probably for the best.”

“ Definitely for the best,” Tina added with a smirk.

Helena beamed at her friend. Yes, this was her friend of old, her friend who had disappeared for some time, bruised by the separation and divorce, but coming back to herself slowly but surely, and it was wonderful to witness.

“Dare I ask if she’s still in London?” Helen asked as she took a long sip of champagne.

“Why do you think I suggested here, Hel? She wouldn’t be seen dead here again, so yes, she is still in London, but as of tomorrow morning she will be on her way back to New York. Forever, hopefully.”

Helena leaned forward and brought her flute towards Tina to toast. 

“Let’s drink to that.”

“Cheers,” Tina replied happily as they clinked glasses and drank. As the liquid hit her tongue, she winced.

“I thought you liked Boatyard?”

“No, no, the gin is perfect,” Tina answered as she stood and looked around for the waiter, who was nowhere to be seen, “but it needs more ice.”

She headed for the bar.

*

“Sorry, did you say something?”

Bette whipped her head to the right, where she was suddenly overwhelmed with the scent of perfume - floral, jasmine, divine. As Bette eyed her carefully, the woman gestured politely for Alex’s attention, who approached without delay. 

“Excuse me,” the soft American accent floated on air to the barman. “I need more ice.” 

The accent sounded familiar - comforting, almost - but Bette couldn’t place where she had heard it. As she debated whether to engage in conversation or not, the blonde locked eyes with her again suddenly and gave her a small smile before returning her gaze to where Alex was filling an empty glass.

“I thought you were speaking to me,” she continued, as if Bette had already given a reply. 

“I’m sorry,” Bette stuttered. “I was talking to myself, actually. Terrible habit I’ve recently developed.”

“You too, huh?” the blonde laughed. A few moments passed before she spoke again, the woman’s perfectly manicured nails drumming on the bar top. “Do I know you?” 

Bette hoped the deer-caught-in-headlights expression wasn’t too obvious. 

“Um, I’m not sure,” she croaked before clearing her throat. “Are you staying here? If so, we probably shared an elevator.”

“No, that’s not it. You look familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it.” 

Bette felt as if the woman’s eyes were boring straight through her, close enough for her to notice the flecks of gold that matched the woman’s hair colour. It was both intimidating and exhilarating.

“Maybe because we’re both American I just seem familiar to you,” Bette joked. 

The blonde chuckled, and Bette felt a long-dormant flutter in her chest upon hearing its gentleness, like a butterfly flexing its wings fresh from the cocoon. 

“You’d be surprised how many Americans I meet in my line of work,” said the blonde as she retrieved her glass from where Alex had neatly placed it onto a bar mat.

“Is that so?” Bette asked, inexplicably rapt, and enjoying the spontaneous exchange.

“Well, I work in the movies. Trust me, even in London, we’re everywhere,” the blonde attempted a wink as she spoke. “Do you work in the industry by chance?”

“No, no,” Bette replied. “I don’t know a thing about film.”

The blonde waited a beat for her to elaborate, but pressed on when Bette stayed quiet. 

“You’re not going to tell me what you do for a living?”

Bette turned on the stool to face the woman more fully and gave her her best smile. 

“Well, why don’t you pull up a chair, we can play 20 questions, and maybe we’ll figure out where we met before.”

The blonde considered it for a moment as she moved a few ice cubes from the new glass to hers. 

“As fun as that sounds, my friend is waiting for me over there and I invited her out tonight. It was probably something as boring as crossing paths at the Embassy.”

Bette shook her head in good-natured disagreement. 

“No, it can’t be that. I’d have remembered you.”

“Why’s that?” asked the blonde, tilting her head quizzically. 

Fuck it, Bette thought, buoyed suddenly by her two Scotches and the unexpected lift the conversation had given her, faint heart never won fair lady. 

“It’d have been impossible not to notice the most beautiful woman in the room.” 

The blonde was stunned into silence by the force of the compliment so freely given. Bette looked away and took a discreet sip of her drink, as if doing so might encourage a more positive response to her bold declaration. The words out of her mouth had been spoken smoothly and assuredly, but inwardly she felt anything but. Why did I do that? she mused, but before she could decide if to regret the open flirtation or not, she heard the blonde breathe a shy “oh” and laugh nervously. Bette turned once more to face the blonde and she noticed the most delightful shade of pink blooming across her cheeks. The blonde looked away and down at her feet as she rubbed her neck with a free hand. 

“For the record,” Bette continued as she dipped her head to meet the blonde’s gaze, galvanised by her reaction, “I’m referring to you .”

“Well, um, thank you, I guess,” was all the response the blonde could muster as she met the brown eyes before her before glancing towards Alex. As she watched the barman shovelling ice into a wine bucket, she wondered if it would be uncouth to reach over for a handful of cubes to hold against her now-burning cheeks. “That’s very kind of you to say.”

“Do you come here often?”

The blonde made a quarter turn towards Bette, who was now circling the rim of her glass with her forefinger. She was transfixed by the movement and Bette watched as her eyebrow arched humorously as she contemplated her answer. 

“Do you use that line on all the women you meet in bars?”

“You shouldn’t answer a question with another question.”  

“Is that so?” 

“That’s another question,” Bette replied with a grin.

The blonde watched her for a moment, hazel eyes narrowed but unable to stop smiling. 

“You’re strangely charming, but as fun as this has been, I do need to go back to my friend,” said the blonde as she nodded towards where her friend was seated, deeply ensconced in her phone. 

As she motioned to pass, Bette took her hand softly. Skin met skin and the blonde felt like it was the first time she’d ever been touched by a woman.

“Can I at least get a name?”

Just as she opened her mouth to respond, a small cough emanated from somewhere behind Bette, who dropped her hand instantaneously and turned around. 

“Am I interrupting something?”

Bette rolled her eyes as she turned to face her guest, who hopped onto the bar stool to her left. When she turned back around in the hopes of putting a pin in her conversation with the blonde, she was disappointed to realise she’d already headed back to her table. 

“Fuck,” Bette whispered.

“Oh dear, I did interrupt something. How sad,” the guest said sarcastically.

Bette exhaled noisily through her nose as she reached into her purse and felt for the spare key she had agreed to return to her ex-wife. 

“Make it quick, Jodi.”

*

Tina felt a little sad at how the conversation with the brunette at the bar had ended. Plenty of women had shown an interest in the last couple of years, but the divorce had been maddeningly long and drawn out that she had built walls so high that it was hard for anyone to climb over. She simply wasn’t interested in dating, a relationship, or anything that even hinted at romance. So it was with some surprise that the attention from the elegant - and, dare she admit, sexy - woman at the bar had left her feeling flustered and out-of-sorts. Of course, as quickly as Tina had entertained the thought that perhaps it might be fun to flirt a little, and Lord knows it had been a long time since she had allowed herself such an indulgence, the bubble had been burst by the arrival of the brunette’s companion. 

“Ugh,” Tina exclaimed as she fell back into the comfort of her seat. 

“Took your time,” Helena queried curiously. “Who’s the brunette?”

“It doesn’t matter.” 

Helena watched closely as Tina took a gulp of her gin and tonic, her good mood seemingly vaporised in the few minutes she had been chatting to the woman at the bar.  

“Clearly it does matter, darling. This is supposed to be a celebration of your new-found freedom but five minutes with her over there,” Helena motioned over Tina’s shoulder towards the brunette, who was having an animated conversation with her so-called friend, “and you’d give Eeyore a run for his money.”

Tina pinched the bridge of her nose with her finger and thumb. “Can we drop it?”

“She’s gorgeous, you know.”

“Yep, got that,” Tina replied sharply. “American too, would you believe it?”

“In a city of eight million, the odds aren’t that bad.” Tina shot Helena a withering look. “Sorry. So… what’s the issue?”

Tina turned back towards the bar. 

“Well, there was no issue until her date arrived and ruined the moment. Imagine sweet talking other women while waiting for your date. Jesus, dating in this city is bullshit and this really just reinforces my decision to stay single.” The frustration was palpable in Tina’s tone.

“God, not this again. How do you know that’s her date? They don’t seem to be having an amicable chat, put it that way. Slight overreaction perhaps, Ti–”

“Can we drop it?” Tina interjected. “In fact, you know what, let’s just go somewhere else when we’ve finished these drinks.” 

“But you love it here?” Another withering look. “Fine, fine, this is your celebration,” Helena conceded, “and I’ll follow your lead, but I’m pretty certain that is not a conversation between friends . ”

Raised voices could be heard from behind Tina, but she chose to ignore them.

“Whatever. If we leave soon, we can probably still get a table at Corrigan’s. I’m ravenous.” 

“Packet soup does not a meal make,” Helena quipped. “Whatever you want, Tina, tonight is your night.”

*

“Well, fuck you and good riddance,” Bette murmured to herself as she signalled to Alex for another Scotch. 

Jodi had departed abruptly when a simple exchange of keys had escalated into a full-blown argument. Even in divorce - an overdue and jointly-agreed decision - it seemed Bette and Jodi couldn’t find any common ground or any ability to be civil to one another. It would be best now, Bette thought, to never have to cross paths again, whilst acknowledging this was nigh on impossible considering their respective positions in London’s art world. It was inevitable they would end up in the same room again at some point, but Bette hoped that would not be too soon. 

Gently swirling the ice cubes in her glass, Bette’s thoughts went straight back to the blonde she had been speaking to just before Jodi had interrupted. The wheels spun in her mind as she tried desperately to figure out where she had seen her before, wondering if she had been a client perhaps, or a visitor to the Gallery, or - worse - a prior conquest from her first few years in London when things with Jodi were more on-and-off than a light switch. She winced as she brought the glass to rouge lips and the golden liquid touched her tongue, and in that moment the realisation rushed to her. 

She stole my cab… 

… or rather, Bette offered it to her in a moment of altruism, and if the pretty blonde had been at the same courthouse on that same morning, that meant she was there for the same reason as Bette. Divorce. Bette smiled to herself, finished her drink, and turned around hoping to see the same face that had, she now realised, drifted in and out of her thoughts all day. The hazel eyes, red-rimmed from tears that morning, eyes that had just thirty minutes prior locked with her own during a charged moment at the bar. But when she turned, Bette’s heart sank. In the time that had elapsed between Jodi’s arrival and exit, the blonde had vanished with her friend. 

“Fuck,” she whispered. 

Bette looked around frantically to see if there was any sign the blonde or her friend were still here. Just as she was about to give up and return to her drink, she noticed it. A cashmere pashmina draped across the back of the blonde’s chair and clearly missing its owner. Easily forgotten in a rush. She leapt off the stool, marched towards the table, and grabbed the scarf, feeling its soft silky threads on her fingertips. She hovered near the table as she wondered how she might return the item to its rightful owner. 

And then she saw it. The bill for the drinks was peeking out above the top of a leather wallet, which was placed right where the blonde had been seated. Bette looked up to the heavens, closed her eyes, and silently begged the universe that there was a name. 

Please let there be a name. A signature. Something legible.  

Bette opened her eyes, checked to see if any bar staff were watching her, realised none were, and slipped her finger under the leather cover to open it. When she saw what was written there, Bette sighed in relief, clutched the receipt to her chest, and whispered the name to herself.

“T. Kennard.”

Chapter Text

James perched on the end of Bette’s desk as he held the phone receiver in the crook of his neck. His eyes narrowed as he peered down at Bette’s laptop screen to see the number he needed to dial for one Ms Tina Kennard, Executive Producer at Shaolin Studios. 

“Surely it’d be easier if you made this call, Bette?”

Bette leaned back in her office chair, her long legs crossed, and her hands steepled in front of her. 

“Just dial the number, please,” she instructed. 

“But she met you, not me, she’ll think it’s weird that some random dude's calling her to say I have her sc–”

Bette put a finger up to halt James’ protestations.

“Just. Do it,” she said curtly. "And it's a pashmina, not a scarf." 

"What's the difference–" James started to ask just as a friendly voice answered the call. “Oh hello? Hi, yes, is this Tina Kennard? Yes, um, hi I’m James Preston, I’m sorry to interrupt your morning like this, but I think I have something of yours.”

Bette watched James closely as he explained the situation to Tina, whose soft voice Bette could hear again faintly through the receiver. It gave her the familiar flutter in her chest that she felt the night before. 

“Yes, it’s a black,” James paused as he looked at the label, “cashmere pashmina made by… um, Prada. Oh, yes. I found it on the floor in the bar last night but I, er, thought it’d be easier to return it to you directly. You know what these hotels can be like.” James chuckled in response to whatever Tina’s reply was. “You’re welcome. Sure, I’ll be at the office this morning. The National Portrait Gallery. Yes, in Trafalgar Square. Ask for the um-”

Bette nodded vigorously at James as he panicked.

“--um, James Preston at the main reception and I will come down to meet you. Okay. Thank you, Tina, see you soon.”

James replaced the receiver and crossed his arms.  

“I don’t know what that was about, but she’s coming down here for 10 a.m.”

“Thank you, James,” Bette beamed as she squeezed his arm in gratitude. 

“Seriously though, what was that about? You met her already, so what’s the problem meeting her again?”

“There isn’t a problem, but we didn’t part on the best of terms,” Bette explained as she started to tidy her desk, “and I figured she might not want to, y’know, come down here in person if she knew it was me who had the scarf.”

“The pashmina,” James joked. He watched his boss carefully as she took a compact from her purse and started to fix her hair. “Oh, now I get it! You like h–”

“Enough,” Bette held her hand up again and James smirked as he witnessed her unravel a little. “I barely know her. Anyway, don’t you have work to do? Like, clearing my morning so I won’t be disturbed when she gets here?”

“You want me to clear your entire morning? Even the Hockney exhibition meeting?” 

“Even the Hockney exhibition meeting,” Bette smiled.

“Wow, she must be special.” When James saw the unamused look on Bette’s face, he stood quickly and made for the exit. “I mean, you got it, boss.” 

“And James?”

James turned expectantly. 

“Thank you.”

He smiled and gave a nod. Bette waited for the door to close before she sank into her office chair, exhaled, and allowed a small smile to form at her lips.

*

The wind gusted as Tina stepped out of an unfamiliar but warm and welcoming coffee shop close to her office. A whirl of brown leaves whipped around her as she fought to keep her hair out of her face while she enjoyed her pumpkin spice latte, the remnants of last night’s gin consumption still lurking. 

“It’ll do,” she said as she took a sip, preferring her usual brew but pleasantly surprised all the same. 

Tina touched her neck unconsciously, reminded of her missing pashmina as she felt the cool air on her skin, and suddenly her thoughts flashed back to the Artists’ Bar. She had retraced her steps following dinner with Helena in the hopes of retrieving the item, but the concierge at the Dorchester had been unable to locate it. As she watched him search the bar, all she could think about was the unexpected encounter with a captivating American just hours earlier. It had been all too brief, but she had no interest in romance, did she? And she certainly had no interest in a woman who was already spoken for.

“Let it go,” Tina muttered out loud to herself as she took another sip of coffee. A man passing in the opposite direction looked at her strangely as he heard the words.

Tina took a rare trip into the city this morning, usually favouring a hands-on approach when her movies were being produced, but she had foregone her regular ride over to Elstree. Her reasons were twofold - one, she could spend most of her day at said office clearing the piles of paperwork and admin that she’d been putting off for weeks and that her assistant Nicole had been nagging her about, and two, she needed to take a walk to the National Portrait Gallery of all places to collect her pashmina from its rescuer. Thinking the treasured gift from Helena was lost forever, she was delighted to receive an unexpected early morning phone call from a young-sounding American man who claimed to have it. The pile of paperwork was forgotten a mere ten minutes into her work day and Tina now found herself marching down Charing Cross Road to retrieve it. 

“Good morning, madam, how may I help you?”

“Good morning, I’m here to meet James Preston?” Tina replied politely. “I’m Tina Kennard.”

The entrance to the Gallery was elegant, all stone arches and warm lighting, and it was relatively quiet at 10 a.m. No doubt within the next couple of hours, tourists would be hustling and bustling through the hallway and up the stairs to peruse the works of art that lay ahead. Tina hummed to herself as she waited for the receptionist to finish her call to the elusive James.

“Mr Preston isn’t available right now, but he’s going to send a deputy to meet you in the Main Hall. If you’d like to walk up the stairs, Ms Kennard, and go straight ahead, they’ll be with you shortly.”

Tina nodded and made her way as directed, the sound of her heeled leather boots clicking against the floor. 

*

Bette moved swiftly along the corridor towards the balcony that overlooked the Main Hall, the low din of voices and chatter rising from below as visitors mingled. She stopped momentarily to readjust a dracaena plant that was lush, green, and completely out of place. She repositioned it two or three times before coming back to herself and remembering where she was meant to be and, more importantly, who she was meeting there.

Before she made it to the staircase leading down, Bette paused and rested her arm on the balcony rail. Looking over, her eyes were drawn almost immediately to Tina, her blonde hair shimmering against the ice blue of the spotlights above her as she looked at a large print affixed to the wall. A toddler, no older than three or four, giggled loudly as he ran circles around Tina, his parents apologising profusely for interrupting her visit. Bette couldn’t hear the words exchanged, but Tina simply beamed at the small child and he grinned back, and Bette felt her smile grow too. As the couple and child waved to her and left to continue their visit, Tina turned away from Bette’s line of sight. She swept down the stairs and walked towards the blonde, whose back remained turned as she viewed the artwork before her. Bette did likewise, watching as the tendons of Tina’s neck flexed as she gazed upwards and then sideways at the print, shuffling from one heel to the other, before the brunette came to a stop a few feet behind her.

“Hello, Tina.”

Upon hearing the honeyed tones, Tina felt a shiver from the tip of her scalp run to her toes. Where do I know that voice from? Slowly, she turned and hazel eyes met brown.

“It’s you .”

“It’s me?” Bette intoned.

“It’s you.” Tina smiled wryly. “From the bar last night.”

“Surprise,” Bette replied a little nervously, gauging the reaction and unsure if she was let off the hook for the previous evening. She reached out with the pashmina in hand. “Peace offering for ending our conversation so abruptly last night?”

Tina’s smile brightened a little as she reached out to take the item from Bette’s hands. 

“Offer accepted, but I was expecting ‘James Preston’. Is that your alias?”

Bette laughed. “Oh no, James does exist, but I’m his boss. Bette Porter,” she said as she stretched her hand out again in introduction. Tina took it gently into her own, and just like last night, was overcome with the same tingly sensation as skin met skin. 

“Tina Kennard, but I guess you know that already.” Tina’s eyes narrowed humorously.

“Guilty.”

Both women were rooted to the spot as visitors and tourists continued to dodge them as they made their way through the Main Hall. It was Tina who eventually broke first and relinquished Bette’s hand.

“Why all the subterfuge, Ms Porter?”

“Call me Bette, please. Well, I didn’t think you’d come if you knew it was me, especially not after the way we parted.”

“Ah, when your date arrived,” Tina recollected. “Out of curiosity, how did you find me?” 

Bette’s eyebrows shot up as she heard the word “date”. 

“I found your drink bill on the table with the pashmina and James knows his way around Google,” she replied matter-of-factly. “Wait, did you say ‘date’?” 

“Yes, your date . How was it?” Tina blinked away as she asked the question, not unnoticed by Bette. Tina wondered briefly if the question was too forward for two women who were essentially strangers.

“My date ?” Bette echoed, a look of comedic horror on her face. 

“Wow, it was that good, huh?” Tina laughed. “I’m talking about the petite strawberry blonde who interrupted our conversation.”

“Yes, I know exactly who you mean. God, Tina, that wasn’t a date,” Bette exclaimed loudly. A couple to her side gave her a look of disapproval. “Sorry,” she mumbled to them before turning back to Tina. “That was my ex-wife who had come to claim my house key, or should I say, my former house key.”

The cat was out of the bag. Bette panicked for a second, thinking she’d said too much, but she shrugged it off quickly, reckoning that honesty was the best policy if she had any chance to get to know the woman in front of her. Tina, on the other hand, felt overwhelmingly - and surprisingly - relieved. 

“Ohhhh. Now I feel kinda foolish for thinking she was your date.”

“Don’t,” Bette shrugged. “How were you to know?”

“True,” she agreed, as her free hand scratched the back of her neck. “It’s funny, ‘cause my friend guessed as much.”

Bette simpered. “You were talking about me to your friend?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Tina challenged, but smiled all the same. “We could hear raised voices behind us and she was so sure you weren’t friends.”

“She guessed right.”

Tina pursed her lips and nodded, not quite knowing what to say or do next. She glanced at her watch before speaking. Unfortunately, she opened her mouth at the exact same moment Bette spoke and their words clashed in a jumble.

“I should probably–”

“Do you have somewhere to–”

Bette chuckled and clasped her hands behind her back. Both women dropped their eyes awkwardly to the floor.

“Sorry. I was about to say, do you have somewhere you have to be? I’d love to show you around a little if you have time.”

“Are you a tour guide?” Tina asked seriously and Bette couldn’t help the laugh that burst forth. She took a step towards the blonde.

“No, Tina, I’m the Director.”

“Jesus, sorry,” Tina’s eyes widened. “I think I just gave you several demotions. Um, I do have a busy day actually, I’m supposed to be on an admin day and my assistant Nicole–”

“Tina?” Bette cut through her rambling. Tina was overcome by how close Bette was to her now, chestnut eyes looking down into hers, mesmerising. She replied with a gulp, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“Yes?” 

“Just ten minutes of your time. I found a few things in our photography collection I thought you’d appreciate.”

“Oh?” Tina replied, smiling at Bette’s thoughtfulness. 

“Yes. We rotate the photographs every six or so weeks to preserve them, but your timing is excellent, because these photos are on display right now.” 

Bette neglected to mention that she had made several demanding calls to James and various staff members to swap the photos out the minute Tina had confirmed she would come to the Gallery. 

“In that case,” Tina glanced again at her watch, unable to resist the kindness in Bette’s gesture,“I can spare thirty minutes.”

*

Bette led the blonde through the building slowly and made sure she took the longest route possible to the collection she had picked out as of interest to Tina. They exchanged small talk about their mornings and laughed again about the events and misunderstandings of the prior evening. To an observer, they looked like old friends visiting the Gallery for the day, but to a more trained eye - such as James, who scrutinised his boss from afar - there was much more going on. Bette, who had been sullen, irritable, and disengaged from a job that she previously loved, now looked as if the weight of the world had lifted off her shoulders. He guessed it had everything to do with a second ‘chance’ encounter with a certain blonde. James smiled to himself as he watched the women pause in front of the exhibition room, before returning to his work. 

“Have you visited the Gallery before?” Bette asked as they approached.

Tina took a breath before answering. “Not as much as I wanted to. It’s probably been six of seven years since my last visit. My ex-wife wasn’t much for art.”

Ex-wife. Bette noted the confirmation of where she thought she’d first met the blonde. 

“You’ve been in London a long time then, I take it?” Bette asked, wanting to veer away from the topic of ex-wives and onto less volatile subjects.

“Fifteen years, but it feels longer sometimes.”

“That’s a long time. Funnily enough, I moved here in 2008 too.”

“No way?” Tina smiled conspiratorially. “And now we meet twice in the space of a day.”

Bette hesitated for an instant about whether she should admit to knowing they’d already met, albeit briefly, outside the courthouse yesterday. As she eyed Tina’s facial expression - genial and kind - she thought better of it, wanting to keep the mood light.

“It sounds like the start of the plot to one of your films,” Bette offered. For some reason, Tina blushed. “Anyway, here we are.”

The room was almost empty of visitors. Bette took a gamble and put her hand gently to the small of Tina’s back as she led her in. If she felt it, Tina gave no indication, and soon enough she was gasping in delight as she came face to face with photographs of some of Hollywood’s greatest actors and actresses. 

“Oh my goodness, Bette, I didn’t realise you had a whole room of movie stars. I don’t remember seeing any of these on my last visit.”

Bette brimmed with joy at the blonde’s reaction. “As I said, we rotate the collections so it may be that these weren’t on display during your last visit. A lot has changed in six years.”

“You can say that again,” Tina added as she paused in front of a colour print of Dame Elizabeth Taylor, resplendent in period dress, as several male co-stars looked over her shoulder.

“‘The Taming of the Shrew’,” Tina said as her eyes roamed the picture in front of her. “One of several films she made with Richard Burton.” 

“Married twice, I believe?” Bette queried as she came to stand at Tina’s side, not so close to be intrusive but close enough to catch the comforting scent of her perfume.

“Yes,” Tina’s eyes lit up, surprised by Bette’s knowledge. “I thought you said you didn’t know much about film?”

“I know about Liz and Dick,” Bette remarked with a wink as they began a slow circuit of the exhibition room. “They weren’t really a paragon of happy, successful marriage, were they?”

“Hmm maybe not,” Tina responded distractedly, “But they loved each other, no doubt. Ferociously. Messily. I think we’d all like to experience a love like that at least once in our lifetime.”

Bette slowed her pace as she watched Tina walk on, the blonde deep in thought as she continued to examine the prints surrounding her. The brunette winced, reminded that she had brought up the topic of marriage - or rather, failed marriages - again. 

“Indeed,” was all Bette could respond as she resumed her walk. 

The women continued to move around the exhibition room. Bette remained deliberately quiet, spellbound by the different facial expressions that danced across Tina’s face as she observed the various works. Minutes later, the peace was broken suddenly by a whoop of delight from Tina, which caused a few disparaging stares from the other visitors. 

“Sorry,” she apologised as Bette moved alongside her in front of another colour print, “but I didn’t realise you had American actors here too. I thought all the works were British?”

“Well, we have Elizabeth Taylor.”

“She’s British-American.”

“Duly noted,” Bette smiled, enjoying being corrected. “Do you like this one?”

“I love this one.” 

Bette filled with affection as she cast a sideways glance towards Tina, who was enraptured by the print before her. His arms crossed over his chest, defiant, classy as always, was Fred Astaire, older but still handsome, standing in front of the swimming pool at his Beverly Hills home. 

“Terry O’Neill took this photograph,” Bette explained, knowing she couldn’t compete with Tina’s film insights, but gaining an upper hand on the topic of photography. “He was British, even though many of his subjects weren’t. He rose to fame taking photos during the sixties. The Beatles, the Rolling Stones, etcetera, but this is one of his eighties shots. He liked candids, as you can see.”

“The smile on his face says so much. Distinguished. Contented. God, I just loved Fred and Ginger,” Tina added dreamily, enthralled by the photo and even more so by Bette imparting her knowledge. “My grandparents raised me on classic Hollywood. Top Hat. Shall We Dance…” Tina trailed off as she closed her eyes and reminisced. 

“Happy memories,” Bette said as she watched hazel eyes sparkle with nostalgia. 

“Very.”

The women inspected a few more photographs before Tina reluctantly realised she should return to the office. They’d spent longer than intended looking through the photos, but Tina wished she could spend all day with Bette, bewitched by all the details she’d shared about the various photos. Similarly, Bette thought that the half hour they shared had passed all too quickly as she escorted Tina back through the Gallery and towards the exit via the Main Hall. 

“Well, here we are,” Bette said, a tinge of sadness colouring her tone. Despite the ease with which they had spent this time together, a shy awkwardness descended as the two women faced each other and fumbled for parting words.

“Thank you, Bette, for showing me around. It was so kind of you to do that, you didn’t have to–”

Bette lifted a hand to interrupt. “It was my pleasure. Too many people think the Gallery’s full of stuffy old paintings of kings and queens, but, as you can see,” Bette motioned to some of the other modern works dotted around the Main Hall, “we have a diverse and varied collection.”

“I really enjoyed it. It’s not every day you get a personal tour with the Director,” Tina effused with an arched eyebrow.  

“You’re welcome here anytime.”

Bette reached her hand out to clasp Tina’s, whose hand was smaller, warm, and fit snugly with her own. Seconds passed as each woman waited for the other to let go. Tina opened her mouth to speak and yet again overlapped with Bette.

“Goodbye Be–”

“Let me give you my–”

Tina blushed pink as Bette reached into her trouser pocket for a business card.

“--my business card. I have your number already of course,” Bette quipped, “but now you have mine.”

Tina turned the small piece of card in her hand and noticed a number on the back, handwritten exquisitely. 

“That’s my personal number. Just in case,” Bette shrugged coyly.

“Oh,” Tina’s voice was soft. “Thank you. Again.”

Bette stepped back and slipped her hands back into her pockets.

“Goodbye, Tina.”

“Goodbye, Bette.”

Bette turned and made for the staircase as Tina watched her go. The blonde bounced on her heels for a few moments, suddenly unable to let the brunette walk away without offering a solid plan to meet again. 

“Bette?” she said, her voice loud enough to reach over the buzz of the Main Hall.

Bette turned instantly. “Yes?”

“Maybe, um, I can show you around my place of work.”

“Oh?” A smile toyed at Bette’s lips as she walked the few steps back toward Tina. 

“It’s the least I can do for you seeing as you saved my pashmina,” Tina joked as she wrapped the offending item around her neck. “It’d be tricky to get you into the studio, but we’re filming outdoors in Regent’s Park next week. Perhaps you’d like to come along and visit the set? I can’t promise it’s as exciting as all this,” Tina gestured at the art on the walls, “and it might be rainy and cold, but it could be fu–”

“I’d be thrilled, Tina,” Bette interrupted Tina with a wide smile. 

“Really?” 

“Absolutely.”

“Well, that’s great,” Tina grinned. “I’ll, um, text you some details in the next few days.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Neither can I.”

“Well, I guess I’ll see you next week.” 

Tina gave one last smile, a wave, and turned on her heels to leave. Bette watched her walk the length of the Hall until she disappeared towards the exit and out of sight.

Out of sight, Bette thought, but not out of mind.

Chapter Text

It was rare for Bette to leave office during the working day, unless it was for appointments related to the Gallery. Normally you’d find her glued to her desk or taking calls and client meetings before and beyond her contracted hours. Work had become her primary focus since she’d left Jodi, and as director for the last few years she’d brought countless successes - and a heap of money - into the Gallery. No doubt it was fulfilling for her professionally, James thought, despite having to contend with her irritable moods throughout the divorce, but it was merely a distraction from a less-than-fulfilling personal life. 

The choice to take an unscheduled day off to mark her divorce was understandable but still surprising. Taking another unscheduled day off a week later was even more astonishing, but James was pleased to note the change in his boss since a certain blonde had appeared. He’d given Bette a knowing grin when she informed him of her unavailability for the rest of the day. The rolling of the eyes that followed belied her true feelings, because Bette had been unable to suppress a smile since she left the office - early, of course, because God forbid she’d be late, and who can really trust the Tube? As she took the escalator from the platform to ground level at Baker Street station, she was giddy with excitement at the prospect of visiting a real, live film set, something she’d never done before. The giddiness, however, wasn’t really about that. It was the thought of seeing Tina Kennard again that put the spring into her step. Not even the steely sky above central London could dampen her mood as yet more rain threatened to pour. She had her umbrella, she had her trusted Mackintosh, and most importantly, she had the thoughts of seeing Tina again to keep her warm. 

*

Helena and Tina had been on set for some hours already. Filming was slow today and the weather hadn’t helped. Unlike Helena, Tina had forgotten her umbrella and a waterproof coat, and her hair was damp and messy from the intermittent drizzle. Rainy days were tough on set and the mood was subdued, except for the blonde, who resembled the Duracell bunny as she flitted here and there, bothering first the cast, then the crew, and generally making a nuisance of herself, as if cramming in lots of pointless tasks would make the day go quicker. It was 1.30 p.m. by the time she’d grabbed a cup of muddy coffee and a sandwich, and perched herself into a seat next to Helena. 

“Let me get this right. Bar brunette is coming to the set today?” 

“It’s a thank you for finding the pashmina that you bought me. She showed me hers, I’m showing her mine.” Helena’s eyebrow flew up naughtily. “Not like that. Why do you insist on calling her ‘bar brunette’?”

“Because you haven't told me her name yet. You’ve been too busy gushing about your little trip to her Gallery.”

“It's Bette. Bette Porter.”

“Bette Porter…” Helena mused, deep in thought. “Bette Porter…”

“If you say it three times, maybe she’ll appear.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” 

Tina rolled her eyes. “Well, she’ll be here soon so….” Helena chuckled at how flustered Tina had become. “Do you know her?”

“I think Mother has worked with her. I say ‘worked’. You know how Mother is always dishing out cash to the arts. I suspect she’s connected with the Gallery.”

“You’ve met her then?” Tina said, her eyes narrowed.

“God, no. If I'd known that woman at the bar was Bette Porter I might have thrown my own hat into the ring,” Helena replied as she playfully elbowed Tina in the arm, who flinched as she tried to remain unruffled. 

“You still can because nothing’s going on."

“ Yet .”

“We're friends. I think,” Tina added. “It's early days but it's nice to have someone to relate to. She’s been through a divorce too. It felt very easy to be in her company. Comfortable, one might say.”

“I’m your friend too,” Helena challenged good-naturedly. “I’m very easy to be around, I should hope.”

“Yes, but…” Tina struggled for reasons to separate the two, “she’s American.”

“‘She’s American’ is the best you can do?” Helena laughed as Tina pursed her lips. “It has nothing to do with her beauty or her charm or her success–”

“Hel?” Something in the timbre of Tina’s voice and the flash of sadness that crossed her features halted Helena’s gentle joking. “Of course I've noticed all those things, but… it's too soon.”

Helena smiled kindly and squeezed Tina’s hand. “I know. I look forward to meeting her.”

Tina replied with a smile of her own before looking away shyly. “Me too.”

Helena continued to watch her for a moment as the twinkle returned to Tina’s eyes, clearly thinking about Bette’s imminent arrival, but her dreamy expression suddenly soured as she took a gulp of coffee. 

“Fuck, what do we have to around here to get a decent cup of coffee?”

Helena opened her mouth to respond just as the figure of a tall, stunning brunette came into view behind Tina. She was walking purposefully towards where the women sat, a folded golf umbrella in one hand and two coffees in a carry tray in her other. 

“Hold that thought,” said Helena as Tina furrowed her brow. “Here comes your knight in shining Armani.”

Tina turned in her chair to see a smiling Bette moving towards her. She quickly stood.

“Bette, hi!”

“Hello, Tina.” Bette looked towards the two coffees in hand. “I come bearing gifts. I hope you like latte?”

“Thank you so much. I’ve been desperate for a decent cup all day.”

Tina took one of the proffered cups, which saved both women from a potentially awkward greeting. A handshake felt too formal for a third meeting, but Tina wondered if a hug was too much.

“I’m sorry I didn’t buy more,” Bette said, looking towards the Brit, who smiled impishly.

“Don’t worry about it. You’d have to remortgage to afford coffee for this lot,” Helena motioned to indicate the cast and crew spread out across the vast set. “Helena Peabody.”

Bette moved the umbrella into the crook of her arm so she could shake Helena’s hand.

“Bette Porter,” she replied, a flicker of recognition in her eyes. “Lovely to meet you. You’re not by chance related to..?”

“I am indeed. Peggy is my mother.”

“Small world,” Bette beamed. “I’m director at the National Portrait Gallery. Peggy is one of our most dedicated benefactors. In fact, just yesterday I sent her an invitation to the drinks reception for the Hockney exhibition opening in a few weeks. She’s truly a force of nature.”

“That she is. She’s likewise very enamoured of you, Bette. It seems to be catching,” Helena bantered as she flicked her eyes towards Tina, who blushed furiously. Bette observed the interaction with interest. “It’s good to know my inheritance is going to worthy causes, at least.”

Both women laughed as Tina stood and watched the verbal volley. 

“That’s kind of you to say. I’m surprised we haven’t met pr–”

“--anyway,” Tina interjected, suddenly impatient to get Bette’s attention. Helena bit back a smirk as Bette turned towards Tina. “How about that tour before the heavens open again?”

“Sure,” Bette smiled as she grasped her umbrella again. “Never fear, I am well equipped.”

“I’m glad one of us is,” Tina joked and pointed to her still-damp hair regretfully. 

“You look great. Very Audrey Hepburn in ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’.”

Tina was taken aback, both by the movie reference and the compliment, the blush spreading to her neck. Bette could see the pink just beneath the collar of Tina’s coat. 

“Nice reference,” Tina quipped. 

“What can I say,” Bette shrugged. “You inspired me to expand my movie repertoire.”

Helena listened to the exchange gleefully and started to feel as if she was intruding. As Tina took Bette’s elbow gently and guided her away to begin the tour, Helena stepped back and joined Nicole, Tina’s assistant, who was ticking items off a clipboard. 

“Who is that woman? Tongues will be wagging for sure,” Nicole observed.

“ That is the reason your boss has been such a pain in the arse all morning.”

“You mean her complete inability to sit still for a minute or get through one take without finding fault?”

“Exactly,” Helena grinned. “Her name is Bette Porter and she’s Tina’s new friend.”

“I don’t recall Tina ever bringing someone on set before, not even her ex-wife.”

“Oh, she asked her. Several times,” Helena opined. “Carrie had no interest.”

“That’s sad.”

“It’s her loss.”

Helena watched from a distance as Tina introduced Bette to the two leads, her hand resting gently on Bette’s upper arm. The actors were fascinated with the enigmatic gallerist, but none more so than Tina. Every now and then Bette would lean down to utter something in Tina’s ear and though Helena couldn’t hear what had been said, she delighted in how giggly and girly Tina seemed to become in the brunette’s presence. The observation was not lost on Nicole either.

“Do friends always behave like that?”

Helena chuckled.

“Just the ones who are fooling themselves.”

*

After an hour spent meeting and greeting cast and crew - and having dazzled everyone she met - Bette asked Tina to join her on a slow circuit around the Boating Lake away from the noise and chaos of the set. The rain had held off for a while and the park thrummed with life - grey squirrels collected seeds from the ground and carried them back into the woodland. Woodpeckers chattered high in the treetops. A pair of mute swans glided serenely across the lake’s surface as Tina watched them fondly. 

“They bond for life, you know,” Bette said, as she glanced towards the blonde. 

“Swans?”

“Yes,” Bette continued, her hands and umbrella clasped behind her back, “one of few species that do.”

“They could teach us something.”

“They can divorce, but it’s very rare.”

“Hmm, that’s interesting,” Tina added. Bette eyed her carefully. She waited a few moments before speaking. 

“It gets better, Tina, I promise.”

“I was the one who filed,” Tina glanced towards Bette as she spoke, who was relieved to hear the admission. Knowing that Tina was processing the end of a marriage she’d chosen to leave was welcome news, but what swiftly followed was a pang of guilt at her own reaction. Evidently Tina was still working through some pain. 

“So did I, but these things take time. Longer than you think they will, anyway. You’ll get there,” Bette said as she reached out to squeeze Tina’s hand. 

“Some days it feels like I’ve moved forward and other days it’s as if I’m wading through cement.” 

“It’s early days.”

“Is it that obvious?” Tina groaned. 

“Well,” Bette started, “do you remember at the bar when we were trying to figure out where we might have met before?” Tina nodded. “I figured it out.”

“You did?”

“You stole my cab that very morning outside of the courthouse.”

Tina cast her mind back to the previous week and tried to recall the morning she’d been working hard to forget. 

“Oh my God, yes,” she said, brightening in realisation. “I remember you let me have the cab.”

“I did,” Bette smiled shyly. 

“Well, thank you for letting me have it. It was a small win, but one I needed.”

Bette shrugged. “You looked so sad, it was the least I could do.”

Tina looked away in silence. They continued to walk on for a few yards, Bette cursing herself that she may have put a dampener on what had been a wonderful afternoon so far. When Tina broke the silence, however, her voice full of renewed enthusiasm, her worries subsided.

“So did you enjoy your first visit to a movie set?” 

Bette noted the quick subject change and gladly went with it. 

“Enjoy it? I loved it. It was a lot of fun. Your cast and crew are quite different to the clientele I deal with most days.”

“In a good way?”

“Absolutely,” Bette leaned in conspiratorially as she spoke. “Shock horror, a lot of people in the art world are assholes.”

“We have our fair share of assholes in the movie business too, Bette, but with this production I got lucky.”

So did I, was Bette’s unspoken response. 

“Maybe so, but they all clearly love and respect you. It’s in the way they talk to you. Everyone’s a little awed in your presence.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Tina disputed with an embarrassed smile. “I made their lives hell this morning.”

“Why’s that?” 

“Well, I wanted you to have a great experience, especially with it being your first time on a live set,” Tina replied, “so I had to whip them into shape.”

Bette felt her heart flip, overjoyed to hear that Tina had gone to such lengths to ensure a pleasant afternoon.

“Well, I’m grateful, but I’m just glad I got the opportunity to spend some more time with you.”

Tina blushed again much to Bette’s delight. 

“It’s really fascinating actually. The process, the vision, the dedication everyone has to creating something beautiful. There’s so many moving parts that go into even the shortest of takes.”

“Filmmaking is a science,” Tina concurred.

“More than that, Tina, it’s an art . ”

Tina’s eyebrows flew up. “Wow, I think I converted you. That wasn’t my intent, by the way, when I invited you here but it’s an added bonus.”

“I’m happy to be converted. Don’t get me wrong, I do like movies, but I tend to stay in my comfort zone. Documentaries, arthouse, etcetera. You’ve opened my eyes today in more ways than one.”

“I’m so glad to hear that. We’ll make a cinephile of you yet,” Tina smirked as she nudged playfully into Bette’s side. 

The women continued to stroll around the Lake as the sky grew darker and the street lamps switched on one by one. Just as they made their way back towards the set, the clouds burst and large droplets of rain started to fall from the sky. Bette grabbed her umbrella and opened it in one smooth motion.

“Oh well, my hair’s still damp from this morning, so I guess I’ll just get wet again,” Tina remarked. 

“No you won’t,” Bette stated firmly. She closed the distance between them and brought the umbrella over both their heads.

“Saved again. First, good coffee, and now you’re keeping me dry.”

Bette beamed in reply as she risked bringing her arm lightly around Tina’s waist to ensure they stayed underneath the canopy. The blonde felt Bette’s fingers rest lightly at the curve and her pulse quickened. They resumed their walk.

“Can I ask you about something, Bette?” 

“Of course.”

Tina smiled mischievously. “Last week you mentioned that you found my name on my tab at the bar.”

Bette winced. “Yes, I did. Do you find it weird I did that?”

“No no, it shows initiative,” Tina answered honestly, “but I’m curious as to why it  mattered so much to you that you find me? You could have handed my pashmina to the front desk.” 

Bette slowed to a stop as the women found themselves sheltered underneath a large cedar tree. Tina walked on a few steps further before realising the brunette was no longer beside her. She turned back as Bette shook out the droplets from her umbrella and closed it. 

“Because…” she started and paused, choosing her words carefully. She took a deep breath. “Last week, I told you that you were the most beautiful woman in the room - any room, I imagine. That wasn't just a line, Tina. I’m a little too old and a little too divorced for cheesy lines. I know we haven't known each other for very long, but…” Bette waved her hand between them both, “there's something here, don’t you think?  I'd like to find out what  that something is.”

Tina stepped tentatively towards the brunette and smiled wistfully as she gazed up into chestnut eyes.

“Bette, that's one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.”

“You deserve to hear all the nice things.”

Tina looked down, her expression becoming regretful. 

“But…”

Bette closed her eyes despondently. “I knew there was a but.”

“But…” Tina continued, her hand coming up to play with the collar of Bette’s raincoat. “It's too soon. There is something , you're not wrong–”

“--so what can I do to help with that so you’ll at least agree to let me take you out for dinner?” Bette jumped in. 

Tina grinned at her impatience and enthusiasm. Her hand trailed along the collar and stroked down over a toned arm, eventually reaching Bette’s hand. 

“There’s nothing you can do. It’s just going to take some time, like you said before. I need a friend right now and I’d like it to be you. Sure, I have Helena, but she doesn't understand what it’s like to go through a divorce. You do. Would you be that friend for me?”

Bette deliberated for a moment or two, before responding with a squeezed hand in return. 

“Of course I will be your friend.”

“Great,” Tina replied, her smile reappearing, “and friends still take friends to dinner, right?”

“Yes they do,” Bette chuckled as the women resumed their walk, “and I will happily take you out to dinner.”

“Friends hold umbrellas up too.”

Bette realised they were both no longer sheltered by the cedar and reopened the umbrella with a flourish. 

“Better?”

“Drier,” Tina smirked.

They walked on a little further in an easy silence, the only sound the pitter patter of raindrops on the umbrella. When they got nearer to the set, Bette paused again and wrapped her hand softly around Tina’s wrist to halt her progress. 

“So, all you need is time?”

“Yes,” Tina answered sweetly. “Just time.”

“For you, I have all the time in the world.”

Chapter Text

A couple of weeks passed and the friendship between Bette and Tina flourished. Though quite different in their individual tastes, they shared an eye for beauty and an appetite for all things artistic, cultural, and culinary. London brimmed with things to do and discuss, and the two women would text each other frequently during the long autumnal evenings when darkness blanketed London early and the streetlight outside Tina’s house would glow yellow by 5 p.m. She’d return there an hour later, tired and weary from a long day on set, the empty house lit only by the desk lamps switched on by her housekeeper. It gave scant comfort. 

On the other side of Hyde Park, Bette ate dinner alone before finding a quiet alcove of the Dorchester to bury her head in a book and sip peppermint tea. If one looked close enough, they would notice the exact moment she received the ping that signified a text from Tina, because her eyes would gleam and an almost-imperceptible smile would cross her lips. They’d exchange details about their days, sometimes bemoaning their colleagues or clients, other times delighting in a job well done or a milestone passed. The topics remained relatively light, but both women enjoyed the deepening connection, even when they were too busy to meet in person. Sometimes even a photo or two was exchanged, Tina sending Bette photos of whatever delicious Nigella Lawson dish she’d rustled up for supper, and Bette snapping shots of unusual and intriguing pieces of art she’d find on her visits to some of London’s more off-beat galleries. 

Permeating every exchange, however, were growing feelings and unspoken desires. Tina considered the matter of romance closed, at least temporarily, following their talk in Regent’s Park. Work had kept her busy and tired and, critically, ignorant of Bette’s own internal struggle with her more-than-platonic affections for the blonde. As long as conversations remained surface-level and via text only, Tina could fool herself into thinking their friendship remained strictly that.

Bette, on the other hand, wrestled almost constantly with the gnawing sense of inevitability that Tina might be the person she had spent the best part of thirty years searching for. On one rare night when they were able to meet, Bette invited Tina to meet her at Ronnie Scott’s for jazz and Scotch, and they’d spent most of the evening in a contented silence nestled together in a candlelit corner. They listened to the various singers and musicians ply their trade, Bette’s arm slung loosely along the back of Tina’s chair, daring not to touch the golden strands of hair sitting just below her neckline. It was only when Bette heard the opening brass notes of a slowed version of A Fine Romance that she was forced to muster all her fight to resist the urge to ask Tina to dance.

“Tina?” she whispered, feeling brave. Tina tilted her head upwards and Bette turned to mush. 

“What is it, Bette?” Tina asked softly after waiting for an answer that wasn't forthcoming.

“Would you, um… would you–”

Ask me.

The honey flecks of Tina’s eyes shone in the dim candlelight and Bette found herself suddenly mute. 

I'll say yes. 

“Would you like… another drink?”

“Oh,” Tina replied, looking at her glass, deflated. “Sure, why not.”

A fine romance indeed, Bette thought, with no kisses…

*

“Where to, love?”

Tina gave her address to the cabbie as she slammed the door shut and started to dial Helena’s number.

“Blimey, Tina, you’re out late again?” came a shrill voice through the receiver. 

“Again? When do I ever go out late?” Tina rolled her eyes. 

“I can hear you rolling your eyes.”

“No you can’t,” Tina said as she twirled a curl of hair around her index finger. “I was hoping you’d still be up.”

“What’s up?”

Tina sighed as she watched the theatre lights reflect against the glass as the cab barreled down Shaftesbury Avenue.

“I don’t know. Feeling a little thrown off and I need a friendly ear.”

“Always, darling. You’ve been out with Bette, I take it?”

“How could you possibly know that?” Tina chuckled.

“You had this same melancholic energy when we left Regent’s Park the other week. Watching you watch her walk away was like watching a child let go of a balloon. You’ve never quite been the same.”

Tina smiled to herself, thinking again of the afternoon they’d spent together walking around the Boating Lake, Bette’s arm lightly at her waist, before the brunette had laid all her cards on the table. Several moments of silence passed and Helena wondered if the line had gone dead.

“Are you there, Tina?”

“Yes, sorry, sorry,” Tina exclaimed, her reverie cut short.

“Come on then, out with it.”

“We met up tonight at Ronnie Scott’s, pretty spontaneously. I was at the office late and she called me and asked if I wanted a nightcap, and I did, so we met there.”

“Ah, the ‘nightcap’, that old chestnut,” Helena laughed. “And yet you’re on your way home alone. Let me point out the first issue, Tina–”

“--ugh, how many are there?” Tina interrupted.

“Hush. Perhaps the both of you need to stop with this spontaneous nonsense and actually make some deliberate plans to meet, seeing as neither of you clearly can nor want to keep away from the other.”  

“We’ve been trying to pin a date down for dinner,” Tina rebutted as she ran her hand across her neck. It was maddening how easily Helena could figure her out with hardly any information about how the night had unfolded. Mostly, she was mad at herself.

“And yet you still haven’t set a date. Secondly, Tina, and this is the biggie, but she already made her intentions pretty clear at the park, so why not go with the flow? Enjoy whatever it is?”

“I’m too old for casual affairs, Helena. Plus, I’ve spent so long out of the game that I’m starting to think I just like the attention–” 

“Hang on,” Helena interjected firmly. “I don’t know if you’ve looked in a mirror lately, but you, my dear, are only getting better with age. Like a fine Bordeaux. It may have passed you by, but you’ve had plenty of interest in the last eighteen months since unchaining yourself from that heap of misery.”

“Just call her Carrie,” Tina groaned.

“No, shan’t, but back to my point. You could have your pick of women, but Bette is the only one you’re spending most days and evenings talking to. She’s the only one you’re going to jazz clubs for, even though I’ve seen your record collection and I know there’s three identical copies of Rumours but not one Miles Davis. She’s the only woman who has shown a modicum of romantic interest that you’ve bothered to acknowledge.”

Tina was stunned into silence as she reflected on Helena’s observations. 

“It’s funny, you know. I was pretty firm with her that I’m not ready for anything more than friendship, but being with her tonight… maybe I wanted something to happen.”

“ Admission is the first step. ”

“All night her hand was so close to mine. At one point I thought she was going to ask me to dance, but then she didn’t, and the moment was over, and before I knew it we were leaving.”

“She’s only holding back because you told her to.”

Tina felt herself becoming emotional, remembering how she’d drawn clear boundaries with Bette, but was now inexplicably sad that the brunette was willing to respect them. 

“Tina?”

A moment passed. 

“Yes, I’m here.”

Helena could hear the quiver in her voice. “You deserve a bit of fun in your life. Why not just explore the possibility?”

“It's–,” Tina stammered. “I, um. I'm not... I can't, Helena.”

“Tina–”

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

At Helena’s end, the line went dead.

*

Dinner had been rearranged twice already. Firstly because Tina caught a heavy cold, and secondly because a storm so ferocious ripped across southern England that both women thought it best to stay home. Bette was keen to treat Tina to a delicious meal, good conversation, and even better wine at one of her favourite London restaurants. ‘As a friend’, she reminded herself as the women swapped details via text one lunchtime. Though she willed herself to remain patient, Bette also knew there was a tiny part of her that hoped things would evolve naturally as they spent more time together. 

But the universe had different ideas. Bette had been due to leave the Gallery at 4 p.m. promptly to make sure she could get back to the hotel, shower, change, and meet Tina for a pre-dinner drink. James had cleared her diary from 3 o’clock and all was going to plan… until it wasn’t.

“Fuck,” Bette growled as she read the email that landed in her inbox just as she was packing up her belongings. “This is fucking bullshit, James.”

“I know, but I don’t see what else we can do but meet with the team tonight. The drinks reception is two weeks away - we need to figure this out.”

“Can’t he meet tomorrow? Sunday even? I’ll come in.”

“They’re running events all weekend. We’re fortunate to get a face-to-face tonight.”

Bette turned away and gazed forlornly out of the bay window.  People and traffic hurried down Charing Cross Road, heading home for the weekend or walking to the pub for a pint that would turn into several more. Removing her reading glasses and pinching the bridge of her nose, she suddenly felt envious of them all.

“I’m meant to be meeting Tina tonight, James. We’ve already rearranged this dinner twice and I haven’t seen her in over a week.”

“I know, Bette,” James replied quietly, “but we’re at risk of losing them entirely. I offered to meet them alone, but they want the organ grinder, not the monkey.”

Bette turned and gave James a proud smile, heartened by his dedication and willingness to try and fix this problem without needing her involvement.

“I appreciate it, James.” Sighing, she retook her seat and replaced her glasses. “Call them and tell them I’ll be here at 7.30 p.m. to meet.”

“Sorry again, Bette.”

“It’s not your fault. Go.” 

James nodded and left. 

“Fuck,” Bette barked again as she picked up her mobile phone and dialled Tina’s number. When she heard the brightness in Tina’s voice, her regret grew heavier. 

“Hi Bette. I hope you can hear me? I’m on Oxford Street and… well, let’s just say I think everyone started Christmas shopping early this year. How’re you?”

Bette could hear the blare of car horns and sirens in the background. 

“Um, I’ve been better actually. I’ve, er…” Bette leaned her head into her hands as she trailed off, “got to cancel, Tina, I’m so sorry. I have a situation with the caterer for the Hockney reception and they can only meet tonight.”

“Oh.” The single syllable was filled with disappointment. 

“I’m so sorry, Tina, if I could rearrange it, I would, but they have events for the rest of the weekend and we’re so fucking close to the date, I–”

“Bette, it’s okay, honestly. This is a big deal for you, I know, do what you need to do.”

“I know, but this is the third time we’ve had to cancel. I really wanted to see you, Tina.”

“You’re sweet,” Tina laughed. Bette smiled to hear it. “I assume it’ll be a late night thrashing all of this out?”

“Possibly. They’re meeting me at 7.30 but no doubt they’ll be late fighting through Friday night traffic, so by the time we’re done it’ll probably be 9.30 and then there’ll be paperwork to sort and either way the Underground will be full of drunk assholes and the cabs will all be full and it’ll be midnight bef–”

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down, B, and take a deep breath.” 

‘B’ was new. Bette felt her building anger dissipate as quickly as she felt her stomach flip.

“You have one job right now and that’s prepping yourself to stick it to these so-called caterers with both barrels for their incompetence and for completely fucking up your Friday evening. That’s your focus, okay? Don’t worry about me. I’ll go home, take a bath, and probably be asleep on the sofa by 9. There’ll be other evenings for you and me. I have plenty of blank Fridays in my diary, trust me.”

You shouldn't, Bette wanted to say. You should have women lining up to fill your diary. 

“Thank you, Tina, I promise I’ll make this up to you.”

“I know you will.” Bette could hear Tina’s smile through the phone and she felt rejuvenated by it. “Now go kick some ass.”

*

Bette looked up at the antique clock on the wall of her office and leaned back in her office chair. 10 p.m. James had left ten minutes ago. Bette’s office, usually a safe and comforting space away from the hubbub of the Gallery itself, suddenly felt too big and quiet, the sound of the clock hand louder than ever. How had this become her Friday night? When did she stop making time for herself? Divorce was supposed to be a liberation, but these days it seemed Bette built her own prisons. She could hear the revelry of Friday night in London far below, people shouting and whooping as they stumbled in and out of bars, and she wished she too could be three or four martinis deep at this point. 

Instead of sipping cocktails, Bette was finalising a catering schedule for the upcoming drinks reception. The meeting itself had gone as expected; the caterers pushed back on certain requests, made excuses for their poor planning, and tried, naively, to hike costs even higher. Bette stood for none of it and, as per usual, had gotten her way. James had stifled a laugh when the squat catering boss attempted to shake her hand at the end of the meeting. Towering over him, Bette refused and recommended they wait until the end of the event before becoming self-congratulatory. 

“I’m so tired,” Bette muttered to herself as she sorted through the paperwork piled neatly on desk. Her stomach rumbled loudly and she realised she hadn’t eaten since lunch. The only places open at this late hour would be fast food restaurants and kebab shops. Perish the thought.

Bette was roused from her thoughts of food by an unexpected knock at the door. No one would or should be around at this time, except security and cleaning staff. She rose quickly from her chair and marched to the door. When she saw who was standing in the doorway, her heart soared.

“Surprise.”

All thoughts of proprietary that had previously influenced her behaviour vanished and Bette swept Tina into a tight embrace. 

“Careful, you’ll squash the dumplings” said Tina, her voice muffled by Bette’s shoulder. 

“Fuck the dumplings. I’m just glad you’re here.”

“That’s a lovely sentiment, but I know you won’t have eaten since lunch and these jiaozi are Chinatown’s finest, so–”

Bette gripped her a little bit tighter before reluctantly stepping back. Tina beamed at her and held up bags of Chinese takeaway. 

“How did you get in here?”

“I sweet talked security,” Tina stated plainly as she moved past Bette towards the leather sofa and coffee table in the middle of the office. She started to unpack the food containers and chopsticks. “It’s amazing what an American accent and a sunny disposition can achieve. Sit.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Bette loved how comfortable Tina looked sitting on the office sofa and serving up Chinese food for them to share. She fit into the space like she’d always been there.

“I brought a little bit of everything because, well, we haven’t dined together yet and I don’t actually know what you like.” Tina popped open two bottles of Tsingtao beer and handed one over to Bette, their fingers brushing momentarily. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” Bette took a long swig. “God, that’s good. Sometimes you just need a beer. I’m so ravenous I would probably eat just about anything right now. I was even considering McDonald’s on the way back to the hotel, such was my desperation,” Bette bristled.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it. I’ve been known to indulge in a Big Mac and fries after a night out.”

“I don’t believe that,” Bette smirked. “Surely they don’t have McDonald’s in Holland Park?”

“No, but they do have Deliveroo,” Tina chuckled, “and don’t worry, I’m still going to hold you to a proper dinner.”

“I look forward to it.”

The women shared details of their respective days in between mouthfuls, enjoying the food and the company even more. When they finished, they both sank back into the sofa, satiated. 

“So what happened to being asleep on the sofa by 9 p.m?”

Tina shrugged. “I didn’t want to eat alone again. We’d planned to eat together tonight, so why not?”

“But it’s cold and dark and–”

“--raining and windy and the rest,” Tina finished grinning. “It’s England, we knew what we were signing up to fifteen years ago.”

The women looked at each other for a long moment, the moment strangely charged. Bette pondered the potential hidden motives as to why someone she had only known a few weeks would come across town late at night, on a busy Friday no less, in shitty weather, just to bring her Chinese food. Before she could drum up the courage to ask, Tina looked away and took another swig of beer.

“How did it go with the caterer?”

“Ugh,” Bette groaned and leaned back again into the sofa. “Surely there are more interesting things to talk about.”

“Your job is interesting. Tell me,” Tina prodded Bette’s arm playfully.

“It was fine. I put the little fucker in his place and managed to get a cost reduction on the champagne and the appetisers. I’d call that a win.”

“Even if it did fuck up your Friday evening?”

“I don’t know,” Bette remarked. “My Friday got a whole lot better in the last hour.”

Tina flushed beautifully, Bette noted. 

“You’re too kind.”

“I’m honest.”

“Well…” Tina trailed off, shy and unsure of how to respond, “even if it messed up our plans, I’m glad you got the right outcome. I imagine Bette Porter in action mode is quite the sight to behold.”

Bette laughed a little. “Hmm, maybe.” She thought for a moment. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

Tina narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“You should come to the reception,” Bette said, nervous all of a sudden. She looked down and started to rip the paper label off her beer bottle. “As my guest, obviously.”

There was a pregnant pause that almost had Bette sweating. 

“I’m sure you have scores of women queuing to be your guest, Bette, don’t feel you have to invite me out of some obligation.”

“Even if that was true, I’m asking you , and not out of obligation. I want you to come with me as my guest,” Bette said firmly before quickly adding, “and my friend.”

Tina’s cheeks reddened as she felt Bette’s chestnut eyes bore into her. Bette hoped framing the invitation as friends might help make Tina’s decision for her. 

“Can I think about it?”

Bette sagged a little, but tried to remain assured that Tina would accept eventually.

Patience, Bette.

“Of course. It’s two weeks from tomorrow. I’ll need to know at least a few days before, so…” Bette trailed off, realising she was rambling.

“I’ll let you know before then,” Tina smiled and took Bette’s hand into her own. “Thank you for the invitation.”

Bette felt her pulse accelerate at the feel of Tina’s hand on her own again. Just as she considered whether to risk trying to interlink her fingers with the blonde’s, Tina withdrew and started to gather the empty food containers. 

“I’ll put these in the trash or your office will smell like grease all weekend and no one wants to smell grease on a Monday morning.”

“Thank you, T.”

Upon hearing the moniker, Tina glanced over her shoulder with a lopsided smile on her face, but the brunette had already moved to the far end of the office to collect their coats off the rack. She turned back around and seconds later was overcome with the delicious sandalwood scent of Bette’s perfume. Before she realised what was happening, Bette was right behind her and holding up the epaulettes of her trench coat waiting for Tina to slip her arms into.

“Oh,” Tina said shyly, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Bette smiled as she slipped the coat over Tina and momentarily rested her hands atop her shoulders. The intense silence that followed was permeated only by the sounds of their breathing and the ticking of the antique clock on the wall, until Tina cut it short.

“Let’s go call an Uber.”

Tina moved quickly past Bette and grabbed her purse. Bette waited a beat to steady herself as she reminded herself again that whatever progress was being made between the two women would be on Tina’s terms alone. 

“Yes, let’s.” She turned to follow Tina out of the office. “About that dinner, T. I was thinking next week…”

Chapter Text

“What’s the smile for?” Helena asked, already knowing the answer.

“It’s nothing,” Tina lied, throwing her phone back onto the bed where Helena was lounging with a glass of white wine in hand. Bette had texted her that morning to say she couldn’t wait to see her and Tina had reread the message several times throughout the day. “Bette text me earlier.”

“Oh?” 

“You know, she’s usually the first person I speak to in the morning, so–” Tina stopped herself, realising she was giving away more ammo.

“Is she? Please go on,” Helena smirked. 

Tina rolled her eyes as she dusted her cheeks lightly with rouge. Helena had insisted on coming home with her as she dressed for dinner with Bette, which was finally taking place after two prior cancellations. All week Tina had been relaxed about the dinner, but Helena had sensed a nervousness in her friend on set today, and she wanted to ensure the blonde didn’t bail and cancel. She also wanted to help her pick out an outfit. 

“I already had a dress picked out, you know.”

“Nothing wrong with a second pair of eyes,” Helena shrugged as she took a large gulp of wine, “but you do look sensational.”

Tina had decided on a figure-hugging midi dress in burgundy, which matched her lipstick and popped beautifully against her ivory skin. Helena watched as she brushed gently through blonde hair and then twisted it up, leaving a few wisps to frame her face. 

“You never dress like this when we go out for dinner.”

Tina arched an eyebrow. “Don’t start.”

“Just an observation,” Helena remarked. 

“Well, keep your observations to yourself,” the blonde replied, but Helena could see her cheeks burning red and not just because of the rouge. 

Tina dabbed perfume to her wrists and behind her ears before slipping on a pair of stiletto heels.

“They’re high.”

“Hel,” Tina admonished, “what did I just say?”

“Bette’s a tall woman, isn’t she?” Helena continued, unable to help herself. Tina turned suddenly and threw a balled-up tissue at her friend, who batted it away whilst laughing. 

“Fine, I’ll stop.”

“Thank you.” Tina looked at her watch. “My ride will be here soon, so you need to go.”

Helena stretched and stood up from the bed to gather her belongings.

“Is this the first time you’ve seen her since your little rendezvous at the Gallery?”

“Yes, it’s our first proper dinner together. We cancelled twice, remember? It’ll be nice to eat good food, drink decent wine, and enjoy each other’s company again without having to be somewhere else or rush off home.”

“As friends, of course.”

Tina shot her a withering look. “Yes,” was the clipped reply.

As she opened the bedroom door to leave, Helena gave her friend one last warm smile as Tina looked back at her through the mirror glass. 

“Tina? Just remember what I said. You deserve some fun in your life. Think about it.”

The plea was met with silence. She closed the door softly and Tina listened as Helena stepped along the hallway, down the stairs, and departed. When she looked up into the mirror again, her own amber eyes stared back, daring and taunting. 

I’ve thought of little else. 

*

Across Hyde Park, Bette had already showered, dried her hair, and finished her make-up. She hadn’t dressed yet, not wanting to get creases in her outfit, and had pondered pouring herself a Scotch whilst waiting, but had decided against it. Instead, she was propped up against the headboard of her bed and channel hopping when an unexpected FaceTime call came through from her good friend Shane McCutcheon. 

“Wow, look at you,” said her young friend as Bette accepted the call and gave her a big smile.

“I wish all my phone calls started with compliments. Thank you, Shaney. How are you? How is LA?”

“I’m good, my friend. LA is… LA. Good, fine, it misses you, but that’s nothing new. Let me guess - you’re going on a date.”

“Hmm, not quite.”

“Big party?”

“No no, just dinner with a friend,” Bette answered and looked away from the screen. Shane laughed at the other end.

“Okay, B, if you say so. How’s London?”

“Good, fine, but that’s nothing new,” Bette echoed her friend. “I’m gearing up for the last event of the year and everything’s kinda crazy at work, but tonight I am finally letting my hair down for a change.”

“With a friend?”

“Yes, with a friend ,” Bette emphasised the last word. “It’s, um, Tina.”

“Oh, the cute blonde you haven’t stopped texting me about? The one who showed up at your gallery?”

Bette chuckled. “Yes, that’s the one. We’re finally having the dinner we’ve been trying to arrange for weeks.”

“Still in the friendzone?” 

“Not so much the friendzone. More like a waiting room,” Bette joked as she played with a loose thread on her robe. “She’s fresh out of a divorce and in her own words, ‘needs time’.”

“Right. You know, once upon a time that wouldn’t have stopped you,” Shane grinned. 

“Once upon a time I dated a different woman every week.”

“The good old days. I’m just saying, B… that Porter charm is a powerful weapon.”

Bette smiled sadly as she contemplated Shane’s words. “It’s gotta be on her terms, Shane.”

“I hear you, but as long as you know that you’re a catch, Bette, even if Jodi didn’t realise it. I hope you have a great time whatever happens. I should let you go.”

“You don’t have to go yet, I’ve been ready for hours and just need to get changed.”

“ Hours? ” 

“Yes,” Bette laughed. “Although I was going to call her one last  time to see if she needs a ride.”

“Texting all day isn’t quite cutting it?” 

“We don’t text all day.” 

“I don’t believe you.”

“Okay,” Bette conceded, a blush creeping onto her face much to Shane’s amusement. 

“You’ve got it bad,” Shane laughed. “I gotta go anyway, B, work calls. But have a great time and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“That doesn’t leave much,” Bette quipped. “Bye, Shane.”

Bette took a deep breath and considered her next move. It was as if her fingers were on autopilot as they navigated to Tina’s contact on her phone and hit ‘call’. 

“Fuck, I have got it bad.”

The phone rang out three times and Bette wondered if Tina was purposely ignoring her or, more than likely, rushing around as she finished getting ready for their platonic dinner. The relief was palpable when she heard Tina answer and launch straight into conversation. 

“Bette, please don’t say you’re calling to cancel or I’m gonna pitch a fit.”

Tina put Bette on loudspeaker as she made final touch ups to her hair and make-up, having rushed Helena out of her house 30 minutes ago. She hadn’t expected a call from Bette, but the brunette had been unable to resist checking in with her. 

“Well, hello to you too, it’s good to know you’re eager,” Bette chuckled. “No, everything is fine, I just wanted to check again that you have a ride. It’s no major detour for me.”

“Bette, I’ve lived in London for fifteen years. I have had six different drivers in that time and I know for a fact that Holland Park is absolutely the wrong way for you to go from your hotel to the Savoy.”

“I know, but I’d like to come and collect you,” the brunette admitted. 

Tina didn’t immediately reply. A silence of mere seconds felt like minutes to Bette. 

“Bette,” Tina’s tone was sharper than intended, “I’d rather make my own way there.”

Duly chastised, Bette understood the unspoken meaning behind Tina’s words. 

This is not a date, let’s not behave like it is. 

“Okay, that’s fine. I’ll see you in an hour. I’ll be waiting out front for you.”

“You can go inside, I’ll meet you at the bar.”

“No, I’m going to meet you out front, okay?” Bette insisted. “I’ll see you soon.”

The call disconnected and Bette took a deep breath as she moved to the wardrobe and reached for a double-breasted twill blazer, a low-cut shirt in cream, and dress trousers. 

“You may not think it’s a date,” she muttered to herself as she retrieved her trusted Dior cufflinks from a drawer and affixed them, “but I refuse to dress as if it isn’t.”

*

The November weather had stayed dry, thankfully. A cool breeze lifted Bette’s brown curls as she glanced down at her watch for the eleventh time in the space of a few minutes. Bouncing on her heels, she noted that Tina was only five minutes late and that the busy traffic along the Strand was the likely culprit. What’s five minutes in the course of a whole evening? Well, it felt like an eternity to Bette, who had already spent seven days and nights without seeing the blonde. 

Bette stood under the awning outside of the Savoy, forgoing Tina’s insistence that she could wait at the bar. She wanted to show up for Tina, to be there to greet her, to be steadfast and reliable; to prove that she could be whatever Tina needed, friend or otherwise. She hoped that these small but important gestures would relay her point. And so they did. Tina couldn’t help the smile that formed at her lips when she saw the tall brunette waiting for her as the car slowed to a stop outside of the hotel entrance. The driver unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped outside to offer his hand to Tina, but Bette got there first, beaming down at her dinner companion as she swung toned legs out into the night air, feeling the goosebumps on her skin. 

“I told you to wait inside,” Tina smiled. “It’s cold tonight.”

“And I told you I would wait out front, and it’s not that cold. This is nothing compared to Philly.”

For a brief moment the chaotic surroundings - bell-boys moving luggage, cars coming and going, guests exchanging hellos and goodbyes - faded into the background as Bette admired the woman before her. Tina was stunning. Unusually, Bette found herself lost for words, but when her trance was broken by the loud blare of a car horn, her voice was sincere.

“You look beautiful.”

The pink that flourished across Tina’s already-rouged cheeks confirmed that Bette had said the right thing. 

“Thank you,” Tina replied in a small, soft voice as she found herself lost momentarily in brown eyes. “So do you.”

But when she looked down again, Tina noticed their hands were still clasped tightly together, and she felt a flash of unease. It didn’t escape Bette’s notice, who released her grip a little before bringing Tina’s hand and arm into the crook of her elbow.

“Shall we?”

*

As expected, the restaurant was busy, but the atmosphere was relaxed. The lighting added a warmth to the space where the clientele were often a little cold and stuffy. Palm plants splashed colour against the off-white walls. The chatter amongst guests and the clinking of cutlery and glass provided a comforting backdrop to a dinner that would be laced with unspoken intimacy. As the women were escorted through the main dining room to their table, Bette couldn’t help but be drawn to the way the blonde’s hips swayed and how her calves rippled as they moved. Chivalry aside, Bette was only flesh and blood, and Tina would turn heads wherever she was and whatever she wore, but tonight she was a vision. 

Bette was suddenly snapped from her thoughts as they arrived at their table. She shooed aside the maître d’, much to his consternation, and pulled out the cream leather chair for Tina before taking her own seat and receiving a wine menu. Water was poured. As they opened the à la carte menus, they began to exchange small talk about their days and then discussed the various courses they might indulge in. The stage was set for a wonderful evening.

“Would you like to order wine, madams?”

Bette looked towards Tina, whose face was buried in the menu. 

“Tina?” The blonde seemed to be in a world of her own. “Tina?” Bette said louder, and smiled when the hazel eyes finally met her own. “What wine would you like to drink?”

“Oh, God, I haven’t really thought about it. Um, what would you recommend?”

“If we’re both considering beef, might I suggest a hearty red?”

“Sure,” Tina agreed quickly, “I trust your choice.”

Bette watched as the blonde returned to her previous task. 

“You do like red, Tina?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Tina nodded amicably as the waiter took their orders and left. Bette continued to look at her curiously.

“I didn’t mean to put you on the spot with the wine.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry. I’m not used to being asked for my opinion, truth be told, Carrie usually just bulldozed over whatever I tried to suggest.”

The words were out of Tina’s mouth before she could stop them. She regretted them instantly despite Bette’s smile, cursing herself that she had brought up the C word at all, but especially so early into the evening. 

“No pressure then,” Bette acknowledged with a smile, aiming to lighten the moment. “Hopefully my tastes are better than hers.”

“Shit, Bette, sorry, that’s not what– I. Shit,” Tina stammered, her hand rubbing her neck. “I’m sure what you’ve chosen will be perfect.” 

“T, it’s okay,” Bette dipped her head to meet Tina’s shy eyes, which were glued to her menu again. “It’s fine, honestly.”

Tina shook her head. “Just forget I mentioned her.”

“It’s forgotten,” Bette said as she touched Tina’s arm softly. 

Any lingering awkwardness was soon forgotten as they sampled the vintage Malbec. Food followed soon afterwards and the conversation flowed easily, like old friends who had known each other for years rather than just a few weeks. 

After a couple of glasses of wine, both women relaxed into the evening, so comfortable were they becoming in each other’s presence. Invigorated by the ease of atmosphere between them, Bette took a calculated risk to deepen the topics of discussion.

“Tina, I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but I want you to know you can talk to me about Carrie. I’m not saying you have to, but if you want to, I will listen.”

Bette’s smile was so warm and genuine, Tina felt a brick or two loosen in the walls she had built over the previous years of her failing marriage. You wanted a friend, Tina, she thought to herself, and she’s offering. She took a breath before beginning. 

“It’s actually been a long time since we separated, I barely even think about her. I know that must seem like bullshit, but it’s true. I suppose she came to mind tonight as it’s been so long since I’ve been wined and dined.”

Bette was privately delighted in the admission that Tina, consciously or not, considered this a situation in which she might be being wooed. 

“She wined and dined you?”

“Not really,” Tina laughed humourlessly. “We met in New York City when she was doing some legal work for a production company I was seconded to. When we first met, she was decent and kind and we,” Tina shrugged, “got along. It felt sort of easy, y’know?”

Bette watched as Tina took a long sip of her wine.

“You got along?” Bette inquired. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but it doesn’t sound like she swept you off your feet.”

This time, Tina’s laugh was authentic. “Well, no. I mean, there’s a reason I’m sitting here having dinner with you and not her, right? It wasn’t fireworks, put it that way, but I, um… I accepted it for what it was, I guess.”

“You don’t seem like the sort of person who would accept anything less than what they deserve.”

Tina remained silent for a long time as she considered Bette’s observation. “I wouldn’t now.”

“Good,” Bette replied fondly, her eyebrow arched. 

The air between the two women crackled as Bette refused to disengage from Tina’s intense stare, challenging her to understand the words left unsaid. It was Tina who broke first to take another sip of wine. 

“Anyway, we got married because that’s the next logical step. You meet, you move in, you marry. And then you divorce.”

The flicker of sadness that Bette had seen before crossed Tina’s features. The waiter appeared to refill their water glasses as the heaviness of the joint silence sat between them.

“Can I ask you why you divorced?” Bette said as she resumed eating. Tina chewed over her response as she chewed her food. 

“I wasn’t in love with her,” she stated simply. “I don’t think I ever was. I put so much energy into my career that looking for love was pretty low down on my priority list, and I certainly had no expectations of finding the kind of love they make movies about. I settled for Carrie. She fit easily into my life. Both of us had demanding careers, both of us worked insane hours, and she was funny in a dry, asinine sort of way.”

“But?” Bette asked. 

Tina shifted uncomfortably in her chair and Bette reached out her hand slowly and laid it over Tina’s. The blonde settled, soothed.

“But then I got headhunted for Elstree and we had to move to London. London and New York aren’t so different or so I thought, and she got work easily, but her and London didn’t gel. My career took off, but it seemed the better I did, the worse we did.”

“How did that manifest itself?”

“She became mean,” Tina said plainly. “Resentful, I think. She’d nitpick and find things to criticise me about. Little things, but they all add up. The sum becomes greater than its parts. Then I woke up two years ago and realised I didn’t want it anymore and so I got out. It took a while to disentangle my life from hers, but the minute I filed, I knew it was the right decision.”

Tina’s eyes flicked down to where the indentation from her wedding ring was fading. 

“I didn’t throw my wedding ring out until that day we met outside the courthouse. I thought if I threw it out too soon, I’d jinx the divorce. That cab you let me have? I jumped in and went straight to Hyde Park and hurled it into the lake. Silly really.”

“It’s not silly.”

Bette smiled at the woman before her, full of respect and appreciation for the journey that she’d been on prior to their unexpected meeting a few weeks ago. She squeezed Tina’s hand, who returned the gesture, before the blonde withdrew and finished the last mouthfuls of her meal. Bette took the opportunity to pour them more wine. 

“You seem to be dealing with your divorce a lot better than most,” Tina said as she placed her cutlery onto the plate. 

“You mean, better than you?” Tina shrugged in reply. “Everyone’s different, but my marriage was dead on arrival. We never should have bothered, but, like you, it seemed like the next natural step.”

“You spent fifteen years in a dead-end marriage?” Tina gasped. 

“We had our moments early on. We both loved art and she was passionate and fiery and it was… interesting. She kept me on my toes,” Bette remarked. 

“I can see why that was appealing to you.”

“How so?” 

“You’re very well put together,” Tina smirked. “You’re organised and punctual and very methodical.”

“ Methodical? You flatter me,” Bette quipped.

“You like a routine, a plan. Case in point, I knew you’d arrive early tonight.”

“I don’t like tardiness,” Bette argued good-naturedly, “but I’ll make an excuse for you.”

“Well thank you so much,” Tina joked. Bette felt her throat go dry as Tina unexpectedly reached out her fingertips and brushed them over her wrist. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing, Bette. All I mean is that when someone comes along like Jodi, who disrupted your perfectly curated world, I can see the appeal if I was standing in your shoes.”

A teasing smile played at Bette’s lips as she considered the woman in front of her - so perceptive and irresistibly sexy with it. 

“You’ve got me all figured out, huh?” 

“No, but I’m learning what makes you tick.”

“And what makes me tick?” Bette coaxed as she leant forward to rest her chin on her hand. 

“Bette,” Tina gently reprimanded as she flushed pink. “Don’t change the subject. We were talking about Jodi.”

“Fine,” Bette huffed, not unkindly, and leant back again in her chair. “Marriage was a convenient arrangement for us both, I think, certainly at first. I was already living here when we met. We moved in the same circles, had the same artsy hipster friends, and London offered us both a lot of opportunities. She made the art, I sold the art, but I learned maybe a year or two after we got married that the things that really mattered - our goals, our hopes, our dreams - they didn’t align.” 

“Such as?” Tina asked, rapt, as she sipped her wine.

“Monogamy,” Bette said matter-of-factly in stark contrast to the heaviness of the subject at hand, “for starters.”

“ Monogamy ? That's a fairly fundamental concept to disagree on,” Tina added incredulously.

“I thought we’d come to an agreement. She tried,” Bette mused, unable to meet Tina’s eyes all of a sudden. “She certainly didn’t start fucking around until a few years into the marriage or maybe she just hid it better early on. It wasn’t hard to figure out - even the most committed of artists doesn’t work late every single night. I knew what was going on, she knew I knew what was going on, but... I realised that wasn’t what I wanted in a marriage. I tolerated it for a long time because I’d stopped caring, but I wanted - no, needed - more.”

Tina paused and watched the woman in front of her as she forked a piece of beef and brought it to rose lips. 

“Did you…” Bette looked up as Tina’s words died on her lips. A war of wills was waging in Tina’s hazel eyes as she debated whether she should ask the next question, but accepted she simply had to know. “Did you have affairs too?”

“Good God, no,” Bette exclaimed. “I remained faithful even if she couldn’t. Jesus, one of us had to act like the marriage meant something.”

Tina exhaled through her nose, relieved, and it did not go unnoticed by Bette. “What was the straw that broke the camel’s back?”

Bette pondered the question as she circled the rim of her wine glass with her forefinger, the same gesture that had so entranced Tina at their first proper meeting in the Artists’ Bar. 

“You know, I don’t think there was one, big moment of realisation. It was death by a thousand cuts. One morning I woke up to an empty bed again, which wasn’t unusual, but I realised that I deserved better.”

“You do deserve better,” Tina added without missing a beat. 

“So do you.”

Tina smiled shyly before taking a long gulp of wine. “Was it bad, when you left?”

“Not in the way you think,” Bette shrugged. “She agreed almost instantly. The fight had left me a long time ago but I’m not sure she ever had it to begin with. Things got tense when we split the assets. I got the art, she got the ap art ment,” Bette chuckled but the joke was flat and she knew it. 

“I’m sorry, Bette,” was Tina’s honest reply. Bette smiled sadly and finally made eye contact again, before taking a deep breath to continue. 

“It was the right thing for both of us. Even without the cheating, it’s not enough to stay together because it’s good for business. A love worth having shouldn’t be convenient and it certainly shouldn't be easy.”

“Really?” Tina challenged. “Shouldn't it be the easiest thing in the world to love someone?”

“No, it shouldn’t. You said Carrie fit into your life easily, but where did that get you?”

Tina was taken aback momentarily and Bette wondered if she’d pushed the boundary too far. Just as she opened her mouth to apologise, Tina held a hand up and gave her a broad smile. 

“Touché.”

Bette grimaced. “What I meant was that falling in love is the easy bit. Staying in love? Making it work? Building a life together that balances both partners’ wants and needs? That’s hard work and rightly so.”

Tina pondered Bette’s logic for a moment. “I agree, actually.”

“And you have to be willing to step out of your comfort zone and throw caution to the wind. It’s tough, it’s uncomfortable, but it might just be worth it.”

Bette hoped Tina would respond directly to those words, but she skated straight past it much to her dismay.  

“So are you saying that you and Jodi didn't have that balance? She didn't step out of her comfort zone?”

“Her way or not at all.”

“That sounds familiar.”

“See, we have a lot in common.”

“Yes, we’re both lonely divorcees thousands of miles from home,” Tina chuckled. 

“Yes,” Bette laughed with her before leaning in close towards the blonde, “and we’re both deserving the kind of love that they make movies about.”

Tina gulped, Bette’s proximity suddenly overwhelming in the most delicious way. 

“Do we?”

“Yes, we do. Do you know what else we deserve?”

“What?” Tina’s voice was barely above a whisper as Bette’s mouth inched torturously closer.

“Dessert.”

*

Tina scrunched up her napkin and tossed it onto her plate. 

“God, I’m stuffed.”

Bette couldn’t help but smile at the pretty sight before her. Tina was the picture of contentment - sated from her meal, rosy-cheeked from the wine, and, Bette hoped, increasingly happy to be in her company. They had shared a hefty piece of sticky toffee pudding with ice cream and Bette insisted on Tina having the last bite. 

“Did you enjoy it?”

“It was delicious. Better than sex.”

Bette’s eyebrows nearly hit the ceiling when she heard the comment. She couldn’t help but laugh before replying. 

“Hmm, I’m not so sure about that.” 

Tina was mesmerised as she watched the brunette finish her wine - the way her throat flexed as she swallowed, the elegant way she sat upright in her chair, all good posture and class, her gold cufflinks flashing in the light of the candle flame between them. As the night had progressed towards its denouement, affections were shared more freely, Tina reaching out to touch Bette’s arm as they talked or a foot nudging its counterpart in a way that seemed too frequent to be an accident. When she looked at the empty bottle before them, the blonde realised bittersweetly that the night was drawing to a close.

“Bette?”

“Hmm?” 

“I accept your invitation.”

Bette paused with her glass mid-air. “Invitation?”

“To the drinks reception for your Hockney exhibition. What other invitations are on the table?” Tina smirked.

“Tina,” Bette lightly chastised. “Don’t rev my engine then hit the brakes.”

“Sorry,” Tina chuckled. “But yes, I’d love to come if you still want me to.”

“ Of course I still want you to,” Bette enthused as she replaced the glass on the table.

“I thought you might have found someone else to take.”

“I didn't ask anyone else.”

“Well, in that case, send me the details and I’ll be there.”

“I can’t wait.”

The women gazed into each other’s eyes, Bette delighted Tina had agreed to be her date - no, guest - at the drinks reception, and Tina excited to go and mix with a new crowd quite different to her own. They didn’t even notice when the waiter reappeared at their table to clear the plates.

“Can I get anything else for you, madams? We are closing soon.”

Both women looked around and realised they’d been so wrapped up in their conversations that they were alone in the entire restaurant. The candle wax in front of them had almost burnt down to the wick. 

“Just the check please,” Bette laughed. “I didn’t realise it had gotten so late.” 

Tina waited for the waiter to depart before asking the most important of questions. 

“Are we going to argue over who pays the bill?”

“No, because it’s on me.”

“Oh, Bette, come on–”

“--you bought the Chinese last week–”

“--and I was happy to do it–”

“Enough,” Bette said firmly, but smiling. “Please, let me. I asked you to dinner originally, so… please. Let me.”

Tina relented. “Fine, but you have to do something for me.”

“What’s that?”

“I need to walk off some of this food. I know it's late,” Tina rambled, suddenly shy, “but would you join me for a walk along the river?” 

*

The late night air was refreshingly chilly against their wine-warmed cheeks. With full bellies and just enough booze to give them a happy buzz, neither wanted the night to end. Tina's suggestion of a walk had been gladly welcomed by Bette and now they were strolling down Villiers Street towards the river. Instead of taking Tina’s arm into the crook of her elbow, Bette felt giddy when the blonde made the first move and did it herself. She’d tried all night to refrain from crossing the friendship line, but was finding it increasingly hard. As they made it to the water and started a slow walk along the Embankment, Bette wondered - hoped - if the stolen glances and accidental touches they'd shared all night were a subtle encouragement. Thankfully, the conversation had moved on from divorce and regrets. 

Ten or so minutes into the walk, they slowed to a stop alongside the statue of Cleopatra’s Needle, which loomed above them. Looking out across the dark water, they watched silently as a Clipper boat made its way east, shouts of revellers on its stern carrying across the Thames to their ears. On the other side, the many lights of Southbank shone and bounced off the water. As Tina looked over to the south side, Bette found her eyes drawn to her side profile as they both leaned against the wall.

“God, Bette, I love this city.”

Bette looked on as she listened.

“Me too.”

“I mean, fuck. Everything anyone could ever need in life is here. The theatres, the parks, the food…” she continued emphatically before turning to face Bette, “the galleries!” Bette grinned back at her. “Don't you just love it? I can’t think of anything that would ever make me want to leave.”

The question was rhetorical, but as Bette gazed tenderly at Tina, she answered anyway. 

“Not now I can’t.”

The answer grabbed Tina’s attention as intended. 

“You had thoughts of leaving?”

“Once or twice,” she replied and glanced back over the river, before locking eyes with Tina again, “but no longer.”

Tina turned to face Bette with a quizzical expression on her face. She narrowed her eyes, trying to unravel the puzzle she saw in Bette’s.

“Bette,” she asked softly, “what is it?”

For a moment Bette felt like her tongue was a dead weight. 

“Bette?” 

Where words had failed her, Bette’s feet did the talking as she stepped once, twice towards the blonde. 

“Tina…”

Tina looked up into chestnut eyes. 

“If I don't kiss you soon I think I'll go insane.”

“Bette–”

“No, don't. Don't tell me it’s a mistake. I know this line, I’m achingly aware of what you want and what you don't, but I can't keep sitting in restaurants and at bars and walking through parks with you and you be so blithely unaware of how much I want to kiss you.”

Bette took a breath as she felt the weight release.

“Do you feel better?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Are you done?”

“Yes, wh–”

Tina surged forward and kissed Bette fully on the lips. It wasn’t much more than a peck, but hinted at much more. 

“Why did you do that?” the brunette asked, her eyes still closed.

“I thought you wanted me to kiss you.”

“I do, but I didn’t think you wanted to kiss me.”

“Well, I do! Fuck. I'm sorry,” Tina exclaimed as she withdrew herself quickly from Bette's orbit. “I was caught up in the moment.”

“What are you sorry for?” Bette asked incredulously, pulling her back by the arms. 

“Kissing you.”

“I just told you I wanted to kiss you. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for weeks. I’ve been wanting to kiss you since you sidled up to me at the bar and asked for ice.”

“How do you remember I asked for ice?” 

“I remember everything.”

Tina's heart leapt. Oh .

“Do you want to try again?”

Tina blushed. “Again?”

Bette leant in purposefully. She was close enough to feel the whisper of Tina’s uneven breath as it fogged in front of her lips. 

“Yes.”

As Bette's eyes roamed Tina’s face, she noticed how beautifully the orange glow of the street lamp reflected against the blonde. She reached down and delicately moved an unruly strand behind Tina’s ear.

Leaning forward she said, “I'd very much like to.”

This kiss was decidedly more than a peck. Within seconds, Tina opened her mouth to welcome Bette, all prior nerves evaporated in the instant the brunette took charge. She ran her palms up the lapels of Bette’s wool coat before grasping them firmly and pulling the other woman towards her as their mouths danced together. Minutes later, when they finally withdrew for air, it was Bette who suddenly felt sheepish. 

“Wow,” she breathed.

Tina lifted her eyebrow with a smirk playing on her lips. It was an almost-imperceptible gesture and all the more seductive for being so. 

“Wow indeed,” Tina added as she reached up to wipe smudged red lipstick off Bette's lips. 

“Do you have an early start?”

“Yes, Bette,” Tina answered with a smile in her voice, understanding immediately the request that was about to follow. 

“So that rules out a nightcap at my hotel?”

“It's probably sensible. I have to be on set for 8 a.m.”

The two women were finding it difficult to break eye contact. Bette nodded, resigned, as she tilted her head down to look at her feet, trying to hide her disappointment. 

“But…”

Bette's eyes flicked back up. “But?”

“Sensible is boring,” she said quickly before tilting her head up to kiss Bette, passionately and deeply, as she wrapped her arms around her neck. There was barely a sliver of distance between them as their lips repeatedly met. 

“I’ll hail a cab,” was all Bette could say when they finally broke apart. 

Chapter Text

Present day

“Tina, can I– oh.”

Tina looked up from her the mess of paper on her desk and rubbed her temples. “What is it, Nicole?”

“You, um… you look exhausted.”

“That’s a polite way of saying I look like shit.”

Nicole hovered in the doorway. “How was this morning?”

“Huh?” Tina asked, instantly more awake. Was Nicole aware she hadn’t gone home last night?

“On set. I heard you were late and I wondered if everything was okay.”

“Everything’s fine, I just didn’t sleep well,” Tina replied curtly and hoped she was convincing. 

For a moment, images of the previous night flashed through her mind. Bette’s lips traversing down her neck. Her own hands buried in brown hair. Scarlet nails dragging down a bronze back. She’d slept rather well, actually. Great, in fact. All two hours of sleep she’d gotten before she tried to sneak out of Bette’s suite undetected. A furtive smile formed at her lips as she remembered how Bette had woken, as if feeling the emptiness of the bed deep in her unconscious mind, and called her - unsuccessfully - back to bed. 

Bette had been right, of course. Neither woman had been drunk enough not to understand and consent fully to their passionate night together. It had been everything Tina had hoped for and more. Despite trying in vain to resist crossing the friendship boundary, the blonde would be lying if she said she hadn’t fantasised about Bette’s hands on her, and she exceeded all expectations Tina had unknowingly set. Is that what she’d been missing out on for fifteen years? Probably longer? Last night she had wanted Bette more than she’d ever wanted another person before. Their chemistry unnerved her, bubbling away under the surface every minute they spent together in the month prior, and the red wine had simply helped breach a levee that had been weakened every time they met. Wine had made them brave enough to finally push through it. 

And yet, as the taxi had driven Tina farther away from the Dorchester and towards home earlier that morning, the doubts crept in closer. The divorce remained fresh in her mind, Carrie’s mean spirit a fading but looming presence still. At dinner, she had told Bette she rarely thought of her ex-wife and that wasn’t a lie, but the marriage had left an imprint. Tina had insisted on a friendship only long enough to exorcise the ghost. In her tired state, she failed to consider that maybe Bette could be the one person to help accelerate the process. 

“Tina?” Nicole interrupted her runaway train of thought.

“Huh?” Tina cleared her throat.

“I said, I’ll put these in your in-tray if you could please look at them today. Maybe I should do a Starbucks run.”

Tina sighed. “Yes, please, that would be good. Make mine a double shot minimum.”

Nicole smiled as she closed the office door behind her and left Tina stewing in her own thoughts. Her eyes flicked down to her phone for the umpteenth time, which had vibrated no less than four times. When she had checked the screen preview, she could see at least three were from Bette, two from Helena, but she dared not look. She needed time. Again, with the time. She needed to think about what had happened. She needed space. Clarity.

“Nicole?” Tina said as she hit the intercom button. “Hold my calls for the day and clear my schedule.”

“What, all of them?” Nicole’s voice crackled.

“Yeah, I need some peace and quiet today.”

Some hours later, the sky darkening outside her office window, Tina was startled by a firm knock at the door. 

“I thought I told Nicole to clear my schedule.”

Tina straightened up and just as she was about to say ‘come in’, Helena barged in anyway. In her hand she held what looked like a bottle wrapped in brown gift paper, a small envelope attached. 

“What are you doing here? It’s Saturday.” 

“I own the company, Tina, my presence is expected here occasionally. Plus, you didn’t reply to my message. You look–”

“--like shit, I know,” Tina finished for her. 

“No,” Helena said lasciviously. “You look well fucked.”

Tina reddened in an instant and barked a laugh. “I–” she started and then fumbled before giving up entirely. The crimson creeping up her neck and the smile forming at her lips gave the game away entirely.

“You didn't? Did you?! Tina!” Helena jogged around the table and pulled Tina into a bear hug. “Good for you. This is the least you deserve.”

Helena placed the bottle before Tina and retook her seat. Tina looked at it for a second before closing her eyes and running a hand through her hair.

“So,” Helena started, “how was it?”

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Rubbish. Tell me everything.”

Tina looked away coyly before speaking. “It was…” 

Helena waited with baited breath as her friend searched for the words. 

“...amazing.” 

“Wow,” Helena grinned as she crossed her legs and leaned back into her chair. “I had a feeling Porter would be good, but sometimes they don’t live up to the hype.”

“Oh, she lived up to it, and some. Blew it out of the water actually.”

“Good for you, Kennard. So?”

“So what?” Tina shrugged as she replaced her glasses and reached for the paperwork Nicole had placed in the in-tray. 

“Have you spoken to her today?”

Tina chewed her pen. “Um, not yet. She’s texted me a few times but…” she trailed off.

“Tina, for fuck’s sake. You haven’t replied?”

She looked away guiltily. “I haven’t read them.”

“ Tina, ” Helena scolded, “that’s not how you treat a girl. You know better.”

“Do I? I’m so out of practice, I don’t know what the expected behaviour is in 2023.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

Tina relented. “Okay, you’re right. I just don’t know if I can be assed with the conversation that has to happen. You know, the whole ‘what does this mean’, ‘why’, ‘how’, ‘when’--”

“Excuses,” Helena interjected. “Stop creating scenarios and see what the woman has to say.”

Tina sighed, resigned to her fate that at some point she’d have to face the music. “But I’m tired and a tad fuzzy from the wine we drank. I don’t know why you brought that because I can barely even look at red wine right now,” she nodded towards the bottle.

“It’s not from me. Nicole asked me to bring it in for you.”

Tina furrowed her brow and leant forward to peel the envelope off the side of the brown paper. She unwrapped the paper slowly and blushed when she realised what it was. A vintage Malbec, the exact type she’d shared with Bette the night before.  

“What is it?”

Tina ignored the question as she lifted the card from the envelope. In elegant script was a message.

I’m ready when you are. Artists Bar from 7 p.m. 

Waiting patiently,

B x

The smile that bloomed on Tina’s face couldn’t be suppressed.

“Tina, what is it?” Helena asked, both confused and eager.

“It’s from Bette. It’s the bottle of the wine we shared last night at dinner.”

Helena grinned in reply and snatched the card out of Tina’s hand to read. “God, she’s good.”

*

Bette was a picture of calm as she sat reading her book in a corner booth of the Artists’ Bar. She nodded politely as her fellow guests went by, either on their way to or returning from dinner. What they didn’t know was that she had been reading the same paragraph over and over for the last ten minutes. Hidden from view was her free hand, which clenched and unclenched beneath the table, a nervous tic she had apparently developed over the course of the previous 12 hours. What no one else could see was that Bette was vibrating with anxious energy, the result of a full day without hearing from Tina since their parting earlier that morning. 

Tina said she would call her later, but something in her expression and body language as she bolted from the suite told Bette this may not actually happen. She’d waited until mid-morning to send the first text. The second was sent at lunchtime. The third mid-afternoon to warn Tina she had sent over a gift to the office, knowing that the blonde was working and praying she’d spend at least part of her day not on set. All Bette could do now was wait, and though outward appearances showed her to be cool, calm, and collected, in reality she was anything but. 

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath as her eyes glossed over the same sentence again.

Every time she saw a flash of blonde hair her head flew up, hoping to see the one person she’d been unable to stop thinking about since… well, since they’d met. Every woman, every American accent, every soft footstep brought Tina to mind. 

Typically, it was as her attention was pulled in a different direction - giving Alex the barman a small wave so she could order another drink - that the one person she’d been dying to see again appeared in front of her as if by magic. Like their first meeting in the Bar, it was Tina’s perfume - floral, jasmine, divine - that Bette noticed without even turning around. Then the usual thrill she’d grown accustomed to shivered through her as brown eyes finally met amber. 

“I'm sorry,” Tina blurted without any salutation. 

Bette’s face remained neutral as she finished her Scotch. 

“Hi Tina, how are you? I’m fine, thank you for asking. Do you want to sit down?”

Tina shook her head, baffled. 

“No, thank you. I said I'm sorry,” she repeated with more emphasis. 

“For what?” 

“For this morning.”

Bette continued to stare at the blonde, a smile toying at her lips, and she removed her reading glasses. “And?”

Tina became increasingly exasperated as Alex came over to the table. She heard Bette order a whisky and also a G&T.

“You don't drink gin.”

“You do though,” Bette replied. 

“It’s not complicated,” Tina continued, as if they hadn’t just been discussing drink orders. “We aren’t complicated. You aren’t complicated. In fact, you're the most wonderfully simple part of my life right now, and I shouldn’t have implied that last night was a mistake. I'm just… I don't um… what I'm trying to say–”

“Tina,” Bette said softly and patted the space next to her. “Sit, please.”

Tina slowly lowered herself into the booth next to Bette. Alex came over and placed the G&T in front of her and she took a huge gulp. Bette watched, amused. 

“You were saying?”

“You're infuriating,” Tina said as she sat back. Bette gave her a broad grin. 

“Excuse me, Ms Kennard, but I don't think you're in any position to call me infuriating. You’re on my turf.”

“I'm trying to apologise for how I tried to sneak out and for ignoring you today and you’re being all calm and I’d rather you just shout at m–”

“Thank you.”

“Huh?” Tina replied as her eyes narrowed. Bette sighed before becoming serious.

“I don’t need you to apologise for this morning, even though I was a little hurt that you tried to leave without my knowledge, but I’d prefer you not to ignore me for a full day. If you say you’ll call, please follow through.”

“Oh,” Tina replied in a small voice. “So I'm off the hook?”

“No one put you on the hook but yourself. Last night was wonderful.”

Tina softened. “It really was.”

Bette took Tina's left hand into her right. It was cold. She clasped it between both to warm it.

“I know we’re going at your pace,” she reassured, “and I’m absolutely fine with that. Let’s just enjoy whatever this is. I'm not asking anything from you and I’m certainly not asking for a label. I just want to spend time with you.”

Tina smiled and laid her other hand over Bette’s. “I just want to spend time with you too.”

“So please don’t shut me out. Even friends don’t do that.”

“I’m sorry,” Tina said again as she relinquished a hand and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I freaked out.”

“I know. It’s okay. You don’t have to keep apologising.”

“I meant it when I said I had a wonderful time last night.”

“You did, huh?” Bette purred.

“You know I did.”

“Yeah, I think the scratches down my back reinforce the point.”

Tina grimaced. “Shit, sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” Bette winked. 

The women gazed at each other for a long time, Tina struck by how different this connection felt compared to anything she’d experienced before. Around Bette she felt safe, cared for, and, crucially, wanted.

“I want to kiss you again.”

Bette was taken aback momentarily. People rarely surprised her, but Tina had done that twice in the space of a few minutes, first by apologising freely and profusely for her blunder, and secondly for being so unexpectedly open with what she wanted, even if she needed a nudge sometimes. The brunette leaned in a little closer. 

“Well, what’s stopping you?”

Feeling Bette’s breath skim across her own lips set Tina’s blood on fire. 

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

Bette inched ever closer. “I happen to think it’s a great idea.”

“Stop,” Tina flushed pink, trying and failing to bite back a smile. Bette’s heart fluttered at the sight. “It’s so easy to be charmed by you.”

“You make me want to charm y–”

And just like the night before, it was Tina who closed the distance between them and took Bette’s bottom lip between her own. Unlike last night, however, there was zero hesitation on either woman’s part to resist or question it. They were just two women, at a corner booth in a bar, engaged in a rather intense and obvious display of affection. When they finally broke apart a few minutes later, both turned their heads subtly to observe not a few pairs of eyes looking their way.

“The English can be so uptight about kissing in public.”

“So can I usually,” Bette added as she rested her arm around Tina’s shoulders and ran her fingers lightly through blonde tresses.

“All evidence to the contrary,” Tina chuckled as she sank back into the touch of Bette’s fingertips and took a sip of the G&T before her. 

“It’s true, I’m not normally one for public displays of affection.”

“What’s different this time?” Tina asked, her voice dropping an octave.

“You.”

Tina leaned back into the leather seat and simply gazed at the brunette before her, who had an uncanny ability to dismantle her entirely with just one word.

“I realise I don’t really care so much when I’m with you.”

The blonde tilted her said to one side affectionately before leaning in to nuzzle her nose to Bette’s. They stayed in the sanctuary of their corner booth for some time and shared details of their respective days. Bette gently mocked Tina as she recalled how hungover and on edge she’d been all day, overthinking their night of passion. Tina listened regretfully as Bette explained how worried she’d been by her radio silence and how she probably owed her friend Shane an apology for being so irritable the whole day and bombarding her with text messages. 

Time ticked on and both women started to yawn more frequently, fatigued from last night’s escapades, and Tina reluctantly decided it was time to go home.

“I can’t persuade you to stay?” Bette chanced the question she’d been burning to ask for the last half hour.

“Trust me, I want to,” Tina replied softly as she brushed a finger over Bette’s lips, “but I think I need my own bed tonight.”

“I understand. You’re tired, I’m tired. It’s probably for the best, but the offer is there.”

“And I appreciate it, baby.”

Bette’s eyebrows shot up in amusement. Tina looked horrified for a moment before launching into a characteristic ramble.

“Oh God, Bette, I’m sorry, I have no idea where that came from, please just forget I said it, ple–”

“T,” Bette cut through the words and grasped a flailing hand, “it’s fine. Don’t overthink it.” She brought the hand to her mouth and placed a chaste kiss to knuckles.

“Okay, I really am going now,” Tina gave Bette a shy smile and started to gather her purse and coat. “By the way, thank you so much for the wine. I was very touched.”

“You’re welcome. Texts clearly weren’t having the desired effect, so I had to up my game.”

“Well, it worked. I loved it.”

The women stood from the booth and Tina retrieved her phone to book a taxi.

“I guess you’re going to be snowed under this week prepping for Friday?”

“Yes, I am,” Bette said apologetically. “My free time is going to be pretty much non-existent, but maybe we can talk on the phone during the week.”

Tina smiled as she slipped her smaller hand into Bette’s and gave it a squeeze. 

“I’d like that. And for the avoidance of any doubt, I’m very excited to come as your guest.” 

“I’m excited too,” Bette grinned.

A notification beeped to indicate Tina’s ride had arrived. She looked around to check she had all her belongings and stood awkwardly wondering if Bette might make the first move.

“Goodnight, T.”

“Goodnight, Bette.”

Tina waited a few seconds, threw caution to the wind once more, and leaned up to kiss Bette square on the lips. This time, Tina noticed, to her delight, that it was Bette who had a slight pink to her cheeks as she withdrew. 

As the blonde walked away, Bette stayed rooted to the spot and watched her go, just as she had when Tina first left her gallery over a month ago. With each new moment spent together, Bette handed Tina a small piece of her heart. Patiently she would wait for her to return the gesture.

Chapter Text

The incessant red light of her alarm clock had kept Tina awake. It was now 2 a.m. and she was lamenting the espresso she’d stupidly decided to have whilst working through papers and proposals at her dining room table late into the evening. 

Tina had improved at keeping a healthy balance between work and life since the divorce, no longer needing work as an excuse to stay away from Carrie and their house, but the work had been piling up again thanks to one Bette Porter. Last Friday, Bette had suggested one - singular - phone call during the week before they met again for the Hockney reception at the Gallery, but try as they might to space out their interactions, one phone call turned into a nightly occurrence. 

Regretfully, the brunette had been unable to speak on the phone on Thursday evening and this gave Tina an opportunity to make a dent into the ever-growing pile of paperwork , which she had managed successfully. Except for requiring copious amounts of caffeine to keep her going. Now she found herself wide awake, eyes staring up at the coffered ceiling above, occasionally glancing at the clock to measure how much time had passed. One minute felt like ten, five felt like fifty. It was infuriating. 

The clock watching continued until her phone rang unexpectedly and pierced through the quietness of night. She bolted upright, turned on a lamp, and grabbed the phone from the bedside table. 

Bette.

“Bette, it’s 2 a.m. Are you okay? Where are you?” Tina exclaimed as she answered, worried there was some emergency.

“No, no, everything’s fine, don’t worry. I hope I haven’t woken you? I just got back to the hotel. God, I’m sorry.”

“You worked this late?” 

Bette sighed. “We put the finishing touches to the Christmas tree. James left at midnight, but I wanted to make sure I’d done absolutely everything I could so there’s little left to do tomorrow. Were you asleep?” she asked guiltily. 

“No,” Tina chuckled. “Those coffee beans you recommended to me are incredible, but I’m paying for it now. However, I did finally get some work done tonight without you to distract me.”

“Do I need to remind you who was doing the distracting on Wednesday night? I don’t think you call Helena from the bathtub, T, on video no less,” Bette joshed. Tina blushed even though Bette wasn’t able to see it. “I know you’re blushing, by the way.”

“Shut up,” Tina replied, laughing. “What can I say, I like to multi-task. Anyway, why are you still awake?”

“I got back an hour ago, had some tea, and I’ve been trying to sleep for the last 30 minutes, but I’m staring up at the ceiling instead.” 

“Ditto. You’ve got a big night ahead of you tomorrow, or should I say today,” Tina added as she glanced again to her alarm clock, “you should really try to sleep, B.”

“I have, but I think I’ve done all I can in that regard. The hall looks magnificent, the caterers are finally doing what I need them to, and all the art and photography works are where I want them to be.”

“In that case, why can’t you sleep? I’d be exhausted,” Tina remarked. 

A few moments of silence passed, leading the blonde to wonder if Bette had finally succumbed to sleep. 

“I think,” Bette hesitated, “it’s because I didn’t speak to you tonight.”

Tina simpered as she leaned back into the pillows. “Oh?”

“I’ve grown accustomed to your voice being the last thing I hear at night. Not speaking to you earlier tonight has knocked me off my axis.” 

“You’re sweet,” Tina replied.

“Hmm, don’t tell James that, not until after tomorrow evening anyway.” 

“That man would do anything for you, you know that. Plus, you’re gonna see me in less than 24 hours.”

“I know,” Bette whined, “but I just needed to hear you before I went to sleep.”

An idea came to Tina suddenly. She jumped out of bed, clipped up her hair whilst holding the phone in the crook of ear and neck, and pulled a tank top and jeans out of the wardrobe.

“Hold that thought, Bette.”

Bette peered confusedly at her phone as she heard the line go dead.

Forty minutes later, Bette was sitting in her robe staring absentmindedly out of the large windows over a dark Hyde Park. She hoped Tina was speeding towards her in a cab along Bayswater Road, but when the phone went dead, the brunette worried that sleep might claim her instead or if she’d misjudged the situation entirely. Maybe Tina had no intention of coming over, until a firm knock at the door suggested otherwise.

Bette catapulted out of bed and opened the door to be greeted by the blonde. She leaned against the frame and grinned as she spoke.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Tina shrugged coyly, stood in her jeans, tank top, and a zipped hoody thrown over her shoulders. “I was trying to be romantic.”

“You are romantic. I love the getup.”

“This old thing?” Tina chuckled and looked down. “I’m surprised they let me past the front desk, but I guess they’re getting used to me being here.”

Bette reached out and threaded her finger through a belt loop of Tina’s jeans, pulling her into the suite. 

“So am I.”

*

“James!” Bette thundered as she buttoned up her dress shirt. “I can’t my find my fucking cufflinks.”

“Coming,” was the faint reply from James’ adjacent office.

Bette’s eyes roamed over her desk as she looked for the offending item, unaware that she wouldn’t find them because Tina had given explicit instructions to James to swap them out earlier when she had, unknown to Bette, made a secret visit to the Gallery. 

As Bette slipped the tailored jacket over her shoulders, she briefly gazed out of the bay window of her office and watched as rows of limousines and cars lined up outside the National Portrait Gallery. Guests hurried out of the December drizzle, their expensive jewellery glittering under the orange street lamps, and through the Charing Cross Road entrance into the warmth of the Gallery. She smiled to herself as she looked out expectantly for blonde hair, before remembering what she was supposed to be doing. Turning, Bette started to open and slam shut desk drawers in the hope of locating her cufflinks. 

“James!” she bellowed again, just as James appeared at the door and winced. 

“I’m here, Bette.”

“Oh, thanks,” she replied, lowering her volume immediately. “My goddamn cufflinks have gone missing.”

“No they haven’t,” he smiled and entered. “I have them. Wow, you rock a suit better than most men.”

“Thanks,” Bette smiled before her brows snapped together. “Why do you have my cufflinks? Hand them over.”

Bette thrust out her hand. 

“I was told to give you these instead.” James stepped forward and placed a small leather cufflink box and a small envelope into his boss’s palm. 

Bette looked confused for a moment. James stepped back and watched as she opened the box and a soft smile appeared on her face.

“My God, they’re stunning.”

Inside the velvet-lined box was a pair of sterling silver cufflinks. Bette lifted them gently out of the box and held them underneath her desk lamp. They were circular in shape and inlaid with mother-of-pearl and sapphires - exquisite, elegant, and undoubtedly expensive.

“Who? What?” Bette stuttered. “Sorry, James, I didn’t mean to yell–”

“It’s okay, boss, stressful day,” James smiled as he turned to leave, well adjusted to Bette’s spontaneous outbursts. “You might wanna check the note.”

Bette retrieved the handwritten note from the envelope, the luxury paper feeling smooth against her fingers. As she read the words, she felt tears prick ever so slightly behind her eyes. 

“The moment rules over everything.”

Thank you for asking me to share this moment with you.

T.

Her eyes glistening, Bette smiled and returned the note to its envelope and into the breast pocket of her jacket. She affixed the cufflinks to her shirt sleeves, took a few deep breaths, and readied herself to face the evening ahead.

*

The main hall looked magnificent, Bette thought to herself as she entered. Always a head turner, guests and friends alike greeted and admired her as she walked tall and gracefully through the cavernous space. The team had done an incredible job, she thought to herself, as she absorbed the space around her - it was welcoming, warm, classy, but festive too. Among the various Hockney works arranged throughout the hall were garlands, string lights, candles, and - as a centrepiece - an enormous Norwegian spruce towering over them all, its fir branches reaching out and up to the ceiling high above. A band, known to Bette through regular visits to Ronnie Scott’s, was playing various jazz and Christmas standards, adding another stylish touch to proceedings. Both the tree and the band had taken a big chunk of the year’s budget, but as Bette gazed upon her handiwork and listened to the soft brass notes, she knew it had been worth it.

“Bette, so good to see you again,” came a familiar voice from somewhere to her left as she glanced away from the tree. 

“Helena,” Bette smiled. She turned and outstretched her hand. “Wonderful to see you.”

“Likewise. You look marvellous. This is my date, Ulrika.” Helena looked sideways to the stunning Swedish blonde whose arm was draped across her shoulders. 

“Pleasure,” Bette nodded as she shook her hand. “No Peggy again this year?”

“You know Mummy, she can’t stand the English weather this time of year. Can’t say I blame her, having fought through the rain to get here tonight.”

“She’s back in the States already?”

“She’ll be spending Christmas in California, as per usual. Are you heading home at some point?”

“Yes,” Bette replied as she slipped a hand into her trouser pocket. “Just a week or so in LA, but I’ll be returning before New Year’s Eve to figure out when I can get into my new place. I’ll try to catch up with your mom whilst I’m there.”

“I’m sure she’d love that.”

Bette smiled and waited a moment before speaking. 

“So, um, any sign of Tina?”

“I was wondering when you’d ask,” Helena chuckled. “I offered her a lift, but you know what she’s like. She is, I believe, en route so… patience.”

Bette gave a half smile. “I’m looking forward to seeing her.”

“I’m sure you are,” Helena winked.

“Anyway,” Bette said, a little rose-cheeked, “duty calls. Thank you for coming and I hope you enjoy the evening.”

Helena smiled as her date ushered them both away and towards the free bar. Bette turned on her feet as clients, patrons, and the hoi polloi of the London art scene made a beeline straight for her. 

*

A half hour or so had passed and Bette was already growing bored of the conversations she was half-engaged in. Prior to meeting Tina, she’d had at least some curiosity in hearing what her guests had to say, but impatience was getting the better of her tonight. She’d focus for all of five minutes on whatever monotonous rubbish was emanating from one of her donor’s mouths - and Bette knew she should be listening because she needed their cold, hard cash - but it was difficult to concentrate when the only person she wanted to see had yet to appear. 

Nerves were building as Bette took repeated sips from the champagne flute clasped in her hand. To her right, the chairman of the Gallery board, Franklin Phillips, was droning on about next year’s exhibitions and how he felt they needed to restore some tradition to the exhibitions. Bette could barely stand to listen to his staid, establishment views at the best of times, but tonight was proving even more of a challenge without Tina at her side. Panic started to rise as she let her thoughts run away from her.

Has she got cold feet? 

Were the cufflinks a consolation prize? 

Is the idea of being part of this world too intimidating? 

No, not possible , she challenged. As they’d discussed before, rich assholes were everywhere in show business and Tina knew how to deal with them. Although it might be slightly daunting to formally enter Bette’s professional world, it was nothing she couldn’t handle when armed with the experience of her own industry. 

“Hockney though, Bette? Isn’t Hockney a little… hackneyed?” Franklin broke into Bette’s train of thought. He looked around at his companions for confirmation that he’d just landed the punchline of the year. 

Bette plastered her brightest - and fakest - smile to her face. “Well, you’re entitled to your views, of course, Franklin, but I don’t think that David Hockney, one of the British greats of modern art and photography, could ever be considered overdone.”

“Well. Perhaps,” Franklin muttered, deservedly put in his place, “I was just thinking he might be a little too ostentatious for some of our more aged benefactors.” 

“I’ll remind you of that when you see the end-of-year donation accounts.”

The muted laughter of Franklin’s companions was, this time, genuine. Trying to regain the upper hand, he changed the subject. 

“Speaking of next year, Bette, what do you think about the Gallery doing something about the modern monarchy–” 

But Franklin’s voice faded suddenly into nothingness, because Tina was there. Bette felt the air sucked straight from her lungs as she watched her enter tentatively and cast her eyes around, clearly searching for Bette, dressed head to calf in dark green. Her golden hair was held up in a delicate chignon, exposing diamond earrings and an ivory neck, and Bette’s eyes were drawn lower to the dress slit that began at her ankle and reached up toned legs towards heaven. The multitude of guests moving between them disrupted their line of sight, but a momentary break in the commotion helped Tina’s eyes find Bette’s. Her lips curved into a shy smile as she started to move through the crowd towards the brunette. 

Though her head willed her not to, Bette couldn’t shake the feeling that she was watching her future walk towards her. A vision crystallised in her mind as Tina closed the distance - she had never wanted or needed another woman more. She would never want or need another woman more.  Was it conceivable that you might meet the love of your life well into your fifties? After everything you’d both been through? Could you accept it with certainty after knowing her for only a brief time? Bette could, and in that moment, she did.

“Hello,” Bette breathed, a dreamy smile at her lips as she stepped away from the group and towards the blonde.

“Hi,” Tina replied as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. 

“You made it. Eventually .”

“Eventually,” Tina chuckled. “I was caught up in traffic. Friday in London, am I right?” she shrugged. “I’m sorry for being late.”

“You’re forgiven,” Bette said as she leant down to place a lingering kiss at Tina’s cheek. “You look stunning.”

“You think?” Tina winced slightly. “I was worried I might blend in with your Christmas tree.”

“Well, she’s a beauty too.”

“Thank you.” Tina’s cheeks bloomed crimson as she glanced down towards Bette’s forearms. “I see you got my gift.” 

“I did,” Bette beamed. She pulled up her sleeves a little to show off the cufflinks. “Thank you so much, you really shouldn’t have. They must have been expens–”

“Hush, please. I wanted to.” 

“I loved the note, too. Very appropriate for tonight.”

“Oh, I’d forgotten about that. You don’t have to keep it,” Tina replied modestly. 

Bette shook her head and put her hand over her breast pocket. “Yes, I do. It's right here.”

Tina’s heart swelled. As if on autopilot, she reached out to trail her thumb lightly across one of the silver cufflinks before caressing the sliver of skin visible beneath the cuff. Bette’s breath hitched at the feel of skin on skin. When their eyes met again, Bette felt as if a magnet was drawing her lips towards Tina’s and she wondered momentarily if the blonde might halt her progress, fearing a kiss in public was a step too far. But Tina’s chin was tilting up towards her and just as she found courage to meet her halfway–

“Bette!” Franklin’s booming voice beckoned from behind. 

The women sprang apart and Bette huffed. Tina licked her lips and smiled wistfully at her friend, who was the picture of frustration. 

“Who’s that?” Tina said quietly as she tried to compose herself. She looked over Bette’s shoulder towards the man who had ruined their almost-kiss. 

“My boss, Franklin Phillips. A complete asshat, but I have to keep him on side unfortunately.”

Bette turned and stepped towards as Franklin welcomed her and Tina into his conversation. 

“Wow, I didn’t know you had a girlfrie–”

“Friend,” Tina interjected a little too quickly. “We’re just friends.” 

Bette deflated, struck by the sudden reversal in fortunes which had Tina’s lips almost on hers one minute but being given the brush-off in the next. 

“Ah, I remember,” Franklin arched an eyebrow. “Ms Lerner is no longer on the scene. Now she was a pistol.”

“Yes, well, moving on,” Bette continued, desperately needing to change the subject. “This is my good friend, Tina Kennard.”

The blonde smiled at the group of men as they politely nodded, but when she glanced at Bette, she saw the hurt that continued to lurk behind brown eyes. She realised her nervousness about the night had made her words sound harsh. 

“Well, your good friend for now,” she corrected. Slowly but surely the corners of Bette’s mouth lifted.

“For now.”

For the next ten minutes or so, Tina went toe-to-toe with Franklin and his minions, much to Bette’s delight. What she lacked in art knowledge, she made up for with wit and intelligence in other topics, and as Bette gently led her away from the group once the conversation had come to a natural end, Tina found her earlier anxiety had dissipated entirely. 

“I hope I didn’t overstep with your boss. I’d hate to think I’d make things difficult for you, but what a pompous ass.”

“Not at all,” Bette grinned. “He’s all bark and no bite. Anyway, it was very sexy watching you verbally annihilate him.”

“If you say so,” Tina acquiesced as she watched Bette finish her drink. “No Scotch tonight?”

“Champagne for now, but I can’t have too many more as I’m giving a speech shortly. Let me get you a drink?”

“I’ll get my own. You need to mingle, right?” Tina started to move away towards the bar, but was pulled back suddenly by Bette’s hand. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll go by myself and bring you a top-up.”

“No you won’t. Your place is here with me.”

Tina felt the familiar flush in her cheeks, Bette disarming her again with the simplest of words.

“Bette, it’s fine. I know you have to stroke the egos of your many donors. Helena’s here somewhere anyw–”

Bette brought a finger gently to her lips to cut her off.  “Here with me,” she repeated. Tina chuckled. “Excuse me,” Bette said, grabbing the attention of one of the waiters. “I need a top up and she’ll have..?”

“I’ll have champagne too, thank you.”

The waiter, young and wilting under the intensity of Bette’s command, scurried off to the bar to fulfil the request.

“Do you always get what you want?” Tina flirted as the women began an unhurried tour of the hall, her arm snug in the crook of Bette’s elbow.

“Not yet,” Bette whispered into Tina’s ear and sending a quiver down the blonde’s spine. “Come on, I want you to meet some people.”

*

The night meandered on and Bette and Tina became a force to be reckoned with. They stopped to talk to several other couples and small groups of guests for a few minutes at a time, charming everyone they interacted with. Tina noticed how natural it came to Bette, the need to flatter and coax, but it never felt fake or disingenuous. Men and women alike were practically throwing money at her by the end of each conversation, and Tina swooned to witness it. What the blonde didn’t realise was that she herself was Bette’s secret weapon. In previous years, Bette had sole responsibility for wooing her guests into continuing their support to the Gallery, but with Tina by her side - warm, attentive, and easy on the eye - persuading them to open their wallets and purses was child’s play.  

A few hours into the event and many conversations later, Bette grudgingly left Tina’s side whilst she gave a short speech to thank both her team and the attendees for an enchanting evening. Whilst Bette spoke, Helena found Tina several rows back from where guests had gathered to listen.

“Here you are darling,” Helena said in low tones as she handed her friend a fresh flute of champagne.

“Thanks, Hel. Are you having fun?”

Helena gave a sideways look to her gorgeous date. “Oh yes, and the night is young.”

“So is your date,” Tina joked. 

Helena smirked and returned her gaze to the stage where Bette continued to speak. As she gave thanks for the Gallery’s success over the course of the last year, the Brit watched her friend from the corner of her eye. Tina was glowing with pride as she hung onto every word that left Bette’s lips. The same dazzled expression that Bette had given Tina when they first met earlier in the evening was now worn by Tina. Helena understood what was going on in those hazel eyes, but was minded to tread carefully.

“Things are going well between you both I presume?” 

“Hmm?” was all Tina could muster, too distracted by the rich timbre of Bette’s voice and the way she spoke with her hands.

“Good God, Tina, can’t you tear your eyes away for a second?”

Tina simpered before turning to look at her friend. 

“Yes, I can tear my eyes away for a second, but she’s almost finished.”

“How would you know?”

“She practised it with me this morning,” Tina said matter-of-factly. 

“Strange pillow talk,” Helena joked. 

“Shush.” Tina nudged the brunette playfully. 

When Bette finished her speech and returned to the floor, she was surrounded by guests and peers wishing to congratulate her for a job well done. Sensing she might be some time, Tina engaged in some small talk with Helena and Ulrika whilst she waited, her eyes almost constantly glued to where Bette was.

“You know she can’t stop looking at you, Tina.”

“Stop,” Tina gushed. “She’s just checking to see where I am, is all.”

“And you can’t stop looking at her either.”

Spinning on her heels as if to disprove the point, Tina just grinned. “Are you done?”

“For now,” Helena intoned. “Can I offer some advice?”

“No,” came the short reply.

“Well, I’m going to give it to you anyway. What’s happening between you two is rare. I know I told you to have some fun, but… don’t let her be the one that got away.”

Tina looked at Helena seriously. “What are you saying?”

“You’ve come back to life since she’s been around. Don’t be afraid.”

Before Tina could reply, Helena was already motioning over Tina’s shoulder to signal that Bette was approaching. Without warning, Bette slipped her left hand effortlessly into Tina’s right. 

“Can I steal her away, Helena?”

“Of course you can.”

“Come with me,” Bette smiled at the blonde as she led her away and towards the middle of the hall.

“Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.”

As Helena watched them go, her date turned to her.

“I thought they were just friends?” 

Helena smirked. “Not for much longer.”

Bette guided Tina through the crowds and eventually reached a space where numerous couples had improvised a dancefloor. When she came to a stop and turned to face Tina, as if it was predestined, the jazz band started to play the opening strains of You Don’t Know Me. 

“Big Ray Charles fan?” Tina asked shyly as she tried to keep the moment light, aware that several pairs of eyes were now trained on them.

“Maybe,” Bette replied. “Would you like to dance with me?”

Tina’s momentary resistance crumbled. Bette’s eyes were full of something that Tina recognised and understood, but wasn’t yet ready to name or reciprocate. It was the same look Helena had noticed in her own eyes just minutes earlier. For now, she let her actions do the talking, raising her right hand to meet Bette’s left, and bringing her free arm lightly around a strong shoulder.

As they started to move, Bette’s senses were overcome. The smell of her perfume. The feeling of fingertips at the nape of her neck. The way Tina’s breath ghosted the sensitive spot underneath her ear. It was all too much and not enough. They moved elegantly around the floor, several pairs of eyes locked on the stunning pair. The only sound was the brass of the band filling the space, until Tina tilted her head to the side to speak softly into Bette’s ear. 

“Do you always lead?” 

“Usually, yes, but with you not so much.”

Tina chuckled in reply as she nuzzled her cheek against bronze skin. “I know we’re not moving at a pace you’d prefer, but I want you to know how grateful I am for your patience.”

“I can go as slow as you like,” Bette smiled and simply held Tina tighter to her as the music played on. “Do you remember Ronnie Scott’s?”

“How could I forget? I think you spent less time watching the band and more time stealing glances at me.”

“I didn’t think you’d noticed,” Bette laughed quietly.

“Well, I did. I was waiting for you to ask me to dance, but you never did.”

“I was trying to respect the boundaries ,” Bette said as she quirked an eyebrow playfully.

Tina dipped the fingers of her left hand underneath the collar of Bette’s shirt and felt an uneven breath brush against her own cheek at the touch. 

“I’m glad we got rid of those.”

“Me too.”

“And I’m glad you asked me to dance. Finally.”

“Me too.”

When the music came to an end and the women reluctantly separated, they only had eyes for each other. Their hands withdrew naturally, but not before Tina smoothed her thumb over the pulse point at Bette’s wrist again. 

“You lead beautifully,” she said, placing a featherlight kiss to the corner of Bette’s mouth. “Thank you.”

*

It was bittersweet when the event finally came to a close, but everyone was leaving with a smile on their face. As she watched guests depart, Tina deliberated her next move. Helena had invited her to join her and Ulrika for a nightcap in Soho, but she didn’t want to make any assumptions about the remainder of the night. It was likely that Bette had things she had to do or would simply be too tired for company, and if the latter were true, Tina figured she’d head home anyway. She continued to debate her options when she felt a familiar shift in the air around her as Bette walked up behind her and wrapped her arm around her waist.

“I was wondering where you had gotten to,” Tina said as she turned to face Bette and brought her hands to toned hips.

“Sorry, I had to do some final schmoozing. I want to say thanks to James and the team before I’m done. Wait for me in my office?”

“Sure,” Tina smiled.

Bette handed her an office key and walked towards her team, who were nestled in a corner gathering their belongings. They turned to beam at the brunette as she approached and Tina couldn’t help but grin with them - for all her supposed tyranny, Bette was clearly an adored and respected boss. 

Ten or so minutes passed as Tina leant against Bette’s mahogany desk waiting for her return. Despite enjoying the evening, she was glad for the peace and tranquillity that Bette’s office now offered, the only noise the ticking of the antique clock. Whilst she waited for Bette to return, she had a brief snoop at the artworks and photographs on the walls. One photo showed her with an older woman, who looked somewhat like Bette and very much so like a famous singer Tina couldn’t quite recall the name of. Another showed Bette with her arm slung around a lanky and much younger girl’s shoulders, the famous Hollywood sign behind them in the distance. Her spiky black hair was very much of its era. 

She smiled and returned to sit on the edge of the desk when she finally heard the click of heels against the floor increasing in volume as Bette approached and finally entered.

“Thank God that’s over for another year,” Bette exclaimed as she walked slowly towards the blonde. 

“Tired?”

“I’m exhausted ,” Bette replied, her smile lascivious, “but I’m sure I can find some reserves of energy for you.”

“Is that so?” Tina arched her eyebrow. 

When Bette reached her desk, she placed a hand at the side of each of Tina’s hips where she perched on the table edge. 

“Did you have fun tonight?”

“So much fun,” Tina bubbled. “I don’t know why I ever hesitated to say yes.”

“I’m so glad you did.”

For a moment, Tina watched silently as Bette’s eyes seemed to flit between every feature of her face - her soft lips, the faint grey hairs blended with blonde, the delicate crow’s feet at her eyes. Steadily she reached out her thumb and grazed it along a cheekbone. 

“I missed you tonight.”

Tina gave her a quizzical look. “I was with you most of the night.”

“Yes, but I had to share you with half of London, and I don’t like to share.”

Tina reached her arms up around Bette’s shoulders. “Well, I’m all yours now.” 

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

The brunette leant forward to bring her lips to Tina’s forehead before kissing gently along to the crow’s feet, across her cheek, and landing on the soft spot just beneath her ear. In tandem, her left hand started a torturously slow journey from where the slit in Tina’s dress began up to her thigh.

“Several times, actually,” Tina breathed as she tilted her neck up to give Bette more access.

“And have I told you how much I want you?”

Tina whimpered softly as she felt Bette’s lips traverse along her jawline, whilst her right hand reached up to unclip the chignon in her hair, releasing golden locks across her shoulders. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” Bette replied between kisses. 

Tina buried her hands into brown curls as she encouraged her ministrations. 

“What, take seconds to dismantle a hairstyle that took me the best part of an hour to perfect?”

“Exactly,” Bette chuckled into her neck, the vibration exquisite. 

“Bette…” Tina stuttered as Bette’s hands now reached behind to capture the zipper of her dress.

“Mmhmm?” 

“Do you want to spend the weekend with me?”

Bette stilled. Tina’s house, the one she’d shared with her ex-wife, had remained off-limits up until now and Bette hadn’t questioned why. She understood that their friendship, relationship, whatever they were or weren’t labelling it, was still too young and that those sorts of questions were best left for a later date. What she hadn’t accounted for was champagne making Tina courageous, but as the silence lingered, the blonde found herself apprehensive. She needn’t be, because when Bette detached her lips from cream skin to look at her, her brown eyes sparkled.

“You mean, all weekend?”

“Yes,” Tina replied as she bit her lip, “at my house. In my bed.”

Bette turned grave for a moment and Tina prepared herself for the disappointment. 

“What’s wrong, Bette?”

“It’s just…”

“What?”

“I don’t have my pyjamas with me.”

Tina burst out laughing, which in turn made the brunette laugh along with her. 

“You won’t need them for what I had planned,” Tina purred. 

“Mmm, in that case…” 

Bette leaned in once more to recapture red lips in a short but passionate kiss. When the brunette finally withdrew, Tina whispered, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Chapter Text

In that dreamlike space between sleep and awake is where Bette found herself on Saturday morning. As her mind and body came to wakefulness, she waited for each of her senses to switch on. The air was fragrant but not overpoweringly so, perhaps from the diffuser she had briefly clocked on the window sill as she made her way to the bed the previous night. The laundry detergent of the bed sheets. Jasmine and bergamot - the familiar, comforting scent of Tina’s perfume. She cracked an eye and saw the coffered ceiling above as the first beams of sunlight crept through the Venetian blinds. Her mouth was dry from last night’s alcohol and she glanced sideways to the bedside table, considering taking a drink from the glass of water sitting there. 

No. Not yet. 

Bette wanted to enjoy the peace and stillness a little longer before she must inevitably disrupt it. She wanted to memorise how everything felt in that precise moment. She turned her head to the left, reached out her hand, and where usually she felt only empty space, there was a warm, welcoming body beside her. Tina, her golden hair splayed out on the pillow as strips of dawn light slanted through it. Tina, her soft snores the only sound filling the room. Tina, deep in sleep, and falling deeper into something else entirely, if Bette only knew.

The brunette smiled. Tentatively she reached out her fingers, careful not to wake her,  and brushed messy hair off Tina’s face so she could see her better. A crease appeared at her forehead at the touch, but she stayed asleep. 

I want this every day. Every night. Forever.

Bette began to send a wordless wish out into the universe, but didn’t get the chance to complete it. Her phone started to vibrate loudly from the bedside table and nearly sent her cufflinks careening onto the wooden floor. Determined to let Tina sleep in, she grabbed it and in one fluid motion left the bed, tiptoed quickly to the door, and escaped into the hallway. 

As she was enveloped by the morning chill, Bette realised she was still naked from last night’s activities and smirked to herself. She grabbed a robe from Tina’s bathroom before answering the call.

“Shane, do you know what time it is here?”

“My bad, B, I’ve had a little to drink. But you’re up?”

“Well, yes, actually, it’s 7.30 a.m. and I couldn’t get back to sleep.” She neglected to say that she hadn’t even tried, too enamoured of the blonde beside her. “Where are you?”

Bette could hear the dull sound of music and occasional laughter and voices in the background.

“At the Planet. I wanted to call to see how your big show had gone. That was last night, right?”

“It was a great success,” Bette whispered. “I think we might have blown last year’s total out of the water.”

“That’s great, Bette. Did Tina show?”

“She did,” Bette smirked and Shane could hear it in her tone.

“And?”

“Um, well,” Bette hesitated, “I’m at her house right now.”

“No way?”

“Yes, way.”

“So now you’re having slumber parties?” Shane joked as Bette heard her exhale what she assumed was a cigarette or a vape, hopefully the latter. 

“I don’t know, but it’s a step in the right direction and, um, well let’s just say we didn’t do much slumbering.”

Shane laughed. “Glad to hear it. I told you that Porter charm is a powerful weapon. Anyway, don’t let me keep you from your woman.”

“She’s not ‘my woman’ but… well, I’m feeling optimistic,” Bette remarked brightly. “She’s asked me to spend the weekend. We called in at my hotel to get some things before we made it back here last night.”

“Sounds promising.”

“We’ll see, I guess,” Bette shrugged. “Have a good night, Shaney. Don’t break any hearts.”

“Back at ya.”

Bette turned to walk back to the bedroom, but her foot landed on a loose floorboard, which made an almighty creak.

“Shit,” she winced. 

She opened the bedroom door slowly and peaked inside to be met by a lazy but satisfied grin staring back at her. 

“Good morning, baby.”

“Hi,” Bette replied as she clambered onto the bed and pulled the covers over herself. She lifted up her arm as Tina snuggled in close. “Did I wake you?”

“Sort of. I heard the floorboards,” Tina remarked, still sleepy-voiced. “These old houses. Did someone call?”

“Just my friend Shane. It’s not even midnight in LA so she was calling to hear how my night went.”

“How did it go?” Tina asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“One of the best of my life,” she replied and placed a kiss on Tina’s forehead. 

“You’re sweet. I hope you slept okay?”

“I did, actually. Beats a hotel bed.”

“Did I snore?” Tina mumbled, possibly embarrassed.

“Yes,” Bette chuckled, “but it was like white noise, and I much prefer it to hearing the traffic on Park Lane.”

“Good,” Tina smiled into warm, bronze skin. “I love waking up with you.”

Bette squeezed her tightly. “Same. Seeing as I’ve been up already and you’re barely awake, how about I make us both coffee?” 

“Soon,” Tina responded, as she nestled impossibly closer and tucked her head snugly into the crook of Bette’s neck, “but not yet.”

*

“So what would you like to do today?” Tina asked as she slid slices of wholemeal bread into the toaster.

Bette sat at the large dining table sipping a cup of coffee and thought on the question. Truthfully, she’d have been happy on the sofa all day listening to Tina read aloud from the phone book, but west London surely had much more to offer.

“I’m easy,” she shrugged.

Tina lifted an eyebrow flirtatiously. “Yes, I know that.”

“Cheeky.”

“You’re the guest so it’s your choice.”

“Hmm,” Bette mused. “Tempting as it is to take you back to bed and barricade us in for the weekend, I wouldn’t mind taking a trip to Portobello Road Market. I assume from here we can walk? I’m sick of being in cars.”

“So am I. It’s ten minutes or so up the road.” Tina looked out of the kitchen window. “Looks like the rain stopped too so at least we’ll be dry.”

When breakfast was ready, Tina placed a toast rack and plates onto the table next to the butter and they began to eat.

“So who’s Shane? Is she in one of those photos I saw in your office?”

“Yes,” Bette replied as she sipped her coffee. “Were you snooping?”

Tina shrugged playfully. “Guilty. So which one is she? The older woman or the younger?”

Bette snorted. “Oh I can’t wait to tell my sister you just described her as ‘older’. Shane’s the younger.”

“Former squeeze?”

“God no,” Bette exclaimed, horrified at the thought. “Shane’s one of my best friends from when I lived in LA. We never had that kind of relationship. Not my type, at all.”

“What is your type?” Tina said as she buttered another slice.

“Like you don’t already know.”

“I know, I just wanted to hear you say it,” Tina chuckled.

They ate in a cosy silence for a few minutes more as the morning sun warmed the house. Bette watched Tina as she ate and contemplated what epiphany the blonde had had the previous night that now resulted in them both having breakfast in her home. 

“What changed?” Bette asked suddenly as she crunched on toast.

“Huh?”

“Last night. We’ve gone from acquaintances, to friends, to sleeping together, and now we’re sitting in your kitchen together. All in the space of six weeks.” Bette took a sip of coffee as Tina eyed her carefully. “I just want to check in with you and make sure whatever this is,” she motioned a hand between them both, “is okay.”

“It’s more than okay,” Tina replied, feeling a flutter in her chest at Bette’s thoughtfulness. She reached out for the brunette’s hand and brushed her thumb across the knuckles. Bette beamed. 

“That answer makes me happy, but I’m too nosey not to ask again. What changed?”

Tina placed a discarded crust onto her plate and waited to swallow the food before speaking. 

“Nothing’s changed, really,” she clarified. “It was more of an… acceptance of what I already knew. Something Helena said to me and something you said to me at dinner last week.”

Bette tilted her head inquisitively. “Helena says a lot of things.”

“She does,” Tina added. “All very positive about you.”

“Oo, do share with the class.”

Tina smiled, but then took a deep breath as if to ground herself. Bette noticed the slight shift in demeanour. 

“Helena was there for my marriage,” Tina began seriously, “and she was also there for the separation and the divorce. She knows what I went through and how thoroughly miserable I was with Carrie. She said that since you’ve been around, I've, in her words, ‘come back to life’.”

Bette couldn’t help the smile that grew on her face. “Keep going.”

“Enjoying this, are you?” Tina said, lightening the mood again. “But then I also thought about what you said about taking risks and being willing to step out of our comfort zones if we want to experience something worthwhile. This ? Whatever this is between us feels like it might be worth it, y’know? When I’m with you, it’s like I'm—” she paused, searching for the words, “lighter somehow, like the old me is back again. Not even Helena was able to find her, so... whatever you’re doing is working, and that’s why I’m choosing to trust it.”

Bette’s smile faded, not because she was disappointed or unhappy, but because she realised in that moment that Tina was feeling the same way she did. She might not be ready to articulate it, but both women were seemingly on the same page. After fifteen years married to a woman who didn’t share any of Bette’s values, nor wanted any major role in helping her to achieve her goals, to know Tina might share her view as to where their relationship was headed made her feel ten feet tall. 

“Anyway,” Tina said as she moved to stand. She was shy all of a sudden. Bette found Tina’s ability to switch from confident to coy endlessly endearing. 

“Tina?” Bette caught her wrist as she stood. “Thank you for sharing that with me. You don’t know how much it means to me.”

“You’re welcome,” Tina replied as she reached around to scratch the back of her neck. 

An easy silence resettled as she picked up the plates and moved them to the dishwasher. Bette couldn’t take her eyes off the blonde - she’d just handed a part of heart to Bette and her only hope was that she’d prove worthy of it.

Once the kitchen was cleared, Bette returned to sit at the dining table and opened the broadsheet newspaper that was posted through the letterbox earlier. She read a few paragraphs before feeling eyes burning into her from the hallway. When she turned around to look, Tina was leaning against the doorframe seductively.

“So?”

“So what?”

Tina arched an eyebrow. “I’m going to shower.”

Bette looked puzzled. “And?”

“And I’d like you to join me.”

Bette smirked in reply before crumpling the newspaper shut. The wooden chair scraped against the floor and nearly tipped over at the speed with which she stood to chase Tina up the stairs.

*

After a much longer shower than intended, Tina and Bette finally emerged from the bedroom ready to enjoy their first weekend together. The temperature had dropped significantly overnight in London and they had dressed accordingly, Tina in a dark green turtleneck and Bette in a camel v-neck sweater.  

Unlike the night before, when clothes and belongings had been discarded at speed and Bette had barely even noticed the staircase as they’d bolted for the bedroom, Tina offered her a proper tour of her home this morning. The brunette was perplexed as they moved from room to room; it was hard to imagine that so much misery had lived here because the home was pure Tina, all colour and warmth and love. It wasn’t as neat and tidy as Bette’s apartment would eventually be, but the brunette heartened at this fact, at how Tina might soften her in ways she probably needed. Okay, so Tina’s stiletto shoes were strewn across the hallway, but the two peace lilies sitting in the kitchen window were perfectly situated and clearly thriving. The blonde might have forgotten to tear the date off her desk calendar for the past two days, but there was a small pile of Christmas cards written, addressed, and stamped ready to be mailed to friends. Her copy of the Radio Times was dated the first week of November she noticed, but the script laying next to it on the coffee table was recent and already reviewed. The things that mattered? Tina took care of those first. The things that didn’t? For later. 

“God, it’s musty in here,” Tina grumbled in disgust as she opened a door to what appeared to be a home office. “I think my housekeeper has been neglecting to clean in here.”

“Don’t you use this when you work at home?” Bette questioned as she entered.

“No,” Tina answered cagily. “It was Carrie’s office, mostly.”

“Ah.”

The dreaded C word. Bette kicked herself for asking, but as if reading her mind, Tina elaborated further. 

“She used it for work, but she also used to come and skulk around in here like Ebenezer Scrooge when we’d fight, which was pretty common,” Tina laughed, but it lacked humour. “God, it makes me shudder just being in here. It’s so bland and sad.”

Bette looked around at the plain space, bereft of any character. In fact, the house held no signs that Carrie had lived there at all, she was happy to note, but this space of hers was particularly drab.

“Well, I’d be happy to help you reconfigure it if you ever wanted to use it as a workspace. We could look for something to brighten the space up at the market. Portobello is great for picking up vintage pieces or we could even find something to upcycle.”

Tina tilted her head and looked at Bette fondly. “You’d do that?” she asked, reaching out to take Bette’s hand.

“Sure.” Bette pulled her closer and wrapped her arms around the smaller woman. “I don’t come cheap though.”

“Oh, I see. Never work for free, right?” Tina joked. 

Bette nodded comically. “I’m afraid it’ll cost you.”

Tina lifted her chin up to brush her lips across Bette’s. 

“How about if I make dinner for you tonight? Anything you want. I’ll get the groceries, the wine, and do all the cooking. All you have to do is sit at my dining table looking good enough to eat.” 

“Well, that’s a relief because I can’t cook a damn thing.”

“Not even eggs?” 

Bette shook her head.  

“Even in England? They just throw everything in lard.”

“Don’t say that to the chefs at the Dorchester.”

Tina chuckled. “So, dinner?”

“Yes please,” answered Bette as she leant down to kiss the offered lips.

An hour later, the two women stepped out of Tina’s townhouse and into the sunny street. It was bitterly cold, but their winter clothes and memories of their night - and morning - of passion were enough to keep them warm. Frost blanketed the steps down to the garden path and Bette offered her hand as Tina took a few unsteady steps. 

When they reached the street to begin their short walk to the market, Bette realised she didn’t want to relinquish the smaller hand, not now not ever, nor did she want to return to linking arms as they had done previously. Above all else, however, she simply wanted Tina to be comfortable. 

“Is this okay?” Bette asked as they came to a temporary halt at the end of the garden path and looked down at their gloved hands intertwined. 

Tina smiled. 

“Very okay.”

Chapter Text

Previously

When they reached the street to begin their short walk to the market, Bette realised she didn’t want to relinquish the smaller hand, not now not ever, nor did she want to return to linking arms as they had done previously. Above all else, however, she simply wanted Tina to be comfortable. 

“Is this okay?” Bette asked as they came to a temporary halt at the end of the garden path and looked down at their gloved hands intertwined. 

Tina smiled. 

“Very okay.”

*

The visit to the market was a success. Bette found several pieces of furniture for her apartment, both vintage and newer items ready for upcycling, and she helped select a few artworks for Tina’s soon-to-be renovated office. Both were excited to have their respective items delivered in the new year. 

Best of all were the rows of Christmas stalls - there were trees, wreaths, foods and delicacies, and other hand crafted trinkets. Tina selected a beautiful wreath for the front door of her home that was custom-made before her eyes. The vendor wound spruce and pine around floral wire and finished the wreath with poppy seeds, Canella berries, and pinecones. Bette watched fondly as Tina marvelled at the craftsmanship. 

At times they’d had to fight through the crowds to get to some of the shops, but all in all it had been a wonderful day. For lunch they enjoyed roast turkey sandwiches with stuffing and cranberry sauce, Bette chuckling as she wiped a stray crumb of bread away from Tina’s lips. With a kiss, the blonde convinced Bette to buy them both festive-themed coffee. The brunette rolled her eyes playfully when the barista handed over the drinks with Santa’s face drawn into the foam, but watching Tina gleefully receive her cup had been worth it. She’d almost refused to drink it, so impressed was she with the detail. 

Once the sun began its wintery descent in the late afternoon, they began a slow walk back up the mile-long Portobello Road, sipping hot gluhwein to keep them warm in the freezing temperatures. Tina called into one of the independent stores along the way to pick up groceries for dinner before they continued on their way home, the Christmas string lights twinkling above them and both women feeling that the day they’d spent together had been their favourite yet.

*

“Bette, could you lay the table?” Tina asked over her shoulder as she chopped vegetables at the marble countertop.

Silence.

“Bette?” Tina asked again, her voice a tad louder, her brow furrowed. 

Replacing the knife on the chopping board, she washed her hands quickly and came into the lounge, which was bathed in warm, cosy light from the lamps dotted throughout. Tina felt her breath catch in her throat at the sight before her. Bette was propped up against the cushions, her reading glasses perched perilously on the end of her nose, the newspaper still open on the theatre pages, but she was fast asleep. Hazel eyes softened. The brunette was the picture of calm and Tina felt an urge to climb into her lap. It was only because of the cooking she still had to do that she refrained. At that precise moment, Tina realised that she wanted to have this forever. In a house that too often had felt cold and unwelcoming, Bette’s presence made it feel like home. 

Tina reached out carefully to remove Bette’s glasses, but just as she placed them onto the coffee table, her elbow grazed the paper pages and made a loud rustling noise.

“I was reading,” Bette croaked as her eyes fluttered open. 

“Uh huh, I didn’t know you could do that with your eyes closed.”

Tina knelt before Bette and folded up the newspaper. “I tired you out today.”

“It was worth it,” Bette replied as she took Tina’s hands into her own, smelling the camomile soap she’d just used.

“You’re exhausted, baby. This show really took it out of you.”

“It happens every year,” Bette shrugged. “I’ll be fine in a day or two. Being here is helping more than you know.”

Tina smiled and smoothed her thumb over the crease at Bette’s forehead. “Well, you just chill here and let me take care of dinner.”

“No, no, I’m awake now and want to help.”

“Are you sure?”

“As long as it doesn’t involve actual cooking.”

Tina smiled as she helped Bette to her feet.

“If you would lay the table, please.”

Bette did as she was instructed and then opened a bottle of red for them both to enjoy as Tina prepared the casserole. She brought a glass to the countertop and watched Tina work, concentrating hard on the different elements of the recipe. Feeling brave - and ravenous - the brunette chanced her arm at stealing a piece of carrot, and succeeded by distracting Tina with a kiss to her cheek. 

“Hey,” the blonde giggled. “No fair.”

“Sorry,” Bette smirked as she chewed the morsel. “All that walking today made me hungry.” 

When she tried again, Tina learned the lesson and swatted the arm away. Bette could only grin. This was a much more pleasant kitchen experience than she’d had in the past. Jodi had been a great cook, but they’d begun to live separate lives early into their so-called marriage and Bette had spent most of her time in London living off takeout food and fine dining. She allowed herself to embrace the novelty of having someone cook for her again; someone who wanted to and enjoyed doing so, and without the passive aggressive command Jodi had wielded in their former home. Here in Tina’s kitchen, she felt at ease. 

“So what’s going on with your apartment?” Tina asked some time later when the food was finally ready to eat and they were both seated at the dining table.

“Good question,” Bette answered as she blew on a forkful of piping hot casserole. “I got a call on Thursday to say the renovation should be completed by the end of this month, so all going to plan, I’ll be back in my apartment in January.”

“That’s great news,” Tina said brightly and lifted her glass in toast. “Cheers to that.”

“Cheers.”

The women finished their meals in a companionable silence whilst luxuriating in the cabernet sauvignon Bette had selected from Tina’s wine collection. 

“That was delicious, T, you’re a great cook.”

“Hmm, I’m not sure I quite match up to the standards of the Dorchester,” she replied in an accent akin to Helena’s. 

“The company’s better here,” Bette winked. 

“So if you can’t cook, have you even bothered with a kitchen in your new place?” Tina quipped. “Maybe you can convert the unnecessary space into something more useful.”

Bette arched an eyebrow. “Very funny. Of course I have a kitchen, but not that I’ve had much use for it. Plus I have you now, why bother learning?”

Tina smiled shyly, as she always did at any suggestion they might share a future together somewhere down the line. 

“Well, I imagine you’ll be well-fed during Christmas at the hotel. I doubt they scrimp on turkey.”

“Oh,” Bette faltered. “Actually I, um, won’t be around for Christmas. I’m flying back to LA to see my sister next weekend and will be spending a couple of weeks there.”

Tina’s heart sank. Though she’d long had  plans to spend Christmas with Helena, she secretly hoped that Bette would be around for at least some of the festive period so they could spend time together.

“Wow,” Tina replied, a little too brightly to cover the undertone of sadness. It did not go unnoticed. “You’re heading home, how great. It’s been a while since you’ve seen your sister, right?”

“Yes, a few years. She’s been on tour a lot so it’ll be nice to have some family time.”

Tina smiled before exhaling a sigh she’d been trying to suppress. “I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time.”

Bette, sensing the shift in mood, immediately took Tina’s hand into her own.

“Hey,” she said softly. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, of course, I’m just being silly–” 

“Tina,” Bette emphasised, “you’re not. I wish we were spending time together too. If I’d have known how things were going to progress, I’d have rearranged my plans.”

Tina played with the fingers entwined with her own. “I wouldn’t have expected you to do that for me and I’m glad you’ll see your sister. I just… got used to having you around.”

“You can say it you know,” Bette whispered as she leaned in conspiratorially. 

“What?” Tina asked wearily but in good humour, her eyebrow raised. 

“That you’ll miss me.”

Tina closed the distance and placed a chaste kiss on Bette's lips. She tasted of red wine. 

“I’ll miss you.”

Bette simpered. “And I’ll miss you too.”

Following the shared moment, Bette felt an intensity of feeling she had never experienced before. Tina, who just weeks ago stood firm on a ‘friendship-only’ relationship for the time being, admitted that not only did she want to share some of the Christmas holiday with Bette, but that she’d also feel her absence keenly. Whatever walls Tina had built up during her failed marriage, they were surely crumbling.

Once they’d tidied the kitchen, with Bette insisting on doing most of the hard work, Tina brought another bottle of wine into the lounge and stretched out on the sofa. Bette nestled in with her back to Tina’s front as the blond cuddled her close and flipped through the TV channels to find a suitably festive film to watch.

“What about ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’? Capra, total classic.”

“Hmm, is it a Hallmark movie?”

Tina burst out laughing. “It could not be further from being a Hallmark movie, babe. My God do I have my work cut out with you.”

“I told you before, I don’t know much about movies.”

“Well, we’ll have to change that, won’t we? No better place to start than with one of the greats.” 

Tina’s excitement was palpable. Bette snuggled in and brought Tina’s arms around her tightly. “Fine, show me what a wonderful life it really is.”

Two hours, a bottle of wine, and a big bowl of popcorn later, the final scene of the film concluded . A joyful rendition of Auld Lang Syne burst forth from the widescreen TV and the credits rolled. Tina smiled as tears fell down her cheeks before she realised how loud the TV was. She grabbed the remote controller to bring the volume down several decibels. Naturally, Bette had fallen asleep again. All the good food, walking, and wine had lulled her into a nap somewhere around the time George Bailey married Mary. 

Tina looked down at Bette and the way her body moulded snugly against hers. Like two peas in a pod. The camel v-neck jumper was warm and soft and Tina wondered if it was made of cashmere, knowing Bette’s expensive tastes. The perfume dabbed at her pulse points floated up to blonde. Tina now found herself in the same position that Bette had the previous day - namely, her senses were overwhelmed. The sense of safety, the feeling of sanctuary, of home. Bette felt like home. She closed her eyes and savoured the moment.

Suddenly, and without Tina noticing, Bette had woken and was now looking up towards the dazed blonde.

“What?” Bette asked gently as brown eyes met hazel.

“Nothing,” Tina answered, startled. “I just wanted to look at you.”

“Oh,” Bette said affectionately as she tilted her chin up for a kiss, which Tina didn’t hesitate to give. “Sorry I fell asleep again.”

Tina shook her head before speaking softly. “It doesn’t matter. You’re here.”

“I’m here.”

“Bedtime?”

Bette smiled. “Bedtime.”

*

“They’re kinda fearsome. He reminds me of you when James swapped out your cufflinks.”

“Did he tell you about that?” Bette gasped. “What a traitor.”

“His ears were still ringing, babe.”

Bette laughed as she watched Tina eye the wildlife in front of her. There was an enormous deer just a few hundred metres away, a buck, his antlers proudly on display. Tina listened, enthralled, as Bette explained that some time toward the end of February, the buck would shed his antlers in preparation for the mating season later in the year. 

“See, I might not have seen ‘It’s A Wonderful Life’,” Bette joked, “but I can guarantee there isn’t one Attenborough documentary that I haven’t committed to memory.”

They’d come to Richmond Park on a whim after spending a lazy morning enjoying coffee, sex, and the Sunday newspapers in the warmth of Tina’s bed. Although Bette made an impassioned plea to stay there, Tina countered that she needed some fresh air and an itinerary-free day. No shopping, no cooking, no detailed plans; just go with the flow, and so that’s what they did. After an unhurried brunch in Kensington, they jumped on the Overground to Clapham Junction, where Bette was suddenly horrified to realise she’d have to board her first famous London bus. Tina had mocked her to no end. 

“You’ve never been on a London bus?” she exclaimed. “Remind me again how long you’ve lived here.”

“As long as you,” Bette replied sheepishly. 

“Please tell me you’ve at least travelled by Tube?”

“Of course. It was… an experience.”

Truth be told, Bette had enjoyed her first bus ride. She was so used to private cars and the occasional Tube trip that she’d forgotten how much more of London a person could see when they left the city centre and got above ground. The air felt cleaner, the people seemed less rushed, and, most importantly, she felt more relaxed. Tina’s company was the cherry on top of what was turning out to be another lovely day together.

“You didn’t tell me what you’ll be doing over the holidays,” Bette asked as the women continued their leisurely stroll through the Jubilee Plantation, hands intertwined. “You’re not going to be alone, are you?”

“God, no. Helena owns one of those fabulous country houses out in the sticks somewhere. She’s invited me to spend Christmas with her so I’ll head up there for a week or so.”

“Hmm,” Bette pouted. “I’m a little jealous.”

Tina laughed and bumped into Bette playfully. “I’m sure you won’t be when you’re sunning yourself in Hollywood while I freeze my ass off.”

“Still,” was all Bette muttered as she withdrew her hand and instead brought her arm around Tina’s shoulders as they walked on. “You won’t be there.”

“I know,” Tina said as she tucked her arms under Bette’s coat and around her waist, “but it’s only a couple of weeks. Anyway, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you about that may cheer you up.”

“Oh?” 

“Something to look forward to when you’re back.”

“Spit it out, T,” Bette mocked gently as the women came to a slow stop. 

“Remember the movie set you visited?” Bette nodded. “Well, we’ll finish filming next week, all being well. In January we’re having a big party to celebrate wrapping. It’s all very Hollywood-in-London, y’know, and it might not be your scene at all , but it’s usually a lot of fun and it’s at Somerset House which is a gorgeous venue and it’s a free bar and well–” 

“--I’d love to come with you,” Bette cut into Tina’s rambling, worth it for the smile she dazzled her with in reply. 

“You would?”

“Yes. Gimme a date, a time, and I’ll be there.”

“Are you sure? Remember those rich assholes we joked about–”

Bette interrupted Tina again, but opted for a kiss this time instead of words. 

“I don’t care,” Bette spoke through the kiss, “as long as you’re there. You had to tolerate Franklin. Anyone who can do that deserves a medal."

“True,” Tina chuckled and Bette felt the delicious vibration. 

Just as things started to get heated - in the middle of the park, no less, where it wasn’t exactly bereft of other visitors - Tina’s phone suddenly rang. 

“Fuck,” Tina fumed as she reluctantly broke the kiss and reached to answer her cell.

Bette watched on, still dazzled by their kiss, as Tina spoke to whoever was on the other end of the line. It didn’t sound like Helena’s voice, but more like that of her assistant, Nicole. As Bette watched Tina’s face fall, she knew their day was probably about to be cut short. 

“Okay, Nic. Yeah, yeah, get a car to Sawyer’s Hill and I’ll get picked up there. Okay. Thanks. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”

When the call ended, disappointment was written all over Tina’s face. She thrust her phone back into her coat pocket and sighed. 

“I’m so sorry, but there’s a few problems on set and I need to go to Elstree.”

“Hey, don’t stress it, it’s okay,” Bette said as she pulled Tina closer and ran her thumb down her jawline. “Do you think you’ll be gone a long time?”

“I don’t know, but I doubt it’ll be a quick fix,” Tina lamented. “ Fuck. I’m sorry, B, this is not how I wanted our weekend to end. It’s just… we’re so close to wrapping.”

Bette brought Tina into a hug and kissed her temple. “Shh. Shit happens. Go fix it.”

“Can I get you a ride?” 

“No, I'll be fine. I’ll take the bus.”

“Wow,” Tina laughed, “one bus ride and you’re totally converted. Here, take my key and feel free to stay at mine as long as you like. I can’t promise I’ll be back soon, but I’ll text you, okay?”

With an exchange of keys and one last kiss, Tina turned on her heels and left. Bette watched her go before deciding to grab one more cup of coffee before heading back to Holland Park. 

*

Bette didn’t make it back to Tina’s for several hours. Feeling that her relationship with Tina was developing at a pleasantly surprising pace, she decided to explore the area where Tina lived a little more thoroughly, hoping she’d get to spend more time there over the coming weeks and months. Having already explored Portobello Road and Kensington in the previous days, she hopped on the Tube and took a walk around Shepherd’s Bush, grimacing at how crowded the shops were. No thanks. 

She decided to walk back towards Tina’s and was delighted to find a small but cosy bar on Holland Park Avenue to enjoy a glass of pastis. Bette watched from her table as a young couple, clearly on their second or third date, kissed and canoodled, oblivious to their surroundings. She smiled to herself as she reminisced about kissing Tina in the Artists’ Bar and in the middle of Richmond Park. Her usual distaste for PDA fast disappeared whenever she was with the blonde. There was just something about Tina that made Bette feel like a teenager again. 

By the time she left the bar, night was falling rapidly and so too was the temperature. Tina had text to say she would be home in the early evening and Bette considered waiting for her, but didn’t want to overstay her welcome. She decided she’d gather her belongings, wait for Tina, but would head back to her hotel not long after she returned home. 

Strange, Bette thought as she approached the house, I don’t remember us leaving the lamps on. 

The blinds were semi-closed so she couldn’t see in, but there was definitely a glow coming from the lamp Tina kept next to the bay window. As she slowly climbed the steps to the front door, Bette noticed the alarm above the front door wasn’t blinking. It was no longer armed.

Tina definitely switched it on, Bette observed, because she had been the one to remind her to do so. Something was definitely amiss and her suspicions were confirmed when she put the key into the lock, turned it to the left, but it refused to budge. It had been locked from the inside. Bette jiggled the key but it wouldn’t move and the rattling noise had startled whoever was inside. 

“What the fuck?” Bette whispered as she considered her next move. She wondered if she should call 999, but why would a burglar lock the house and turn on the lights? 

Could it be her housekeeper? No, it’s Sunday.

The sound of the deadbolt unlocking from the other side broke into her thoughts. When the door finally opened, before her stood a smaller woman, her face grave, and her short grey hair slicked back. 

“Can I help you?”

“Who, what…” Bette stammered. “This is Tina’s home.”

“I’m well aware of that,” the woman replied curtly. 

“But–”

“ Again , can I help you?”

The accent was heavy and unmistakable. American. New York. 

“I don’t…” Bette started again before the words died on her lips.

“Look, I'm very busy so if you could wrap it up,” the woman demanded.

“Who are you?”

The woman shot Bette a look of disbelief.

“I’m Carrie Walsh. Who the hell are you?”

Chapter Text

Bette leant against an armchair, a small suitcase at her feet. She watched carefully as Carrie moved with an unnerving ease around the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea. A thick silence surrounded the two women, broken only by the sounds of an opening cupboard or the clink of a teaspoon against ceramic. When the small woman finally took her seat at the dining table, Bette felt a lurch in her stomach. She sat in the exact same seat Bette had taken last night as her and Tina enjoyed their first home cooked meal together. It was there, a mere 24 hours earlier, where Tina had confessed she would miss Bette in the two weeks she’d be out of town. Bette had replied in kind, but now the memory seemed sullied somehow by the presence of Tina’s ex-wife, invading the space where they had shared such an intimate moment.

“So where is my darling ex-wife?” Carrie asked.

“Work,” was the clipped reply.

“That figures. Are you sure I can’t make you some tea, Bette?”

“I’m fine.”

“Suit yourself.” 

Carrie blew noisily on the steaming tea as Bette’s stare bored into her. The sound was loud and uncouth and the brunette found it irritating. In fact, she was finding every gesture by the smaller woman increasingly irritating. 

“When did you arrive?” 

Carrie’s head shot up, shocked that Bette had dared question her presence in Tina’s house. From the minute Carrie had reluctantly allowed Bette to enter and gather her things, the conversation had been one-sided. Her tone was snide when she finally opened her mouth to reply.

“How is that any of your business?”

“I’m making it my business,” Bette rebutted as she unfolded her arms and slipped her hands into her trouser pockets. “When did you get here? How did you get in?”

Carrie barked a mirthless laugh as she dug into her trouser pocket and threw a key onto the dining table that acted as a buffer between them. “Do I look like a break-and-enter kinda girl?”

“When?” Bette reiterated her earlier question with a much firmer tone.

“About an hour ago.”

“And you don’t think you should have warned her you were stopping by?”

“I don’t need her permission to come to the home I lived in for fifteen years,” Carrie smirked, “and I certainly don’t need yours.” 

“Yeah, well we’ll see about that.”

Carrie took another gulp of tea. “I don’t like what she’s done to my office, y’know. I suppose I have you to thank for those God-awful finger paintings.”

Bette gave her a lopsided smile. “Some people have no taste.”

“That’s no way to talk about your girlfriend,” Carrie baited. Bette refused to take it. 

“And yet here I am, in your former home after having spent the weekend with your ex-wife. I think I’m living proof that Tina’s taste has vastly improved.”

A flash of anger crossed Carrie’s features, a smirk quickly becoming a scowl. She swallowed more tea to quash her rising fury before placing the cup down harder than she intended, Bette noticed. Just as she opened her mouth to bite back, the sound of a key in the front door interrupted. Both women’s heads swung towards the hallway.

“Bette, I’m back. Are you still here?” came Tina’s warm voice. Bette’s stomach clenched at the sound, knowing that Tina’s bright mood was about to be ruined. “Bette?” Tina repeated, her voice a little louder. 

Footsteps echoed down the hallway and increased in volume as the blonde approached. She saw Bette loitering in the space between the lounge and kitchen and gave her a tired smile. 

“Hey, babe, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” She entered and gave Bette a peck on the cheek. “What’s up?”

Bette’s eyes never wavered from Tina’s as she watched in slow motion as the blonde turned her head ninety degrees and landed on the sight of her ex-wife sitting at the dining table. Her purse slipped from her hand and landed on the wooden floor with a thud. 

“Hello, Tina.”

Instinctively Bette’s hand reached for Tina’s and gripped it tightly. Tina blanched. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“That’s no way to speak to a guest,” Carrie quipped.

Tina squeezed Bette’s hand so hard that the brunette felt her circulation restrict. 

“I think ‘intruder’ is perhaps a more appropriate word,” Bette replied. 

“Tina, can you call off your guard dog?”

Bette dropped Tina’s hand and propelled herself off the edge of the armchair in one swift movement. “Who the fuck are you call-”

“--Bette,” Tina cut in as she jumped in front of Bette. She reclaimed her hands and kissed the knuckles. Bette could feel Tina’s warm breath against their cold hands grounding her. “No good can come of this.”

“I’m not leaving, so don’t ask me to.”

“Baby,” Tina soothed. “Whatever she wants, it’s between me and her. I’ll be fine, okay?”

Bette looked down at the woman in front of her. In her peripheral vision she could see Carrie over Tina’s shoulder, sipping her tea, her lips pursed. Although she tried to project an image of strength and superiority, Bette knew better. The slight tremor in her grip as she held the cup in her hands gave the game away. Whatever needed thrashing out between Carrie and Tina was exactly that - between Carrie and Tina. As much as Bette wanted to stay, the plea in Tina’s eyes told her this was not her fight. Exhaling breath noisily through her nose, she relented. 

“Fine, I’ll go, but only because you’re asking me to.”

Tina gave her a weak smile as she withdrew her hand and tucked a lock of curly hair behind Bette’s ear. 

“Hooray,” came a quiet voice from behind them. Tina spun on her heels.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Carrie recoiled, clearly unused to this version of Tina. Bette bit back a grin. 

“We’ll speak later, okay? Please?”

“Of course. Can I book a ride for you?”

Bette shook her head as she leant down to place a kiss to the corner of Tina’s mouth. “No, I’ll figure it out. Take care, okay? Call me if you need anything. ”

She gathered her bags, gave Carrie one final withering look, and reluctantly departed.

*

“Didn’t take her long to get her feet under the table,” Carrie goaded as she watched Tina march into the lounge to retrieve a bottle of gin. “There’s a pot of tea still warm, y’know.”

“I need something stronger than tea to deal with you.” 

Carrie’s eyebrows flicked up, accepting the barb. “So that’s Bette Porter, huh? Moving on so quickly, Tina.”

“It’s been over a year since I kicked you out, how much longer am I supposed to wait? Do I need to ask your permission like I did for fifteen years?”

“Gimme a break, I couldn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to do.”

Tina seated herself at the opposite end of the table, foe facing foe, Carrie’s key sat between them on the table top. She rotated the copa glass in her hand, mixing the gin, tonic, and ice. 

“This place feels so different already,” Carrie observed. “You know, with this many plants in the house, you’ll have real bug problems in the summer.”

Tina’s eyes flicked up to meet Carrie’s, her tone biting when she finally responded. “The house needed some colour. A little character. God knows it was lacking for a long time.”

Carrie shrugged, conceding the point.

“Why are you here?” Tina continued, unwilling to be sidetracked by talk of decor choices. 

“I’m visiting a few friends before Christmas. I actually intended to stop by and push the key through your letterbox,” she nodded towards the piece of metal between them, “but then I got wind of your little romance.”

Tina swallowed hard, knowing what Carrie was about to say. “How do you know Bette?”

“I don’t, but London’s a small world, Tina. I know you like to think I didn’t have many friends here, but the ones I did have are loyal and well-connected. Those friends talk . She’s impressive, I’ll give you that, but you know our agreement.”

Tina took a long drink of gin. Carrie leant back in her chair and folded her arms as she spoke, assuming a voice usually only reserved for her legal work. 

“You got the house as long as you remained single. Upon meeting someone and entering into a serious relationship, or a relationship with significant potential, you would relinquish the house, sell it, and ensure fifty percent of said sale would be transferred to me.”

Tina stared for a long time at her glass, feeling the cool drops of condensation dripping onto her fingers. 

“We’re not officially together.”

“Tina, please,” Carrie challenged with a tilt of the head. “You were all over each other just a few nights ago, hmm?”

“My God, you have spies all over this town. So much for feeling ‘lonely’ for the last fifteen years,” Tina fought back.

“Well I had no desire to gallivant around the West End with you and that Peabody woman,” Carrie spat. 

“Her name’s Helena and she’s a better friend than you ever were to me as my wife .”

“Did you sleep with her?”

Tina was unable to resist the laugh that burst forth. “Jesus, what an asinine question.”

“Well you moved on quickly enough, is Bette one of many?”

The blonde took a deep breath. “I never slept with Helena. I never slept with anyone else whilst we were married, as much as you’d love to think I did whilst you were skulking around whatever dark and dank gentleman’s bar was flavour of the week with you and your lawyer pals.”

“And Bette?”

Tina bit her lip. “She isn’t up for discussion.”

“Interesting,” Carrie smirked. “She’s a player, y’know?”

Tina chuckled but it lacked humour. “Not going there.”

“She was married to that Lerner woman, right? Well, word on the gay grapevine is they were both doing the dirty on each other the whole time they were married. She was sowing her wild oats all over London.”

“I’m not doing this with you,” Tina said, the sound of her chair scraping back loud and harsh in the spacious kitchen. She moved to the lounge and poured herself another G&T, remaining on her feet this time. She was rattled and Carrie knew it. 

“Those feelings run deeper than you’re letting on, hey Tina?” she needled. 

“It’s absolutely none of your business.”

“Oh but it is. If you’re shacking up with her, then you’ll sell up. Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be. Neither of us want to go back through the courts but I won’t hesitate if you start playing hardball.”

“No one is shacking up with anyone,” Tina said through gritted teeth. “I think you need to leave.”

Carrie stood and gathered her wallet and phone. “Where have I heard those words before?”

“When I finally threw you out, like I’m throwing you out now.”

“Ha,” Carrie barked. “You can’t throw out someone who is willingly leaving.”

Tina slammed her glass down on the coffee table and shot her ex-wife one final stare. She glanced away momentarily to the dining table, where Carrie’s key still remained. 

“I won’t be back, but you will be hearing from my lawyer about the house. That is, if your relationship with Porter is going somewhere, and by the look on your face before, you certainly think it is.”

“Get out,” Tina repeated with barely concealed rage.

“I’m going,” Carrie lifted her hands up in mock contrition, “but before you get in any deeper, think about what I said huh? All over London. You know what these arty types are like, Tina. They have a different set of morals to the likes of you and me.”

“I’m nothing like you, and she’s certainly nothing like you.”

Carrie gave a small nod. “Suit yourself. Don’t come crying to me when it’s you she’s doing the dirty on.”

Tina flinched at the words, almost imperceptibly, but Carrie noticed and knew she’d hit a weak spot. 

“Get out . ”

“I’m gone.”

Tina listened for the door to open and then slam shut before she finally released the tears that had been pricking the back of her eyes for most of their fiery exchange. She allowed herself to cry, to sob, to free fifteen years’ worth of resentment, neglect, and regret. When she felt she had cried all she could, she dried her eyes, picked up her phone, and called a local locksmith.

No call was placed to Bette.

*

Tina didn’t sleep for two nights. She had been deeply affected by the fight with Carrie, whose mere presence had tainted the place she’d finally been able to call home for the last year. What had felt like a safe haven now felt cold, polluted, and desolate. 

Her faith in her choices and in her growing feelings for Bette had been shaken despite her best efforts to let Carrie’s comments roll off her like water off a duck’s back. Still vulnerable from the separation and divorce, it was all too easy to rebuild the walls that had started to come down in recent months. Lodged in her mind now was a renewed belief that every time she opened herself up to the possibility of love and connection with someone else, she would be knocked down, diminished, and therefore it simply wasn’t worth the effort. Everything ended. Everything was temporary. Everyone left. Even the numerous missed calls and texts from Bette, who was desperate to speak with her in the 48 hours that elapsed, couldn’t convince her that the brunette was the exact person to dismantle all of Carrie’s false assertions. 

“Why don’t you go over there, B?” Shane asked as Bette leaned back wearily in her office chair. It was Tuesday evening and sleet was lashing against the bay window, the sky the colour of granite. 

“Because it has to be on her terms, always. She’s vulnerable, Shane, and now the ex-wife comes back and she told me it’s her fight, not mine. I want to be respectful of that. I pushed and pushed with Jodi and look where it got me. I lost my marriage and my house.”

“Tina isn’t Jodi and you two were doomed from the get go.”

Bette rubbed her hand frustratedly across her brow. “I know and that’s what makes it harder. I want to fight for this, I believe in this, but she has boundaries and she’s crossed so many of them already with me that any more pushing from me might push her away entirely.”

“It’s a tough one,” Shane agreed. “Have you had any contact?”

“We’ve texted a few times. She told me Carrie had left not long after me, but she hasn’t called like she said she would.”

“Have you called?”

“I’ve lost count.”

“Ah,” Shane replied flatly. “I don’t know, Bette, maybe time is what she needs, but don’t leave it too long, y’know?”

“Perhaps I should leave it until I get back from LA.”

There was a lengthy pause. Bette could hear LA traffic in the background. If she tried hard enough, she could also hear the cogs turning in Shane’s head as she pondered her next words.

“Say it, Yoda.”

“Hmm,” Shane chuckled. “I don’t think leaving it until after the holidays is the right thing to do. Just a hunch.”

Bette considered the advice. “I’m not back here until the 30th so… I’ll think about it.”

Just as Bette was about to ask Shane about upcoming plans to meet when she landed in California, there was a loud knock at the door.

“I think my next appointment is here, Shane, I gotta go. I’ll text you my flight details, okay? I’ll see you at the airport. Bye.”

Bette placed her cell on her desk and walked to the door, expecting the usual corporate suit to be waiting at the other side, but when she opened the door, stood before her was a pale and red-eyed Tina.

“Hi. Can I come in?”

“Of course,” Bette replied, taken aback at the unscheduled but most-welcome intrusion. 

Tina walked into Bette’s outstretched arms, but the brunette immediately felt that the hug was different. Like a sweater that had been in the dryer too long and didn't quite fit anymore. It was awkward. Cursory. The hug of two acquaintances and not of two women who had been all-but-dating for the last two or so months. Tina withdrew from the hug unusually quickly and Bette’s intuition told her something was wrong and that she might not like the outcome of this conversation. 

“Can I get you coffee? Tea?” Bette asked, her politeness matching the strange formality of the mood. 

“No, I won’t be here too long.”

Tina stood in the middle of Bette’s office with her hands clasped firmly behind her back, as if to deliberately withhold them. Bette’s anxiety increased with every subtle sign that all was not well with the blonde and she decided it was best to give Tina some space and keep her distance. 

“You said you'd call me Sunday night,” Bette began, sensing Tina needed a nudge to speak. 

“I know.”

“I've called you several times since then and you’ve not returned a single one. I thought we’d been through this whole ‘shutting me out’ thing weeks ago.”

“I know, I'm sorry, I just…” Tina said, unspoken words evaporating into nothingness. 

Bette crossed her arms across her chest. “It's fine.”

“No, it's not fine. I’m sorry about the situation with Carrie,” Tina continued sincerely, her eyes glued to the floor. “I had no idea she would barge in like that. Everything’s been so crazy this last year, I didn’t even realise she still had a key, and I had no reason to believe she’d come back to London–”

“--you don’t have to apologise, Tina. I was shocked to find her there, but I can’t imagine how you must have felt.”

Tina chuckled bitterly as she glanced out of the window, her eyes and mind far away. 

“The house feels strange. It had started to feel like a home, but now…” she trailed off sadly.

“I know it’s easy for me to say, but you mustn’t let her spoil all your hard work this last year. You’ve made a beautiful home for yourself. Your career is… well, I saw how loved and respected you are on my set visit. You’re a God to your team. And, um,” Bette faltered as she considered her next words, “I’d like to think I… well, there’s us and, um, all the time we’ve been spending tog–”

“She still owns half the house, Bette,” Tina interjected, ignoring the topic of ‘us’ entirely.

Bette deflated but tried to rally. Let her lead.

“That’s not so unusual for recently-divorced couples. The night we met was when I handed my key back to Jodi.”

“Carrie returned her key and I got the locks changed–”

“--that’s good–”

“--but,” Tina continued, “I have to sell the house if and when I meet someone… long-term. That’s a condition of our agreement. That’s why I got the house.”

“Oh,” was all Bette could respond. Tina’s demeanour and tone told her this discussion might not end positively, but her heart dared to hope. “So what does that mean? You seem so settled there.”

Tina finally looked up into brown eyes, her own eyes glistening. “You weren’t part of the plan.”

“The plan?”

“Ask Helena. I was determined to never date again in this city. Never marry. Focus on me. That’s why I–”

“--only wanted friendship, I know,” Bette finished the sentence. “But it’s a little late for that, don't you think?”

Bette stepped towards the blonde tentatively as hazel eyes again closed and Tina ran a hand through her hair.

“T? Please just say what it is you came here to say.”

Tina remained silent for a few moments before she gathered her courage and looked up again to meet Bette’s grave gaze. 

“I need more time.” 

Bette's heart sank. “More time?”

“Everything feels too rushed, too pressured. I just need more time.”

“No one’s counting the clock. I'm not putting pressure on you. I've never put pressure on you.”

“I know, it's just-”

“What, Tina?”

“I don't know if I can do this. It all happened really fast and seeing Carrie, I just ... it’s like you said before, falling in love is the easy part,” Tina argued, as a tear slipped free from her eyes. “Making it work is hard. I don't know if I have it in me to do this again at this point in my life.”

Bette waited a moment as she pondered her response. If they had come this far in a matter of months only for it to now fall apart, she had nothing to lose by laying all her cards on the table.  

“I think you deserve to find out. To try, with me. I know this is going to work. We met on the day we both got divorced. I’m not superstitious, but don’t you think that means something?” Bette questioned with a small smile.

“I’m not superstitious either–”

“You kept your wedding ring until your divorce was through because you worried getting rid of it would tempt fate.”

“That’s true,” Tina conceded.

“Then tell me you believe in this. Because I do, I believe in this. Meeting at the courthouse, the bar, you leaving your scarf behind. These things don’t just happen. We were meant to meet. Whatever this is between us, it’s meant to be.”

Tina sighed and rubbed her neck. “You said you'd wait for me, Bette, that we didn't need to rush, that we could go at my pace.”

“Of course, but I want some sort of timeframe, Tina.”

“Can we just take this two weeks over the holidays? I’ll be here, you’ll be far enough away that we can both get some space and some clarity, and then I’ll let you know where my head is at.”

“Don’t listen to your head. Trust this,” Bette implored, pointing a finger towards her chest.

“I’ll let you know when you’re back in town,” Tina repeated. 

“In person?” 

“Um, I don't kn–”

Bette’s frustration was building. “A phone call? Text message? Smoke signal?” 

“Bette, stop.”

“I can't,” Bette said, her volume kicked up a notch. 

“Why not?”

“Because I don't want to leave this open ended. She’s gotten into your head. If we leave this open ended, the days will turn into weeks, the weeks become months, and before we know it we’ll become strangers. I don’t want that. I don’t want us to be ships who pass in the night.”

“I doubt in a city of eight million our paths would even cross. We lived here for fifteen years without knowing each other existed.”

The comment hit its intended target. Bette laughed but there was no humour. She shook her head in disbelief.

“Sure. Maybe we’ll wave at each other across Park Lane one day and think back fondly of the night we first fucked in the Dorchester. Jesus, do I mean so little to you?”

“You mean everything, actually.”

Bette softened at hearing those words she’d longed to hear. She realised in that moment that any harsh words of Tina’s were merely a defence mechanism, her passive aggression born out of fear.

“Tina, you can't say things like that and ask me to walk away indefinitely. You can't tell me I mean everything then expect us to part like none of this,” Bette waved her arms between them, “happened. Don't ask me to. I can’t. I won’t.”

“I told you at the start, I needed a friend . I shouldn’t have let this get out of hand. Don't make this harder than it needs to be.”

“You’re falling in love with me,” Bette said firmly. “As sure as I am that I am falling in love with you. What we agreed back then has no meaning now. Everything has changed. I'm not going to lock my feelings back up in a box just because you ask me to.”

“Bette–”

“I'm not Carrie,” said Bette softly. She moved towards Tina, who by now had shrivelled in on herself. Gently she took Tina’s smaller hands into her own and brought them up to her chest. “I'm not her, T. You know that, deep down. I know she hurt you, but I will never hurt you. She made you feel like love is resentment. Love is competition. Love is minimising your feelings. Minimising yourself. Tina?” Bette implored, trying to meet Tina’s eyes. “Love is nothing like that. Love is you making a casserole for me because I hadn’t had a home cooked meal in years. Love is shopping for furniture with you and picturing how you’d look on my new sofa in my apartment because I want you to sit in my lap and read with me every night. Love is me waking up before you every single day for the rest of my life just so I can see your reaction when you take that first sip of coffee that I made for you.”

Tina let her tears fall freely as she listened to Bette’s impassioned plea. Tentatively she looked up, afraid that she would see in Bette's brown eyes what she had seen countless times in Carrie’s, but all that she could see was love. Pure, fearless love. 

“I–” 

“I love you. I didn’t know what it meant until you,” Bette smiled sadly as she reached out to brush Tina’s tears away. “Remember what Helena said - don’t be afraid. Of course, of course, I’ll give you time but please don’t leave this undefined. Give me something to aim for.”

“I just, right now–” she stammered. “I can’t.”

Bette grieved the loss the second that Tina’s hands separated from her own. As she swept past her, the familiar notes of her perfume floated up to Bette, but no longer were they comforting. Bette wanted to memorise the scent forever. When she finally turned, Tina was already leaving through the door and Bette felt as if her feet were made of stone, fixed to the floor as the antique clock ticked loudly. Her heart willed her to chase after Tina, to make her understand that Carrie had already wielded too much power over her life, and that she need not let her taint what they had together. Her head, however, told her maybe this was for the best. Maybe the sensible thing to do was take two weeks and 5,000 miles apart and reassess in the new year.

Regrettably, Bette’s head claimed the victory but it felt like a defeat. 

Chapter Text

Bette opted for a private car from Heathrow Airport back to the Dorchester in the hopes of enjoying some peace and comfort. No peace nor comfort would come, however, as the driver - still full of festive spirit - blared Wham! and Mariah Carey for the entire hour-long journey. She wasn’t a great fan of Christmas songs anyway, but even less so now Christmas had passed, and especially considering her sour mood upon returning to London. 

Two weeks. Fourteen days. 336 hours. Barely a word. There had been feeble “Merry Christmas” messages shared between them on the day itself, but Bette had backed off as requested and Tina didn’t seem willing to prolong the exchange of texts beyond the formalities. It was easier when there were 5,000 miles between them. Easy to forget sparkling eyes over candlelit dinners. Easy to squash memories of feverish kisses and roaming hands.  Easy to push ever-deepening feelings to one side. Kit and Shane had provided ample distractions over the holiday season, and Bette had welcomed the endless dinners, drinks, and day trips to keep her occupied.

On her last night before flying back to London, Shane and Bette sat poolside at her younger friend’s condo and put the world to rights. Shane told Bette not to give up on Tina, that maybe a few weeks was all that was needed and that patience was a virtue in this situation, but the brunette couldn’t forget the look on Tina’s face when they last met at the Gallery - the fear etched into every line on her face and the quiver in her voice as she insisted she needed more time and less pressure. In those quiet moments at night whilst staying at her sister’s place, Bette’s mind drifted across land and ocean to the blonde who had captured her heart. 

Bette managed to keep her sadness under wraps for most of the Christmas festivities, not wanting to ruin what limited time she had with her sister and friends, but from the moment her plane touched down on English soil all she could think about was Tina. As the car drove through familiar west London streets, those suppressed emotions all came rushing up to the surface. Bette gripped her hand tightly around the door handle of the car to stop herself from bursting into tears. Every street, every park, every glimpse of the Thames’  shimmering surface - they all reminded her of Tina. 

When the car finally pulled up outside of the Dorchester, Bette took a deep breath before exiting. Even here, Bette could not escape memories of Tina. In the Artists’ Bar, in the elevator, in her bed… she was everywhere. 

*

Unbeknownst to Bette, another chauffeur-driven car was also winding its way through west London. In its rear passenger seats sat Helena and Tina as they returned from their Christmas stay in the countryside. 

Much like Bette, Tina had tried valiantly to bury the sorrow she felt at how things had ended just before the holiday. Carrie’s intrusion, the house situation, and, most importantly, the way she had left things with Bette had created the perfect storm. Also like Bette, she’d managed to get through the holiday by filling her time with distractions. There were card games, pub lunches, and long country walks with Helena and her dogs to keep her busy, but the sadness returned with full force the instant the car crossed the Chelsea Bridge.

“Are you going to be this glum tomorrow night?” Helena broke into the silence. 

“Hmm?” Tina replied absentmindedly, her thoughts a million miles away. 

“I said, are you going to be this glum tomorrow? It’s New Year’s Eve, darling, you should try to have a good time.”

“We’ve had plenty of good times in the last two weeks.” Tina returned her gaze to the window. “I don’t have to come if I’m going to spoil your fun.”

“Tina, that’s not what I mean and you know it. You’re not ditching me, much as I know you’re angling to be given an out. Plus, I already have you down on the catering numbers.”

Tina sighed. If Helena had a pound coin for every time she’d heard Tina sigh in the last two weeks, she’d be considerably richer than she already was. 

“You could just call her, you know? How much longer are you planning to leave things like this?”

“I don’t know, Helena,” Tina said as she shook her head dejectedly. “I have too much to deal with right now between Carrie’s ultimatum and the goddamn film wrapping. It’s all so complicated.”

“That’s bollocks. Bette is actually the least complicated part of this equation.”

“How so?” Tina asked, her eyes still fixed on the glass. 

“She had you bang to rights. You’re falling for her and it terrifies you. She’s in love with you, you’re in love with her, one plus one equals two. You’re the one complicating things.”

“I…” Tina started, but she left the sentence unfinished and gave a small shrug.

“See,” Helena replied triumphantly. “A house, Tina, is bricks and mortar. Carrie wasted the best part of fifteen years of your life. You’ve met someone kind, beautiful, and utterly infatuated with you. She’s made you so happy these past few months and you never thought you’d find that sort of happiness with another woman–”

“--I wasn’t trying to find that–”

“--but you did,” Helena exclaimed, “and you can go on pretending otherwise, but it doesn’t make it any less true. How many people get a second chance at love in this phase of their life, Tina? You’re throwing it away because you’re scared. I told you once before not to be afraid and now I’m telling you again.”

Tina gave her a weak smile in reply. Helena reached across the centre seat and squeezed her hand.

“Think about it, eh? In the meantime, I’m begging you to let your hair down tomorrow night.”

Tina brightened a little. “I’ll try.”

*

Bette received a few invitations for New Year’s Eve, but she had zero interest in partying. Even James had taken pity on her and asked her to join his girlfriend and their pals for a house party, but she had politely declined whilst recognising the kind intent behind the offer. With only a few nights left at the hotel before finally moving into her renovated apartment, she instead decided to have a lavish dinner at the Connaught before returning to the Artists’ Bar for a whisky and turning in for an early night. She’d even bought earplugs to drown out the sounds of celebration and the nearby fireworks that would certainly keep her awake. 

Bette was seated at the bar, nursing her second Scotch of the night. As per usual, her mind had drifted to Tina, and it was as she wondered where she was spending her evening that her gloomy thoughts were unexpectedly interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Drowning your sorrows, Porter?”

Bette turned her head to see Helena Peabody leaning against the bar and giving her a wry smile. 

“What's there to celebrate?”

“Making it through another year. The possibilities of a new year. Being in London. Being alive.” The barman, Alex, came over to ask Helena for her order. “I’ll have whatever she’s having.”

She slipped onto a bar stool next to Bette as Alex brought her a Scotch with one ice cube. 

“Here’s to … all of that,” Bette muttered as she clinked her glass against Helena’s.

“Cheers,” Helena replied as she took a sip. “I hoped I’d find you here. No plans for this evening?”

“I had some offers, but I’m not in the mood to go out. I prefer to stay in on New Year’s Eve.”

Helena chuckled. “What a coincidence. So does Tina.”

Bette ignored the comment. “You look great. Where are you heading?”

Helena winced as she took another large sip. “God, Porter, you like them peaty. I’m actually on my way to meet Tina.”

“Oh. So much for preferring to stay home.”

“Well, no one else offered,” Helena countered.

Bette shrugged wordlessly as she swirled the ice cube around the glass. 

“She doesn't know I'm here, by the way. I'm meeting her down on the Thames for a boat soirée I arrange every year, not that she’s in much of a mood for it but I insisted.”

Bette gave her a fake smile. “I hope you have a wonderful evening together.”

“I’d invite you along, but considering the circumstances…”

“Right,” Bette barked a humourless laugh. “Not sure I’d be welcome.”

Helena stared at the woman beside her for a few moments. The bitterness was a cover for a bruised ego, she knew this, but despite the temptation to rebut Bette with a jibe of her own, she pressed on with her mission. 

“You know, I think you and Tina have been in London too long.”

Bette furrowed her brow. “What makes you say that?”

“You're both being ever so polite and reserved about this whole ordeal. I hoped you might both behave a bit more American.”

“How’s that?”

“Forthright. Proactive. Grasp the nettle, so to speak. None of this ‘stiff upper lip’ English nonsense, but saying how you really feel.”

“I did say how I really feel and she bolted.”

“You overwhelmed her, so she ran.” 

“Exactly,” Bette emphasised. “She asked for space and time, and here I am giving her space and time.”

“So that's it? You're giving up?”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” Bette said impassively, “but we were never officially together. There's nothing to give up.”

“Wow. This is not the Bette Porter I used to envy.”

Bette shot her a puzzled look. “ Envy ?”

“Yes. My God, the way my mother talks about you I thought you walked on water. The tenacious, ferocious Bette Porter who goes after what she wants at full-tilt. You were on quite the pedestal, but now I’m not so sure,” Helena baited good-naturedly.

Bette laughed for what must have been the first time that day. “Kicking a dog when it's down is beneath you, Helena.”

“And you giving up on Tina is likewise beneath you.”

Silence. A smug smile toyed at Helena’s lips, sensing she’d won that round. Bette rolled her eyes playfully. 

“How is she?”

“About as miserable as you, Bette. She tried over the Christmas weekend to… throw herself into the festive spirit, but I could see it was a facade. We had plenty of engagements and parties to attend to and she had happy moments, I’m sure, but I've known her too long not to recognise when she's faking it. Do you know what she isn't faking, however?”

“I’m sure you’re about to enlighten me,” Bette joked as she swung her head towards the dark brunette.

“Her feelings for you,” Helena replied firmly, all prior humour gone. “Everything you said to her that last day you saw each other? She feels it too, I’m sure. She's just scared, Bette. Scared to feel this way. Scared it'll slip through her fingers if she leans into it.”

“I'm scared too, you know,” Bette argued. “I didn't expect to meet her at my age.”

“Her?” 

Bette’s face softened with sparkling eyes as she thought of the woman who had invaded almost every single thought since the day they’d first met. 

“Tina. She’s the one.”

Helena was momentarily disarmed. “The one ?”

“Without question,” Bette stated simply. “They say you just know, right? Well… I know.”

“Good Lord, Bette, I wasn’t quite expecting that. I’m… speechless.”

“A rarity for you,” Bette quipped before the sorrow returned again and the glint in her eyes faded, “but she has to decide what she wants, Helena. I don't want to push. I want to respect the boundaries we've been trying, and failing, to maintain.”

Helena drummed her fingers on the marble bar top as she meditated on the weight and depth of Bette’s admission. She smiled to herself before taking a final sip of her drink and replacing the empty glass.

“Do you want my advice? As someone who considers herself something of an expert on Tina Kennard.”

“Sure, why not,” Bette answered.

“Push.”

Bette’s eyes widened. “Push?”

“If she’s the one, what are you willing to do about it? She needs a push, so… push.”

“Pushing is the exact opposite of giving someone time and space. How the fuck is that going to work?”

“It might not, but right now, how is this working?” Helena reasoned. “Take a risk. Throw caution to the wind. What's the worst that can happen?”

“She runs again and this time for good.”

“Right, because this impasse is working out so well?” Helena replied sarcastically. “It's New Year's Eve. You and her should be together, but instead you're staring at the bottom of a glass and talking to me. You’re already in a stalemate and therefore you’ve got nothing to lose.”

Bette stared back at Helena with narrowed eyes and considered her words. “You know, my friend Shane said something similar when I was in LA.”

“Smart woman.”

“She is wiser than her years,” Bette nodded. “I’d like to know, however, why I’m getting this speech and not Tina? She’s your friend.”

“Fair question,” Helena conceded. “Because she's terrified. Terrified of how big her feelings are for you so soon after a very hostile divorce. One of you has to be brave and she's been brave for a long time, Bette. Brave throughout the separation. Brave whilst navigating the courts. She managed all that whilst working in a job that tests her patience every single day and working for a man who has no idea just how good she is and how many times she’s saved his skin. Brave to try and make a home out of a house that never felt like that with her ex. If I get to choose who has to be brave? I’m backing you, Porter.”

Just as Bette opened her mouth to reply, Helena stood, put her hand into her purse, and placed what looked like an invitation on the bar.

“This is for you, by the way.”

It was a ticket to the very exclusive wrap party for Tina’s latest production, taking place in early January. 

“The wrap party? I'm not going. I don't think she even remembers that she invited me.”

“I highly doubt that.”

Bette shook her head. “I don't think it's a good idea.”

“You know Carrie?”

“You’re gonna give me whiplash with these subject changes. Yes, unfortunately I'm familiar with Carrie.”

“She never came to one single work event with Tina in fifteen years,” Helena stated as she gathered her purse and smoothed the fabric of her coat. “No premieres, no wrap parties, no awards ceremonies. Not one. And yet, on the day you showed up on set, Tina lit up like a Christmas tree. Makes you think, doesn't it? One doesn't always need elaborate speeches or declarations of everlasting love. Sometimes one just needs to… show up.”

Bette gave no response as she absorbed Helena’s words. 

“Alex, is it?” Helena said as she turned away from Bette. The young barman nodded. “The drink’s on her tab.”

With a wink and flourish, she was gone.

*

Tina’s hair lifted off her shoulders as the chilly wind blew across the Thames. She looked upwards to the House of Parliament, its magnificent limestone walls bathed in the familiar orangey-yellow glow, and the Elizabeth Tower looming high above. As she leant against the railings of the boat, she could just about see the masses gathered on the Embankment as they eagerly awaited the firework show that was about to start when Big Ben struck midnight. She smiled to herself, a rare occurrence in the last few days, relieved that she was on a spacious, luxury barge with just a few select guests and not crammed like sardines on the riverside. 

No sooner had the smile appeared, however, and then it was gone. So much had happened in these last few months, it was hard to believe another year was already over. The romance with Bette had been a whirlwind, an unexpected interruption to her carefully-laid plans to focus purely on herself and find her feet again. “No dates, no entanglements, no distractions” was what she had said to Helena time and time again, and yet life had a funny way of throwing a spanner in the works when you least expected it. In just a few weeks, Bette had dismantled her carefully-constructed walls brick by brick. She had convinced Tina that once-in-a-lifetime love was possible and within reach, because she felt it in every kiss Bette landed on her lips, every time she felt her hand slip snugly into Bette’s, and in every warm smile the brunette shared with her.  

But then a second interruption had arrived in the shape of Carrie.  A most unwelcome, unnecessary interruption. In a matter of a few hours the walls were back up, the fear had returned with a vengeance, and Tina had folded in on herself. Not even Bette’s bold confession that she was falling in love with Tina could persuade the blonde not to retreat. Scared and overwhelmed, Tina did the only thing she had ever done when it all got too much - she ran. 

Tina couldn’t quite believe she was having these thoughts again . It was almost midnight, there was noise and gaiety all around her, but here she was replaying the last few weeks like a horror film in her mind. Forcing herself back to the present, she took a sip from the champagne flute that Helena had tipsily thrust into her hand, remembering the last time she truly enjoyed champagne was with Bette at the drinks reception at the Gallery. Everything reminded her of Bette even when she was trying to forget. She shook the thought away and craned her neck up towards Big Ben as the hand edged closer to midnight. Gripping the cool metal rail tightly, Tina listened as the party guests started a countdown to midnight. 

“Almost time, Tina,” Helena shouted brightly over the heads of her guests towards the blonde. 

Tina was about to open her mouth to reply when suddenly her phone vibrated in her pocket. Her brow wrinkled in confusion, she peered at the screen and saw an incoming call.

Bette. 

She wavered for a moment and then did what she should have done two weeks ago, the second Carrie left her house. She accepted the call. 

“Bette?”

“T, can you see Big Ben?”

Tina was taken aback at the lack of greeting, but recovered instantly as she let Bette’s smooth voice reverberate in her mind. She didn’t realise how much she’d missed this voice until now. 

“Um, yes, in fact I’m looking at the clock right now. Bette–”

“Don’t say anything. Just listen.”

Two miles away on the roof of the Dorchester, Bette looked southeast towards Big Ben, knowing her love and - she hoped - her future was on the river below and looking at the very same clock she trained her eyes upon. Tina’s eyes glistened as the familiar chimes of the Westminster Quarters rang out across London. The crowds on the roof of the Dorchester, on Helena’s boat, and on the Embankment joined the chanting chorus of the final 10 seconds of the countdown. When the first bell of 2024 rang out, the commotion faded. All Tina could hear was Bette’s soft, comforting breath on the other end of the line. 

“Happy new year, Tina.”

The smallest hint of a smile appeared on the blonde’s face. 

“Happy new year, Bette.” 

Bette smiled to hear her reply, but before Tina could say anything more, the brunette disconnected the call. 

Chapter Text

Previously

Two miles away on the roof of the Dorchester, Bette looked southeast towards Big Ben, knowing her love and - she hoped - her future was on the river below and looking at the very same clock she trained her eyes upon. Tina’s eyes glistened as the familiar chimes of the Westminster Quarters rang out across London. The crowds on the roof of the Dorchester, on Helena’s boat, and on the Embankment joined the chanting chorus of the final 10 seconds of the countdown. When the first bell of 2024 rang out, the commotion faded. All Tina could hear was Bette’s soft, comforting breath on the other end of the line. 

“Happy new year, Tina.”

The smallest hint of a smile appeared on the blonde’s face. 

“Happy new year, Bette.” 

Bette smiled to hear her reply, but before Tina could say anything more, the brunette disconnected the call.

*

Helena wrinkled her nose in disgust as a cloud of tobacco smoke drifted past her. 

“You’re old enough to know better, Nicole. Isn’t smoking a rather noughties habit? It should be left there with velour and ballet flats.”

Nicole finished her cigarette with a grin and stubbed it into a nearby bin. “It’s my resolution to quit.”

“Congrats, you lasted a measly two weeks.”

The redhead chuckled. “Fuck, it’s cold out here. Are you coming back inside?” 

“Shortly,” was Helena’s distracted response.

“Where’s Tina?”

“Good question,” Helena replied.

“Is she bringing the hottie?”

“I assume you mean Bette. That’s also a good question.”

Nicole shrugged and left to rejoin the festivities. 

It was now 7.20 p.m. and twenty minutes past Tina’s expected arrival time. The Brit hoped it was the usual traffic heading east on the Strand that was making her late and not her recent reticence to socialise rearing its head again. 

Two weeks had passed since Helena had dropped Tina off outside her Holland Park house after the New Year’s Eve party. She watched the blonde carefully as she opened the front door. Her driver had asked if he was okay to leave, but Helena delayed, at least wanting to see her friend safely inside the home and lights switched on. She was worried about Tina. The events of December - Carrie’s unwelcome reappearance into her life, which led to an unravelling of her burgeoning relationship with Bette - had taken their toll, and bar the occasional crossing of paths at the studio offices, tonight’s wrap party was their first meeting since NYE. 

Helena shivered in the night air and gripped her iPhone tightly. Her finger shook a little as she unlocked the phone and checked for any notifications, but none were displayed. Scrolling through her contacts, she hovered briefly over the name Bette Porter, but decided against making the call. 

It had also been two weeks since she had barrelled into the Dorchester and shocked Bette with her unexpected appearance. Tonight she would discover if her efforts to break the deadlock between Bette and Tina had been in vain. As she watched Tina’s private car roll into the courtyard of Somerset House, Helena was about to get her answer. 

“My God, what are you doing out here?” Tina exclaimed as she exited the car, the breeze flapping the hem of her belted Max Mara coat. “It must be below zero.”

Helena smiled briefly at her friend and hoped she’d hidden her disappointment at seeing no one else climb out of the car. Tina came towards her and kissed her cheek.

“Just making sure you got here okay.”

“Traffic was a nightmare, you know what it’s like.”

Tina started to move away towards the entrance to the party as several other smoking and vaping cast and crew members nodded to her in greeting. 

“No plus one then, darling?”

Tina froze mid-step and turned to face Helena, crestfallen. “Doesn’t look like it, does it?”

“Well,” said Helena as she swallowed thickly. “I thought maybe B–”

“Don’t,” Tina interrupted. 

Helena nodded contritely and hooked her arm into the crook of Tina’s elbow to enter the party. 

“New year and all that. Fresh start, hmm? Let’s go meet my friend, Mr Bollinger.”

*

Two miles north-east, Bette was laid on her sofa in her newly-renovated apartment and flicking through endless TV channels, none of which interested her. The smell of turpentine still lingered a little in the lounge, but the numerous bergamot diffusers dotted throughout were starting to overpower the solvent. It wasn’t until she’d returned home with the items a few days ago that Bette realised why the scent was so familiar. The sweet and spicy notes had filled the apartment and reawakened her senses, and as they did so, Bette felt a peculiar ease and calmness wash over her. A few hours later, whilst steeping a pot of peppermint tea in her kitchen, the realisation had hit her with a startling, wistful clarity. 

Tina smells like bergamot. 

Bette’s hand was on autopilot as she hit the button on the remote control and watched the colourful images flash past. It was past 7.30 p.m. and she wondered if it was too early to go to bed. Since returning from LA, she’d been plagued by insomnia and was finding the adjustment to the sounds of the apartment block was taking longer than expected. It wasn’t too different to the constant closing of doors and rattling of lifts that she was well-acquainted with at the Dorchester, but it was as if her body sensed the difference in location. The rumbling of traffic outside on Park Lane had become a sort-of white noise to her. Without it, sleep didn’t come easy. It was simply too quiet on the Barbican Estate, not something that often could be said of London. 

As she debated bedtime, the phone rang and cut through her thoughts. 

Kit. 

Bette answered with only a moment of hesitation. “Hey, Kit, how are you?”

“Hey, baby girl! I’m great. How are you?”

“Hmm, sleepy. I think I still have jet lag.”

Kit chuckled. “I’m not sure about that. I think you got too used to a certain warm body sleepin’ next to you these last few months.”

“Kit…” Bette chastised gently. 

“Sooooo… I wanted to call and make sure you’re on your way to Tina’s party.”

“Um,” Bette wavered as she sat up on the sofa, “well, I’m not actually.” 

Kit had been giving her grief about her indecision about whether or not to attend the wrap party for the best part of the last 14 days, much to her chagrin. 

“Bette,” Kit sighed, her tone frustrated. “It’s… what, 7.30 there, right? It’s not too late to get up off your jetlagged ass and go celebrate your woman.”

“She’s not my woman.”

“How many other women have you called at midnight on New Year’s Eve?” Kit laughed. “Jodi doesn’t count.”

“That’s not the point. I’m just…” Bette huffed. “She wanted space. Needed space. I’m respecting her wishes.”

Kit blew out her cheeks on the other end of the line. 

“We had this conversation during the holidays, girl, and we’ve been havin’ it again for the last two goddamn weeks. Did anything that Helena said to you get through that thick skull of yours? She knows Tina better than anyone and she told you to go get her. You did the hard bit. You broke the ice and phoned her and she. Picked. Up.” Kit enunciated every last word.

“I know, but…”

“But nothing. You’re stalling. You've been going back and forth on this for days. Make a decision, baby sis.”

“I don’t know what she wants.”

“And how you gonna know unless you ask her?”

“I–”

“Bette?” Kit interjected.

“What?”

“You've never been a woman to sit back and watch life pass you by. You don’t sit on the sidelines. Don’t change on me now. Show up. Show up like Helena told you to. Like I’m tellin’ you to. Show up because you want to make this work.”

Bette was silent as she let Kit’s words marinate. Despite their ups and downs over the years, her older sister always knew when to call out her bullshit. Brown eyes flicked over to the wall clock. 

“Think about it, Bette, before it’s too late. I love you.”

And with a click, Kit was gone. 

Bette slumped back down onto the sofa. 

*

“This sucks.”

Tina finished her second glass of champagne and watched as a group of grey-haired white men in suits laughed and joked amongst themselves, unlit cigars festooned in their hands. Across the vast event space, she could see her balding, ageing boss Aaron chancing his arm with a young crewmember young enough to be his daughter. At one of the pop-up bars, Nicole was sinking tequila shots with the other assistants. Ugh, Tina thought to herself. Everyone seemed to be having fun, except her. 

“What sucks?” Helena said, appearing alongside her.

“I don’t know, I’m just not having a great time. I’ve been to too many of these, they're always the same. Drinking too much, fucking people they shouldn’t, and then waking up with regrets and a hangover worthy of Oliver Reed.”

“Part of the job, darling,” Helena laughed. “Are you speaking from experience?”

“Ha, if only. Do you want another drink?”

“No thank you, I need to be compos mentis for my speech later.”

“It might be more interesting if you aren’t,” Tina quipped as she squeezed Helena’s arm affectionately and walked away. 

The bass of the music pulsed through the room, which was tastefully decorated in black and white. The space was elegant, in contrast to some of the shenanigans taking place within its walls. It was also increasingly warm - way too warm for Tina. She found a waiter with a tray of champagne flutes and picked one up before moving through the crowds with the aim of finding a quieter, cooler space. 

Her heels clicked softly against the exposed floorboards as she reached and entered a long corridor away from the party. Tina took her time gazing out of the high windows which overlooked the Thames. With a quick glance back towards the party, she exited through a door out onto the spacious terrace. Helena followed her, but let her go when she realised perhaps her friend needed a breather. 

“Peace at last,” Tina whispered to herself as she took a gulp of bubbles. She winced at its dryness before placing the glass onto a nearby table. 

Coming slowly to the railing of the terrace, she looked out over the river. To her left, the lights of St Paul’s and the myriad skyscrapers of the City of London glittered. To her right, Westminster glowed orange and Big Ben oversaw all. She smiled dolefully as she recalled New Year’s Eve and the call she’d unexpectedly received at midnight. Tina had hoped that call signalled a resumption of her friendship with Bette and perhaps lead to a conversation about what had happened in the preceding weeks. Alas, Bette had instead continued to give her the time and space she’d requested, and Tina let indecision and fear get the better of her. 

As she gripped onto the cold railing tighter, Tina’s mind was suddenly catapulted back in time to a few months ago when she had stood at another railing alongside the riverbank, but with Bette. At the time, she was much more fuzzy-headed from wine, but her mind was similarly a whirl of emotions. She had walked down to the Embankment with the brunette, wrestling with the overwhelming urge to kiss - and be kissed by - her whilst trying to hold onto a weakening boundary of remaining ‘just friends’. When Bette had boldly confessed her own desire to kiss the blonde, Tina had thrown off her reluctance and surged forward for their first kiss. She smiled to herself as she fondly replayed the moment, wishing that Bette was there with her now.

Lost in her thoughts, Tina was unaware that another guest had joined her on the terrace. She leaned further against the railing and closed her eyes, enjoying the cold air against her flushed cheeks, and feeling for the first time like she had woken up from some long Christmas slumber as the stranger edged quietly towards her. It was as she reopened her eyes that Tina recognised that she was no longer alone and, turning her head slightly to the right, a familiar scent enveloped her.

No. My mind is playing tricks. Too much champagne.

A hand came to rest gently against the small of her back, well-known long fingers splayed over the fabric of Tina’s navy blue dress. The stranger was now standing alongside her, undoubtedly taller than her, and Tina closed her eyes as she felt a warmth that was completely at odds with the freezing January air encompassing her. When her eyes fluttered open, a rich, baritone voice - one that had filled her dreams since their first meeting in October - floated to her ears.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Tina turned to face the voice, her eyes glistening. 

“Bette?” she breathed, a fog of air wafting between them. 

The brunette smiled down at her and reached out her thumb gingerly to wipe away the tear that had escaped a hazel eye. 

“Hello, Tina.”

“What are you doing here?” Tina said with a tearful smile. “I wasn’t expecting you to show.”

Bette’s hand lingered against Tina’s cheek and then slipped slowly to briefly clench her left hand.

“It took me some time to get here.”

“Traffic?” Tina joked in an attempt to lighten the moment.

“Something like that,” Bette smiled back, “but I’m here now.”

“I’m so glad you are.”

“I was worried you’d have another date with you.”

“No,” Tina said softly as she shook her head. “No one else.” 

For a moment the women simply stared at each other, the delight of their tentative reunion finding expression in sparkling eyes and wide smiles. As the minutes wore on, however, the weight of the last month seemed to bear down on them both.

“Bette,” Tina started and then stuttered. “I, I- know we have to talk–” 

“--T?” 

Oh, how Tina had longed to hear that endearment. Words lodged in her throat. So much had happened when they had last seen each other in Bette’s office. So many words and declarations. Likewise, so many words and declarations left unsaid or hanging in the ether. The radio silence, broken only by their heartfelt but short phone call at the stroke of midnight on NYE, was making its presence felt.

“But Carrie and–” 

Bette could see the emotion and toll of the last few weeks etched into the lines at Tina’s brow. “I know,” she hushed delicately, “and there’ll be time for that, but tonight is all about you, your crew, and your wonderful movie.”

“You haven’t seen it yet,” Tina replied modestly but with good humour.

“You’re involved, ergo I know it’s going to be wonderful.”

Tina arched her eyebrow and Bette thought her heart would beat out of its chest at the sight of it. 

“Charmer.”

“I try,” Bette winked. “Now come on. There’s a dance floor with our names on it.”

*

From that point on, Tina’s night vastly improved. Champagne flowed and shots were downed, and even Aaron lightened up and bought a round of drinks for everyone. Helena joked that she’d swore she saw a moth fly out of his wallet. 

Tina took to the dancefloor with Bette, Helena, and her treasured crew for several raucous dances. Those cast and crew members who hadn’t been on set the day that Bette visited wondered who the stunning brunette was that hung off Tina's arm and her every word, but Bette moved seamlessly through the different groups of guests, introducing herself and immersing herself into Tina’s world. She listened rapt to stories from the set, some too explicit to share beyond the walls of Somerset House, and by the end of the night, the American had charmed everyone in sight. 

Alas, it was noted by several guests that despite Bette’s attention and efforts with everyone at the party, it was clear she only had eyes for one guest in particular. When Tina took to the improvised stage to give her speech to the team, many heads swung around trying to find Bette, but she had blended herself into the back of the gathered crowds, her eyes twinkling as she watched her ‘friend’ thank everyone for a job well done.

“Is that the infamous Carrie?” one of the camera operators whispered into Helena’s ear as he clocked Bette hiding at the back of the room. 

“Good heavens, no,” Helena had exclaimed, her eyes wide as saucers. “That's the anti-Carrie.” 

When the night sadly came to an end, Tina found herself suddenly unsure again of what she should say and how she and Bette might part. Outside of Somerset House, taxis and private cars were lining up to collect their guests, and Tina shifted from one foot to the other as she watched Bette say her own goodbyes to her new admirers. 

“Tina?” came Helena’s voice from behind her. “I’m off, dear. Is your car here?”

“Yes, it’s almost here.” 

Helena looked over Tina’s shoulder towards where Bette was still chatting away. She gave the blonde a wry smile.

“Not such a sucky night in the end then, eh? All’s well that ends well.”

Tina chuckled nervously and ran a hand through her hair. “Don’t read too much into it, we decided not to broach the subject of what happened last month.”

“Progress,” Helena said as she squeezed Tina’s gloved hand. “One foot in front of the other, eh?”

Helena grinned and moved away towards her chauffeured limo. When Tina had waved her off, Bette walked slowly towards her, her bare hands nestled in her trouser pockets.

“Well, thank you for inviting me.”

Tina shivered again at hearing Bette’s dulcet tones. “Thank you for coming,” she replied and pushed an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “Have you got a ride? You can hop in with me seeing as you’re on my route.”

Bette smiled and then looked down to her feet. “Not anymore. I moved into my apartment last week.”

“Oh my God, Bette, that’s great news. How exciting for you. Shit, I didn’t even think to ask–”

“It’s fine,” Bette broke in, her smile genuine. “We haven’t, um, spoken much recently. Moving was a bitch and it’s taking some getting used to not being in the hotel, but I’ll get there eventually. I’m going shopping next week for the last few bits and pieces I need.”

“Kitchen utensils, by any chance?” Tina quipped, remembering Bette’s culinary deficit. 

“Ha, very funny, Miss Kennard,” Bette replied and Tina felt a chill race up her spine at the sound of Bette’s throaty laugh. “Maybe I should invest in Cooking for Dummies. Anyway…” she trailed off with a bittersweet smile and looked towards the line of cars moving steadily through the pick-up point. 

Tina’s eyes were glued to Bette, as if doing so would prolong her presence.

Ask her. Ask her if she’d like a night cap. 

But Tina’s words were again found wanting. Discouraged, she scratched her forehead just as Bette turned back towards her and clocked the nervous tic. She smiled at the blonde, who lifted amber eyes again to meet brown.

“Bette–”

“--Thank you again for tonight, Tina. I had a wonderful time.”

“You’re welcome,” Tina added quietly. “Bette, I–” 

“Looks like my ride’s here,” Bette cut across her. 

Tina’s breath grew more rapid, desperate for Bette to stay, not to leave this open-ended, indefinite, undefined. She opened her mouth to speak just as Bette bent down and placed a chaste but lingering kiss to her cold cheek. 

“I’ll see you soon, Tina. Good night.”

She withdrew slowly. With a final silent exchange of looks, Bette turned and walked towards her private taxi. Tina watched her go and was only nudged out of her trance when Nicole called out that her own ride had arrived. 

“Bette, wait!” 

The words were out of Tina’s mouth before she’d even realised.

“Yes?” Bette said expectantly as she glanced back, the door to her car half-open. 

“Maybe, um, I can help with your shopping next week. Y’know, someone to bounce ideas off if you’d like? I mean, I know my way around a kitchen and, um, I could be helpful.”

A soft smile played on Bette's lips before she spoke. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot actually.”

“You would?” Tina added rhetorically.

“I’ll text you, okay?” 

With a wink, she was gone. As Bette’s car pulled away from the curb, Tina was pulled back to another memory from many weeks past when she herself had been the one jumping into a cab and driving away from Bette. Just as she had taken a piece of Bette’s heart with her that cold November morning, now it was Tina who stood and watched forlornly as a piece of her own heart departed with the brunette. 

A moment later, her phone vibrated in her coat pocket. Tina retrieved it and opened the message, a smile blooming across her features as she read it and crow’s feet wrinkling at her eyes. 

I forgot to tell you that you looked beautiful tonight. And I hope it’s okay to say that I was proud of you.

See you next week.

B 

Chapter Text

“Watch it, love!” 

Bette turned and gave an apologetic look to the older man she’d just nearly sent careening to the asphalt. She’d been checking - for the tenth or so time that morning - the message Tina had sent earlier. Distracted and elated in equal measure, she hadn’t seen the man coming towards her and had almost barged straight into him.

Oops . 

Nothing could ruin Bette’s good mood this afternoon. Not her local Tube station being closed for engineering works and doubling her travel time. Not the rain that had fallen heavily most of the morning (especially since it had cleared). And certainly not the snarky, patronising tone of the man she had nearly knocked over. Bette had practically skipped to the Oxford Street store where she was meeting Tina to start their Saturday shopping trip. When she reached the entrance to the department store, she stood waiting for Tina’s inevitably late arrival and navigated once more to the message she’d received from the blonde when she woke.

I can't wait to see you.x

“Who is that smile for?”

Bette’s head flew up in shock. She glanced at her watch. 

“You’re not meant to be here for another ten minutes.”

Tina chuckled and shrugged. “I thought you’d be glad I’m early for once.”

“I’m just surprised you’re early. I’ve become used to you always running late.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

The two women stood in front of one another under the awning of Selfridge’s. Banter and flirting aside, there was a difficult conversation to be had eventually, and facing each other without Helena as a crutch, an awkwardness settled between them. Tina bounced on her heeled boots whilst Bette’s eyes shifted between her and the pedestrians manoeuvring around them, finding herself a little breathless at how light and carefree Tina seemed. 

“Well…” Bette started. 

“Well,” Tina echoed quietly. “You look nice.”

“Oh, this old thing?” Bette quipped. 

This old thing indeed. Bette was head to toe in Prada.

“Dressed to impress?”

“Always.”

“Well,” Tina stepped forward with surprising confidence, and leaned up to kiss Bette on the cheek. As she withdrew, she noticed the delightful pink hue at the brunette’s cheeks. “Consider me impressed, especially with the cufflinks.”

“Thank you. The person who gifted them to me has exceptional taste,” Bette smirked. “You look lovely too. Very… comfortable.”

“Comfortable?” Tina laughed. 

“Not your clothes, per se, just… in your own skin.” 

Bette’s tone was so genuine that Tina couldn’t help but blush and smile, her chin dimples delightfully prominent. Awkwardness gone, flirtation back. Tina readjusted the handbag on her shoulder as she composed herself. 

“Do you think we’re doing this back and forth to deflect from the elephant in the room?” Tina asked seriously, but smiling all the same.

“Maybe,” Bette replied with a half-smile of her own, “but I don’t think that’s a conversation for the middle of Oxford Street on a Saturday afternoon.”

“I agree,” Tina said. She lifted her head up to the store front. “Shall we…?”

Bette turned and opened the entrance door to allow Tina through into the store.

“After you.”

*

“So how was your Christmas?” Tina offered as the women walked through the designer section of womenswear. So far they’d danced around the more sensitive topics of conversation whilst perusing bed linens and jewellery. Small talk about work was safer.

“Well,” Bette began, “it was nice. Always good to see my sister and Shane and a few other friends.”

“But?”

Bette arched an eyebrow. “How did you sense a ‘but’?”

Tina tilted her head to the side knowingly. 

“Okay, you got me,” she chuckled. A few moments of silence passed before Bette decided to simply say what she felt instead of hiding from it. “I thought of you a lot.”

Tina’s stomach flipped. “You did?”

“Of course. Our last conversation was intense and I was very cognisant of not wanting to overstep any more of your boundaries after everything I’d said.”

Tina nodded as she digested the answer. Her mind went back to that afternoon in Bette’s office at the Gallery. There was so much to unpack it was hard to know where to begin, but the truth was always a good place to start. 

“I thought of you too.”

“You did?” Bette asked hopefully.

“You know I did. I thought of little else. Well, except for when Helena wasn’t distracting me with cocktails and canapés.” 

“She’s a good friend and an exceptional host I imagine.”

“Yes she is,” Tina agreed. “I heard about her detour to the Dorchester on New Year’s Eve. It’s a good thing that she told me about that after the fact."

“She told me what I needed to hear,” Bette said with a small smile.

“If it makes you feel any better, she gave me both barrels too. As all good friends should I suppose. It sounds like you have some good friends of your own back home?”

Bette nodded as the women continued their leisurely walk around the shoe section.

“I do, for sure. Actually, you can thank them for me showing up last weekend.”

“Really?” Tina replied, her interest piqued.

Bette froze. Tina walked on a few steps before she realised the brunette was no longer with her. She turned around. 

“In the interest of full disclosure, because I don’t think we have a future unless we can be totally honest with each other–” 

Tina’s heart skipped a beat hearing the word “future”. To know that despite everything that had transpired, Bette was still looking ahead.

“--I wasn’t going to come. Even after the phone call on New Year’s Eve, I got distracted with the apartment move, and then,” Bette shook her head sadly, “I got in my head about the whole situation. It’s why I was late - Kit called me and put me straight.”

“I’m so glad she did.”

Tina smiled and resumed walking.

“T?”

“Yes?” she answered, turning around again.

“What I am not in my head about are my feelings for you.”

Tina’s eyes sparkled. “Me neither.”

“Shall we continue this another time? Like when we’re not in the middle of a department store?”

Tina laughed. “Sure. Plus, I believe there’s a whole floor of plants for us to explore, so let’s get to it, Porter.”

Bette held out her hand. Tina met it without hesitation, pulling Bette forward towards the escalators.

*

“Fuck,” Bette exclaimed as she stepped off the escalator behind Tina, still hand-in-hand. “It’s enormous.”

A carpet of green and colour spread out before them. There were rows of plants, seeds, saplings, pots, planters, garden tools, and decorative items for the indoors and outdoors alike. The air was filled with floral aromas, some sweet, some herby, and many more unidentifiable. 

Bette turned to the side to look at Tina beside her, whose left hand had disconnected from her own and was now gripped excitedly in her right. Tina beamed like a kid on Christmas morning. Clearly, a room full of plants was heaven for the blonde. 

“Where do we even begin?”

“Wherever we want,” Tina replied brightly. “It depends what you’re looking for.”

“I really don’t know. I have eight fingers and not one of them is green.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Tina reassured. “Anyway, your fingers have other skills.”

“T!”Bette was gleefully taken aback by the boldness of the comment. 

“Sorry,” Tina giggled. “I don’t know where that came from.”

“Don’t apologise, I like it when you catch me off guard,” Bette simpered as she rejoined their hands. “Okay. Plant shopping.”

“Let’s go.”

Tina led them through the labyrinth of horticultural goodies. Bette listened intently to Tina’s explanations about the different types of plants that could be purchased, how much maintenance each would entail, and what would be best in Bette’s home environment. She asked questions about the aspect of her apartment and the lighting. Tina was particularly interested in which way the sun shone into the various rooms during morning and afternoon. When Bette confirmed she had a quite spacious balcony, which was basically a blank canvas, Tina squeezed her hand and bubbled with excitement. 

“What were you thinking about indoors? Do you want something that flowers or something that’s resilient and simple, like a succulent?”

Bette shrugged. “What are those plants you have at home?”

“You like my peace lilies?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Bette queried, noting the hesitance in Tina’s voice. “They’re thriving on your kitchen windowsill.”

“You should see them when they flower in the spring. The fragrance is so light, which is why I keep them in the kitchen. Totally gorgeous and if we have a late summer they sometimes bloom again in September.”

Bette merely smiled in reply as Tina finished, amazed at how informed and passionate the blonde was about this subject. She was brimming with enthusiasm. 

“I can’t wait to see them bloom.”

Tina’s cheeks flushed crimson again at another sign that perhaps a future lay ahead for them both. “Me neither,” was her sheepish reply.

“Why did you ask if I liked them? Who doesn’t like plants?” Bette asked curiously.

“Oh it’s, um…” Tina stammered and Bette clocked the flash of sadness cross her features. 

“T?” Bette pushed further and dipped her head to meet Tina’s eyes.

“Carrie hated plants. She had all these silly theories about bugs and fruit flies and allergies. All nonsense, but the rooms were pretty bare when we lived together. I couldn’t wait for her to leave so I could turn the house into Kew Gardens.”

Bette laughed gently at the joke, understanding it was Tina’s way of lightening the moment. She pulled Tina’s hand towards her and placed a light kiss at her knuckles. 

“I love your plants, and I’d love for you to choose some for my new home.”

*

An hour later, Bette and Tina took the escalator back up to the ground floor after having successfully purchased no less than three types of plants, which were safely stored and carried by Bette. She was pleased with Tina’s choices.

“So tell me again why these three in particular.”

“First I picked out a peace lily, because you so envy mine and they’re fairly low maintenance. Perfect for your bathroom or kitchen.”

“Right, got it,” Bette nodded as the women started a slow walk towards the exit. “Bathroom or kitchen.”

“Pink orchid, because… well, orchids are stunning and everyone needs an orchid.”

“Why pink specifically?”

“Pink’s pretty,” Tina replied matter-of-factly. She waited a few beats before continuing with her explanation. “They also symbolise strength and grace, and I think that’s apt for you.”

“Oh,” Bette responded with a soft smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Bette cleared her throat. “And what about the last one? The cala something?”

“ Calathea crocata ,” Tina corrected good-naturedly. “It’s orange, it’s beautiful, and it’ll thrive in your kitchen window with all the humidity.”

“Great,” Bette grinned. “What does the name mean?”

Tina’s eyes met Bette’s as they came to a standstill on the pavement of Oxford Street. She reached to tuck a wild strand of chestnut hair behind Bette’s ear.

“It means ‘eternal flame’.”

Bette swallowed thickly, lost for words upon hearing the answer. Facing each other, the two women found themselves gradually pulled together like magnets, Bette leaning forward and Tina tilting her head up, only to be blocked by the blare of a bus horn loudly interrupting the moment. When Bette realised they were again standing amongst some of central London’s busiest crowds, and that the afternoon had grown cool and dark, she chuckled.

“We always seem to be in a sea of people when we have these moments. Why do you think that is?”

“Because we live in London and everywhere is full of people,” Tina replied jokingly.

Bette smiled before looking down at her feet. She didn’t want the day to end here and so she said the first thing that popped into her head.

“Have dinner with me.”

“Tonight?” Tina clarified.

“Yes.”

“Well, um, okay but it’s Saturday so we might struggle for a reserv–”

“No, I mean at my home,” Bette interjected. “I’ll cook.”

Tina feigned shock. “You’ll cook ?”

“You don’t have to look so scared,” Bette challenged with a wry smile. “I’ve been learning a few recipes since Christmas and I’d love to cook for you as a thank you for helping me out today.”

Tina watched Bette for a minute, noting with fondness the apprehension that lay underneath the invitation, as if she could or would say no. 

“I’m glad I could help, but I invited myself today because I wanted to spend time with you, Bette,” Tina answered finally. Bette’s mouth curved into a smile. “I would love to have dinner with you. In fact, it’s funny you should mention it, because–”

Bette wrinkled her brow as she watched Tina reach into one of several Selfridge’s bags to retrieve a gift. 

“--consider it a very late Christmas present,” Tina said as she handed over the rectangular shape. 

Bette accepted it graciously, grinning as she unwrapped the pretty paper. “Ottolenghi?” she queried as she looked at the cover of the large, hardback book. 

“One of London’s best-known chefs.”

“I’ve heard of him. In fact, I think I’ve been to one of his delis. Thank you, but I don’t think I’m quite ready to go head-to-head with this guy,” Bette jested.

“Don’t worry, this is his ‘Simple’ cookbook. All the recipes are straightforward, even for total beginners like you,” Tina smiled. 

“Is that so? Well, I better put this to some use, and we better get a move on if we have any chance of eating at all tonight.”

“Lead the way.”

Once she had placed the book into one of her many bags, Bette took Tina’s hand into her own and flung her other arm out into the road to wave down a black cab. Soon they were on their way back to the Barbican.

*

The first observation Tina made was that the scent of the apartment was oddly familiar. 

“Where did you get these diffusers? They look just like mine.”

Bette hung up her coat in the hallway and was glad that Tina couldn’t see the pink rise to her cheeks. “That might be because they are your diffusers.”

“Huh?”

Bette walked through into the lounge and clasped her hands behind her back as Tina studied her.

“Not exactly yours because I’m not a thief, but the same type. I noted the name the last time I was at your place because…” Bette paused and Tina waited expectantly for the end of the sentence. “They remind me of you.”

Tina melted. “Oh, Bette.”

“It’s silly.”

“No, no it isn’t,” Tina replied firmly. “It’s not silly at all.”

Bette smiled timidly and took a breath to collect herself. “Shall we arrange the plants?”

They spent the next 45 minutes organising - and reorganising - the purchased plants around the various rooms of the apartment. Tina imparted her wisdom about when to water them and how often, how to maintain the foliage, where best to capture sunlight, and where best to avoid direct sunlight for the more delicate species. Bette found the whole process informative and surprisingly cathartic. Listening to Tina talk about another one of her passions made her putty in the blonde’s hands. 

“I already feel like they add some much needed natural colour to the space. And the smell....” Bette took a deep inhale. “Wonderful.”

“Just wait until they start to bloom.”

When they had finished, they stepped back from the balcony doors to admire the arrangement. 

“A job well done,” Bette said with a satisfied smile. “Thank you.”

Tina gave her an affectionate sideways glance. “You’re welcome.”

As they lifted their faces towards the horizon, the London skyline painted white, red, and orange specks of light across the deep indigo of the winter sky. Bette felt an overpowering sense of contentment - the beauty of nature now spread throughout her home juxtaposed with the ethereal beauty found in the dazzling cityscape displayed before her. Boldly, she reached out and curled her pinky finger around Tina’s.

“I missed you,” Bette breathed.

“I missed you too.”

Bette and Tina stood together in an easy silence, secure in the knowledge of the progress they’d made thus far. Their fingers entwined, they appreciated the view of London for a few more moments before Bette turned to the blonde.

“Can I get you wine? Red, white…?”

“Depends on what you’re cooking.”

“Oh God, of course,” Bette considered. Unlinking their fingers reluctantly, she walked away and into the kitchen towards the fridge. “Whatever I make will have to use chicken and vegetables as that’s all I have.”

Tina chuckled. “Sounds good to me, as long as you have a dry white to accompany said chicken and vegetables.”

“I have a vintage Gavi I’ve been saving for a special occasion?” Bette suggested as she browsed the wine rack. 

“Mm, sounds good.” 

Bette opened the bottle and poured two large glasses. She brought them through into the lounge and handed one to Tina. 

“What's the special occasion?”

“Me, you…” 

Us. Together. Forever, please. 

“...great wine and good food. Hopefully,” Bette joked with a look of mock fear. 

Tina laughed as they clinked their glasses in a toast, biting back her slight disappointment that Bette hadn’t finished that sentence how she had expected and hoped.

Bette returned to the kitchen to start preparing a simple recipe from her newly-acquired book. After a brief discussion, Tina had recommended chicken with root vegetables and a creamy sauce as a good recipe to start Bette on her culinary journey. She offered her help, but was waved off by Bette, who wanted to fail or succeed on her own merit. Tina retreated to the lounge with her wine. Whilst gathering the ingredients, Bette couldn’t resist looking over her shoulder at various intervals to watch Tina move around her apartment. 

“The artwork you’ve chosen is stunning.”

“Thank you. Well, if I can’t get that right, I really have no business working for the Gallery.”

“True. This piece in particular,” Tina nodded towards the centrepiece that took pride of place in the lounge, “is beautiful.” 

“Ah, that is by an up-and-coming artist based in Hackney. I managed to snag it at a reasonable price just before Christmas. East London really is a hotbed of emerging talent. It’s such an exciting time to be involved.” 

Tina’s chest swelled as she watched Bette brought to life, energised as she always was when discussing art. 

“I imagine you don’t get to meet many newer artists day-to-day though, seeing as the National Portrait Gallery is so mainstream?”

“True,” Bette sighed as she slowly and meticulously chopped an onion, “which is why I make a point of spending so much of my free time getting out there and exploring everything London has to offer. And I do mean everything . Some of the works I see are creative but would turn off most casual aesthetes from ever stepping foot in a gallery again.”

“You’ll have to take me along some time,” Tina offered as she leant against the back of the sofa. “I’d like to see something out of the ordinary.”

“I’d be happy to.”

Tina eyed Bette peculiarly. “You know, you light up when you talk about new artists in a way I haven’t seen when you talk about the Gallery.”

Bette shrugged. “I’ve been in my role a long time, I’m just going through the motions. January career blues. It’ll pass.”

“Hmm.” 

Bette turned her head to the side briefly. “Say it, T.”

“Say what?” 

“What you’re thinking,” Bette cajoled. 

Tina considered her ask for a moment. 

“Listening to you talk about your trips to these small, obscure galleries and unearthing new talents… I wonder if your talent is better applied elsewhere, is all. I felt the dynamic between you and Franklin and it didn’t seem healthy.”

Bette sighed. “It hasn’t been for a long time. You had him figured out pretty quickly at the reception. He’s just so fucking establishment, y’know? But I don’t know if I have the energy for such a huge gamble with my career at this stage in my life.”

“That’s understandable. You work at one of London’s most popular galleries…” Tina trailed off.

“But…?” Bette encouraged as she searched around for a skillet, still not quite used to the layout of her kitchen.

“How did you know there was a but?”

Bette imitated the tilt of the head Tina had given her in Selfridge’s that same afternoon. 

“ But ,” Tina grinned, “I think if anyone could pull it off, it’d be you. Once upon a time someone told me that some risks are worth taking. Imagine your own gallery full of talent hand-selected and supported by you and you alone. And maybe James, because I don’t think you’d cope without him.”

“I wouldn’t,” Bette acknowledged. “It’s tempting, but for now I am focusing on pulling off this recipe and not losing a finger in the process.”

Tina held up her hands in surrender. “Okay. I’ll let it go for now.” 

Bette smiled as she resumed the food preparations. Jodi had never taken much interest in Bette’s job beyond whatever benefits she herself could glean from it. As long as the hefty pay cheques were coming in, and connections made for the sale of Jodi’s own works, she couldn’t care less about the trajectory of Bette’s career or whether she was actually happy in her role or not. That Tina cared, had thought about Bette’s wellbeing in the context of work, and felt able to vocalise those thoughts? Bette felt ten feet tall.

Meanwhile, Tina continued to sip her wine and enjoy the chilled ambience of Bette’s home. Since the moment she’d walked through the door, she’d felt at ease here - something that she’d never quite felt when spending time with Bette at the Dorchester, regardless of how luxurious it was. When she’d taken another long swig of wine, Tina lowered herself into an armchair and touched her fingers to the surface of the coffee table where her wine glass rested. “Is this reclaimed wood?”

“It is,” Bette replied and gave the blonde a quick smile. “It’s reclaimed teak.”

“I love it. Interesting to think about what past life it might have had,” Tina beamed. “You’ve really created a wonderful home, Bette. Not that I’m surprised, of course, but as gorgeous as the Dorchester is, this place just feels so… you .”

“Thank you,” Bette replied modestly. When she turned again to where Tina was sitting, her eyes focused on the blonde. She had tucked her feet under her legs and was sinking comfortably into the cushions with a soft sigh. Bette felt a familiar warmth. Tina looked exactly as she had fantasised she would when she’d dared to dream about what a future together might look and feel like - and Tina was here now, dream becoming reality, and she looked relaxed, at ease, at home. 

“It’s just got one thing missing,” Bette whispered to herself before returning to the task at hand.

“Did you say something?”

“Me?” Bette lied. “No.”

“Ah.”

Any lingering awkwardness between the two - necessary conversations about the last few weeks notwithstanding - had vanished, and the ease of their relationship had made a welcome return, for which both were grateful. Although not verbalised, it was a great relief that they found themselves together again as they had been just before Christmas, albeit with the roles unexpectedly reversed - Tina chilling on the sofa and Bette cooking dinner in the kitchen. 

When Tina had finished her glass of wine, she stood and meandered into the kitchen with the aim of offering Bette a helping hand with the cooking despite some earlier protestations. She took a seat at the dining table and watched Bette as she continued to prepare their dinner, the muscles of her shoulders and upper back rippling beneath her shirt as she chopped the vegetables with care and consideration. Tina found herself suddenly overwhelmed by the simplicity and depth of the gesture. Here was Bette, learning how to cook, and reading from a recipe book that Tina herself had gifted to her only a few hours earlier. 

Overcome with the intensity of the moment, Tina couldn’t resist any longer. They’d tiptoed all day around the subjects and questions that remained unaddressed and unanswered since before Christmas. The tension that sparked and thrummed between them whenever they were in each other’s orbit had only grown during their time together during the afternoon. Tina was fit to burst if she didn’t say or do something soon. 

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” Bette inquired, her back to Tina and her brow furrowed. 

“When you said you're falling in love with me?”

Bette was rooted to the spot. Had she heard the blonde correctly? Tina, who had been reluctant for weeks to cross the line of friendship. Tina, who had bolted from Bette’s office just weeks ago. The same Tina who was now asking the most delicate of questions as if she hadn’t asked about art, career moves, and reclaimed furniture only minutes earlier.

Slowly, Bette turned to face her. Tina’s amber eyes were glassy now, her fingers trembling as they held the stem of the wine glass.

“I need to know,” Tina blurted, “if what you said to me when we were in your office is still true.”

Bette relinquished the knife and stepped calmly towards where Tina sat, her eyes fastened on the blonde. When she came to a halt, Bette looked down at Tina’s shaking hands and took the glass of wine into her own, placing it onto the table top. With her left hand, she tucked a rogue blonde curl behind Tina’s ear. With her right, Bette gently lifted Tina’s quivering left hand and splayed it over her thundering heart.

“What do you think, Tina?” 

Her heart drummed a rapid beat beneath Tina’s palm. Standing, the blonde stepped as close as possible, the material of her shirt gliding against Bette’s. Withdrawing her hand, Tina reached behind Bette and slowly lifted the shirt out of her waistband, resting her fingertips against the warm skin of her back.

“Bette?” Tina whispered as Bette’s lips moved to begin an unhurried journey along the angle of her jaw up to her ear. The brunette shivered exquisitely at the feel of Tina’s hot breath against the side of her neck. "If you keep that up I’m gonna have to test how strong your reclaimed wood tables really are.”

Bette smiled into her skin. “I’ve wanted to do this all day.”

Tina lifted her head to allow her more room. “I’ve wanted you to do this all day.”

Bette’s mouth retraced her previous steps back to Tina’s. Their lips met repeatedly, at first tentative but increasingly feverish. Mouths opened and tongues slid against each other whilst hands roamed over gooseflesh. 

“Bette?” Tina whispered again.

“What?” Bette replied between progressively messy kisses.

“We still need to talk.”

“I know.”

Bette withdrew as Tina cupped her face in her hands. She stroked and rested her thumb against Bette’s swollen lips. Her tongue darted out to bring the tip between her teeth and into her mouth. When the brunette released it, only one question remained. 

“Take me to bed?”

Bette didn’t need to be asked twice. 

Chapter Text

Tina’s eyes fluttered open as she became aware of her surroundings. Through the fog of early morning, she remembered that she was not at her house. The bed was warm and the linens were plush. On the bedside table to her left, a small antique clock, one of several in Bette’s collection, was rhythmically ticking. Just a glimmer of daylight was peeping through the drapes. 

She’d slept like a log - well, for the time they’d spent ‘sleeping’ Tina recalled with a half-smirk. It had been Tina’s best night of sleep in recent memory and not just because of the Egyptian cotton sheets. It had more to do with the most delicious body spooned up behind her, their lower legs entwined and hands wrapped closely together as they had been a few hours ago but in very different circumstances. 

Their physical reunion had been an experience unlike everything else that had transpired between the two women in the prior month. In bed there was no hesitation, no indecision, and no unanswered questions. And there was certainly nothing quiet or tentative about the way they had repeatedly made love. 

Tina smiled smugly as she replayed those early morning hours in her mind. How had they both lived without this up until now? Their thirst for each other, it seemed, was impossible to quench, but they would delight in trying. Many, many times. Tina hoped when Bette finally woke that she too would wear a contented grin. Yesterday, Bette congratulated them both on a job well done once they’d finished arranging the plants. Today, Tina felt the need to applaud a very different type of job well done. 

And then just as her smile faded and sleep reached to recapture her, a raspy voice brought her back to wakefulness.

“Good morning.”

Tina twisted her head over her shoulder and melted at the sight of a still-sleepy Bette, her head a mess of wild curls and a lazy, sated smile playing at her lips. 

“You’re awake?”

“Barely,” Bette mumbled. 

“Well, good morning to you too.”

“Hi.”

Bette stretched like a cat against Tina’s body and the blonde felt a familiar stirring as skin smoothed over skin. When she settled again, Bette wrapped her arm tighter around Tina’s bare waist beneath the covers and brought her lips to the blonde’s ear.

“Do you remember when you tried to sneak out of my hotel suite after we spent our first night together?”

“God, don't remind me, Bette,” Tina laughed and covered her face with her hands in embarrassment.

“You couldn’t wait to escape,” Bette teased further as she leaned up onto her elbow and tried to pry Tina’s hands away from her face.

“I'm sorry,” Tina giggled. “Imagine trying to sneak out at my age. I thought those days were far behind me.”

“Uh huh,” Bette nodded. “But I didn't let you get away that easily.”

Tina finally removed her hands and brought them back on top of the duvet, covering Bette’s.

“And I’m so glad you didn't.”

Tina leaned up to place a lingering kiss to Bette’s lips, leaving her dazed and suddenly aware that she never wanted Tina anywhere else but right beside her in bed. 

“What are we doing, T?” Bette asked finally after several moments of simply gazing at each other. 

“Apart from the obvious?” Tina replied with wiggling eyebrows. 

Bette couldn’t resist a smile. “You know what I mean. You, me, this, us. ”

Tina took a breath and looked away briefly. “I don't know, but I’m glad we're doing it again. Are you having second thoughts?”

“Absolutely not, but we still have to work this out.”

“I know,” Tina sighed. “Sorry for distracting us last night.”

“Please don’t be,” Bette replied with a lustful smile. Tina chuckled as she played with the brunette’s fingers. 

“I know you’re right, though. We need to talk.”

“We do.”

Tina turned and eyed Bette carefully. She noted every line and feature. The deep, brown eyes that spoke volumes with a silent glance. The perfect lips she wanted to kiss every minute of every day. The chestnut curls cascading over her shoulders with just a few elegant greys at her hairline. 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” Tina replied shyly. “Just… looking at you.”

“Oh,” Bette said, her cheeks a lovely pink. 

“Come here.”

As always, Bette couldn’t refuse, and why would she want to? She tightened her hold on the blonde and leaned over for a most welcome and tender kiss. 

“Do you think we could go out today?” Tina asked when they finally withdrew.

“Sure. Are you sick of being here already?” Bette joked.

“Not at all,” Tina answered honestly as she brushed her fingers through Bette’s hair. “I just think it’d be easier to talk about what happened with Carrie and the house and, well, everything if we’re out in the fresh air. It’ll feel less confrontational.”

“We're not going to argue, T,” Bette reassured. 

“I know, I know, I just meant… it’ll be more comfortable.”

“Whatever you want. I have to go to the Gallery this evening to prepare for a Monday morning meeting with Franklin, but I’m all yours this afternoon.” Bette took Tina’s hand in her own and placed a light kiss to each fingertip. 

“All mine, hmm? Well in that case…” Tina attempted a double wink and leaned in to continue what had started moments ago. 

Good morning indeed. 

*

The women finally left the bedroom just before lunchtime, satisfied in one way but ravenous in another. Bette grinned when she padded into the kitchen to see the chopping board and vegetables exactly where she’d left them the evening before. She whipped up a simple brunch of fruit and toast before they enjoyed a shower together - all in the name of convenience and efficiency, of course - before preparing to leave for the afternoon. Tina, unprepared for the spontaneous sleepover, picked out an outfit from Bette’s wardrobe that was suitable for the freezing temperatures.

“These trousers are a little long for me, B. It’s a good job I wore boots yesterday or else I’d be buying you new pants to go with your new book,” Tina quipped as she admired her clothes in the full-length mirror.

“You look cute, who cares?” was all Bette could reply as she dropped a kiss to her shoulder in passing.

The sky above Hyde Park was perfectly blue when they arrived. In spite of the crisp, cold climate, the park buzzed with activity. Bette and Tina entered through the Queen Elizabeth gate and smiled to themselves as a couple of teenage skateboarders sped past them at a scarily close range, shouting an apology over their shoulders as they went. Children on scooters laughed and screamed as they raced each other along the concrete pathways, their mothers yelling at them to be careful. 

Tina bought two hot chocolates from Colicci’s so they could warm their hands as they started a slow amble up the Serpentine Road. Bette begged Tina to wear her leather gloves, but she declined. Once they’d finished their drinks, Bette had an idea. She removed her left glove and handed it to Tina to wear. With her bare left hand, she took Tina’s right into her own and stuffed their clasped hands deep into the warmth of her coat pocket.

“Problem solved.”

“You’re so good to me,” Tina cooed as she lifted her head for a kiss, which Bette couldn’t refuse.

“Just looking after you the way you looked after me this morning,” Bette smirked as Tina tightened her grip.

They walked on for another twenty minutes and enjoyed the sights and sounds around them. As they neared the Serpentine itself, Tina noted how completely calm and flat the water was. A brittle layer of ice had formed across its surface, broken only by the ducks, swans, and geese that inhabited the park. Bar the ice, the lake looked just as it had the last time she’d visited, which was, coincidentally, the first day she’d met Bette. Tina wondered momentarily if the birds she could see had been the same ones she’d terrified into flight when she hurled her wedding ring into the depths. 

“So,” Bette said as they neared the water’s edge and slowed to a stop. 

“So,” Tina repeated as her eyes flicked skywards, as if seeking divine support.

“Shall we sit?”

Tina smiled in reply as they moved to a bench. They both paused to notice the small gold plaque that was nailed into the wood before they lowered onto the wood seat. It was dedicated to a devoted married couple who’d frequented the bench every day for fifty years, even when one of them had passed away. The significance wasn’t lost on either woman. 

Tina ran her ungloved hand through her hair before taking a deep breath to steady herself for the conversation ahead. Bette was tempted to prompt the blonde into speaking, much as she had done when they last attempted to have a serious conversation, but instead she maintained a respectful silence. She gave Tina the space to do or say whatever she needed to, reminding herself that the blonde was in the driving seat. 

“I guess I should start with Carrie,” Tina sighed, her forehead creased. “I’m genuinely sorry you had to deal with her that day.”

“I'm sorry you had to deal with her that day.”

Tina couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped, the tension of the moment nicely broken. Bette smiled.

“ Obviously if I’d have known she was going to barge in like that I’d have been right there with you. She surprised me as much as she surprised you, I’m sure.” 

“How could you possibly know?” Bette asked rhetorically. “It wasn’t something you could control.”

Tina grimaced. “I should have realised she still had a key, but with all the upheaval during the separation and then the divorce, it wasn’t something I’d even considered, that she could still access the house, that she would try to access the house–”

“Hey,” Bette cut in gently through her growing ramble. “It’s not your fault. Divorce is chaotic and emotionally draining. It’s impossible to remember every detail. Don’t you think I, of all people, can empathise with your situation? Don’t beat yourself up for being human, Tina.”

“I guess,” Tina acknowledged reluctantly. 

“I'm glad you changed the locks though.”

Tina chuckled. “Me too.”

“Has she contacted you since?”

“Only through lawyers, thank God,” Tina scowled. “Not that I want to get dragged through the courts again, but I’d prefer that to dealing with her directly.”

The anguish of their fiery exchange had left its mark on Tina. Her hazel eyes contained a lessening but enduring sorrow that was hard to describe, but Bette could see it all the same. When she looked away, Bette cast her eyes down to her lap, suddenly remorseful. 

“I shouldn’t have left you alone with her in the house.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have made you leave the house,” Tina shrugged, “but I didn’t want you to get caught in the crossfire of that conversation. It’s my fight and my fight alone.”

“But it isn’t, Tina. Regardless of what’s been going on between us recently, at a minimum we were - are - friends, right? You lean on friends when things get tough. You told me you needed a friend once before and that friendship has no expiry date, irrespective of what the future holds for us.”

Tina nudged Bette with her shoulder. “I don’t think we’ll ever just be friends, B.”

Bette’s lips curled into a smile. “What happens with the house?”