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It was board game night. They’d had to skip the last one because Aziraphale and co. were in London because ‘my lovely bookshop assistant was having some problems with the neighbours.’ But now, board game night was back with a vengeance. As it turns out, Mel and Aziraphale were terrible at cards, Rita was passable, and Crowley beat them all like it was nothing.
Before they could become too tipsy to remember, the Andersons handed the Fells two invitations for their vow renewal ceremony.
‘Might as well, it’s been a minute since the last one.’
‘Mel, darling, we had one last decade.’
‘Like I said, it’s been a minute. Anyway! We’ve a few friends coming over, and Valentina’s made of honour again, again-’
Crowley spoke up, ‘Hang on a tick, who’s Valentina?’
‘We dinnae mention it? She was me roommate back in the ‘90s.’
Rita chimed in, ‘Lovely woman.’
‘Total lunatic.’
‘Matchmaker extraordinaire.’
‘Went to Italy to visit her nonna n somehow joined a sapphic polycule.’
‘Who are all bikers.’
‘They ride bleedin’ Vespa scooters, love.’
‘That’s still a bike.’
Mel sighed longingly, ‘I’d love to be in a lesbian biker gang polycule.’
‘You’re aware you’re talking to your wife?’
‘I’d bring ye in me sidecar, obviously. We could get you pink goggles.’
Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged A Look.
‘Well, she sounds like a perfectly charming lady.’
‘Cheers to that, Angel.’
Everyone sipped their drink, and Rita added to Valentina’s long list of credentials;
‘She was also partially responsible for getting us together.’
Mel groaned, ‘That was a fiasco.’
Aziraphale raised his eyebrows and straightened up a little bit.
‘Well now you’ve intrigued us, my dear Mel.’
‘We met, we rang each other, we went on a date, the end.’
‘Well… not quite.’
-
MARCH 1991
It was a miserable night. Which suited Mel just fine. She hadn’t want to go out but their shitty flat had started leaking again and she was going to break something if she had to hear dripdripdrip one more time.
So she’d gone for a drink. In a slightly homosexual establishment, as it happened. So now she was drunk and miserable. She left eventually, hoping that Valentina had magically solved the apartment problem. It wasn’t a far walk from the bar to their flat, but it was pissing rain and her new buzzcut dripped like icicles down her neck.
Unfortunately, some eejit saw her leaving. Frankly, she didn’t hear much of it, but she was pretty sure dyke was in there somewhere. Add in the general tone of voice and her anger issues- well, there was a squabble. A fairly major squabble. The prick looked like he stepped out of somewhere fancy, and was wearing a ton of white. Next thing he knew, he was on his arse in a muddy puddle.
Mel had roughly three seconds to realise she might’ve fucked up, then she booked it down the road.
-
‘You pushed him?’
‘Might’ve punched, not sure. Didn’t think it would do much, the fucker was two foot taller than me.’
Crowley shrugged. ‘He sounds like a twat.’
-
Rita had been working late at the bakery. She thanked whatever gods that be for having a car, since she really didn’t fancy the bus home. She was just about to open the door of the little beige car when she heard a commotion.
As a rule, she tried to avoid trouble. She made to speed off but a young woman barreled straight into her. Through a tiny gap in the droplets on her glasses, she could see a blurry panicked face.
‘PARDON ME, ARE YOU IN TROUBLE?’ She yelled over the rain.’
‘JUST A WEE BIT.’
Rita peeked around the corner and saw a furious man. That definitely counted as trouble. She gestured frantically to the car-
-
‘Nooo, dinnae mention that part, woman!’
‘It’s been over three decades, are you still embarrassed?’
‘Yes!’
‘What did you do?’ Aziraphale asked over the rim of his drink.
‘I panicked, cuz a bampot was chasing me n a pretty lass just offered me an out-’
‘And you-’
‘Instead of getting in the car I rolled under it.’
Aziraphale nearly spat out his drink and Crowley guffawed.
‘You rolled under my car. In the mud.’
‘Aye. Seemed reasonable at the time.’
-
Rita Richardson had never been a brave person. She knew that, and accepted that. However, something made her stand a little bit taller that night. Maybe it was because she’d already committed to helping that woman out, maybe it was the big city getting to her, maybe it was just that she was so goddamn tired of being a pushover.
So with a stranger under her car and a raving lunatic running down the road, she did the only thing she could think of.
‘She went that way!’ And pointed farther down the street.
The man was too drunk and angry to question it. He stumbled away.
When the coast was clear, the girl rolled herself out from under the car. She was covered in mud, grit, and a bunch of stuff she didn’t wanna identify.
‘Phwoo. Thanks for that, hen.’
‘My pleasure.’
The rain eased off slightly, but both of them were soaked. Water completely obscured Rita’s glasses.
-
‘Then she drove me home.’
‘I had to practically drag her into the car.’
‘Ye coulda been a serial killer!’
‘And you could’ve been some insane butch.’
‘Te be fair, I was.’
-
Safely in the car, Rita wiped her glasses. Then she paused with her mouth open. There was a lady in her car. A lady who, now that she could actually see her, was very obviously gay and very obviously pretty.
Granted, she looked a little bit like a drowned rat. Still, it was like if Sinead O Connor and Madonna had a lesbian daughter.
Struggling to contain her gay panic, she started the car and drove half a mile towards her own flat on autopilot.
‘Apologies, this is the wrong route-’ She said, trying to look at the road and not a pair of clear grey eyes.
‘Yer very forward, taking me straight to yours.’
She said something like, ‘Mnph! Not at all!’
‘Ah, right, sorry- I don’t wanna make ye uncomfortable-’
‘No, it’s fine, really-’
‘I also dinnae want ye to think there’s a horde of lesbians getting strange lasses to drive them home n then chatting them up-’
‘It’s perfectly fine.’
‘Sorry, again, me mouth ran away from me, you’re not gay, so, wildly inappropriate-’
Rita beeped the horn, but not at other drivers. She just needed to get her attention.
‘I am one.’ She said quietly.
‘Yer wot?’
‘I’m a lesbian.’
‘... Well for ye, love.’
-
‘But wait, there’s more.’
‘What the deuce could you two have possibly squeezed into one night?’
‘Oh, pal, we’ve squeezed a lot intae five minutes, an evening’s no bother.’
Rita lightly shoved her wife away from her, but the loveseat meant it was easy enough for Mel to wriggle right back in. Just like Rita hoped.
-
Still blushing furiously, they arrived at Mel’s shitty flat. The soggy butch found herself wanting to find a way to make the trip longer. After breaking the ice, she’d quite liked the woman in the car. She noticed a notepad on the dashboard and without thinking too hard about it, (which was her default anyway,) she scribbled down her number.
‘Uh, yer not bad company. Lemme know if you ever fancy a chat or something.’
‘... I might take you up on that.’
Mel went inside. Rita drove off. Neither of them realised until far too late that they never got the other’s name.
-
Rita was in a bit of a strange situation. As far as her parents were concerned, she was taking a culinary course in London and would be returning to their detached house in Bedfordshire as soon as it was finished. Unless, of course, she married her boyfriend and moved into a different but nearby detached house in Bedfordshire. Just kill her now.
In actuality she was working at a bakery to try to scrape up some financial independence, having her gay awakening, and her boyfriend had a boyfriend.
Said gay boyfriend, Lin, was also her flatmate. That had only been allowed if they had two bedrooms, which they did. Benefits of having wealthy parents.
‘I’m not kidding, I nearly fainted.’
‘That pretty?’
‘Drop-dead gorgeous.’
‘If you’re going to drop dead, do it after you ring her and before Lou arrives.’
‘What do I say?’
‘Hello, you’re nice, fancy a date and maybe a snog?’
‘I can’t lead with that!’
‘Then just ring the number and start chatting!’
So she rang the number.
-
‘Val, I swear, it was like Velma’s sexy sister was driving me home-’
‘And you didn’t get her name.’ Said her very Italian roommate.
‘AND I DINNAE GET HER NAME!’ Mel screamed into a sofa cushion.
‘Or her number or her address. So if she lost that note you’re screwed.’
‘I’m so screwed.’
The phone rang. Assuming it was the landlord, Mel picked up the phone.
‘What did the people down the hall complain about now, Dave?’
‘Pardon me, this isn’t Dave?’
‘OH!’ Mel covered the receiver with her hand.
‘Who is it?’ asked Valentina.
-
‘Sexy Velma!’ came a muffled sound from the end of the line. Rita literally squeaked.
She turned frantically to Lou, ‘WhatdoIsaywhatdoIsay?!’
‘Whatevers on your mind!’
‘Right now what’s on my mind is highly inappropriate to say to an acquaintance!’
‘Tell her you fancy a date and she won’t be an acquaintance!’
-
On the other end of the line, a mild argument seemed to be going on, (‘LLewelyn Hughes, suggest something sensible or I’m telling Lou we have a mice infestation!)
Having been stunned into silence by a pretty girl actually calling her, Mel stood sharing the receiver with Valentina.
From the receiver, they heard ‘No I’m not going to tell her that! She’ll think I’m a deviant!’ then some rustling. Mel went to hang up.
Valentina huffed, ‘Mamma mia!’ and snatched the phone with her perfectly manicured nails.
‘Bueno sera.’
‘How are you?’
‘You sound very Welsh.’
‘And you sound very Italian.’
‘I’m going to hazard a guess that you’re not ‘sexy English Velma.’
‘No, I’m her fake boyfriend. This isn’t ‘dishy Scottish butch’ speaking?’
‘No, I’m the roommate. May I take a message? I think she’s having a stroke.’
-
‘It happened so fast, Mel and I couldn’t stop them.’
‘Not that we could’ve, anyway, since we were panicking.’
‘I think halfway through they stopped to complain about London, and something about magazines?’
‘Don’t ask me, love, it was thirty year ago and I was dead on the floor.’
-
‘Does next Tuesday suit?’
Valentina stage-whispered, ‘Does next Tuesday suit?’ then more loudly ‘Yes, Mel says that’s fine. She’s giving me a thumbs-up so I assume she wants to, anyway.’
‘Thanks for your time, miss. This girl here seriously needs to leave the house more- don’t look at me like that, Rita, you know you do- and I’m sure she can’t wait.’
-
‘I spent three hours getting ready.’
‘And I dinnae know what to do on an actual, proper date so I hid under my duvet until five minutes before I was meant to leave.’
-
Mel and Rita, at last knowing each other's names, met at a cheap cafe on a foggy morning. They chatted, blushed, and found themselves spilling their entire life’s stories in just a few hours.
The rest is history.