Chapter 4

So organizing an event of the magnitude of The Littles' Market by the Sea was more complicated than Rachel could have imagined.

Not so much sorting the vendors—between Isla and Susie's contacts, and Rachel and Cat's own, Rachel was fairly certain they'd have no problem there—but the venue was turning out to be more challenging. And that was how Rachel found herself on a train down to Brighton, one Saturday morning, to meet with Cat to view several different venues.

She'd met Cat in Brighton, a good fifteen years earlier, when they'd been bright-eyed students, starting off at university in a new city. She suspected that Cat had picked Brighton for the same reason she had—the city was renowned as the queer capital of the UK, and where better than to explore their burgeoning sexuality?

The town was as buzzy now as it had been back then, though its prices rivalled London's. That came from being the easiest seaside town to get to from Central. One train from London Victoria, and an hour and a half later you were by the sea.

It had been her home in so many ways, and she'd only left for London when she'd followed an ex-girlfriend back inland. That had been a mistake in so many ways, but it had introduced her to Isla and once she was settled in her graphic design job in the City, and her teeny tiny flat in the suburbs, she hadn't wanted to uproot herself again and move back.

But walking through the gates and out into the sunshine, hearing the seagulls cawing above her, she wondered if life might not be just a little bit easier if she moved back to Brighton.

The sunshine, a pleasant surprise considering the infamous unpredictability of British weather, even in June, had her reaching for her sunglasses.

"Rach!"

She almost dropped them and ran for a hug. Cat was in full dyke mode—wearing leathers, even in the sunshine—and something settled in Rachel's stomach. They might be coming up against obstacles, but it was okay. They were together, and together they'd do this.

"Your Little all tucked away for today?" she asked.

The butch woman laughed. "Absolutely. Big personas only. Ready to take on some venues?"

Rachel couldn't have been readier. She had a folder in her arms, full of everything they needed for their meetings. Events like this were all about marketing. Cat had the figures, but Rachel, with her design background, could make even the most concerning of figures look presentable. It was all about appearances.

A lot of the venues had been split when they'd approached them. One of the biggest drawbacks was the fact that the Littles' Market probably wasn't going to have a huge number of drinkers. Lots of Littles didn't like to drink when they played, and that meant that venues were loath to book out a space when they could be maximizing their income with footfall that did want to drink.

Also, there was the content itself. Brighton had a surprisingly quiet kink scene—a couple of munches, a couple of private events—but the pandemic had killed off many of the larger events. People were more wary of hosting kink events, and the local queer community-run spaces were simply too small for what Cat and Rachel were looking for.

After some very frustrating meetings, one of which had Rachel telling their contact at the venue that they'd be making a formal complaint, they found themselves on the seafront.

"Take a break?" asked Cat. "We can grab a drink and an ice cream." She gestured at the sky. "It's a glorious day, and even if our meetings aren't going well, we can still have a nice time. You don't get to come down too often."

That was true. They found a stall selling cider and ice creams, grabbed one of each, and headed down to the beach on the left-hand side of the pier, where it was always a bit quieter.

No matter what Brightonians said, Rachel still wasn't convinced that pebbly beaches were better than sandy ones—the stones cut into your feet when you tiptoed your way to and from where the waves met the shore, but grabbing a deckchair meant that most complaints could be ignored.

They settled in—Rachel steadfastly applying some extra sun cream—and leaned back to survey the scene. The sky was the softest blue, laced with the most delicate of cotton-wool clouds, and where it met the turquoise sea, foam horses edged the waves. The pier was as busy and as noisy as it ever was, but the beach itself wasn't too wild, most tourists preferring to stay closer to the station, then come all the way out east.

Closing her eyes, Rachel rested her head back and let sounds wash over her. Waves shucking pebbles along the shore; children laughing as they splashed in the sea; and those ever-present seagulls, circling, waiting to divebomb some unsuspecting picnicker and steal their food.

Oh. It felt like home.

She hadn't felt like that since… well, since she'd lived in Brighton herself. That felt like an odd discovery to make, one that was slightly off-putting, if she was perfectly honest. Rachel had her life, and she was very satisfied with it.

She made a noise, a harrumph of sorts, and Cat lifted her sunglasses and looked at her. "You okay?"

"I… I'm not sure that I'm happy."

"Well, no," said Cat, as brutally matter-of-fact as ever. "You haven't been happy in years. Content, maybe, but not happy."

Rachel stared at her friend. "You knew?"

The butch shrugged. "I mean, I know you, so it's been pretty obvious since you've moved away."

"So why do I stay in London if I dislike it so?"

"You've got a good job, and commuting from here to London is a bitch."

"True."

"You'd have to find a new place down here, and you do hate moving house; it always stresses you out."

They exchanged a look that said everything it needed to about how Rachel had been particularly grumpy during one student house move.

"And then of course there's Isla."

"What do you, mean, and then there's Isla?"

This time Cat raised her sunglasses and sat up, looking at Rachel directly. It was slightly discomforting. "Isla. Your best friend. Love of your life. You couldn't leave her behind."

Rachel stared, open-mouthed. "Love of my… what on earth are you talking about?"

There was a pause in which Cat's eyebrows raised so high that they almost disappeared into her hairline. "Are you serious?"

"Are you serious?" Rachel's heart was pounding and she almost spilled her drink, she was clutching the plastic glass so tightly.

"Fuck," said Cat. "You really don't know."

"Know what?"

"That you've been in love with Isla since the moment you met her."

And Rachel's whole worldview shifted.