Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

K iera checked her reflection. She was wearing her favourite jeans and a pale blue shirt with tiny pink flowers on it. She’d paid close attention to her eye makeup, and couldn’t help smiling at the results. Lunch with Seymour had been rapidly put into the diary, and she had no desire to fight off the happy jitters in her stomach.

This wasn’t like going on a date with someone she’d swiped right on. And really, in spite of what Clodagh and Charlie had said, she didn’t think it was a date anyway. But she had to admit she wanted to look her best for a woman who had become a regular fixture in her life. She plunged her hands into her pockets and jangled her house keys. It was time to go.

By the time she’d reached their agreed meeting place, her mouth was dry. It was a Syrian café in Moseley – a departure from their usual Kings Heath haunt. Close enough to walk, but far enough to be somewhere different.

She was horribly early, as always. But it gave her time to order a coffee and a glass of water, which she swiftly glugge d down. The sun was shining, and in a nod to her Barcelona adventures, she was at a small table on the pavement outside. It was a rare occasion that allowed anyone to appreciate sitting outside a café in Birmingham weather, but happily today was one of those days.

Kiera saw Seymour from about fifty metres away, sauntering down Moseley High Street, smiling confidently at everyone she saw. She was dressed in skinny black jeans and a floaty summery yellow shirt, and she looked every inch at one with the sunny warm afternoon. Kiera pretended she hadn’t seen her; she didn’t want to be grinning at her like a loon for the next few minutes while Seymour approached her table. That would be awkward. But that was what she wanted to do. Her fingers pricked with excitement while she took a slow sip from her coffee. By the time she put her cup down and looked up, Seymour was just a few seconds away. She smiled and welcomed her to the table.

“Brilliant, love to enjoy the sun while it’s with us,” said Seymour, sitting down, a silver necklace with a dragonfly pendant catching the light. “Do I need to go to the counter?”

“No, table service!”

“Well, that’s a change for us, isn’t it?” said Seymour. “Lovely to see you. I think you must have caught the sun a bit in Spain. You’re glowing.”

If she hadn’t been glowing before, Kiera certainly was now. “Thanks for suggesting this place,” said Kiera. “The menu looks lovely. It’s good to be out somewhere where you don’t have to run around after customers. A treat for us both, I think.” She immediately regretted her words. Too much, perhaps?

“Definitely,” replied Seymour, inspecting the menu. “I’ve not be en here before, but I’ve wanted to try it for ages. I’ll need to take a few minutes to work out what I want.”

“Take your time,” said Kiera, a smile in her voice. There was something easy about the way their conversation flowed, the way it had always flowed. Her cheeks remained flushed, but she took an executive decision not to think too much about that, or what it meant.

Soon a waiter came over. Seymour asked for a fresh peppermint tea, and between them they ordered a selection of mezze dishes.

“This is perfect,” said Seymour, “with this amazing food and the sun shining we could almost be somewhere abroad.”

Kiera told Seymour all about her adventures in Barcelona, the beach at Barceloneta, the magic fountains, the expansive views of the city.

“It sounds amazing, Kiera. I’m so glad you enjoyed it.”

“Well, thank you for your top tips; they made all the difference, I think.”

Seymour popped her chin onto her hand. “So, how’s the dating?”

“Oh, well, like I said, I’m done with the swiping. I don’t need anyone to complete me,” she said, but couldn’t help wishing she’d phrased the sentiment differently.

“Well, I guess I can’t blame you,” said Seymour, who looked away for a moment. Kiera tried to read her thoughts, and failed.

“And how about you? The girl at the bar?”

Seymour rolled her eyes. “Oh, she is not on the agenda at all. She’s an old, if complicated flame.”

“But you see her still?” Kiera persisted, wondering why she was pushing this conversation into potentially difficult territory. “Sorry, I’m being nosey. You don’t owe me any explan ations. I’m just someone who comes in your café.” She put her hands up in front of her in a gesture of apology.

“Well,” said Seymour, her eyebrows raised, “I hope you know you’re more than just one of my customers.” Kiera grinned and gave a brief nod. She felt relieved to hear Seymour say it. They were friends. This was a good thing. She wiped her mouth with a serviette as Seymour continued.

“And as for the girl, well, yes. I do see her occasionally. We’ve sort of been friends after a fashion, but after that night at the bar, I’m not so sure we can stay that way.” She paused. Kiera didn’t know what to say. They both took a sip from their drinks.

“Exes are complicated,” said Kiera, having rehearsed the three simple words in her head a couple of times before saying them. They seemed safe enough.

“That’s for sure,” agreed Seymour, with a frown. “And what of your ex? Any news? Or is she still the invisible woman?”

“Ha,” said Kiera, “touché! Yes, still very much vanished.” She clasped her hands together. “I do sometimes wonder if something might have happened to her. But then, if it had, I’m not sure what I’d do.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. Although it must be so irritating not being able to sort out the house and all that stuff,” said Seymour. Kiera sighed. “Well, this is jolly,” continued Seymour with a laugh. “I’m officially changing the subject.”

“Good plan. Love your necklace, by the way,” said Keira.

“It’s my favourite.” Seymour brought her hand to the dragonfly pendant at her throat. “My brother gave it to me. The one man in my life!” They both laughed .

“Oh my God, I still can’t believe I was so heteronormative as to think he was your boyfriend,” said Kiera. “Such an idiot!”

“It’s a common mistake,” said Seymour with an easy smile. “Your shirt is gorgeous. It goes so well with your dark brown eyes.” And suddenly, all Kiera could think about was sitting directly opposite this beautiful woman – when had she started thinking Seymour was beautiful? – who was looking into her eyes and noticing their colour.

“Thanks,” said Kiera, having paused for slightly too long.

After they paid the bill, Seymour informed Kiera she had a plan, and before long they were on the number thirty-five bus, sailing down through Moseley towards town. They sat side by side, not talking much, but the quiet was comfortable. The sun on their faces through the glass was hot and it was a relief when Seymour pressed the bell and they were able to get off the bus close to Cannon Hill Park.

In the sunshine, the greenery of the urban park was dazzling. Everywhere they looked they could see families in sitting on picnic blankets or walking dogs, children cycling or skateboarding. A huge park, it could sometimes look crowded at this time of year, but if you knew it well, there were quiet corners to be found, just a few minutes off the beaten track. Seymour and Kiera strolled past the MAC – the café and arts centre – which was predictably heaving with a diverse group of people there for everything from avant garde theatre to coffee, and much in between. Seymour steered them towards the boating lake where the swan boats had made their seasonal return. Kiera giggled. “I haven’t done this in ages,” she said, as they joined the short queue behind a family of two adults and two children, all with ice cream dripping down wafer cones .

Seymour smiled. “Exactly. If you live somewhere, you forget to be a tourist there. Today, we are tourists.”

“Brilliant,” said Kiera, “I love it. Although if we’re to do this properly, I think we should be furnished with ice creams like the family in front. I’ll be right back.”

The ice cream van was right beside them, and Kiera picked up a couple of vanilla cones with chocolate flakes. “You can’t beat simple perfection,” said Seymour. “Forget your pistachio mint choc chip, this is where it’s at; whippy sugary vanilla with a finger plunged in.”

“Wow!” said Kiera, blushing at the unintended double entendre. If it really was unintended.

Seymour sniggered. “You don’t need to be a nun to run a café, you know. Although there are of course standards to uphold.”

“Like not making suggestive jokes about chocolate flakes?”

“Yes, that, and rescuing damsels in distress on terrible Tinder dates,” said Seymour, with a wink.

“Fair,” acknowledged Kiera. “Right, hold my ice cream while I put on my life jacket, and I’ll hold yours while you do yours.”

Before long they were pedalling around the small boating lake, avoiding other fair-weather park-goers. “I’m tickled by the fact they give us life jackets given I’m fairly sure this water only goes up to my knees,” observed Kiera as they sailed past the family who had been in front of them in the queue.

“Safety first,” said Seymour, waggling her finger, “in boats and on dates.”

“On dates, huh?” said Kiera, her neck prickling. She fell silent. Was this a date? Was that what Seymour meant? Should she ask? Her brain was beginning to spiral. She looked across to her boatmate, who was peddling beside her. But because Kiera had unwittingly stopped pedalling, the swan was now turning gentle circles. Seymour seemed to be concentrating on something on the horizon.

Suddenly there was a raised voice from behind them. “Watch out, Daddy, we’re going to…” but the child was cut off by the bang and lurch of colliding swans. The family of four had pedalled into Kiera and Seymour’s circling swan. Sounds of apology and embarrassment emitted from the mum and dad in the larger boat, while the ice creams that had been knocked out of their hands dripped in Seymour and Kiera’s laps.

“Oh, really, no,” said Seymour, “it’s fine. I think we lost concentration. Please, don’t worry.”

“How the hell does this go backwards?” said the man’s wife.

Kiera stage whispered to Seymour, “just pedal!” and so they did, racing towards the other side of the tiny island in the middle of the boating lake.

“Well, I think that’s the end of any career either of us might have had in the Navy,” said Seymour, panting with the effort. “On the plus side, my thighs are lovely and cool now. What happened to you? Did you stop pedalling?”

Instinctively, Kiera reached out to Seymour’s ice cream-soaked thigh and said, “So sorry. I forgot where I was for a moment.”

Seymour looked down at Kiera’s hand, still on her thigh, rapidly becoming sticky thanks to the spillage.

“OK, let’s both stop this time. This bit’s quiet,” said Seymour. “Oh goodness, look at your trousers. I think they might be worse than mine. What happened to your flake?”

“I think it fell into the lake,” replied Kiera with a frown, now painfully aware she had her hand on Seymou r’s thigh, but not able to establish whether she should remove it, or whether that would make it more obvious.

“Oh no, I’ll buy you another one!” said Seymour, placing her warm, if slightly soggy, hand on Kiera’s.

“It’s delayed gratification – I usually leave the chocolate to the end,” said Kiera with a smile. The warmth from Seymour’s fingers travelled up her arm. She allowed herself to relax a little.

“Whereas I ate mine first. There’s a personality study in there somewhere. You know,” said Seymour thoughtfully, “I’m running out of reasons not to kiss you right now. But I don’t want to scare you and have you fall into the lake. What do you think?”

Kiera’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, I, um,” she stammered.

“Oh, it’s ok, we don’t have to. Maybe I’ve misread this,” said Seymour, taking her hand from Kiera’s and adjusting her position. “You’ve told me very clearly that you don’t need anyone and that you’re perfectly happy single. I get it. I’m sorry. I’ve overstepped. It’s all the excitement and the ice-cream.”

There was a pause. Kiera found herself stuck, not knowing what to say. She tried to formulate an articulate response, but her brain didn’t seem able to come up with one. What she did know for certain was that Seymour had told her she wanted to kiss her. She really did. And all Kiera could think about now was how long the pause was that had opened up between them, and how awkward this was all becoming. Her hand was still, after all, on Seymour’s thigh. Seymour started to look away.

“No, you haven’t misjudged, honestly. I’m just surprised or shocked or not sure what to do. And now I’m waffling.” Kiera tore her now very sticky hand from Seymour’s thigh and re ached for her co-pilot’s hand to reassure her. She felt Seymour squeeze her hand back.

Seymour looked back at her, her face redder than even Kiera’s was.

“What I mean,” continued Kiera, “is if you want to kiss me, I think we should…” she trailed off, and gently, her lips met Seymour’s.

Kiera moved her thigh so it was touching Seymour’s and brought her non-sticky hand to Seymour’s face. Swan boat and ice-cream notwithstanding, it was the best kiss Kiera had had in a very long time. Seymour tasted of chocolate and vanilla and smelled of a subtle floral scent mixed with fabric softener. Kiera pulled away and breathed her in.

“Wow,” said Seymour. “You’re good at that.” She leaned in again, and this time they were both a bit more confident, and Kiera could feel a buzz of desire beginning to collect in her stomach.

Their kiss deepened just as a small voice shouted, “Daddy, look, those two girls in the boat we hit are kissing each other!”

Kiera and Seymour pulled apart and laughed.

“Well, this isn’t quite what I had planned,” said Seymour, with a smile. “I think we need to paddle to the shore before we get into any more trouble.” Kiera laughed, in spite of the ice cream that was now soaking through her trousers.

“Agreed.”

They traded in their boat and embarked on a walk through the wooded area at the side of the park. It was quieter here, and they naturally fell into silence, side by side. Their shoulders brushed a few times before Kiera tentatively reached out for Seymour’s hand. It felt strangely intimate to be strolling hand in hand in this way. They found themselves walkin g along the River Rea, butterflies dancing in and out of the wild areas on the banks of the river.

“It’s always good to be reminded that however urban Birmingham is, you don’t have to go very far to get away from the concrete and the noise,” said Kiera. “Look, there’s a damsel fly.”

“Oh yes. So, what’s the difference between a dragon fly and a damsel fly?”

“Well,” said Kiera, “they’re very similar, obviously, and part of the same general group of insects. But damsel flies tend to be smaller and slimmer.”

“Well, there you go. I didn’t realise you were such a naturalist.” Seymour squeezed Kiera’s hand.

“I’d love to tell you that I am a deeply-researched biologist, but really I’ve just watched a lot of Attenborough programmes.” Kiera kicked at a stone on the rough path. “They’re so soothing.”

They made their way slowly back towards Kings Heath and their respective homes, without consultation. They reached Seymour’s flat first and paused outside the café below. “For the record,” said Kiera, “you haven’t misjudged anything. I wanted to kiss you too, but I didn’t think you wanted to. I just assumed you’d have far better offers.”

“Nonsense,” said Seymour. “You deserve so much more than you think you do. And I’d like to confirm to you that you are by far the best ‘offer’,” she used her fingers as quotation marks, “I’ve had in quite some time.”

Kiera grinned. “But you kept helping me with my dates.”

“Well, what else could I do? I didn’t want you meeting some wrongun’ without backup. I just felt like you might appreciate it. ”

“I did. I do.” Kiera angled her face upwards towards Seymour’s and they kissed again. It was warm. It was happy.

“Do you want to come in for a cup of tea? I mean to the flat, not the café.”

Once settled in Seymour’s living room, they sat at either end of a cosy grey sofa. “Anyway,” said Seymour, “you’d gone all ‘I don’t need anyone’.”

“Yeah,” said Kiera, “as a wise person said to me recently, that doesn’t mean I don’t want someone, though. I just realised that the searching was exhausting and fruitless and making me feel bad. And, well. There you were.”

“All along,” said Seymour.

“Really?”

“Really. You don’t think I hadn’t clocked your gorgeous face and beautiful arms and hands the first time you walked in? I made a special effort to learn your coffee order and always be extra friendly.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Kiera, casting her mind back to the months and months where she would just stroll into the café, nod quietly at Seymour, make her order and then sit down with a book or the newspaper.

“Well, it’s true, Kiera. I hoped that if I was patient enough, you might see me. Like, really see me.”

Kiera laughed, mostly at herself. “And all that time I was bringing a trail of unsuitable women through the doors. You should have said.”

“I thought about it,” said Seymour. “I really did. To start with, though, it all felt a bit stalkerish. And then, there was that day when you talked to me and I realised you thought Jack was my boyfriend. I almost started to tell you then, but we were interrupted. And then after that, it never seemed like the right time. ”

“It’s the right time now,” said Kiera, pulling Seymour towards her for another kiss.