Underneath these Firelights
iv. pain in your beauty
She parks in front of the London clinic, choosing one of the spaces assigned for visitors. It’s fucking cold and she’s brought a second jacket for good reason.
“Katherine Fitch”, she declares to the receptionist who smiles at her. She’s smiles every time Katie’s been here. It’s fucking creepy to have someone with such a sunny constitution work in a fucking psychiatry. “I’m here to pick up Elizabeth Stonem.”
“Of course, Miss Fitch” , is twittered right back at her. “She’ll be done in just a moment. Would you like a cup of tea?” She doesn’t drink tea anymore, has long switched to coffee, but she manages to restrain herself to a bare “No, thank you.”
Several minutes pass until she sees her arrive, a shadow of herself (once again). She almost smiles and at least takes the jacket Katie holds out to her with a threatening glare. “Thank you.” Her voice is hoarse. Katie’s been here often enough to know that she hasn’t spoken a lot. They walk to the car in silence, sit for long minutes until she musters up the strength to ask “where to, then?”
She knows the answer by the hesitancy in Effy’s gaze, nods quietly, once. She’s not hurt by this. It’s not like they were ever together. Effy’s her friend, and she needs her, now. So Katie will be there. She drives to the Bristol graveyard while an overly cheerful radio reporter (what is it with people?) wishes them all a happy New Year come tonight.
The burial had been several months ago, when they finally found the body. Effy didn’t attend. Only days before, Naomi had put her foot down and driven her to a clinic. It’s been a chaotic year. She’s screamed at Cook, once the private detective Naomi hired found him, for an entire hour. Then, she and her sister-in-law had forced him to go to the police, cite self-defence. The police had managed to discover Freddie’s body after that. Cook’s in prison now- another thing she feels vaguely guilty about-but he’ll be out on probation in less than two weeks.
She understands his reasons for telling her, but you can’t just drop that kind of bomb on someone- especially not someone who’s fucking known to be mentally instable. No one had taken it seriously when they’d disappeared from the wedding. Cook was still on the run, and it wasn’t exactly unlike Effy to simply fuck off somewhere and not turn up for weeks.
It had been a month and some stupid outing on which Naomi had gone when she’d discovered Effy drinking in an empty pub, found out the truth Cook had told her that night. She’d called Katie, then, “because you’re her friend and your sister can’t really deal with this right now.”
Katie knows that the right now was only added for tact, is glad that at least in some ways they manage to agree on who Emily is- someone who believes in love and happy endings and shouldn’t have to handle alcoholism and homicides. It’d made her feel better, that even if she was not doing it anymore, someone’s protecting Emily.
It had been the start of an endless struggle. Katie had driven to London ever fucking weekend, and they’d talked for endless hours as Effy cried the night away. It’s worse, than thinking he left because I was too much, knowing that he would have stayed and that loving me fucking got him murdered. It’ll never be the same now, Katie knows, none of it. Least of all Effy. She looks a tiny bit more whole, the rings under her eyes are thinner. She believes her when she says that overdosing was an accident, but that doesn’t mean she has to like that it got this far. Her own guilt is just as hard to deal with. She’s read the books, about guilt and depression, about pain and loss. She knows, technically, she’s not at fault. She just wishes she’d done something differently, anything to prevent this.
A thin sheet of snow is covering the stones. It looks fucking beautiful. She helps Effy out of the car carefully, leads her through the graveyard to the place where she wants to go. And waits in the background as Effy sobs, screams and whispers. She sees the tears in the snow, sees her friend’s shivering body. She’s learned though now, when to stay away. This might just be one of those times.
Dusk sets by the time Effy stands up, brushing the snow from her knees. Katie’s heard curses and apologies while she stood in the cold. Their eyes meet and for the first time in twelvemonths, there’s something there that resembles a real smile, even just for the smallest part of a second. She reaches for Effy’s hand (cold) and firmly pulls her towards the warmth of the car.
“I never really loved him”, she says as Katie unlocks the door. “And then, he dies because of me.”
“You know it’s not your fault.”
“You won’t believe how often I’ve heard that.”
“I’ll tell you something different then”, Katie says, as she gets in. “He’s dead now, and nothing will ever change that. And yeah, he probably might have not been murdered if he’d never met you. But if he loved you enough to cheat on me” (and that gets her the second smile of the day) “then maybe it was worth it, for him. Besides, you’re giving Forster way too much more fucking power than the bastard deserves if you kill yourself over this.”
There’s no tears, but her eyes don’t look completely dead either, and by now, Katie will take whatever kind of progress she can get. And then, when they get out of the car at Katie’s place, she smiles and says “thank you”. Nothing will ever be perfect again, but as they walk inside and
Effy turns on the countdown on TV voluntarily, there’s a glimmer of hope awakened that maybe she’ll survive this, after all. They’ll make it, somehow.
It’s the first time the old year passes into the New Year in four years that Effy doesn’t kiss Katie. She’s fast asleep, her head resting on Katie’s lap. Katie smiles.
v. healing in your life
There’s sunlight everywhere and a fucking smell of smoke. It wakes her quickly. She storms out of bed dressed only in a pair of knickers, not even bothering with clothes or sheets.
“Fuck, Ef, I told you to stay out of the goddamn kitchen.”
The victim of her anger is dressed in some huge shirt and standing in front of a blackened, shrivelled mess inside an old pan. “I was hungry.”
She rolls her eyes. “Eat bread. Or fruit. Not- well, what is this supposed to be?”
A shrug is her only answer as Effy’s eyes travel over her body. “Perv”, she mutters, but she can’t deny the way her body tingles their gazes meet. She’s always enjoyed being desired. Quickly, she moves over to the stove, staring at the blackened remains of something vaguely resembling eggs.
“You’re taking me out to dinner tonight. Fuck’s sake, what did you do?”
As she sets about cleaning and making breakfast, she smiles, just for a second. It’s warmer here than it would be in Bristol, even if it is the middle of winter. This wasn’t the plan, not what she had expected. When she had driven to London a couple of days ago because she had some time, now, and maybe even missed her sister, she had found Emily in tears and cursing Naomi. They had been all loved-up at Christmas, but a mere two days later, something seemed to have happened. Katie hadn’t been too surprised. She’d been witness to a number of emotional fights between the two of them. She (secretly) admired them for always making it and working through any of the troubles that might have appeared.
Emily had -this time- refused to talk about the cause of the argument and simply forced the ticket on Katie, telling her to go, because the cottage was paid and they couldn’t and because she needed to find Naomi and work it out. “It’ll take us ages to figure it out, and I really don’t want to go there now, after all of this”, Emily had commented. “You look exhausted. Fly off, get some peace.”
She’d taken the plane, stared at the empty seat next to her and wondered how to people could be annoyingly stupid and sickeningly sweet at the same time. For minutes and hours, she’d felt bad, but she knew that Emily didn’t need her, not really, no longer. She’d gotten a taxi to the cottage, the code to enter written on a sheet of paper Emily had handed her. She hadn’t expected to find it unlocked.
Nor had she expected to find one Effy Stonem inside. “Naomi told me they weren’t coming”, Effy had said, and explained about being in Paris anyway and feeling a bit like getting away. There’d been a moment of awkwardness, unsureness, who and what they where, here, still broken, but away from the world. Then, it had been Katie who’d smiled, kissed Effy on the lips and proceeded to unpack her bags.
They were just them here, in an empty cottage near a tiny town, and she had stopped caring about what it meant. It felt too good to feel, something at least. Effy’s kept her alive for the past years. She remembers the whispered words, that first time, knows that this may never be serious, because then it would stop being solace. It’s maybe not what they really want anyway.
Effy’d arrived by car, so sometimes, they go out to the next town, when Effy’s managed to ruin any cooking Katie might have done after two minutes alone in the kitchen and then simply takes her out to dinner instead.
It’s long, lazy days they spend together and maybe, maybe she has worked too much. But, surprisingly, it’s turned out like the only thing she’s not completely failed at. She’ll never be a mother, and after cheating on a good, lovely, dependable guy out of sheer fear what would happen if she doesn’t, she’ll never be the kind of girlfriend and wife she always wanted to be. And while things might seem like they’re alright now, she knows she’s failed as a sister from the scared look that still appears in Emily’s eyes whenever she walks in on her and Naomi together. The look in her mother’s eyes every time she really sees her is enough to tell everything she ever wanted to know about being a good daughter. Even if her mother’s criteria for being a good daughter is producing a granddaughter, so maybe that’s not quite fair. So, crazily, surprisingly, shockingly, working and studying, despite her horrible A-Levels, are the only things she hadn’t flunked completely. A soft mouth on hers brings her back to ten degrees, winter sun and Effy Stonem.
“Come back to bed”, she says, but Katie shakes her head quickly and walks off into the bathroom. It fells strangely like routine when Effy waits a minute or two before walking in herself, climbs under the running water with her and complains about the heat before tracing her hands over Katie’s body.
They do end up in bed again, falling asleep in the middle of the day. Slowly, darkened circles under brown and blue eyes have begun to fade, brought on by work and stress, nightmares and parties and the refusal to go asleep, but they exist, and therefore they fall to bed and sleep. (It helps, secretly, not being alone.)
Katie wakes up to blue eyes tracing over her body, watching, observing. She’s used to it, has been for a long time, so she simply kisses Effy lightly on the mouth before reaching for her cardigan. It’s strange being here, like this, but so much more comforting than anything else she’s tried.
“Awake?”
“What’s it look like?”
“Well, you slept nearly all afternoon. Just checking.”
“Not my fault you’re fucking exhausting.”
Eyebrows shoot up, amused, a quick smirk. “Get dressed. I’ll make it up to you.”
They laugh and tease because it’s what they do in ways even Katie doesn’t sometimes comprehend. She smiles though, and grabs one of the dresses she bought. It’s light, white and flowery, perfectly fit for Southern France. She’ll need a jacket- it is the middle of winter, but she should manage. Soft fingers brush over her bare shoulders as Effy slips out of the room. “I’ll get the car.”
Katie nods absentmindedly, walking over to the small mirror. Between the two of them, there’s quite a mass of makeup assembled on the small desk below it. Reluctantly, she admits that most of it is hers. There’s a small bedroom window and Katie sees Effy walking towards that ridiculously outdated cabrio-thing she insists on driving, even though it doesn’t have airbags or anything for fucks sake, but she seems to want to get them killed. She looks pretty, Katie thinks, rather suddenly, as she unlocks the car and gets in. She always does, obviously, but right now, with her face almost smiling, for once and dressed in something blue and pastel (and short, of course), she’s actually rather beautiful. She’ll freeze, Katie decides, and her eyes skim the room for a second jacket.
She laughs at herself then, because fucking someone because it’s easy, and simple, and considering them beautiful is not exactly the same.
She’s wasted too much time thinking, and before she knows it, there’s honking from down below. She checks herself in the mirror. She’s just managed to clear her makeup of, not yet managed to apply new one. In the end, she shrugs. No one who knows her (except for Effy) will see her anyway, so what’s the point?
Effy stares at her for several seconds when she leaves the house after catching the jacket Katie tossed her with an eye roll. “You look nice”, is what she settles for at last, and because she feels suddenly, irrationally embarrassed, Katie’s only comeback is “shouldn’t you be driving?”
vi. safety in your arms
She’s just finished the last touches on her makeup when the doorbell rings. It startles her. It’s seven at night on the last day of the year, and not a time to appreciate visitors. Emily’s giving some kind of party and has been begging her to come for weeks, and now that she’s finally relented, she’d rather be on her way. She puts down the diamond studs in her hands, a leftover from dates she went on with a guy who seemed to believe they were an appropriate present. She dumped the guy, but kept the diamonds.
The figure revealed by the open door is even more of a surprise. “I thought you’d fucked off to the continent.”
“Couldn’t miss New Year’s with you, could I?” For mere seconds, Katie feels a tinge of something she’d rather not explain. Things have been awkward occasionally since those two weeks away from the world. It’s not like it really matters. Katie remembers well what is one of the few promises she ever made (more like the fucking only one)- I won’t love you, you won’t break me. If she ever heals completely, Effy might just be able to break her. It’s a secret she won’t reveal.
“Charming, babes. Come on in. It’s fucking freezing.” She steps aside, opens her cupboard and reaches for a pair of heels.
“I need to talk to you.” It sounds so much unlike Effy, serious voice and nothing all-knowing, smirking about her eyes.
“What’s up?”
“You won’t like this. And I really shouldn’t be telling you, but I thought you’d rather find out from someone who knows than from anyone else.”
“I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.” Effy never rambles, normally. It’s rather irritating.
“Oh, fuck. There’s no good way to say this. Emily’s pregnant.” The heels clatter to the floor (and they were fucking expensive). She turns her body around to face Effy, stares blankly. “It’s what they’re announcing tonight.”
“How?” seems like the most ridiculous question ever, because she’s not a total homophobic cunt. It sounds like something her mother would ask. Something discriminating and last-century. Besides, it doesn’t really matter how. As Effy takes needlessly long to explain about some donor, Katie feels a searing stab of pain, sinks to the floor in defeat. Arms warp around her, stronger than she looks (but then Katie knows that for many other reasons) and hold her as sobs wrack her body.
“I should be happy”, she whispers.
Effy shakes her head. “You get to be all happy and smiling and aunt-like later, Kate. You’re allowed cry now.” For once, she does as she’s told, leans into the embrace. Effy smells of cigarettes and Chanel Number Five.
The rest of the night passes in a blur. Effy drives to London in that horrible cabrio; thankfully, it does close. Katie smiles and laughs, and because she really, truly is happy for Emily, it doesn’t even feel like pretending. She loves her sister, she looks forward to being Aunt Katie who gets to spoil the kids, she just wishes she at least had the option of doing the same. Shortly past eleven, Effy drags her out onto the terrace. It’s fucking cold, so they’re alone, and Katie stares onto the lights of the city, waits for the fireworks to begin. Effy reaches for her hand, intertwines their fingers, and Katie’s simply rather fucking glad that someone knows, understands and is willing to comfort her.
This time, she whispers “thank you” when someone screams “half an hour left to part-ee” from inside. Effy just smiles, shakes her head. “You’ve saved me often enough.”
“Well, if this is you repaying, can I at least get a drink?” Knowing Effy, it’s not a huge surprise when she pulls a bottle of vodka from her bag. “Unless you prefer some nice sparkling wine?” Her voice sounds ridiculously posh. Instead of answering, Katie takes the bottle from her, unscrews it and gasps slightly at the burning sensation at the back of her throat. It’s been some time.
“Alright?”
“Fucking ‘course.” She nods, taking the bottle back. They’re still holding hands (just for comfort) when fireworks explode all over the city, so it’s not like the kiss (feverent, hungry, needy) is a huge surprise. She’d almost (never quite) forgotten how much she always wants Effy, every time.
“Let’s go tell everyone to have fucking fun this year.” She understands (somehow, she does far too often), replies with an “meet you at the door in ten.”
It’s easier to disappear than expected since everyone is busy getting drunk and Katie wonders for a moment why that is such a repetitive thing this time of the year, why everyone feels the need to end and begin the year by drowning themselves in alcohol. Once in the car (thankfully parked two blocks away), she’s drunk enough herself to halt Effy’s hands on the keys and scoot her seat back.
“Ever fucked in a car, Stonem?”
The answer of “No” is not what she expects and it makes her feel daring that this is one thing which Effy fucking Stonem hasn’t done. Her voice is husky when she whispers ”fucking come over here then.” It’s not exactly a huge car, and Katie’s rather glad not only for the fact that Effy’s such a lightweight, but also that she’s still at least got free access to her father’s gym now he’s building up again. At some point soon after that, she stops thinking, lets herself be kissed by the woman on top of her. She doesn’t exactly watch the time, but even with both their coats open, the car’s fairly warm and it’s nearly one when Effy climbs of her back onto the driver’s seat. They’ve never done this before, just kissed. It’s always been about shagging, fucking, sex and getting off, about the urgency and need. It’s still there, and Katie’s well aware she’s fucking soaked still, but she feels like something she can’t quite pinpoint changed.
“Mind if I take you home?” Effy asks and she simply shakes her head, still reclining on the seat.
They drive through the darkness and for brief moments, Katie closes her eyes, lets herself relax to the soft music, the night lightened by fireworks and the hand gently on her thigh. It’s no more than fifteen minutes to Effy’s flat on the outskirts of London. Katie wonders briefly is she’s come back. It doesn’t really matter though, so she doesn’t ask. Not tonight. When they’ve reached the top floor, Effy opens the door carefully to let Katie in. She hesitates a moment before turning around.
“Will you be okay?”
Katie’s not sure what to answer and for the second time that day, she’s being hugged carefully before Effy leads her to the sofa, kisses her softly. She cries again, for a bit, but then Effy’s fingers are tracing softly over her skin, and her presence is strangely enough to make the worst peak of pain go away, so Katie allows herself to relax.
They stay awake until dawn, because Katie won’t be able to sleep anyway and so she lies naked on Effy’s bed, the bottle of vodka passing between them. She stares at the slight figure next to her, watches her smoke carefully and feels the same kind of suppressed desire she hasn’t really been able to resist against at any point in the last five years. There are so many things she never used to notice, she sees now. She prefers her coffee black, without sugar. She actually reads the newspapers, not only for pretence the way Katie always felt like she had to, with George. She doesn’t never smile, like Katie thought when she was a spiteful teenager. She does, for real, sometimes.
“You’re staring.” There’s one of those smiles on her face, and because it makes Katie feel utterly awkward, she simply kisses it away and tries not to think too much. This is long out of her hands (and out of control).
Part 3