Tamsin shook her head and a hundred rain drops fell to the floor. She’d been caught in a downpour with Bramble and her next urgent task was to dry off the dog before she tracked mud throughout the cottage. She was busy performing that arduous task when she heard a car door slam. Her heart leapt. Diane.

She gave Bramble’s paws a quick inspection and patted the dog on the head. “That’ll have to do, girl. My lady has arrived.” Her lips curved into a smile as she rushed to the front door to let Diane in—Bramble hot on her heels.

Diane looked scrumptious as ever, better even, according to Tamsin, because she’d gone light on the makeup, and her hair was a little less sculpted than usual.

Tamsin waited until Diane was safely inside before drawing her into a hug. Diane stood stiffly in her embrace.

“What’s going on?” Tamsin took a step back, but left her hands on Diane’s shoulders.

“It’s out. Debbie knows about us which means by now the entire village must know.” She took a deep breath but it didn’t seem to calm her down much.

“Okay.” Tamsin took her by the hand and led her inside the living room. Bramble tried to get Diane to pet her, but she wasn’t getting much attention. “Let’s sit so you can tell me all about it.”

Diane looked into Tamsin’s eyes for only a fleeting second before her glance skittered away. She didn’t once look at Tamsin as she spoke. “Someone saw you leave my house early in the morning. Word is spreading quickly. I overheard Debbie, of all people, talking about me.” She shook her head. “I can just imagine the conversation she’s having with Lawrence right about now.” She looked at her watch. “He’s probably just come home from work. She’s probably prepared him a drink, her cheeks hurting from the smile she hasn’t been able to wipe off her face since she heard the news.”

“Diane.” Tamsin thought it better to keep her distance. “It’s all right.”

“Is it?” She pushed air through her nostrils. “It’s easy enough for you to say. I’ve lived here my entire life. I’ve had to go through the humiliation of the most cliché divorce you can imagine, but I always held my head up high, even on the days when it was bloody hard. But to have people talking behind my back again about... About—” She stopped abruptly.

“About us,” Tamsin said.

“About something…” The volume of Diane’s voice had lowered. “…so very private and”—she threw up her hands—“something even I, frankly, haven’t been able to wrap my head around entirely. What chance do we even stand if we have to face people’s scrutiny and gossip every day?” Her hands landed in her lap. “This is just not how I wanted things to go. I don’t know what to do.”

“Hey.” Tamsin did scoot a little closer now. “I understand you’re upset.”

“You were talking about latebians the other day.” Diane’s voice had grown in force again. “If there’s a latebian manual, I’d very much like to have that at my disposal right now. How do they do it? Face people they’ve known all their lives and tell them, or no, not just tell them, but stand up to them and—”

“Diane.” Tamsin reached for one of Diane’s hands. “Look at me, please.” Tamsin curved her lips into the most comforting smile she could muster.

Diane finally looked at her again. She wasn’t crying, but, behind her glasses, her eyes were red. Her cheeks were flushed—and not in the good way Tamsin had come to know.

“It’s a shock to have to hear things like that being said about you, but in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t mean that much.” Tamsin stroked her thumb over Diane’s palm. “What matters is what we have between us. People will always talk.”

“But it’s taking away from what we have between us.”

“How so?” Tamsin asked.

“How can it be like it was before, now that everyone’s talking about us?”

“Because…” Tamsin needed to take a deep breath herself. “Inside this house, behind that door you just closed, nothing has changed. We’re still the same. We’re still falling in love.” She narrowed her eyes. “I’m still massively besotted with you.”

Diane withdrew her hand from Tamsin’s grasp. “It’s different for you. You’ve been a lesbian all your life. I—I have a son. I’m going to be a grandmother, for heaven’s sake.” She took off her glasses. Tamsin always thought she looked so much more vulnerable without them—as though they were her armour against the outside world which could be so cruel. “I need to talk to Lawrence.” She pushed herself out of the sofa.

“Diane.” Tamsin used her stern teacher voice. “You’re spinning out of control.”

Bramble let out a small bark at the raising of voices.

“Tell me what to do to make this stop.” Diane clutched her hand to her chest. “This feeling inside. It’s like all the good memories I’ve accumulated over the past ten days are being torn to shreds by dread, by this fear I don’t know how to deal with.”

“What you feel is completely normal.” Tamsin tried to find Diane’s gaze again but it proved a challenge. She rose and stood in front of her. “Please know that you’re not alone in this. I’m here with you.”

Diane pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m not entirely sure I can do this.”

“Do what?” The dread Diane was just talking about seemed to have found its way inside Tamsin as well.

“This. Be with you. Be with another woman. It must have been some form of temporary insanity.”

“Do you really care that much about what people in the village say about you?”

“It’s not just that… most of my clients are local.”

“What do your clients have to do with anything?” Tamsin couldn’t help a hint of anger slipping into her voice. This was starting to remind her of when she got fired at her previous club. Let’s get rid of the lesbian pro and pretend nothing ever happened—as though such a thing were even possible.

“You don’t understand. I’m not like you, Tamsin. I’m not a… lesbian.”

Tamsin put her hands on her hips. “You very much were in bed with me last night. And there is such a thing as bisexual, you know.”

Diane shook her head and repositioned her glasses. She blew out a lungful of air. “I just don’t want to be judged on something that I’m not even sure of yet.”

Tamsin took a step back and buried her hands in the pockets of her jeans. “People talk. They’ve always done so and they always will,” she managed to say. “You do it; I do it. It’s hard at first, until they find something else to talk about and everyone moves on.” Tamsin was grateful for Bramble who’d come to stand next to her. She crouched next to her dog.

“I’ve been through this once before when Lawrence left me. You’ve no idea how much energy it took me to put that behind me.”

“What is it you’re trying to tell me?” Tamsin hugged Bramble. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what Diane was going to say next. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to stand for this nonsense.

“I think I may need some time to figure out what I really want.”

“Oh, you mean to find out what’s most important to you: how we feel about each other or what people who have nothing to do with it have to say about it.” Tamsin pushed herself up to her full length. “I stopped defending who I am a long time ago, Diane.” The sight of Diane looking so torn melted something in her nonetheless. “If only you knew how many women—and men, for that matter—have been in your exact position before. This is a tale as old as time. Just like Lawrence leaving you for Debbie. I’m sure he had to endure his fair share of gossip, not in the least from you and your friends at the club.”

“He cheated on me,” Diane snarled. “It was no less than he deserved and you can’t possibly compare the two.”

Tamsin held out her hands, but they fell idly in the space—the increasing distance—between them. “Don’t go. Please.”

In the silence that followed, and even though the cottage was set back from the street, they could hear footsteps. Bramble was the first to look up and press her snout against the window. The cottage was on the edge of town and it was rare for people to walk past, especially in this weather.

Both Tamsin and Diane glanced out of the window. Two figures underneath a bright pink umbrella stood at the edge of the driveway.

Diane slanted towards the window. “I’m sure that’s Debbie. She must be spying on me.”

Tamsin couldn’t suppress a chuckle. It was as much the release of tension she so desperately needed, as well as the antics of the village residents that genuinely made her laugh.

“It’s not funny,” Diane whispered. “My car’s right in front of your door.”

“So what if it’s her? Then she has confirmation.” Tamsin shrugged. “We should go outside right now and tell her she can stop speculating.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Diane moved away from the window.

“I haven’t, but it seems to me you have.” Diane no longer looked like the ravishing woman Tamsin had ushered in mere minutes ago.

“I thought I could do this. I truly believed I could, just because you’re so… utterly amazing.” Diane’s voice broke. “Please know that this has nothing to do with you, but I’m afraid I really can’t do this. I can’t be with you. This whole thing, it’s just too much for me.”

“Don’t say something you’ll regret later.” Tamsin was torn between taking a step forward and throwing her arms around Diane and accepting that, perhaps, Diane was right and their short affair had already run its course. She might not have made the same old mistake of falling for someone much younger, but this wasn’t turning out much better than her previous relationships. At least she could tick ‘frightened straight woman’ off her list now. Been there, done that. Much too complicated to ever try again.

“Of course I’ll regret it.” Diane’s bottom lip quivered. “But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my fifty-four years, it’s that regret is a fundamental part of life.” She picked up her bag from the floor and slung it over her shoulder. “I’d better go.”

“Diane.” Tamsin did take that step forward now, spurred on by the acute fear spreading in her chest, but she was too late.

Before she disappeared into the hallway, Diane quickly turned around. “I’m sorry,” was all she said.