Binding Devotion Page 2

  Zara inhaled an exaggerated breath and nodded. “Thank you. But please don’t do it again.”

  Andi stared at her wife with sincerity. “I won’t. I promise.”

  Zara looked away. “Okay, fine.” She turned back to the window and shivered. “Please stop looking at me with those fiery eyes of yours.”

  Andi smiled. “But I love you, I can’t help it.”

  “I know you do, sweetie. Come on. We’re home.”

  The black cab pulled into Wellington Place and Zara quickly paid the fee, shuffling along the leather seat and out onto the pavement after Andi. She called to her. “Wait a minute. I want to show you something.” Zara caught up with her wife and took her hand, turning them back around and checking for traffic. She walked them across the road, dodging the moonlit puddles, and came to a standstill directly opposite their house. “Look, sweetie.” She stood behind Andi and looped her arms around her tiny waist.

  Andi puzzled, but enjoyed the sensation of the touch. “It’s our house,” she said, “from the other side of the road.”

  Zara started to sway their bodies together. “Remember when we were standing here, all of those years ago, wondering if we should even dare to entertain the idea of securing this place.”

  Andi smiled. It actually felt like yesterday. Zara had brought her blindfolded, in the back of a cab, to this exact point. She had held her from behind, as she was now, pulled off the blindfold, and started to talk. “It’s one of the finest houses to come on the market on the west side of St John’s Wood. It’s a grade II listed, semi-detached, period house.” Zara had been overcome with excitement, jumping the pair of them up and down. “It’s got five bedrooms, two reception rooms, it’s even got a garden. Plus it’s private and secluded, yet close enough to Abbey Road with its gastro pubs, Italian deli’s and Spanish Tapas bars.” Andi had looked up at the beautifully tall, cream bricked house, and burst into tears.

  “Of course I remember,” said Andi, pressing her cheek gently against her wife’s.

  “We have everything we’ve ever wanted, sweetie. Why spoil it with children?”

  Andi stopped the swaying and turned to face Zara. “You’ve never said never.” She paused. “It’s always been, not yet.”

  Zara pulled her hair over her shoulder. “Oh face it Andi, we can’t have kids. Look at our lifestyles. Where in the world would they fit in?”

  “We’d get a nanny.”

  Zara lifted her nose. “And I’m paying for that as well, am I?”

  Andi shook her head and turned away, stepping off the pavement and starting her lonely journey back across the damp road.

  “Well I do, don’t I?” Zara had started to shout. “I pay for everything, while you go off and do all of your charity appearances and pro bono stuff. It’s the same old story. I do the work and you get the glory.”

  Andi walked through the tall white pillars and stepped up the short path, reaching their shiny front door and sliding her key into the lock. She twisted with force and pushed open the heavy door, feeling completely frustrated. She paused and turned back around to look at her wife, still standing on the opposite side of the road. All marriages went through rough patches. It was one of the things that sorted the wheat from the chaff. Those who believed in marriage from those who didn’t. Those who wanted to succeed from those who gave up all too easily. She looked at Zara, still pouting on the pavement, and prayed to God her wife was one of them.

  Zara suddenly shouted, “I’m sorry!”

  “What?” gulped Andi, almost under her breath. She turned and walked slowly back down the path and out of the white pillars.

  Zara trotted across the road, causing her poker straight hair to sway from side to side. “I said, I’m sorry.” She rushed forwards and enveloped Andi in a full bodied hug.

  The contact felt wonderful. Just like it used to. “It’s fine.”

  Zara looked to the floor. “I’ve had a hard day. The stocks are down. We’re having issues with our biggest client and I’m just a bit strung out. I feel like I only ever get to spend time with you at social events, and I miss you.” She kept her eyes on the pavement. “I’m sorry, Andi. You didn’t deserve that. Forgive me?”

  Andi squeezed her even tighter. It was more of an explanation and apology than she had ever hoped for. “Forgiven and forgotten,” she said smiling, taking her wife’s hand and leading her up the path and towards their handsome home. She pushed open the black door and flicked on the lights, gently illuminating their spacious hallway into a warm glow.

  Zara clipped over the dark parquet flooring, hung her designer jacket on the antique coat stand and kicked off her red bottomed Louboutin heels. “Straight to bed?” she asked with a hint of suggestion.

  Andi sat down on the velvety chaise longue next to the door and began to unzip her favourite black boots. She tilted her wrist and checked her watch. “I feel dreadful saying this, but I do just need five minutes to check the Twitter feed, and then I’ll be up.”

  “Seriously?” snapped Zara. “After what I’ve just said? After the apology I’ve just given you? You’re still going to go and check on your bloody Twitter feed?”

  “Oh Zara, you know I have to. It’s work. We have to get an idea of the public response to the debate.”

  “I’ll give you my public response,” spat Zara. “It was painful.” She made her way to the bottom of the open staircase and clung on to the oak banister, staring angrily back at her wife. “It was painful to see you fighting for the marriages of other people when you clearly don’t give a shit about your own.”

  Andi leaned back in shock. She felt winded. Knocked off guard. Zara could be cold sometimes, a bit mean even; but never vindictive. This was a new low. She sat still and tried to compose herself. “You know me better than that.” Andi paused, trying to take in the enormity of the accusation. “I married you for life, Zara.” Coughing lightly, she spoke with more force. “I’ve said I’ll be up in five, and I will.”

  “Don’t bother,” came the harsh response.

  ****

  Andi pulled her cream leather chair into her home office desk and clicked her computer back to life. All of her regular pages flashed up. Email, Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn, and Proud Unity. She decided to leave the thirty two emails that were flashing, waiting to eat up the precious little time she could afford, until the morning, where they would still be waiting for her, in her inbox, along with another thirty two new ones at least. Twitter was different. Twitter couldn’t wait. @iProudUnity and @iAndiArmstrong received so many mentions, that if not checked regularly, would disappear into the ether forever. She clicked onto the Proud Unity feed and scrolled through the tweets, quickly noticing that someone had already been through the bulk of them and posted polite replies, thanking them for their support and pointing them in the direction of the Proud Unity website. Or alternatively stating that Proud Unity followed a no-exceptions policy of reporting offensive tweets to the police. “Stella,” sighed Andi under her breath. “What on earth am I going to do without you?” She smiled and switched users.

  Her personal page flashed up with 867 new interactions; a record high. Today’s debate had been well publicised as a means of kick starting the government’s twelve week equal-marriage consultation period, and Andi realised that a huge proportion of the LGBT community, and that of the Church, would have been watching. She started to scroll through the messages, posting brief replies to important tweeters, such as supporting MPs or campaigning celebrities, who had praised her on her sterling performance. In her eyes, every single tweet was important, no matter who sent it. The fact that people had taken the time to show their support and offer their personal congratulations, continued to mean the world to her, and always would. But she had fast learned that a personal reply to all was simply not possible. She stopped at the message from @iJohnElton. It read:

  Check in the dictionary under the words: Courage, Fearlessness & Balls. They all say @iAndiArmstrong #EqualMarriage.

&nbs
p; Andi let out a silent scream. John Elton, the real John Elton, with a blue tick next to his name, had tweeted her. She pushed away from the desk, sending her chair skidding backwards on its wheels. She was about to jump off and run upstairs, when she stopped, suddenly remembering the look of disgust on Zara’s face. Would this make things worse? Would this confirm Zara’s suspicion that she was indeed in it for the fame and stature? Andi sighed, remembering how excited they both used to get in the early days when she received a three lined mention in the local paper, or a vague recognition from someone in the street. She smiled at the memory. It seemed a lifetime ago. Pulling herself back into her work desk, in her private office, she pressed the retweet button instead.

  Andi rubbed her eyes and tried to focus. Maybe Zara was right. Maybe this could wait. Maybe it should wait. People knew she was busy, and they never expected a reply, always replying back, once more, to say thank you to her for the reply to their reply. She decided to do what she hated and send a general tweet of thanks. She composed it carefully.

  To everyone who’s tweeted. Thank you. This is a battle we’ll win together, with unity, pride and justness on our side. #equalmarriage.

  She pressed the blue tweet button and rolled her shoulders, resigned to the fact that she was once again in the wrong. Zara was right. She needed to slow down. Show her wife that she was, and always would be, her priority. She reached down to turn off her computer, suddenly noticing a new interaction flash up.

  Beth @iWatchThemFall -Time u @iAndiArmstrong got what’s coming 2 u. Self righteous bitch. #NastyPayback

  Chapter Three

  Zara and Andi were gently making their way through Regent’s Park, strolling arm in arm towards the Honest Sausage Café. They used to make the short walk from their home every Saturday morning, eagerly anticipating a hearty breakfast in the welcoming, and deliciously aromatic, old-fashioned eatery. They would enjoy the buzz of the early morning joggers, and smile at the love struck couples passing slowly by. But today it felt different. Today it was muted. The walk was pleasant enough and the contact felt good, but there was something missing; a strange distance between them. Andi looked towards the huge boating lake and decided to try again. “How deep do you think that lake is?”

  Zara straightened her hair. “Regular lake depth? I don’t know.”

  “It’s only four feet deep.”

  “Is it, sweetie?”

  Andi could tell that Zara wasn’t really interested, but at least she was trying to engage. “I read about it a while ago. I guess we haven’t made this walk since then.”

  Zara shrugged her shoulders inside her expensive shearling coat. “We’ve been busy.”

  “I know,” accepted Andi, hoping it wasn’t a dig. She pointed at the lake “Apparently one winter’s day in the eighteen sixties, there were over two hundred people on the ice, walking, skating and playing, when it gave way.” Andi looked up at her wife to see if she was paying attention. “All of them plunged into the lake. Forty were killed, I think.”

  “Cheery,” nodded Zara, keeping her eyes on the open parkland ahead and the trees that were still bare after the unusually harsh winter.

  “Yes, so they drained it and reduced its depth to just four feet, before reopening it to the public.”

  “Thank you for that useful nugget, my darling.”

  “Oh Zara, what’s wrong?” Andi pulled on the linked arm. “Are you still cross with me from last night?”

  “I’ve never been cross with you. Just frustrated.”

  “With me?”

  Zara exhaled, misting the cold air. “With us.”

  Andi stopped walking and looked to the wooden park bench. “Talk to me then. Please, let’s just sit down, and talk. We’re a married lesbian couple, we’re good at talking.”

  Zara pulled her faux fur collar tighter around her neck. “Sweetie, it’s February. It’s cold. I’m hungry.”

  “Do you love me, Zara?”

  Zara shifted on the spot. “What a ridiculous thing to ask. Of course I love you.”

  “Well sometimes you don’t act like it.”

  “What do you want me to do? Bow down to you like one of your crazy fans. Constantly tell you how brilliant you are and how lucky I am to have you?”

  Andi rubbed her own shoulders, trying to fend off the cold. “Once in a while might be nice.”

  “I told you last night that I loved you.”

  Andi looked up at the dark eyes staring down at her, unsure if it was anger or hurt she could see. “Only after you accused me of using you for your money and being some sort of glory hunter.”

  “Did I call you that?”

  Andi became conscious of a passing female jogger and lifted her eyebrows at Zara’s slightly raised voice. “Not exactly,” she whispered

  “So don’t put words into my mouth then,” said Zara, loudly. “I’m a 39-year-old business woman. Not a 12-year-old school girl.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. The last thing I want to do is argue. It’s the first Saturday we’ve had off together for ages, and I want it to be great.”

  “Well stop being so needy then.” Zara offered a smirk. “You’re the great Andi Armstrong, the powerhouse of women’s lib. What would people think if they saw you now?”

  “It’s a good job I recognise your sarcastic side,” said Andi, gently nudging her wife and starting their slow walk once again. “But sometimes, I still don’t know how to take you.”

  “You can take me anyway you want,” smirked Zara, “but my preference is from behind.”

  “Oh be serious, will you!” Andi finally found the eye contact she had been looking for. “You know I love you.” She kept staring at her wife. “And I’m not needy. You know that. I just really love you, and I really love you loving me. We both have crazy work schedules, and things can get tense sometimes. But I love you.” Her amber eyes were honest and wide. “You know that, don’t you?”

  “I know you do, sweetie, and maybe I was a bit insecure like you when I was-”

  “I’m not insecure.”

  “Well maybe I was a bit needy like you, when I was twenty nine.” Zara paused. “Actually no, scratch that, I’d already made my first million and was busy reaching for the top rung of the ladder at work. Not to mention busting the balls of all of those men on the way.”

  Andi laughed. “So what did you see in me?”

  “You were my young whipper-snapper. I wanted to know I’d still got it.”

  “Was that all?”

  “Oh, Andi, I’m teasing you.” Zara broke the eye contact. “You know what happened. We fell in love. We were smitten with one another.” She shrugged. “You remember how it was?”

  “I remember how you wooed me.” Andi smiled. “You sent me flowers every single day for a month.” She shook her head in remembrance. “Every single day. But you know I only agreed to a date because I thought I was developing hay fever, right?”

  “Touché!”

  Andi smiled. “I thought you’d like that one.” She laughed. “But remember how you used to ring me every couple of hours just to say hi?”

  Zara rolled her eyes. “What a waste of time and money.”

  “Stop it! We were love’s young dream.”

  “Yes, I guess we were.”

  Andi frowned. “Were?”

  Zara looked at her wife. “Oh Andi, stop questioning things. I love you just as much now as I did then. But we got married. The focus shifts. It’s not all love notes and spontaneous surprises. We’ve grown up. We’re concentrating on our careers.”

  Andi smiled. “I loved your spontaneous surprises. Remember the time I arrived home and you were standing in the hall with a suitcase and a sombrero?”

  “How could I forget? I ended up with Dysentery.”

  Andi looked down and kicked a broken twig from the path. “It was a great holiday. You know it was.”

  Zara lifted Andi’s chin with her finger, drawing their eyes together. “We always have great holidays.�
�� She smiled. “Stop worrying. We’re fine. We work. We always have done and we always will do.”

  Andi nodded. “Yes, it does work, doesn’t it?”

  “It does, sweetie.” Zara laughed. “You save the world and I pay for it.”

  ****

  Andi took a bite from her hot sausage sandwich, feeling warmth both inside and out. The atmosphere in the café was always fantastic, with locals and holiday makers mixing nicely and chatting about the uniqueness of the place itself, the Honest Sausage Café. She felt an extra special glow, thanks to the gentle kiss Zara had placed on her lips as they had entered. Zara had always been hard to read, but Andi had attributed that to their age gap and the high profile nature of Zara’s job. Spending her days securing multi-million pound deals for her Investment Company, G-Sterling, and working with some of the biggest players in the industry, only to return home to her, who must seem rather dull and insignificant in comparison. It was love though. It always had been.

  Andi smiled at her wife as they enjoyed their breakfasts. “I don’t think there are many honest sausages out there, do you?”

  Zara swallowed too quickly and started to cough. She took a shallow breath, checking her airways were clear. “You always tell that joke when we’re here and I never laugh at it, sweetie.”

  “You’re meant to say: ‘well it’s the only sausage getting past my lips.’”

  “Am I?”

  “Yes, can’t you remember?”

  “No.”

  “It’s true though, isn’t it?”

  Zara put her warm, sausage filled baguette, back on her plate. “What?”

  “Men and their...” Andi looked around the cosy café and hushed her voice. “...Men and their tiddlers. They’re not honest are they? None of them!”

  Zara narrowed her eyes. “Ooo, what have we here. The ever so diplomatic Andi Armstrong, being controversial and stereotypical.”