36
She watched as the removal men struggled with her sofa, Toby sat, waiting patiently beside her. The house already looked empty, bereft of any of the warmth it once held, but she had to stand by her decision. The house was Luke's and Elaine's and now Lucinda had to start a new chapter. She could never forget Elaine, not to her dying day, but she had to move on. Whether that included moving to Manchester or not was a different decision to make. One for the future.
A glance to the side showed a twitching curtain, Graham watching the fruits of his threat in more ways than one. Lucinda stood, as proud as she could, dressed in a smart, business-style grey dress that came to her mid-thigh. Three inch heels dig in to the gravel of the driveway. Her hair, her own hair, given volume and height, drifted in the light breeze. The removal men had given her several looks but had said nothing. Looks she could handle.
"Bold move." Shoes on the gravel made grating noises as Helen approached. She ran a hand down the clinging grey dress. "A statement? Or just because you can?"
"Because this is who I am now." She almost laughed as one of the removal men stumbled upon seeing the giant form of Helen. "Where've you been? You were supposed to be here an hour ago. Then again, if you're only late by an hour I'm taking that as a win."
"I have been pursuing my twisted revenge. Muah-ha-ha!" The fake laugh made the removal men glance again, but they continued on with the sofa toward the big van. "Are you done yet? Shopping, darling! Must. Go. Shopping!"
"Soon, you impatient bitch." She wrapped her arm around Helen's waist. "Revenge on who, may I ask?"
She looked again toward Graham's house and Helen caught the look. With both hands, Helen raised middle fingers toward the still-moving curtains, then grabbed her crotch with one hand while miming taking a cock in her mouth with the other. A few weeks ago, Lucinda would have felt horrified about that, not wishing to bring attention to herself. Now it felt like the new normal. Once finished with her display, Helen turned back around as though she hadn't done anything.
"No, not to that filthy bastard." She leaned down, whispering in Lucinda's ear. "It's a secret. Besides, that dirty scumbag will get his one day. He'll proposition someone else who isn't as soft-hearted as you, or his wife will find out. That's revenge enough."
Lucinda narrowed her eyes at that. It could happen. Graham had shown little restraint when he had come to the house. Maybe fate had something in store for the older man, or maybe it didn't, but she couldn't help but wonder what scheme Helen had cooked up. Who she had exacted revenge against. It could be anybody. Helen had a way of truly not caring who she upset. Still, it was nice to see her almost back to her normal self.
After the last night of Butterfly, Helen had disappeared for more than a day. Krystal hadn't seemed too bothered. It appeared Helen had done that before, but Lucinda had worried until Helen returned, full of life. She had, apparently, gone to Manchester to test the waters and had ended up in, what she called, the threesome of the decade. If nothing else could prove to Helen she had made the right decision, sex would do it.
As the last items became carried from the house, Lucinda closed the door and locked it. She didn't want one last look, to imprint fading memories in her mind, to remind her of what she had given up. All the memories she needed were indelibly written in her thoughts. Moping around an empty, echoing house would serve nothing but regret.
The removal men had Lucinda's spare keys for the house she had rented and didn't need her to stand and watch as they filled that place with her belongings. Everything was clearly marked for the rooms they needed to go in and they would post the keys through the door when finished. She and Helen had other things to do.
It wasn't a busy day in the city and, with Toby left in Helen's flat with Krystal, they set off to tour the shops for one last time. At least, the last time together. Things had changed so much since they had first come to the city together. Luke had faded away and now Lucinda stood in his place. The trepidation felt that time, looking at clothing that Luke hadn't even felt certain he would wear, had given way to an air of laissez faire about the whole thing.
She had spent so much time dressed, now, that she didn't feel uncomfortable in public at all. At least, not nearly as much. The stares didn't bother her too much and they didn't happen often. Only when someone took a closer, longer look at her. She still had more to do to pass more convincingly as the woman she felt herself to be. The comments, however, though they heard far fewer than before, still stung.
"So, you and Clarisse?" She held the hem of a dress out, looking at the pattern on the material. "Still talking?"
"Sure. She does most of the talking, as you'd expect, and if she calls me 'Mimi' and makes that smug smile that says she didn't-mean-it-but-what-can-you-do, one more time, I swear I'll bitch-slap her until her stupid beard falls out!" She scowled but only for a second before her face softened. "But, yeah, still talking. I'd thank you for arranging it but I'm still angry at you for arranging it."
"Idiot." She bumped her hip into Helen. "Oh! Good god! Look at that one!"
She dragged Helen to the more expensive section of the shop, where evening gowns hung upon dress dummies that looked creepy and far too thin. The kind that looked as though they paraded around the store, after hours, decrying the humans that thought they could wear the outfits even half-as-well as they did. The dress looked amazing, with little trails of thin, tubed glass beads that gave the impression of a waterfall tumbling from the single shoulder strap, down the fitted waist to the flared and split skirts.
"Wow! When did you get taste?" Helen looked mesmerised at the dress, mouth agape as she traced her fingers down the beads. She took a look at the price and grimaced, but that mesmerising dress had caught her and price meant nothing now. "Do you think I could go knicker-less in it? Kidding. Mostly. It must be the influence of Annalise. Or you've finally listened to Teacher Helen."
"I've always had taste!" She really hadn't. She remembered the first items of clothing she had bought and grimaced. "Mostly. And, yeah, Annalise has had ... she's ..."
"Good for you. She's good for you. Even I can see that." She poked Lucinda's nose with one hand as she waved for attention from a member of staff with the other. "What does it mean for you? Coming to Manchester? Staying? Marriage? Kids? Days at the coast with ice cream and sunblock that you don't need because you're wearing a wide-brimmed bonnet and a scarf?"
"What? No! I ... I don't think so. I don't know." She hadn't really thought about it, now she felt as though she could choke at the idea. Too many threads were in that pattern. "It's too early to say. I like the idea of Manchester. A a completely fresh start, you know. But, this is my home. Annalise is here. And ..."
"I'll have one of these in a size fourteen, gift wrapped. Don't look at me like that, love. It'll fit." She waved at the fabulous dress without even looking at the staff member. Helen was right, though. The staff member had given a scoffing glance at the size Helen asked for. "Well, you don't have to rush into anything. Unlike me. Rushing into things is kinda my jam. But, what we do have to do, is find you a frock almost as hot as this one. Not quite as hot, because there's no way you're taking attention from me, but hot-ish."
"I'm good. I already have something." The outfit Clarisse had told Carlo to give her had cost a little to adjust to Lucinda's size, but it was worth it. She wanted to see Helen's face when she wore it. "Also, and I can't insist on this enough, I am not singing at the party."
"Of course you are, darling. Everybody is. It's a party!" Helen laid her hands on Lucinda's shoulders, giving her most adorable, annoying pout. "You don't want to ruin my night, do you? Sweety? Darling? Besides, you think we can't hear you singing in the shower, but we can!"
She actually sang the word 'can'. Any time before and Lucinda would have cringed, stooping her shoulders at the thought that they brought attention to themselves. Now she didn't care and Helen certainly didn't. With fingers interlaced, they walked to the counter and waited for the staff member to finish wrapping the dress. Helen didn't need it wrapping, she only wanted to be awkward.
"What about Krystal?" The woman wrapping the dress looked up at them both more than once as she tied the ribbon into a bow. "Are we getting her something and ... fuck me! Is that the price or the GDP of a small country?"
"Don't worry, darling. The benefits of being back in Maman's good graces are multitude." With a grin, Helen removed a credit card from her bag, handing it over, between two fingers, with a sweeping gesture. She winked at the staff member. "Krystal! Oh, bless that child! She's bought, and I can't stress how fucking adorable this is, a fairy fucking princess outfit. Tiara and wand included. I love that girl, but she is fucking bonkers!"
That certainly seemed very much a 'Krystal' thing to do. Lucinda found it hard to believe the girl had suffered so much at such a young age and had turned out as pleasant and loving a person she had ever met. For certain, sometimes, she acted a little childish, which probably stemmed from her abuse, but it didn't appear to be too much of a bad thing. She enjoyed life, especially with Helen and, if someone who had suffered what Krystal had could go on to love life, then anyone could.
Lucinda could. She had made it hard for herself, more often than she liked to admit, but she could love life, too, if she allowed herself to. She had surrounded herself with good friends and a woman that accepted her for who she was. She couldn't ask for more. Well, perhaps she could ask for a little more.
An answer to the question of where she went from here, continuing to live here, or up north, in Manchester. Another question would be nice to have answered. The question of whether she could ever speak to Andy again, spend time with him, Cath and Skye, or whether that door had irrevocably closed.
More urgently, she had the question of what she could sing at the staff party. She wasn't fooling anyone with her protests. Helen would get her on that stage if she had to carry her on and that wasn't an imagined threat, that was a certainty. She hadn't sung in front of anyone since school. Wasn't even certain she even could sing anymore, but it was happening and she had to choose just the right song. A song that spoke to her and everybody there. It had to be a showstopper.