Page 85 of Broken Beyond Repair
“Don’t act the innocent. That smirk you’re failing miserably to hide. What’s it for this time?”
“You said ‘enthusiasts’ when I assume you meant to say ‘nerds’.”
“Ha,” Sydney replied. “Don’t cut yourself on that wit of yours, will you? It would be terrible if you were to bleed out.”
“I’m sure an enthusiast could recommend a good camper cleaner if I were to.”
“I’m sure several could help me dispose of a body too.”
Beatrice winced. “Oof.”
“Too far?”
“A little.”
Returning her attention to the delightful countryside with a smile on her face, Beatrice realised this was what she was going to miss most about Sydney, well, apart from her walking around in a bikini. The intelligent, dynamic conversation she craved had been in abundance over the last few weeks. Sydney was on her wavelength, whether they were sharing this jokey banter, talking in depth about the book or passing the time over dinner.
The woman was intelligent first and foremost, and that was the most attractive part of her, that and her passion and determination to do the right thing and do it correctly. She could have chosen to leave at any point; she’d been given plenty of opportunities to admit defeat and declare her employer unbearable to be around. Even in their darkest moments, when Beatrice had yelled at her not to come back, there she was sleeping nearby, making sure she was okay.
She inhaled and then sighed, not realising how loudly until it was too late. From the corner of her eye, she could see Sydney glance at her. Grabbing her phone from her handbag she typed out a message to let Alex know they would be back in a few hours, assuming he was now up after yet another late-night PlayStation session with friends. A simple ‘K’ came back. Was there any hope for the future of the English language? She’d been quietly pleased when he’d declined the invitation to join them and rolled over and gone back to sleep. She wanted Sydney all to herself for one final outing.
They sat in silence for the remainder of the journey, a comfortable silence. They often sat working in the kitchen for hours at a time, neither speaking. After five weeks living together they knew each other well enough not to have to fill every quiet moment.
The hill on the horizon finally grew larger in her view. As they began their ascent, Sydney became a little excitable. So excitable, Beatrice thought she should have worn a fancier hat and placed a bet; it was like a day at the races.
“Come on, girl, you can do it!” Sydney coaxed.
A drop of gear and rev of the engine propelled Gertie up. Her engine strained but still pulled, working her way onwards at a steady pace. As they reached an even steeper incline and the momentum they’d built dissipated, Sydney dropped to first gear. It was all or nothing now. Get up or go home.
“Come on, we’re nearly there. Keep going,” Sydney pleaded as she began jumping forward in her seat, giving Gertie every bit of help she could to make it to the top.
Even Beatrice found herself egging Gertie on in her head.
As they finally reached the crest, Sydney cheered and punched the air. “Attagirl! I knew you could do it.”
Beatrice surprised herself by clapping and cheering.
They parked up in the viewing area of a large, busy car park. She was going to need to arm herself with her usual disguise of sunglasses and a hat.
“The ground doesn’t look very flat. We better have the picnic near the van; we don’t want you falling and breaking another leg.”
Another six weeks at Highwood with Sydney and she’d be wearing a T-shirt that said, ‘I’m not a lesbian, but my wife is.’ She rolled her eyes at her silly thought; she wasn’t in love with Sydney — was she? She could see herself being so if she was around her for much longer. It was best to be gone and forget the summer ever happened. Restore some normality to her life.
Once Sydney laid out the blanket and picnic, she held Beatrice’s hands and lowered her to the ground, pulling a couple of cushions from Gertie to add a little comfort. The view was outstanding, the clear air allowing them to see all the way to London. The Shard stood out like a beacon on the horizon.
“Where will you go once you leave Highwood?” Beatrice asked, twiddling the stem of her wine glass.
“I don’t know, I haven’t really decided. My plan for the summer was to go to Cornwall and get some words down, but I’ll be happy not to see another word for some time. I might head east to the coast; take in the Garden of England.” Sydney yawned and leaned back on her elbows, closing her eyes as she let the sun warm her face. “Life is a journey, not a destination. It’s why I’ve always been happy doing my job. I’m not aiming for anything; I’m enjoying what I have and making a difference in people’s lives as I come and go. I’m there for people when they need it most, and I’m good at what I do. Wherever that may be.”
Was Sydney’s choice of words a dig at her?
“Whereas I am aiming for something?” Beatrice bit back. “Is that so bad?”
“I didn’t mean it to sound like I was questioning your life choices.”
Beatrice sighed, sorry to have snapped.
“Sorry. I’m a little sensitive when it comes to my decisions. I may have spent close to fifty years journeying around the world to create entertainment for people, yet personally, I don’t appear to have evolved. I’m still exactly where Victoria Harper was, pretending to be someone else for other people, in my career and personal life. The only difference is now I do it with wrinkles and a different name.”
