Page 65 of Barging In
Finding her shoes and grabbing her purse, she made her way down the corridor and opened the door at the end. The galley was alive with motion. Clem flitted among work surfaces, pulling things from cupboards. Cakes stood cooling on the side, filling the space with a sugary scent and stirring an unexpected hunger inside her. Clem must have been up for hours.
It suddenly struck her — where had Clem slept?
“Oh, morning,” Clem said, finally spotting her. “How are you feeling?”
“Surprisingly rested, though a little hazy. Did you—” Victoria shook her head, stopping herself. It didn’t matter if they had shared a bed or not.
“I made up the other bed. Don’t worry, I’m not in the habit of corrupting straight, drunk women on my narrowboat. It’s not exactly a den of iniquity.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply anything.” Victoria scrunched her face, annoyed with herself. “For the record, I’m not straight, you know.” The words slipped out before she could stop them. Why had she said that? Whatever her reason, relief flooded her, making her legs tingle and weaken. She had to lean on the worktop to steady herself.
“No? Oh! Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.” Clemrubbed the back of her neck, her gaze flicking towards the floor for a moment until she looked up and smiled warmly. “But thank you for telling me. It’s good to know.”
Victoria tilted her head in question. “Is it?”
“Erm, err, yes,” Clem stammered. “It’s always good to know when you’re in thebestcompany. Coffee?”
“Please.” Victoria was dying to know what she meant exactly. “I assume that’s an upgrade from average company.”
Clem chuckled, busying herself with the large espresso machine. “You know what I mean. There’s something about being around other queer people.” She paused, looking at Victoria. “Oh. Is it okay to say that? I know some older people struggle with the word.”
Victoria raised an eyebrow. “Older… people?”
“Oh, sorry!” Clem replied, scrunching her face again. “I just don’t want to offend.”
“And yet you class me as an older person.”
“Well, you kind of are.” Clem smirked as she placed a paper cup under the spouts. “As am I — compared to the youngsters, anyway.”
Victoria smirked at Clem, watching her dig a hole and try to climb out again. When she noticed that Clem had begun to fidget, she rested a hand on her arm.
“Clem, it’s fine; use whatever words you want. What were you trying to say?”
“Oh, I just meant that when you’re around other queer people, you know you’re safe and they won’t judge you. You’re in your tribe — people who share similar experiences. Most of us know what some of us have been through — shame, isolation, fear, rejection, erasure, discrimination, inequality... The list is endless, isn’t it? But they are the things that shape us into whatever form we end up in.”
Victoria hummed her agreement. Even if she felt that being a closeted bisexual in a straight-presenting relationship had shielded her from some of it. She had still felt the fear. It still shaped her.
“It’s such a different experience from straight people,” Clem continued, turning to her with the paper cup full of coffee in hand. “They can never truly understand how we feel, even if they are allies.
“Most people don’t even realise we have a different experience. They go blissfully through life, assuming we’re all the same, that we’ve all had the same upbringing. And yet some still go out of their way to highlight our differences, with name-calling, controlling us, setting rules we have to live by, not seeing our relationships as equal.”
Victoria nodded, trying to take it all in, but she found herself more caught up in the way Clem spoke, drawn in by her passion and the conviction in her voice.
Clem looked down at the cup she was still holding. “Oh, sorry. Espresso, right?” Her eyes twinkled as she handed the paper cup over. “I’m sure that’s what you had with your lemon drizzle that first time.”
“Correct. Thank you,” Victoria said, taking it.
Their fingers brushed against each other. The touch was too brief to mean anything, but too deliberate not to. It was enough to send something light and electric skimming down her spine.
“Anyway, how are you finding it?” Clem asked. “The boat, I mean. You mentioned once you weren’t a fan. In fact, I seem to remember you said something about vowing to never set foot inside one again.”
“I believe I said I wasn’t in a hurry to repeat the experience of being inside one, not that I wouldn’t go inside one,” Victoria corrected her matter-of-factly.
Clem smirked. “Well, in any case, I’m glad you’re here.”
A warm glow spread quietly through Victoria — that feeling of someone wanting her; well, her company at least.
“Me too,” Victoria replied, rubbing at her throat, hoping to relieve some of the tension in it that was telling her she should probably leave soon. To get away from the woman who was stirring emotions she had no right to entertain. But she didn’t want to. “I’m sorry that I stole your bed.”
