Page 39 of Birds of a Feather

As the lift dinged to indicate she’d reached the ground floor, the butterflies resumed their frenzied flapping inside her belly.

Despite having seen Gerry’s photo on the internet, she was worried she wouldn’t recognise her. And Gerry had no way of knowing what Elise looked like now. What if I approached the wrong person? She wondered. It occurred to her they should have arranged to each carry a rose, or a copy of Wuthering Heights perhaps.

But she needn’t have worried.

As she rounded into the foyer, she spotted Gerry immediately. She was sitting on one of the plush armchairs with an upright elegance; her knees were together and feet to one side. Elise wasn’t wearing her glasses, and the lines on Gerry’s face were smoothed, so she looked just like when Elise had last seen her.

Gerry looked up and smiled in instant recognition.

‘Elise,’ she said, rising out of the chair with an ease that couldn’t be assumed in a woman of her age. ‘It’s so good to see you.’

Elise willed her legs to work, but they felt like they were filled with cement. She had travelled halfway across the world, but the ten or so steps needed to reach Gerry felt like the greatest part of the journey.

Gerry approached her and placed a hand on either side of Elise’s upper arms. Her grip was warm and firm – confident and reassuring, just like it had always been.

‘Oh, Gerry,’ Elise said in a whispered gasp as she leaned into her embrace.

Gerry felt bonier than Elise remembered, and her scent, while lovely, was unfamiliar. But Elise felt a familiar tingle down her spine. She’d felt it the first night they were together and every time she touched her afterwards.

The tears that had gathered in Elise’s eyes spilled down her cheeks. She pulled backwards and sniffed into her hand.

‘Urgh, God. Sorry. What a mess. My face is leaking.’

She rummaged around in her jacket pockets for a tissue but, as it was new, she hadn’t stashed any away.

‘Aha!’ Gerry exclaimed triumphantly, reaching into her handbag. ‘Allow me.’

She produced a small folded handkerchief with dainty scalloped lace edges.

‘Oh my goodness,’ Elise exclaimed, taking the handkerchief and inspecting the tiny coloured stitches that she had shaped into a Gouldian finch in the corner of the hankie sixty years ago. It was dotted with small splotches of discolouration, which betrayed its age, and the fabric had worn slightly in the folds.

She turned the hankie over in her hand. The backside was as neat as the front; her mother would have been proud of her needlework – if she could have looked past the fact it was a gift for her female lover.

‘I can’t believe you kept it,’ Elise exclaimed. ‘I had completely forgotten about this until now.’

‘Of course I kept it. I’ve treasured it since you gave it to me. They’ll have to pry this out of my cold dead hand.’

Elise pointed to the Gouldian finch brooch on her lapel, which she’d retrieved from the box on the day she spoke to Gerry.

Gerry inhaled sharply and leaned in to examine the brooch more carefully. ‘Well, I never,’ she said softly. ‘Aren’t we just a pair of old hoarders,’ she said after she released the brooch and took a step back. Elise dabbed her face lightly with the hankie, hopeful that her long-life make-up would live up to its promise of staying put.

‘Right then,’ Gerry said, clapping her hands together in the same way she did at uni when there was a decision to be made or a plan to be devised. Back then, she had been a natural-born leader, who attracted people to follow her with her confidence and charisma. It seemed little had changed.

‘We’ve got a few options. Number one: we can stay here playing show and tell all night; it could be fun, but we’ll probably get hungry. Number two: we can head to a little French place around the corner, which has sensational food and authentically arrogant waitstaff. Or, number three: we can head back to my place, where I can cook for you.’

‘You? Cook?’ Elise asked incredulously. The English rose she knew in university had spent her formative years being served by a household of staff and had struggled to boil water in the college common room.

Gerry nodded enthusiastically.

‘You should see me now,’ she said, her eyes wide with the same enthusiasm Elise recognised from the vivacious, vital young woman she’d fallen in love with. ‘I’m a whiz in the kitchen.’

Elise chuckled. ‘This I have to see.’

‘Good,’ she replied, with a ceremonial nod of her head. ‘My place is a short walk from here. If you’re up to it, of course.’ She surveyed Elise’s legs for signs of functionality.

‘A walk sounds lovely,’ Elise said, extending and retracting her right foot and then her left, as though performing the hokey-pokey. ‘They’ve got a few miles left in them still, I think. Besides, if I remember correctly, you’re more than capable of piggybacking me if I get into a bind.’

Gerry tilted her head, as if searching for the reference, and then smiled broadly. She remembered too.

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