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The smile slid off my face as I shut the door on them. I was, to be honest, pretty peopled-out for one day. But I had been thinking that we – I – needed to get to know the pair of them better, after all. And this seemed like the perfect opportunity to do so. (And possibly get a little intel on Petra’s wellbeing while I was at it.)
Chapter Fifty-Six
The unease I felt as I walked alone into the pub was only marginally counteracted by the relief of the air conditioning. This heat was nothing compared to the scorching forty-odd degree heat we’d had the previous week, but for some reason I seemed to be feeling it more now. Perhaps because I was less distracted by all that walking on eggshells.
Cass saw me first and waved from a booth. Our drinks were in front of her. Heather was nowhere to be seen.
“Daniella’s talking to Martine over there,” she said, nodding towards the bar. Heather – Daniella? Another of her alters, presumably? – was leaning up against it, chatting to a blonde lady who I recognised as the owner of the boutique across the road from the bakery. I sat down opposite Cass, and we both watched their interaction for a minute.
“Daniella couldn’t have done this even a year ago,” Cass said suddenly, forcing my attention back to her.
“Done what?”
“Fronted in this place. In a public place. She’s always struggled with agoraphobia, and the pandemic didn’t help. It’s only thanks to her therapist that she can do it now. Even if she’s not the most comfortable.”
“Does she…?” I felt distinctly uncomfortable knowing this.
“Yeah, she said I could tell you this,” Cass said, reading my mind. “You and Petra have been kind of at the forefront of our minds today, and when I suggested we tell you… some stuff about us, she was fine with it. Her part of it, at least. We didn’t plan Martine being here, though. That was just good timing.”
“What did you want to tell me?”
“Well, nothing in particular. But we are very guarded about our story, and we wanted to drop that guard a bit with you. Petra knows all about it now. It’s not the most conventional of love stories. How can it be, when one of us has sometimes-crippling depression and the other has Dissociative Identity Disorder?” Cass chuckled.
“I meant to ask about that. How does that… work?” I said.
“Well, it was tricky at first. Felicia, as a system, has five alters. But there is nobody called Felicia: that’s simply the body’s legal name. My girlfriend is Heather, and I’m just good friends with Daniella, Coral, Autumn and Kylie. We couldn’t have done it without therapy, though. Couple’s therapy and individual. We… we nearly lost each other before we’d barely gotten off the ground. Stuff happened. And it’s only thanks to therapy that we figured out how to proceed in the long-term.”
“So what you’re suggesting is that Petra and I have couples’ therapy?” I could read between the lines.
“I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just floating the idea.”
“And how is my wife?” I said. My defences were going up, and I felt Cass had overstepped the mark slightly, so I allowed a little edge into my voice.
“Oh, she’s fine,” Cass said – a little too brightly, I thought. “Odd as it sounds, we don’t really talk about the situation. We’re all just getting to know each other as friends. And, of course, we’d like you to be a part of it, whether you’re with Petra or not.”
“I couldn’t stay friends with her,” I shook my head, blurting it out quite without meaning to. “If we do split up, I mean. It would have to be a clean break. One of us would have to leave the village – probably me. I certainly can’t afford to buy her out of the house, and I can’t stay here, not if she does. The constant reminder would be simply too painful.” To my horror, tears were filling my eyes.
Cass’s knee connecting with mine under the table told me that she saw, but I was very glad she didn’t draw any further attention to it. The phrase ‘real men don’t cry’ popped into my head suddenly, and I felt myself jolt. Was my body trying to tell me something? Now a tear actually slid down my cheek.
“Hey.”
Now Heather’s – Daniella’s? Heather’s? probably Heather’s – face was filling my vision. She slid into the booth opposite me and held out both of her hands. I stared at them, until I realised she wanted me to take them. I tensed up automatically and made no move to do so. After a moment, she withdrew them quietly, and leaned forward in the seat instead.
“Jean. Listen to me.” Her voice was steady.
“Heather, sit back,” Cass murmured, and Heather scooted back a few inches without altering her posture or even looking at her girlfriend.
“Jean,” she repeated, and it was only when I looked at her that I realised I had no idea where my gaze had been before.
“Mm?” I acknowledged her.
“It’s going to be okay.”
I tried – and failed – to suppress an eye roll. When Gemma had said that to me months ago, it had buoyed me, but from Heather it riled me.
“How can you say that?” My voice came out thick. “You have no idea what’s going on in our heads right now.”
“That is true,” Cass put in, and I looked at her. “But we’ve seen how much you love each other.”
