A Gift from The Bard

"I understand. Mrs Peterson. I always knew I had, like, a crush on Suzie; I guess it was more than a crush but I was too scared to accept that it was really much more than a crush and that I, well, I fancied her."

"Maybe if I'd lost weight sooner and been more attractive you might have been able to accept it," Suzie suggests.

"No Suzie: the problem was me, not you," Emily replies, grasping Suzie's hand affectionately.

"And the boyfriends?" I prompt.

"There were only two!" she protests but then sighs. "I'm not sure why I went out with Tom. No, I do know; he was kind and clearly interested in me and, deep down, I was trying to convince myself that I'm not a lesbian. It, well it obviously didn't work and it wasn't very kind to Tom either," she admits sadly. "I knew I had feelings for Suzie and when she said about going to Pride I wanted to come too and to, well, stop pretending."

"So you're happy now that you're a lesbian?" I ask. What I mean is 'are you now sure that you are, a lesbian?' but she misunderstands.

"Happy? Mrs Peterson, I'm still bloody terrified! I mean I really love Suze: I love being with her and kissing her and, um, everything..." Blushing is becoming her constant state as her cheeks flare again.

"I think I get what you mean," I assure her.

"Er, yeah... but I don't know what it'll be like when I tell people and as for Mum and Dad... shit, yes, I'm scared but I still want to be with Suzie. I want to be her girlfriend," she finishes firmly and I nod.

"Well, Suzie being a lesbian scares me too," I admit. "There's a lot of prejudice and hatred around that I'd rather she didn't have to face." The two of them look solemnly at me. "However, given that my lovely girl is gay, then I'd rather she has someone beside her, someone whom she loves and who loves her back." The image of the two of them cuddled together in bed comes back to mind. "The two of you do make a lovely couple," I admit. Suzie smiles but Emily looks uncomfortable. "Are you okay, Emily?" I ask.

"I suppose. It's just Mum and Dad; I wish... I wish they were like you, Mrs Peterson. You accept Suze being gay because you love her, but I think they'll hate me when I tell them I love Suze."

"You don't know that Emmy," Suzie tells her. "I know it'll be a shock for them but given time won't they come to accept it? They do love you."

"Suze, your Mum saw us together in bed -- naked in bed -- and you said she came downstairs to have a cup of tea and think about it. If we'd been at home and Mum had caught us, well I reckon she'd have dragged you out of the house by your hair, naked probably, accusing you of being some sort of demoness sent to corrupt me!"

"Seriously?" asks Suzie.

"I think you're exaggerating, Emily," I suggest.

"Well, she probably wouldn't throw Suze out of the house naked, but only because she'd be worried what the neighbours might think." That quip earns a smile from me and a little giggle from Suzie. "Seriously though, she would go, like, totally ballistic."

I can't pretend that this isn't a worry: what if Emily decides she can never tell her parents of her sexuality and leaves my daughter instead? Yet a few minutes ago she has said she wanted to be Suzie's girlfriend... Perhaps what she needs right now is support and not pressure.

"Emily, Emmy dear, your parents do not need to know now that you love Suzie, not next week nor even next month, isn't that true Suzie?"

"Definitely. Emmy, in a couple of months you'll be miles away from here in Bath..." I watch as Suzie leans in and kisses Emily lightly on the lips, "...and I'll be half an hour away in Bristol," she smiles.

"Bath?" I ask, recalling something Suzie told me. "Not, what was it, Suzie? Birmingham, wasn't it? A change of plan?"

"Okay, well I really liked the idea of being close to Suze when I'm a long way from home so I changed my mind on University. Actually, Mum and Dad were really pleased: 'Bath is so much nicer than Birmingham,' according to Dad."

"And if Lesbian, Gay, whatsit Pride hadn't happened would you have told Suzie of your feelings at some point when you were both at university?" I ask, intrigued.

"Well, I don't think I'd actually planned it out. When I applied to Bath I still couldn't admit to myself that I wanted Suze as a proper, you know, girlfriend; what I wanted this summer was to get our old friendship back and then, yes, both of us away from home, maybe part of me thought something might happen." She sighs. "Maybe if it had happened like that I'd have had time to build up the courage to tell Mum and Dad by the time we came home for Christmas. I'm not ready to tell them yet, Suze, I'm sorry."

"Emily," I say gently, "If you want to spend time together then you can come here, as much as you like. I don't know but maybe if your Mum and Dad know you're with Suzie a lot then it won't be such a shock when you tell them."

"Hear that, Emmy? I'd love it if you stayed here."

"I wasn't suggesting she came to live here," I point out. "If she did that she might as well tell her parents of her sexuality because they'd certainly wonder what was going on." Suzie nods but a little sadly and I have a fairly good idea what the matter is. "However," I say with a smile, "that doesn't mean that Emily can't spend the occasional night here, if that's what you're worried about." At least there'll be no chance of either of them getting pregnant and ruining their education, I tell myself.

Suzie stands and starts to come around the table towards me, smiling, and I stand to receive her hug. "Thank you, Mum, you're the best! I love you."

"I love you too." I glance across and see Emily sitting alone. Instinctively I raise my left arm, beckoning her over. Hesitantly she stands and comes round the table too as I step back a little, allowing her to join Suzie and me in the hug.

"Thank you, Mrs Peterson."

"As you're my daughter's girlfriend, you don't need to be quite so formal. Kate, Emily; my name is Kate."

"Um, okay... Kate." I release the two of them but they keep their arms around each other.

"Kate, eh?" Suzie asks with a grin at Emily, "Well, Kate, you know what we were doing last night but what about you? You were out all night!" I stare at her for a moment. On a scale of one to peculiar this morning rates as surreal: I've discovered my daughter in bed with her lesbian lover, seen her completely naked for the first time since she was about eight, agreed to them sleeping together here in future and now Suzie is asking, basically, if I had sex last night! I expect I should feel horrified but I don't. Instead, it feels as if Suzie has suddenly grown up and I have a new friend, in which case...

"I'm sure you can work it out but yes, I was with Michael... and we were in bed together and, er, yes making love... just like you two, more or less." The fact that Emily looks shocked is no surprise but I'm pleased to see Suzie's eyes widen at my reply.

"Good answer, Kate!" is her cheeky response as she quickly recovers.

"Suzie, I don't mind you calling me Kate, just so long as it's not to try and take the pee, okay?" Her expression turns somewhat more thoughtful and she nods. Talking of Michael a thought occurs to me. "Now, on a more serious note, Michael is coming over for lunch this afternoon."

"So you want us out of the way, I understand," Suzie says.

"Just the opposite, actually: I'd like you not only to be here but to be, well, as you are now."

"You mean holding hands and stuff?" Emily asks warily.

"If that's what you want to do. I suppose what I'd really like to know is what he thinks about gays and lesbians in general and my daughter and her girlfriend in particular. I wish I'd known about you two sooner because if he's lesbianophobic or whatever the word is, then I'll not be going out -- or anything else -- with him again," I tell the two of them firmly. "Right, I don't know about you two but I'm famished. Who wants breakfast?"

Suzie

"I'm going to tell them." They were Emmy's words as we sat on the grass, with the broken and weathered, honey-coloured walls of Urquhart Castle rising close by as we look out across the startlingly deep blue of Loch Ness. We were side by side, leaning contentedly against each other with our rucksacks behind us as backrests. The sky was blue with high, translucent patches of cloud and the late summer sun unexpectedly warm. The first few days of our trip, our holiday together, Youth Hostelling around Scotland, had been wet and blustery so that Wednesday was a wonderful, if unexpected, change.

We had found that Youth Hostels, with their dormitory rooms, didn't offer much opportunity for night time affection, which was disappointing. Last night had been our second night at the Hostel in Inverness, so when we'd found ourselves the only occupants of the four-bed dorm, we had taken full advantage of our unexpected solitude. The lovemaking and the lack of sleep last night probably contributed to our feelings of gentle togetherness as we sat there.

"Who are you going to tell?" I asked, startled from my contemplation of the view and the enjoyment of her warmth against me. "And what will you tell them?"

"My parents: I'm going to tell them about us, about me being a lesbian. I want to tell them before we go off to university." Our eyes met and I felt that same upsurge of love and affection that can constrict my throat with its intensity. I was voiceless so I had no choice but to touch my lips to hers. It was the softest and most fleeting of kisses but we were outdoors, there were people around, though none nearby or paying us any heed. Nevertheless, it was the most daring kiss we'd ever shared.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," I apologised, "but I love you so much."

"I know you do, Suze," she replied, relaxing a little when there were no catcalls or shouts of outrage. "That's why I want to tell them."

"You don't have to for my sake, Emmy; I know how hard it'll be."

"It's not just for your sake but mine too, and for, well, us, as a couple." She hesitated, biting her lip in that cute, adorable way of hers. "You... you will be there with me, won't you, when I do?"

I reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, an excuse to touch her more than anything. "Of course I will, Emmy love."

And that's how we come to be standing in Emmy's sitting room this rather grey September Sunday afternoon. Mr Wilson is sat in the armchair, having been told by his wife to turn the TV off, whilst she is perched on the edge of the sofa. "So what is it you have to tell us," Mrs Wilson asks her daughter. My presence is, I think, giving them suspicions given the sidelong glances I'm receiving.

"Um," Emmy manages and the tremor in her voice wrings my heart; I wouldn't have known how to start this conversation with my Mum so how can Emmy have the faintest clue? I edge a little closer, so the back of my hand brushes hers, a desperate attempt to offer support.

"Mum, Dad," she begins again, "I really need to tell you something and, well it's going to be hard... Um... I want to say first that, however it may look, this isn't something sudden. I mean the final bit was quite sudden, I suppose, but the things that lead up to it were there for a long time, you know?"

"Emily, I don't know because you haven't said anything yet, at least nothing that makes any sense," her Dad tells her in a slightly frustrated tone.

"Okay, sorry... um, well, you know that Suzie and I have been friends for a long time -- more than half our lives, so a very long time -- and, well, we're more than just friends." There is silence and I notice we're all looking at Emmy's Mum.

"In what way are you 'more than just friends?'" Mr Wilson asks slowly. I feel Emmy fumble for my hand and, as her fingers interlace with mine, she raises our joined hands into full view.

"As in girlfriends; like, if Suze was a boy she'd be my boyfriend but she's a girl so... girlfriend."

"No, Emily," her Dad replies, "that cannot be right. I mean, you've had boyfriends, haven't you? You've been out with that chap, Tom, several times..."

"Dad I... I did but that didn't mean I loved him, nor that I didn't love Suzie..." She looks towards her Mum who is staring at the floor. "Mum, I was so afraid of being a lesbian, of what you'd think, I tried to deny it to myself: I was truly horrible to Suzie and I went out with Tom and I even..."

"Emmy, you didn't mean to hurt Tom," I interrupt; confessing to sleeping with him is not, I think, going to help at this point. "And you weren't that horrible to me, given how afraid you were of the feelings you had."

"How long ago did this start, Emily?" her Dad asks as her Mum neither moves nor speaks.

"Um, two, maybe two-and-a-half years ago; that was when I started wondering."

"Mrs Wilson, I know you must be angry with Emmy, I mean Emily, but, you know, 'The quality of mercy is not strained,'" I launch into a paraphrased version of Portia's speech from The Merchant of Venice. "'It drops as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. It is twice blessed: it blesses her that gives and her that takes. It is mightiest...'"

"Oh please, save your Shakespeare for the stage," Mrs Wilson replies quietly, her voice hoarse. "Must I be angry? With my daughter? Why not with you, Suzanne?"

"She's Suzie, Mum, not Suzanne. And it was me who first kissed her, not the other way around so blame me, not her."

"Would you excuse me please," Mrs Wilson asks and abruptly stands and walks out of the room. I look in surprise at Emmy and I notice even Mr Wilson looks apprehensive.

Emily

I watch as Mum stalks stiffly from the room. Suze looks at me, confused and unsure, and I see the concern in Dad's face. I can understand that because Mum's reactions all through this are not really what I'd expected.

"I'll... I'll go and talk to her," I tell Dad. "Sorry to leave you here alone, Suze, but I think I need to do this on my own," I whisper quietly but firmly, squeezing her hand. I start to go but on impulse turn back to kiss her lips lightly. If I've got to leave Suze alone with Dad then he might as well know I'm serious about her.

In the hall, I look into the kitchen and notice the back door is ajar. I walk towards it and can see Mum standing on the grass with her back to the house, looking into the sky. I take a deep breath and step through the door.

I stop a couple of steps behind Mum, who hasn't moved. "I'm sorry if this has upset you, Mum," I tell her honestly.

"Huh," she snorts softly. "All this is my fault." Her voice is sad.

"No, Mum; how can it be your fault? You've always encouraged me to do what's right, always been very firm in your faith and I respect that."

"Even though, as you've made perfectly clear in the past, you don't actually agree with my faith?"

"Well, I..."

"I wasn't raised in a particularly religious house, you know," she interrupts me unexpectedly. "Mama and Father went to church on Sunday, of course, but that was about it." I listen, not knowing what to say and unsure of why she's telling me this. "I suppose they had faith, in their own way, but I didn't, not then, and I resented being dragged to church every Sunday morning, just as you did." She falls silent but I still haven't a clue of what to say. After a while, she continues: "It was nineteen seventy and I was doing A Levels when I met him, Justin, in a pub. Oh Lord, I thought he was so cool. He was a couple of years older than me with long, dark hair, this long sheepskin coat with a fur collar that he always wore and the smell of him: I didn't know it at first but it was the pot, the marijuana, he smoked... I shared a joint with him later." She turns her head to look at me. "Are you surprised that I've tried drugs?" she asks.

"Um, yeah, a bit," I admit, massively understating my reaction, "but you were young."

"I was; young and free and wild and... and he invited me back to this house; a big, rundown place way over beyond the other side of town. It was, well a squat, I'd guess you'd call it these days but they called it the Free People's Collective. No one had a job but lived off dole money and whatever stuff they could beg or acquire." Mum is half turned towards me now and I see the hint of a smile while her gaze is distant, lost in memories.

"I didn't go home that night, nor the next. I phoned Mama: Justin insisted, saying none of us needed the hassle of the police -- 'the pigs' he called them -- out looking for me because she and Father had reported me missing. I told them I was staying with friends for a few days and sneaked home the next Sunday to take some clothes. I stayed there, at the Collective, for months, dropping out of school... And it certainly was free in so many ways, if you understand what I'm saying."

"Um..." Though I can scarcely believe it, I suspect that I do; however, if I'm wrong Mum would be horrified by my even thinking it. "Well, I'm not sure..."

"Sex, Emily, or 'free love' as we called it back then."

"So, you slept with Justin?"

"Yes, I did, often; and not only Justin," she says as she turns to me, "and not only with men." I feel my jaw drop as I gasp in shock.

"You slept with women?" I can hardly believe I'm hearing this.

"Yes. Does that shock you?

"Well... it's, er, certainly a massive surprise. Um, were there a lot of women?"

"Not lots, no, just a few and... oh, Emily, please don't think badly of me but, well... mainly it was just sex, it just happened, kissing and touching in the heat of the moment... except with Rosie; it was different with her -- like it meant something real... something like... well, more than just sex."

"You loved her?"

"We got on well together and I really liked her, as a friend, but I never said I loved her. She told me she really preferred women to men and wanted to find another group like the collective but just women, lesbians. I suppose I might have gone with her if she'd found one," she says musingly.

"Didn't she find one?"

"I don't know; I'd been living in the Collective for about eight months when I had an accident; I broke my leg badly and ended up in hospital. There was a young chaplain there and he came to see me every day. He helped me: helped reunite me with my parents and to find faith in God, a faith that saved me from that feckless, sinful life. I should have passed that faith on to you, Emily, and kept you from the mistakes I made. Given things I've said in the past you probably think me the most colossal hypocrite, but I've only tried to stand up for what is right," she says with a deep and uncomfortable sadness that I don't know how to answer because her words are too near the truth. I have found her insufferably prudish, judgemental and downright annoying at times and to hear of her sexually uninhibited past makes that all the more irritating -- and, yes, hypocritical.

"Mum, does... does Dad know about Justin and, free love and you being bisexual?"

"Bisexual? I suppose I might have been but not now, definitely not." I wonder who Mum is trying to convince most: me or herself. "Your Father knows some of it, though I only told him eight or nine years ago. I told him about me living at the Collective and that I had, well, that I wasn't really a virgin when we married. I wonder if my telling him was what made him, you know, with that woman." Of course, Dad's brief affair; I'd been too young to think about why Dad had started seeing this 'other woman' that Mum told me about as she tried to explain the rows and arguments between her and Dad.

"What made you suddenly decide to tell him then, after you'd been married for years?" I ask, puzzled.

"It felt like there was something wrong in the marriage, like we were drifting apart. I worried that he could sense I was keeping secrets from him or maybe my secret, shameful past was somehow poisoning our love. I thought if I was completely honest with him it could bring us together, that when he understood that I knew there were other ways of living but that I had chosen to leave that sinful life and to marry him then he would understand how much I loved him. So I told him about the Collective."