Her Melting Point

Girl Talk

The next day Jackie decided to stay home. She simply wasn't ready to face the world, all puns intended. The bridge of her nose, as well as the space between her nose and her left eye, were dark purple and a bit swollen.

She ended up spending the day on the sofa, with a book and a cuppa, Tartufo curled near her feet. Before leaving, Alexander had set her laptop, a bowl of grapes, and three satsumas on her coffee table; and then brought her mobile. She'd thrown him a surprised look then; but she'd sussed out why, pretty quickly. Every hour, like a clock, her phone would beep; and a message would pop up. Sometimes it was a picture of what he was busy with at the moment; sometimes a funny meme. Occasionally he'd write something, either to say that he missed her, or to ask how she was. If she didn't answer - although she tried to respond as much as she could - he didn't insist and didn't follow up. Somewhere among those messages he asked if he could leave work earlier and come over; and of course, she enthusiastically agreed.

After yet another beep, she'd picked up her mobile from the afghan, expecting another cat video from Alexander - and she stared at an unfamiliar number. The message started with: This is Eddie Sparrow. It took Jackie half an hour of fretting and squirming to answer; after which the bakery owner didn't beat around the bush and essentially invited herself over to Jackie's cottage.

When Jackie opened the door, Eddie looked her over and said, "Bloody hell, that's quite a bruise."

"You should see the other guy's elbow," Jackie grumbled and stepped aside. "Please come in."

The baker passed a box into Jackie's hands before undressing and pulling off her wellies.

"It's a peace offering," Eddie said. "No non-consensual boozing this time."

"I'm grateful. It didn't end well for me last time," Jackie muttered and headed to the kitchen. "I'll start a kettle."

Without make-up, dressed in a simple jumper and jeans, Eddie looked much younger and less intimidating.

"Oh these are so pretty!" Jackie exclaimed, peeking into the box.

"Our new cupcake line," Eddie said, taking a chair near the window. "One of each kind. I suggest starting with the Biscoff one." She pointed at a sweet with the famous biscuit roguishly sticking out of the frosting. "There's cookie dough in the centre, and dulce de leche."

"Oh wow!" Jackie craned her neck, eyeing the treats. "Sounds brilliant! They're so cute too!"

"You're like a child," Eddie said. "My son gets less excited about sweets than you."

"Yeah, Alexander says it all the time," Jackie muttered, all her attention still on the cupcakes - and then her eyes flew up to the other woman's face.

"Ah, yes, Alexander Fergusson." Eddie shook her head, and then gave Jackie a sarcastic glance. "Interesting choice. I'm having trouble reconciling your choices in men. How does one switch from Stephen, a human equivalent of Eton mess, all fluffy and sweet and light - to Fergusson, who's so intense and– I don't even know what to call it."

Jackie gave out a shaky laugh. "Yeah, I don't think that Alexander can be compared to a dessert. More like some sort of a curry."

"Spicy, innit?" Eddie wiggled her eyebrows. "Judging by Stephen's reaction. He basically walked in on you two yesterday, didn't he? Poor naive sod. He's properly traumatised. I still can't suss out how someone so fit could have remained so pure and vanilla by the ripe age of thirty two when I met him. It's like he just found out that Mummy and Daddy engage in hanky-panky."

Jackie gawked at the baker.

"Was this too Oedipal?" Eddie snorted. "You did sleep with Stephen all those years ago. Or did you just hold hands and gaze into each other's eyes?"