Chim- In aeternum

Chapter 3

The girls had been right about Leigh. She's a bright spark in the early hours of the morning, Kimberley barely able to get a word in as the youngster happily talks about her two Saint Bernard's, five goldfish, three rabbits, two guinea pigs – two now that Skinny had gone to guinea pig heaven – and one yellow canary named Tweedy, an obvious joke that has Kimberley sniggering under her breath. She spends a full ten minutes talking about Chestnut, her horse that lived with Sarah, Kimberley trying to keep up with all the information the girl's giving her.

The young thing wears herself out eventually, quietly sleeping on the couch when Kimberley returns from calling Sarah, her mother increasingly concerned about how the girl had gotten to Allerton in the first place. There'd been late night trains on the east coast for the last few years, her former band mate completely unsurprised by Leigh's brave solitary trip, Kimberley finding herself so nervous with Cheryl's number in her hands that she asks her mother to call instead. The older woman squeezes her arm and takes the phone from her, Kimberley grabbing the well used blanket from the coffee table drawer to throw over Leigh, who's lightly snoring.

She sits down on the carpet next to the couch, suddenly remembering watching Cheryl sleep all those years ago on their first tour bus, in all those hotel rooms where they'd been strapped for money and had to share a bed. Those first two years had been one big slumber party, and they'd gotten to know each other at three or four in the morning, telling each other their plans for the future, their fears, everything that mattered to them. They'd been as close as two people could get, Kimberley distinctly remembering thinking at some photo shoot or another that it was the two of them, not just her, that were the 'heart' of the group. She'd taken the lead, but it had only been because Cheryl had adamantly told her that she had the ability to do it, to take on the managing duties, sort out the finances, organise the interviews and the venues, book hotels and generally get them to the place where they'd wanted to be.

She'd left the four of them where they'd wanted to be, on top of the charts, opening up their own businesses, buying their own homes, so successful that they could take time off over Christmas and go see their families. They'd shared a freedom that they'd all fought to have, earned the right to say they were Guinness world record holders, sung with every breath they had to give their fans what they wanted, what they as a group expected of each other.

She'd left, and had missed out on so much because of it. Sarah had settled against all the odds, Kimberley smiling at the thought of little Emmy in her mother's arms, cared for and loved by the former party girl. Nicola was living in London with her new boyfriend, 'the one' as the redhead had described him, her business continuing to expand, the make-up line carried in all the department stores and high end boutiques. Nadine had opened up a fourth Irish bar in New York, enjoying the Big Apple as much as Sunset Beach, still the competent business woman Kimberley had always admired.

Cheryl had become a mother. Kimberley knows this would've happened eventually, but her disappearance had facilitated Leigh being born, being here in front of her, and she thinks that maybe her leaving was worth it in this regard. It was wrong in every other way, had kept her from her life. She knew this now, had seen enough of the joy and happiness in her family's face to know that being away for so long had been a mistake.

She should've stayed.

-----

She feels the stiffness in her back as soon as she wakes, her arm numb from where she'd been lying on it, gently brushing Leigh's hair with her fingers. She blinks a few times, focus turning to the youngster still asleep on the couch, praying that the little beauty would be in her life in some capacity, that Cheryl would forgive her for damaging their friendship. She had to make it right between the two of them, make sure Cheryl knew that she'd thought of her every single day that she'd been gone, that the younger woman knew how much she'd loved her.

“Morning.”

There she is, sitting with her legs crossed a little back from the other end of the couch, gazing back at Kimberley as if the ten years between them didn't matter, had never happened in the first place. Kimberley almost thinks that maybe they haven't, maybe she's dreamed the whole thing, but Cheryl's hair is different, shorter and layered with a lazy fringe, and her brown eyes are a little more guarded that she recalls. She's been to hell and back, Kimberley remembers Nic saying, and she understands the other girls words with the way the Geordie's crossed her arms in front of her, protecting herself before Kimberley's even spoken. The old Cheryl had never done that in her presence, had never felt the need to, and this makes her cringe and close her eyes, taking a deep breath as her head spins.

“After ten years of nothing, you're not going to say anything?”

Kimberley opens her eyes, noting the anger in Cheryl's hushed voice. She has to say something now, but she can't think of anything.

“I don't know what I'm supposed to say.”

“Well, for starters, you can explain why you left me.”

Cheryl had been gone when she'd woken that morning, the sheets still smelling of her. Kimberley remembers the whole night with complete clarity, remembers the two of them suddenly sobering up as the weight of what they were about to do hit them, neither of them wanting to stop anyway. They'd made love all night with no thought to the consequences that morning was going to bring, consequences that eventually had gotten to Cheryl first. The Geordie had left her first and Kimberley feels a long suppressed anger burning in her chest, ten years in the making, barely containing it as she stands to get away from Leigh. She's not going to do this here and wake the youngster up, not going to do it with the girl within ear shot.

Cheryl's two steps behind her as she flings the front door open. “That's it, run away. Do what you're good at.”

She stops in her tracks, turning around in the dawn of the morning. “What I'm good at? I woke up alone in that bloody motel room Cheryl! You left me!”

“What was I supposed to do, hang around for pillow talk? I was married, and you and Justin--”

“Don't you dare bring him into this. I got you through everything, defended your arse when you got charged, picked you up after your *Bar Steward* husband cheated on you, and what did I get in return? My friend leaving me in the middle of the night after I'd promised her that things wouldn't change.”

“But they did Kimberley! For *Duck*'s sake, we had--”

“And our friendship was stronger than that! I fell asleep thinking – no, knowing that even if things got a little weird, we'd be okay...and then you weren't there. It killed me.”

“And you weren't there for ten years! TEN YEARS! Did you know I tried to kill meself that year on your birthday? That even knowing I was pregnant with Leigh couldn't stop me from doing it? Your pain was nothing compared to mine.”

She's about to speak when she catches sight of Leigh standing in the front door way, absorbing their words. She's vaguely aware of Cheryl following her gaze to her daughter, the world blurring with tears as she bends down and sits on her knees, knowing she's going to fall down if she doesn't. The front lawn's wet underneath her, the morning fog fighting against the sun and losing. She's losing it herself, head sinking to the earth to meet her hands in a silent prayer, a plea to God to get her out of this mess, to send her ten years back in time to the moment she'd stepped onto that damn plane that was going to take her away from Cheryl and everything she knew.

She can hear her mother's voice somewhere off inside the house, Cheryl calling Leigh's name, her side suddenly enveloped in a warm hug, a small arm wrapping around her tightened throat. She hardly knows this kid, has barely held a proper conversation with her, and yet she's getting all the love she needs in this simple hold, the kind of genuine care that Cheryl had always offered her and that she'd always given back.

“She's really angry, but she'll stop. You just have to give her hugs and kisses. Works for me.”