"Christine?" A small voice whispered into the phone.
"Stevie?" Christine answered groggily, almost mistaking the sound of the woman she had known for a lifetime as that of a young child. Running her hands through her hair, Christine turned over properly to check the time on the clock on the bedside table. 2:30 am.
"What's the matter?" She said instantly alert. Stevie registered the anxiety in her voice, she wanted to tell her that everything was the matter but instead answered reassuringly "Nothing Chris, I didn't mean to worry you, I'm sorry I called so late." She heard Christine sigh in relief down the line.
"Well something must be bothering you love," Christine said softly. The sound of her soothing voice pushed Stevie far over the edge, she shouldn't have even called, now she was in deep water.
"Can I... Can I come over Chris?" She asked hesitantly. Instantly regretting it but not daring to take it back.
"Isn't your hotel all the way on the other side of town?" Christine inquired, knowing full well Stevie would only stay in two particular hotels in London because their presidential suites met her exact needs.
Stevie felt a pang of disappointment, taking Christine's question as a sign she didn't want her to come over. I shouldn't have asked, she thought to herself. Why do i always do this.
"It's okay if you don't want me to," Stevie said, trying to mask the sadness, she made her voice harden into the unmistakable one the world knew, the vulnerability that only few were privy to washed away.
"No, no it's not that at all," Christine said quickly noticing her tone change "You can come over anytime you want, unannounced even, you know that... It's just, won't security pitch a fit?" Christine reassured her, sensing her fragile state. There was something the matter. Christine had spent far too long with Stevie not to be able to gauge her moods. Even now. Even over the phone.
"Christine, the whole point of having security is to pay them to tell you things you don't want to hear, ignore what they say and do whatever the hell you want anyway, just with them standing in front of you." Stevie deadpanned and proceeded to chuckle into the phone when Christine scoffed.
- - -
Stevie pulled her fur coat tighter over her pyjamas, thankful she was on her way to Christine's house and not another hotel who's service entrance she'd have to sneak through. As much a she understood why Christine loved England so much, the place was bloody cold.
Christine had buzzed the car in at the gate and just as Stevie let herself in the front door, Christine came down the last few steps of her ornate staircase. She'd tied a robe around herself and had on sheepskin slippers. She smiled almost shyly as Stevie shut the door behind her and then couldn't stop herself from grinning when Stevie dived into her arms. With her long blonde hair brushed back in a bun atop her head Stevie almost embodied the voice of the lost little girl Christine had been woken up by. Christine studied Stevie's face from above, suddenly aware she hadn't seen her, apart from in her minds eye, in a very long time.
"Come on, I'll put the kettle on," Christine said, taking Stevie by the hand and walking towards the kitchen.
An hour passed and they had settled into one of the smaller living rooms, a fire roaring in the hearth, candles Stevie had compulsively lit flickering. They sat facing one another on a comfortable sofa, legs intertwined, sipping cups of tea and telling each other a thousand stories.
Stevie's hand traced circles over Christine's knee as she rested her head on the side of the sofa. Christine had jumped to, then dismissed earlier conclusions as to the reason for Stevie's visit. She had yet to tell her any earth shattering news and a distant thought began to inch ever closer on the horizon of Christine's mind. Since leaving the band she had finished playing games. She didn't even know how to anymore. So she did the only thing she knew how to do.
"So why did you really come over Stevie?" Christine asked innocently taking a sip of her tea. Catching her off guard as she changed topic at the end of one of Stevie's particularly amusing stories about John and Mick's misinterpretation of a southern accent somewhere in Alabama that included imitations. Never one to be thrown for long "All these male british accents are getting to me I guess." She shrugged teasing her, then grew quite serious studying Christine's face, she saw her past there but also saw all the irresistible possibilities of the future.
"Or maybe it's the fact that the one british accent I don't hear, is the only one I want."
