Susie went just before lunch, promising to keep in touch, and as it was a warm day Ella suggested a picnic somewhere; Beatrice knew a good spot in her father's old parish, overlooking the river. Beatrice felt so liberated she changed into the dress from the photo on her mantelpiece, while Ella ditched her jeans for an old pair of Bea's shorts. After a short walk, they lay on the grass in the fresh air to eat, enjoying the sun on their limbs.

They talked more about school and about their careers to that point; Ella explained her research into girls' engagement in community sport, entertaining Beatrice for some time with stories from her years of coaching and playing. She lay on her back with her legs bent at the knee and shaded her face with an arm.

'I was awful at sport, you probably remember.' Beatrice picked a daisy and twirled it in her fingers. 'I was told off at primary school for being more interested in stringing daisy chains. You'd have found me very frustrating to coach.'

'You'd've made an interesting case study for my research, though, as an example of why girls are so easily disengaged from sport.' Ella picked a daisy herself and handed it to Bea. 'Daisy chains are cute, anyway.'

'Not when you're supposed to be playing rounders.' She started linking the little flowers together in her lap, then added a third.

Ella was struck by the bright green of Bea's dress against the paleness of her bare legs. She was used to running around in shorts most of the time, especially in the summer, so had a permanent faint tan; she realised Bea probably very rarely showed her legs, and wondered why she would now. 'I do like you in that dress, Bea.' Ella winced. 'I mean...I like that dress.'

'It's quite nice to wear it again, I haven't done since about when that photo was taken. I'm glad it still fits.' Beatrice smoothed the dress down over her thighs. She glanced over the shape of Ella's hips, and the long expanse of her bare legs. While she felt happy – and unencumbered by doubt, worry or guilt – for the first time in as long as she could remember, there was the sense that there remained one small (but significant) piece of unfinished business between her and Ella. 'I'm impressed how well those old shorts fit you.'

'Well, we're about the same size.' She grinned. 'You borrowed a skirt off me once, after you'd spilt something on yours. Remember? We were both the tallest in our year even then, was it Second Form? No-one else's would fit.'

'I was very anxious that Mum washed it that night, so I could return it to you.' Beatrice added another daisy. 'We didn't really talk to each other much back then.'

'And now look at us.' Ella watched Bea's fingers building up the daisy chain. 'Bea? You think about stuff a lot, everything you do is considered. I know you've got lots of dresses, I saw in your wardrobe when we were changing, and I know you thought about it because I was watching you. So why that dress, today?'

Beatrice glanced at Ella and laid the chain aside, starting a new one. 'It felt right. I can't believe how liberated I feel now, from all the years of burying the whole Amata rubbish and...everything. In fact, the only other time I felt as carefree was that second year in France.' She hoped she was making sense. 'My relationship with Délphine was a very positive thing generally, but one of her real knacks was clothes. She believed in the psychological power of presenting oneself well, and she gradually got me to change my diet of reliably modest skirts and jumpers.' Bea grinned. 'I was hard work, but she was stubborn and knew how to find clothes that looked good and suited me, but were a completely different look. And she was right: for that year, I felt happy with myself, and secure and positive. Whether that was the clothes or the affection of a good woman, or both, I don't know...' She met Ella's eye quickly. 'I suppose I reverted to type a bit after coming back – although I do like to make an effort for performances.'

'Like yesterday.'

'Well, I always need something loose and shortish, so my legs don't get tangled up playing the organ pedals. But yes, if it's quite pretty and smart without being overly formal...' Beatrice spread her hands. 'Today, I feel free and happy again, so I'm wearing a happy dress.' She didn't add her other reason: Ella had been really obvious about liking it.

Ella smiled at the idea of a "happy dress". 'I know you said you felt better for telling us, but does that piece have something to do with it as well? The dramatic, loud one...'

'Absolutely.' Beatrice stopped fiddling with the incomplete daisy chain, and tried to explain how since playing the Bach at Sister Amata's funeral it'd taken on the emotional weight of something unassailable, a psychological millstone, a nagging reminder of how she'd died. Telling her friends the truth the night before had helped ease the burden, given her the strength to tackle the music again. As for the music itself, she felt as if by braving the relentless grip of the pedal motif and taking it into the redemptive dissolution of the fugue, she'd finally been able to release the hold that the memory of Amata – and her death – had had on her through the years; that by playing through it successfully that morning she'd been able to lay that ghost to rest.

Ella stared at the sky for a while. 'Laying ghosts...hmmm.'

Beatrice completed the second chain and laid it aside. Undoing her messy bun, she carefully but quickly wove the first into a side-up plait, securing the end with the hairpins she'd used in her bun and leaving her hair otherwise loose. Then she took the second chain and shuffled on her knees towards Ella. 'Where do you want to wear this?' She held it against Ella's ankle.

Ella looked up and laughed. 'Dunno.' She was very conscious of the brush of Bea's fingers on her skin. She moved her leg and her foot just touched Bea's knee, as Bea leant in to try tying the daisy chain around her ankle. Bea's loose hair brushed her leg, and she felt all the butterflies she was so used to, amplified by actual contact. Bea had never touched her much before, but this weekend they'd been quite tactile; and although it felt natural (and nice, of course), it was slightly unsettling. It suggested that she'd never really stopped having feelings for Bea after all.

She made an effort to appear to be breathing normally, resting her hand on her navel where her t-shirt almost met the shorts' waistband.

'Don't fidget, Ella, you'll break it.'

'Hmph.' Ella took a deep breath. 'I think it's too long for a bracelet. Wrist or ankle.'

'Mmm.' Beatrice sat back, looking Ella up and down. 'A very small necklace, then. Or a garter.'

'Huh?'

Beatrice leant forward and passed the chain around Ella's thigh, holding the ends together with the back of her fingers against Ella's skin. Instinctively, Ella's other leg drifted away but she quickly brought her raised knees back together, leaning them slightly towards Bea. Bea's hand was still between her thighs, and her knee pressed Bea's breast. After a moment too long, she moved her legs away.

Beatrice shuffled back a little, still holding the daisy chain, and leant her weight on one arm. She laid the chain out between them. 'I hope you feel better for talking about things this weekend, too.'

'I do. Thanks for listening.' Ella turned her head to look at Bea. 'And being supportive. It's been liberating for me too, in its own way.'

'As long as you're happy, Ella.' Beatrice looked at the view for a moment. 'Tell me about Caroline.'

'Carrie?' Ella felt a slightly unpleasant tug of competing interests inside her. 'What about her?'

'Whatever you want to say. If anything.' Beatrice picked at a blade of grass between them. 'I couldn't tell how keen you really were.'

Ella blew her breath out.

'She's keen, though?' Beatrice knew she was fishing, but was unable to stop herself.

'I think that's a given.' Ella shifted uneasily.

Beatrice lay down on her side, resting her head on her elbow. She adjusted her dress around her thighs. 'And how does that make you feel? Now you've owned up to being open to the idea...to me, anyway, if not to yourself quite yet.'

'I think I have owned up to myself.' Ella covered her face with an arm and took some deep breaths. 'I think I did that a while ago. Maybe even at school, around the time we were talking about yesterday. At least partially.' She glanced over, noticing Bea's fingers fiddling absent-mindedly with the hem of her dress. 'But talking about laying ghosts...' She reached out and ran a finger gently along the inside of Bea's arm. 'My problem with the Carrie thing is that it feels like raising a ghost, not laying one.' She returned her hand to her navel. 'Her directness made me ask myself some pretty fundamental things about myself, fair enough. That's why I had to talk to you about it. But I'm not a hundred-percent comfortable she's the answer.'

Beatrice reached out and slid her hand under Ella's on her navel, linking their fingers as Ella had done the previous day. 'What's the ghost you're so afraid of?'

Ella was quiet for a moment, but squeezed Bea's hand. 'Carrie's quite...experienced. She's out and confident and knows what she wants. I don't know whether she's interested in the long-term, but I'm pretty damn certain of what she wants in the short-term.'

Beatrice felt a little wave of pleasure for her friend, and excitement, mixed with a gentle backwash of what was almost jealousy. 'I still don't see where the spectre at the feast comes in.'

'I'm scared, Bea.'

'Of?'

'Liking it too much. Of not being good enough. Of not knowing what to do.' Ella tried to smile, but her eyes were worried. 'It's a big thing for me. A big step to take.'

'Oh, Ella.' Beatrice watched her friend's face for a moment. 'If it feels right with that person, you'll know what to do. Something must have gone right with Melody.'

'She knew what she was doing.'

'No reason Carrie should be any different.'

'S'pose.' Ella glanced at her friend. 'The real ghost at the feast would be you, Bea. I'd always wonder...'

Beatrice squeezed Ella's hand then took hers away, pushing herself back up onto her knees. Picking up the daisy chain, she shuffled forward until her knees pressed Ella's arm and side. 'A necklace, then.' She leant in and placed it round Ella's neck, just above the collar of her t-shirt, and slipped her hands under Ella's hair onto the back of her neck. 'Lift your head up.'

Ella held her breath as Bea's loose hair trailed over her arm and breasts, and gazed up at her friend's face hovering above hers. If she raised her head, their faces would be close enough to kiss. She looked at Bea's bright eyes and her slightly-parted lips, then swallowed quickly and closed her eyes, raising her head a little.

Bea kissed her slowly on the lips. When Ella flinched, she gently lowered her head back. 'Now you know, anyway.'

Ella reached up and tentatively touched Bea's hair. 'I...didn't do that properly, sorry. Like I said, it's a big thing for me. Try again.'

Bea gently touched her lips to Ella's a second time. Ella sighed into the kiss and responded.

Something about kissing Ella felt surprisingly...right. Beatrice wondered how she had never noticed before how good for her Ella was. Ella was the person she genuinely felt closest to – there had never been any of the slight tension that there'd been between her and Susie; and if some things had maybe been unrequited on Ella's side in the past, Beatrice was rapidly beginning to discover how blind she'd been. Where it should have felt strange to kiss her friend, it simply felt like a natural extension of their friendship. An enrichment of their pre-existing closeness.

Beatrice felt a sudden completeness, as an intense sense of happiness spread through her. Happiness such as she'd only rarely felt before – and even then, not in the same degree as this. It felt as if for the past few months several little pieces of her life had been quietly falling into place to make sure she was able to move on from her past – and in Ella's tentative but willing kiss, the final piece had just been pushed gently home.

Ella felt years' worth of affection, attraction and frustration well up. She couldn't quite believe she was kissing Bea, and despite having thought about it for so long was completely unprepared for the intensity of the experience. It washed through her in a hot rush of relief and pleasure, dissolving the years of anguished and lonely yearning.

Eventually, Bea lay down alongside her friend again, supporting herself on her elbow to kiss her a third time. This kiss lingered, became firmer and more intimate, and Ella gave a little groan of pleasure, which Bea felt resonate deep inside. When Bea broke off, Ella put her hand into Bea's hair and pulled her mouth back down onto hers.

After several kisses, Beatrice put a finger on Ella's mouth to stop her trying again and felt for Ella's hand while they stared into each other's eyes. She was very aware of the heat of Ella's body where their sides and legs were pressed together, and the languid softness of her reactions which suggested she was becoming aroused. 'Everything all right? Do you want to continue?'

Ella smiled, but could feel her eyes prick with the release of years of pent-up emotion. 'Yes, Bea. Everything is all right.'

*

As their naked, sweat-slicked bodies writhed together on Bea's spare bed, Ella felt a trembling agony of acute pleasure seize her. She raised her hips to press up against Bea, as Bea's long fingers moved inside her as if touching her very soul. She felt for Bea's spare hand to pull it back onto the pillow beside her head and link their fingers, turning her head to kiss the inside of Bea's arm and wrist; her other hand she buried deep in Bea's flowing hair, enjoying how the long strands tickled her breasts. She found relinquishing herself – the total abandonment of her body to her friend's gentle, respectful but determined control – had been powerfully erotic. Bea seemed to sense exactly what to do to make Ella shudder with pleasure at every turn, and when to draw back and do something else. It was like their friendship – the thousands of nods and smiles and glances, and unspoken messages of support and affection over the years – were suddenly and dramatically coming to a head.

The peak was near now, she knew. Not that she hadn't been close a few times already, but Bea plainly knew what she was doing. Ella curled her leg around Bea's upper thigh and bottom, pressing her onto her with her knee. Turning her head back from kissing Bea's wrist, she gazed up at her friend's desire-flushed face, and realised she now knew exactly what Bea looked like in the throes of passion: with a shudder of visceral satisfaction, she also realised that Bea's desire was all for her. She felt the tell-tale tingles begin to spread through her body and limbs.

She had never felt so close, in body or spirit, to anyone before. Raising her head, she buried her face in Bea's hair, wanting to speak but unable to utter anything coherent. She tried to communicate everything she felt in the kiss she brushed over Bea's cheek.

Bea felt Ella's breath stir her hair, Ella's skin hot and her lips softly urgent on her cheek. She knew that they were clearing a new path in the friendship – whatever lay beyond the intense closeness of this moment, whichever direction it took them, they would always have this. She turned her head a little and kissed Ella with a tender firmness, trying to convey some of her wonder and unexpected delight at the intense pleasure she was feeling.

Ella gave a half-growl-half-groan and Bea felt her friend's limbs tense. She slightly adjusted the angle of her fingers.

Ella let the low groan escape through their kiss, and gave herself up to the inevitable. Overwhelmed, she burst into tears of relief and joy.

Once she was calm again, Bea kissed her lightly. 'The French call it la petite mort: the little death.'

'Huh?'

'Orgasm. La petite mort. Because it lifts your soul out of you, in a brief moment of ecstasy.'