Raphaela was unprepared for how little Bea had changed: her adolescent gangliness had filled out, but she was still trim for her height and her complexion was almost as fresh as a teenager's. She still wore her full brown hair long (in a loose plait, today) and her green v-neck over a cream blouse, and her pleated black knee-length corduroy skirt, gave her a vaguely schoolgirlish look. Raphaela grinned: Bea'd never been one for worrying about her appearance, very much channelling a demure skirt-and-jumper look even in her own clothes – although it did look like she'd upgraded to some decent frames for her glasses instead of the horrible cheap plastic ones she'd had in school. She was standing back, near the exit gate, and moved forward with an awkward little wave when she spotted Raphaela. A handful of other people had also got off at Flittingham, but Bea was the only person waiting for someone.

Beatrice was surprised that Ella's long blonde hair was now cut into a shoulder-length bob, but decided it suited her. She was also surprised to see her in skinny jeans and ankle boots, because in her memory Ella had usually been in games kit or a tracksuit; her light-grey sweatshirt was clearly emblazoned as a university women's football one, though.

Raphaela surprised Beatrice by pulling her into a hug on the spur of the moment, but Beatrice found that actually a hug was just what she needed after a few weeks of flurry and change. It had been a long time since she'd been given a good, firm, friendly hug, and she held on to Ella tighter than she would have done under normal circumstances. She rested her head against Ella's briefly, aware – but not self-consciously so – of Ella's hair soft on her cheek and the warm comfort in the press of their bodies. At five-foot-seven, she was only an inch or so shorter than her friend, and the hug felt very easy. She rubbed Ella's back quickly and was glad Ella was holding her just as tightly.

The hug went on a couple of moments too long, and it was Raphaela who moved back – though she kept hold of Bea's waist, so they still stood close. Raphaela grinned with genuine pleasure. 'Good to see you, Bea.'

Beatrice smiled back and caught Ella's eye, stroking her upper arm briefly. 'You too.' She meant it, emphatically. 'I won't ask how your journey was. Can I take a bag or something?'

Raphaela released her friend and handed her the laptop case. 'Thanks.' Re-shouldering her travel bag, she slipped a hand through Bea's arm as they started walking towards the exit gate. 'Could've been worse in the end, I suppose. Thought at one point I was going to be sitting on trains all night feeling like the start of a new school year, but here we are. Brought back a few memories, though.'

'Nice memories?'

'On the whole. I was always a bit nervous about a new year. But it was always nice to know I'd see you again, and Susie.'

Beatrice nodded. 'Somehow the old place has changed, but also hasn't much at all. As you'll see tomorrow.' Beatrice pointed the keys in her spare hand at a small hatchback. 'We're over here. There's a pie and a bottle of wine waiting for us in the cottage. I expect you're about ready for a drink.'

*

Susannah accompanied her final patient of the day – an elderly chap with a new and, she'd been pleased to tell him, benign mole – into the department's waiting area to his waiting daughter, laughing politely at the slightly off-colour story he was sharing. She held the door to the corridor for them, wishing them a pleasant evening as they shuffled towards the lifts. The secretaries had all gone home, so she just updated the chap's notes quickly on her laptop, and decided to leave the rest of the admin until the following week – she really wanted an early night tonight so she could get a good start in the morning. She was hoping to get to St Ben's for about 10, which should give her time to freshen up at Bea's cottage and make the recital. Bea wasn't expecting her to, but she thought it might be nice to make the effort.

Stretching her back, she packed her briefcase and unthinkingly stroked the weight of her bump. 'Home time, little one,' she muttered. 'Let's hope Daddy's got there before us and put the tea on, eh?'

*

Raphaela and Beatrice took the bottle of wine through from the kitchen to the living room after eating, and settled on a three-seater sofa. Raphaela looked around, noticing the large rug on the wooden floor and the throw on the other small sofa (which was blocking the front door), and the pictures and photos on the walls and mantelpiece. Every available bit of shelf space was taken up with books, sheet music and scores, and CDs or vinyl. There was a decent-looking hifi (including record turntable) in the space anyone normal would've had a TV, and an upright piano took up most of the wall near the kitchen door – more piles of music threatening to cascade off its top. The room felt cosy. 'Nice job, Bea. It feels really comfortable, even in the short time you've been here. Was it furnished?'

'Thanks. I asked them to leave me the table and chairs in the kitchen, and the cabinets and so on upstairs. And this.' Beatrice patted the sofa they were on. 'And the bed in the main bedroom, but dad and I moved that into the spare – where you are. I've moved my own into the main bedroom, which means you've both got a double to sleep in this weekend.' She waved her wineglass at the smaller sofa. 'That's a sofabed which I've had for years. It's surprisingly comfortable.' She crossed her legs and settled her skirt around her knees.

'I noticed there's only two rooms upstairs. Where's Susie going?'

'In mine, of course. I'll take the sofabed.'

Raphaela felt a little embarrassed. 'Sorry, Bea, I didn't realise there was only two bedrooms...'

'Nor did I. Well, I never thought about it. But when I saw the place at half-term it was too late to change our arrangements. Anyway, that's fine.' She nodded her head at the sofabed. 'I slept on it for at least a year in a tiny bedsit, when I first moved to London.' She sipped some wine, and looked at Raphaela over her glass. 'This isn't Sister Mary-Martha's cottage after all, is it? I forgot to send you any photos before.'

'Nope.' Raphaela eased her boots off and lined them up neatly to one side, then nestled in the corner of the sofa, tucking one foot up under the other leg. She retrieved her wineglass from the coffee table. 'She was in one of that row of little bungalow things over the other side.' She gestured vaguely with her thumb through the wall behind them. 'She got that place because she'd been Headmistress before Sister F, I think – it was sort-of kept for the ones that didn't fit in at the convent. Ones that were mainly here as teachers, or something. Thinking about it, Double-M always wore a different-coloured habit, so she was probably in a different order and preferred to be out here. I think that librarian one was in the place next door to her when we were in the Sixth Form. You know, the French one, who collapsed that time in the chapel?' Raphaela glanced at Beatrice. 'I know you got on with her, but she was a bit of a...a bit strange, wasn't she?'

'Sister Amata, yes.' Beatrice reached for the wine bottle. 'Sister Mary-Martha's still with us, by the way,' she added casually, changing the subject back while she topped up her glass. 'She's in the convent now, so they can look after her – she's in a wheelchair and can't really manage by herself. But she's still all there.' Beatrice tapped her head, then handed the bottle over. 'You'll see her tomorrow.'

Raphaela grinned broadly, topping her own glass up. 'So glad to hear that, she was a real laugh. And so lovely. She must be in her nineties now.'

'Ninety-three back in May.'

'God. I must make sure I have a word with her.' Raphaela put the now-empty bottle back on the table. 'She gave me the idea of going to study sport, you know. And training to be a coach. I think it was what she'd really wanted to do, if she'd had the opportunity back then.'

*

Susannah's boyfriend (also a doctor, but one who worked office hours as a researcher in the hospital's labs) had indeed got home and made tea, and even came and rubbed her feet while she took a bath after eating. When Susannah fell asleep on the sofa shortly afterwards, he left her for a while, gently waking her only when he was thinking of going to bed.

*

While Beatrice went to fetch a fresh bottle of wine, Raphaela took a closer look at the photographs above the fireplace: there was one of their year's prefects – the two of them at opposite ends of the front row, sticking out as among the tallest even though they were seated, and the much shorter Susie standing in the middle of the row behind. The other two, smaller, photos at either end of the mantelpiece were a recent one of Beatrice in academic dress; and one of her in her early twenties with her parents, obviously on holiday somewhere coastal and warm – Raphaela didn't know whether to be more surprised to see Beatrice looking unselfconsciously relaxed and happy, or wearing a bright summery dress. It was a green-and-black-polka-dot tea-dress-style thing with a fitted bodice and a loose skirt which barely reached mid-thigh.

She took her hand out of her jeans pocket to point at it as Beatrice returned, unable not to comment on it. She felt a little thrill at the slightly surprising idea that Bea could sometimes loosen up. 'You should wear dresses like that more often, Bea. You look nice, there.' She turned round to watch Bea move to turn on a standing lamp, then glanced back over her shoulder at the photo. 'It's a nice pic. I'd forgotten you had such good legs.'

Beatrice laughed awkwardly to hide her blush, pouring wine into their glasses, then tucked her skirt underneath her thighs to sit back on the sofa with her feet drawn up. 'They came out to visit me in France. We had a week in a gîte on the Atlantic coast.'

'You look happy.'

'Oh, Ella. I really liked France. The relaxed pace, the scenery, the weather, the local food. The wine.' She tapped her wineglass. 'You know I went twice? Once straight after school and then again during my degree.' She waved her glass at the mantelpiece. 'That was the second time, which was a great year. I was a bit mixed up the first time, after A Levels and...things, you know? Though I think it was good for me.'

Raphaela returned to the sofa and sat with her feet tucked under herself, unconsciously mirroring Beatrice. 'Was that when you had that fairly long relationship you mentioned?'

'The second time, yes.' Beatrice looked off to the side for a moment and pulled her plait over her shoulder, fiddling with the end. 'I joined a little choir in the town where my placement was. She was the accompanist.' She smiled shyly and glanced back at her friend; she realised that the last Susie or Ella knew about her attraction to someone was the episode in Fifth Form – but that was a long time ago, and they could still be shocked by her sexuality. It felt quite nice to have an opportunity to talk to someone about relationships, though, and not keep it vague. 'That obviously ended when I had to come back for my last year at uni.'

Raphaela nodded, seemingly indifferent to Bea's sexuality bombshell, and leant her head on the back of the sofa. 'What about the other one, the one in London?'

Beatrice blew her breath out noisily. 'God, that was hard work. I was interested for a while, from a distance, but when we got together I quickly realised what I'd let myself in for.'

'You said. Who was she?' Raphaela tucked her hair behind her ear. 'If it was a she?'

Beatrice gave a small smile. 'She was a singer on the performance masters. Absolutely stunning voice, but I should've known. Singers are usually a bit demanding.'

Raphaela raised an eyebrow. 'Can be fun. Depending on the demands.' She still couldn't imagine Bea having wild sex.

Beatrice laughed, blushing slightly. 'Mmm. That side of things was great, admittedly. But the emotional drain wasn't much fun.' Beatrice shifted in her corner of the sofa to get more comfortable, hooking one foot round the other. When she saw Ella's gaze flick down, she realised her skirt had ridden some way up her thighs, and adjusted it to reach her knees. 'I had to stick with her for a while, though, because I'd written her a song cycle for one of my assignments, and I needed a good performance of it off her for the mark – as did she, to be fair, for her vocal course. As soon as that was in the bag, though, I ended things.'

'Beatrice Sullivan!' Raphaela grinned. 'You heartbreaker.'

'Hardly, Ella. She'd never been that invested, she just wanted a sponge for her emotional spillages, it didn't really matter who it was.' Beatrice smiled awkwardly. 'She threw herself into her opera studies, which at least gave her an outlet for her drama-queen tendencies. She's doing quite well now, I think; I see her name pop up in the cast for these summer open-air opera-in-the-park type things.' She put her wineglass aside and hooked her bobble round her wrist, before starting to unpick the plait. 'What about you?'

Raphaela scratched her neck. 'I don't know any opera singers to have tempestuous affairs with.' As she watched Bea loosen her hair, she had another tiny and fleeting inkling of how her quiet and self-contained friend could also express a deep sensuality: the incongruity of it made her smile slightly. She wondered if Bea had any idea that un-plaiting her hair completely altered her appearance, framing her pale face with a cascade of soft, slightly curly, dark-brown richness – because she hadn't really seen Bea's hair loose and abandoned for years, she'd forgotten how powerfully it dominated her overall look. Then again, Raphaela had to admit to herself that Bea's hair had always been one of the things she'd really liked, because it was so rich and thick and long, unlike her own. It wasn't just jealously, either, she'd just always been genuinely fascinated by Bea's hair. She was only partly surprised that she still was. It was an uneasy feeling, but also comforting in its half-forgotten familiarity.

Bea combed her fingers through a large handful. 'But all those incredibly fit sportspeople you spend so much time with? Physically fit, I mean.'

'Oh plenty of them are fit in the other sense, as well. But, you know...nothing seems to stick with me. There were a few guys here and there over the years.' Raphaela shrugged. 'Someone in particular at Worcester when I was doing the coaching MSc, we got on really well, and it was always kinda "do-they/don't-they?", but...I dunno...it never seemed to be the right time to move things on. And I'm not sure either of us quite knew how to, somehow.'

'That's a shame.' Beatrice finished combing her loose hair and stood up. 'Do you want some water? I don't want to get too befuddled before tomorrow.'

'Nah, I'm OK, thanks. Quite enjoying getting befuddled, actually.'

Beatrice paused in the doorway to the kitchen. 'It's really good to see you again, Ella. I'm so sorry I've been so prickly all these years.' She gestured at her. 'Also, I don't know how long you've had your hair like that, but it suits you. It looks really nice.'

*

As she ran the cold tap and filled a glass, Beatrice reflected that she had a history of falling for unsuitable or unattainable women: Susie, the singer in London, one or two others along the way that she hadn't really told anyone about. In some ways, moving (back) to St Ben's would remove from her life the possibility of meeting someone, which was almost a relief. There were lots of women, of course, but mostly they were nuns. And Beatrice herself was no longer a silly schoolgirl.

In some ways, she thought, she needed someone steady who was primarily a friend and who knew and liked her without really having any unrealistic expectations. Someone a bit like Ella, in short.

While Bea was in the kitchen, Raphaela put her hands behind her head and leant back on the sofa to stare at the ceiling. She was used to evading questions about her personal life by now, it was surprisingly easy with most people (especially with having never lived in the same place for longer than a year or two), but something about being back here and with Bea gave her a nagging feeling that it was time to have a conversation she'd wanted (and tried) to have ten years ago. Ever since that failed conversation, the knot of anxiety had tightened persistently over time, and now sat as a small but permanent lump deep inside her. She needed to untie it, cut it clean through if necessary, and she needed to do so soon. It was all very well being evasive about things – and she spent most of her time denying the reality to herself – but she was increasingly aware that she couldn't do so for much longer, because the stress and double-think was making her miserable. She knew that sharing it with someone would be a relief, and that (now as back then) Bea would be the best person, because she'd be sympathetic – as a friend, as much as someone who'd been in a similar position. She'd maybe have good advice, too, but mainly Raphaela just wanted to tell someone who would understand.

*

Raphaela adjusted her legs as Beatrice returned, and sat cross-legged up against the arm of the sofa. Beatrice settled herself as before, feet tucked up underneath her thighs. 'Bea, can I ask...when did you know?'

Beatrice ran a finger around the rim of her glass of water. 'Know...?'

Raphaela took a mouthful of wine, resting the glass on her knee. 'I mean...when did you accept you liked girls?'

Beatrice looked at her friend for a long moment, then looked at her drink and took a deep breath. 'Knowing and accepting are very different things. It helps not being Catholic, to be honest. I know dad's a clergyman, but the CofE are bit more relaxed – at least parts of it are. Mum and dad have an old family friend who's been in a gay relationship for years. Decades, I mean. So that was just another sort of normal when I was growing up, and they've always been fine with it. You know...this couple babysat for me, and we went on holiday together a lot, all that sort of thing. When I realised I fancied Susie, I suppose it sort of made sense...it felt right, to me...but I knew it wasn't normal for everyone, and definitely not for Susie, and I suppose that's when I thought that I must just be like mum and dad's friends.' She looked up suddenly. 'I was quite happy liking Susie from a distance, you know. I certainly never told her, and never would've, and for a while I was really cross with whoever it was who had told her.'

Raphaela was taken aback by the intensity of hurt in her friend's eyes. 'Uh, what makes you think someone told her?'

'She told me. Asked if it was true. I didn't have the wit to deny it at the time.' Beatrice took a brisk drink of water. 'I wish I had, because it set our friendship back.' She glanced at Ella again. 'And I'm sorry I withdrew from you too.'

Raphaela nodded, feeling very uncomfortable. 'I hated that, Bea. I wanted to reach out to you, but I...I just didn't know how. I'm so sorry.'

Beatrice smiled suddenly, then reached out and squeezed Ella's hand quickly. 'It's fine. I was so mortified that my secret life was suddenly so public, and was so suspicious of absolutely everyone, that I didn't see at the time that you were in a very difficult position. You were stuck between the two of us, and everyone else who was loving the gossip. And I know that anyone who was perceived as being too close to me was obviously tainted by association.' Beatrice drank more water and didn't see Raphaela's wince of pain at the truth of that last remark. 'I was very grateful that you kept trying to be my friend at all. I must have made it very difficult for you.'

Raphaela shrugged. 'We got through it. I'm glad we're able to all be together this weekend.' She felt a vague sadness well up in her at the mistakes of the past, and wondered how to get the conversation back on to the track she'd intended it to take. 'So, you knew you were...lesbian...?' She found the word really quite difficult to say aloud. 'Then, in Fifth Form?'

Beatrice sighed. 'I suppose so. But that didn't mean it was an easy self-realisation. But when I realised that everyone else had decided I was, I remember thinking that if that was how it was, I'd better just get used to it.' She put her empty water glass down and picked up her wine again. 'I tried boys at university. Well, a boy, from our halls, at the end of first year. I said yes, when he asked me out. We got along all right, and he was nice as well as handsome. We lasted a year or so. When he dumped me, I slept with his friend as well, mainly out of anger at the rejection. But there'd been...someone...before him, another woman, my first actual relationship. Then I went on my year abroad and had my affair with Délphine, and realised I really did just have to face facts.' Beatrice looked back at her friend, suddenly curious at the slightly shocked expression on Ella's face at all these revelations. 'Why do you ask, Ella?'

Raphaela took a long time to answer. Finally she glanced at Bea. 'OK, so, you remember that last Easter holidays in Upper Sixth? I came and found you, Good Friday I think it was, said I needed to talk.'

'We decided the library wasn't private enough, so we went to the organ loft in the chapel.' Beatrice remembered the day well, although not because of Ella. 'I was probably a bit distracted at the time, sorry.'

'You were downright angry at tea. I've never seen you so pissed off.'

Beatrice nodded awkwardly. 'Mmm. Sorry. Things on my mind.'

Raphaela shrugged, then rested her elbows on her knees and picked at a fingernail. 'So, I was just trying to find a way round to say what I needed to say when there was that massive crash, and we realised Sister Amata had keeled over.'

Beatrice took her glasses off and rubbed her face with the back of her hand, then pinched her nose quickly with her fingers. 'What an awful day that was.'

'Pretty freaky, yeah.' Raphaela realised Bea was in danger of getting lost in the memory, so squeezed her knee briefly. 'Anyway. I'd just come back from county netball trials and really needed to talk something through...you were the only person I could think of, but I took too long to get to the point, and with the Sister going over the moment was kinda lost...'

Beatrice looked at her carefully, then slid her glasses back on and hooked her hair behind her ears. 'You'd like to have that conversation now?'

Ella nodded. 'The trials were a big thing, it was for the reserve adult squad by that stage. If I'd got in I'd have had to rethink uni and everything. I mean, I usually played Goalkeeper, being tall, but I knew that I was up against it. The county had a good squad that year, and an established keeper in the reserve squad...but still...anyway, I didn't get in.'

Beatrice looked sympathetic, but unsurprised. 'Ella, you got into the uni course of your choice instead, unlike me and Susie. You've had a good career since, you're a recognised coach in several sports, you're doing a doctorate, for Heaven's sake.' She noticed the discomfort in her friend's expression. 'This isn't about netball, is it?'

Raphaela shook her head and paused for so long that Beatrice had to reach out and touch her hand. Eventually, she glanced at Bea then looked away. 'I wanted to talk to you because I thought you'd understand?'

Beatrice slipped her hand into Ella's. 'You're stalling again. Maybe you've been stalling for ten years now. Why don't you just say it? It can't be any worse than keeping it all in for so long.'