It doesn't take me long to get ready, and when I get back downstairs I find Diana has put some more coffee on and started making fried eggs on toast. I pour myself a mug of coffee and top hers up, then lean on the side to watch her. She glances over. 'Do you want to do this? Instead of me taking over your kitchen?'

I wave a hand. 'No, you carry on. I'll lay the table in a minute.' I gather my hair up and twist it round into a rough bun, holding it in place with some pins and a chunky plastic grip.

She grins and goes back to the eggs. 'I thought we could eat outside, it's so nice.' Another glance back. 'If you like.' She looks a little worried when she looks at me, as if conscious that her natural bossiness might just look like rudeness in my house.

I smile at her, and like the way that, however much she feels she needs to watch her step, she makes no effort at all to hide her approval of the short-sleeved blouse and denim skirt I've chosen to wear. Enjoying the feel of her gaze on me, I turn and get the stuff to lay the little table on the patio. 'Good idea, Diana.' Glancing back from the back door, I notice her blatantly eyeing me up – the skirt is quite short, to be fair. I chuckle to myself. If she wants to tease herself by waiting until tonight, fine, but I'm not going to make it easy for her.

***

After breakfast, we wash up. She mutters about getting a newspaper, so I give her directions to the local paper shop and generally tidy up after ourselves while she's gone. I put a load of washing on, as I've been letting it pile up a bit while I've been spending weekends at hers, and like it that when she gets back she's happy to sit around in the garden with the paper while I potter. In fact, I get three loads done and am starting to peg out the last lot when I feel her behind me again.

She takes a dress out of the basket and rummages for some pegs in the bag hanging from the line. She nudges me with her body. 'I'm sorry, I should have offered to help before.'

'It's fine. Thanks, though.' I watch her peg the dress to the line, relieved that she does it the same way as I would – or maybe she's just been observant and seen how I prefer to do it, without having to be asked. I decide I like that explanation. 'This is the last lot for now, I promise.'

She turns and bends down to the basket to pick up a blouse. 'It all needs to be done, though, doesn't it?' Her free hand, as she straightens up, casually strokes my back, drifting down over the curve of my bum in my skirt briefly, before she reaches for some pegs. She glances along the line to check how I hang out my blouses, then asks, 'What do you think about taking a trip into town this afternoon?' (In our town, “into town” always means into the nearby city where there's more to do.) She goes on, 'There's a new exhibition on at the gallery, that might be interesting to have a look at.'

Diana and I have been into town a few times before, and it's always been nice. 'OK,' I say. 'Good idea. We could stay up there and go out for tea, if we want.' At the back of my mind, I think that there's the Smutty Duck as well, and I wonder if Diana might be persuaded to go there. She didn't mind the gay bar here, after all, and it would be lovely to sit with her somewhere public and make no secret of how I feel about her. Lovely to hold her hand in public, kiss her, cuddle against her and maybe even enjoy the envious glances of other women as they realise she's not looking at them any more. And especially to do all that now she's promised that tonight will be the night.

She reaches down into the linen basket and comes up holding a pair of my knickers. They're not awful – in fact they're quite nice: not special occasion ones but just about cute and pretty enough to be interesting – but I blush heavily as she holds them up casually. She glances at me as if she's imagining them on me, cocking one eyebrow quizzically. Then she grins and turns to peg them on the line. I think I see her lick her lips quickly and swallow a little, but that could just be wishful thinking. The fact that she makes no overt reference to them at all is actually surprisingly sexy in itself. Instead, she says, 'I thought you might want to do a bit of shopping.'

I let my breath out quickly as a laugh, and enjoy the gentle background throb of desire deep down inside. 'That's taken as read, Diana, if we're going into town.'

***

We leave shortly after I've finished mucking about with the housework. I take a thin linen jacket, even though it's too warm to wear it, just in case it's cold later, and the rest of my essentials I squeeze into a cute little bag, slinging the jacket through the strap. Diana never seems to need a handbag when we're out casually, but carries all she needs in the pockets of her leather jacket, which she holds slung over her shoulder with a finger.

The local train into town is quite busy, with it being Saturday lunchtime, and we get to stand slightly squashed up against each other in a corner of the carriage. Her hand is pushed casually into the pocket of her jeans and she manoeuvres herself so that I can lean against her sideways and her wrist rests on my hip through my skirt. I like the way the movement of the train rubs her wrist onto me. I shift my weight a little and gently press my knee onto her thigh, again liking the way the rocking of the train rubs our legs together. With a jolt, where the train goes over a junction clumsily, she catches me against her with a gentle, tender arm around my waist, just as any friend would – but the way she lets her fingers linger on my back as she takes her arm away again makes me tingle with arousal.

Walking away from the station into town, she lets me slide an arm through hers. We walk along closer than we could do otherwise, our bodies and arms and hands brushing together as a matter of course. I'm not sure I could cope with not feeling her body touching mine as often as we can get away with.

The art gallery is refreshingly air-conditioned, and we spend a while there. The exhibition is built around works in their collection with a foodie theme, and I can see why Diana might have wanted to see it. We wander about separately (feeling instinctively that we each take different things from the art, in different ways) and meet in front of things now and then to have muttered conversations about what we think. She keeps her voice unusually low, as if worried she'll disturb others' thoughts – and although I don't think it matters as much as she thinks it does, because others are talking louder than us, I don't mind the excuse to stand close and lean into her while she talks, and her breath warms my hair and makes the skin on my neck and throat tingle.

As we walk away from the gallery, we somehow get to discussing what we'd have as a last meal, if we could choose. I discover that Diana hasn't had Toad in the Hole (my ultimate comfort food) since she was a teenager, and that she's a bit sniffy about having it again. I make a mental note to surprise her with my – even if I say so myself – rather nice version of it one day. I also make a mental note to surprise her (more nicely, probably) with her own choice of fish pie.

'That's a slightly unusual one,' I comment when she tells me she would choose fish pie every time.

'Do you think so? It's not really comfort food, but it is what I'd choose as a last meal.' She frowns. 'I'm not sure I have a comfort food, never really thought about it, but I suppose it's not quite the same as baked beans on toast or shepherd's pie or whatever other people have.' She sighs a little. 'My grandmother used to make fish pie for me when I was young. They lived in a fishing village, so the fish was always as fresh as you can get, straight from the small harbour there as soon as the boats came back in. We spent holidays there a lot.' She smiles at me sadly. 'It's one of the things about my childhood that is still terribly evocative.'

We wander in the direction of the main shopping streets. 'Is she still with us, your grandmother?' Suddenly, I'm a little curious about Diana's family. We've never really talked about our families much, either of us, and I wonder if she's like me and just prefers to keep them all at a distance.

'Good God, no. She died years ago.' A brief but intense shadow of sadness passes across her face. I sense that the subject of Diana's grandmother – perhaps her family as a whole – may be a delicate one, so I leave it for a moment and we take a few steps in silence. Then I slide my arm through hers and stroke her forearm once or twice, nudging her side with my elbow in a deliberate attempt to change the atmosphere. I suggest we go for a coffee. She shrugs and smiles and says we can do a bit of window shopping first if I want to, as she's not that desperate for coffee yet.

We do a bit of browsing in shops, and I spot a dress that could be nice for the dinner we've got in a couple of weeks – the one Diana has organised to thank us for our work on that case. I don't really need a new dress, I have several nice ones already that I've only worn once or twice, but this one is lovely. Ridiculously lovely, and at a very reduced price. I let the decision on whether to buy it or not bubble away at the back of my mind as we do other things. We wander back to the cultural side of the city centre and she picks up a summer season programme for the theatre, then we go for coffee in a cute café round the corner. Over coffee, I tell her I want her opinion.

She looks up from the theatre programme. 'That sounds serious. What's wrong?'

'I can't decide whether to buy a dress.' She snorts with amusement and I hit her arm lightly. 'Shut up, that is serious.' I cross my legs in the upholstered tub chair, tugging my skirt back down a little, and lean forward to describe the dress to her: a smart but summery light blue with cream trimming, a knee-length full skirt and quite flattering bodice. I'm aware that she's casually flicking her eyes over my legs now and then, but I don't mind because I like that and I know she's listening as well. 'I was thinking about wearing it for this meal we've got coming up.'

She gazes at me for a minute or two, and I wonder what she's thinking. There seems to be amusement in her eyes, but also affection. She rests her head on her hand and her lips twitch in an effort not to smile too broadly. 'I'm pleased we're together, Fiona. I think you're very good for me.' She smiles at me softly, and I'm not sure quite what to say. She fills the little surprised silence herself. 'I can't imagine the dress really, even with your description, but I'm sure it's lovely because you have impeccable taste. Why don't we go and look at it when we've finished here?'

'OK, thanks.' I fiddle with my pendant for a moment, twisting it round a finger. 'Talking of meals, my ticket for the dinner at college came through the other day. I've been meaning to tell you.'

She raises an eyebrow. 'Oh, now that is serious. I had assumed you wouldn't be going.' She rubs the bridge of her nose quickly, something I know she does when she's suppressing a slight nervousness. 'Why didn't you tell me? I'm sure I could've got you in for free as my plus-one or something. At least as a guest of mine.'

I had wondered what she'd think about me being in the audience for her big speech. We haven't talked about it much, but I know she keeps drifting into her study at weekends to jot things down, or maybe even to write things up by now. It's only about six weeks away, at the most – right at the end of term. A final inspiring rallying-call before most of the attendees (in whose honour the dinner is held) graduate and go on to great things in the world. 'I'm sorry, Diana. I hope you don't mind that I'll be there. I know I'm not the most enthusiastic college old girl, but I know this is important to you and I decided I perhaps ought to be there.' I don't like the look of anxiety in her eyes. 'I can always cancel, ask them to allocate the ticket to someone else. There's always loads of old girls after a place.'

She sighs and shakes her head. 'Don't be daft, Fiona. It'll be fine.' She smiles. 'Actually, I'll probably be glad of having you there when it comes to it. Moral support, you know? At least one listener on my side.'

'Oh, Diana.' I want to touch her then, hold her and reassure her that she'll be wonderful. 'I'm sorry we haven't talked about it much since you first asked. Did you want to? I assumed you'd want to be left alone to get on with it because I can tell how worried you are about it. But I don't want you to think I'm not taking an interest.'

She smiles again. 'Thanks. If you don't mind, I would like a second opinion. But it can wait, we can do that tomorrow.' She points at the remains of my coffee. 'Unlike this dress. Come on.'

***

Diana approves of the dress, both in words and in the sparkle I see in her eyes as I come out of the fitting room and walk towards the mirror. It does look nice, I decide as I twist around in it, and I know I have the perfect shoes for it already at home. Diana leans on the wall and nods. 'That looks very nice, Fiona. Smart but not too dressy. I say you should get it, if you like it.' Then she leans in close, on the pretext of adjusting the dress on my hips and whispers, 'You look gorgeous. More gorgeous than normal, if possible.' Her hand lingers on me for a second, before she steps back.

I get the dress. Of course.

***

We go for an early-evening dinner in a cosy Italian restaurant Diana knows, then I persuade her to try the Smutty Duck. She's sceptical at first, but lets me guide her in the right direction anyway and softens when I remind her that she didn't mind the gay pub back in our home town and that it was nice to sit somewhere public and not have to hide the true nature of our relationship.

It's still quite light and warm from the day, and we discover that the Duck has a pretty large beer garden in the courtyard at the back, and a small roof terrace up a wrought-iron staircase. The pub itself is not very busy, but there is a decent crowd of all ages in the garden and on the terrace. I make Diana keep us two seats on a table, and hurry back to the bar to get us drinks.

For a lot of the time we're there, we sit close enough that our legs rest against each other, or I can lean in to her. We hold hands when we feel like it, and the rest of the time one of us is stroking the other's arm or making some other small gesture of affection, almost unconsciously in the relaxed atmosphere of a sympathetic community. It takes her a while to relax into the idea that everyone there thinks it's perfectly OK for two women to be so overtly affectionate, but when she gets used to it, it's almost like she has to sit close and have physical contact with me, to make the most of being able to do so.

We stay longer than I intend, because yet again Diana discovers a side to life she never knew she might like, and starts to enjoy herself. I recognise a few familiar faces, male and female, from my brief time on the scene, after Diana and I had had our argument, and a couple stop by for a chat. None of the women ever knew I was only dating them to avoid Diana, and they seem quite happy to see me with someone else, so there's no atmosphere to it at all. Nick the barman, who's off-duty, comes over and chats for a while until his boyfriend gets bored of whoever he was talking to and comes over to fetch him back. Catherine spots us from the roof terrace and waves. I blush slightly, but wave back. She seems to be with another couple of girls and a few lads, and to be comfortable and settled in their company. At one point I notice her slide a hand onto the thigh of the girl sitting next to her, and I'm not surprised when the girl gives every sign of liking it lots. They almost kiss, and I know they will for real sometime soon. I'm excited for the girl, that she'll get Catherine, and I'm pleased that Catherine has found someone more suitable than me.

At about the same time, coincidentally, Diana does something very similar, sliding her hand gently over my skirt and along my thigh. One of the plants growing up the side of the wall where we're sitting has shed some heavy-scented flowers and a rich white blossom has landed on my knee. She swipes it gently away. I already like the way our feet and ankles are entwined under the table, and the touch of the back of her hand on my knee sends tremors of pleasure through me. Ever since the morning, I've been anticipating her touch on me, and contenting myself with linked arms and the odd brush of fingers here and there. Now, we can be together as we want to be, and I very much like being able to sit so close to her, feel her against me, give a physical expression to the emotional closeness we feel. I lean into her and sigh happily.

At one point, Diana is approached by a man near her age, who turns out to be someone she did her law conversion course with and who is visiting a new friend, and they catch up for a while. Even so, all the while, she keeps an arm round my shoulders, or a hand on my knee.

As we're by ourselves again, I lean down to get my purse from my bag for another round, and I find myself at a slightly awkward angle across her. She holds my arm and leans in to kiss my shoulder through my top. When I right myself, I turn my head and smile at her, suddenly feeling a lurch of desire as I take in her soft lips and her bright eyes. 'What?' I ask, leaning in slightly. I feel a bit drunk, but I can tell the alcohol is starting to go to her head a little too.

'Nothing.' She smiles and her hand strokes up and down my bare arm gently.

'Oh, sorry. I thought you were going to say something.' Sometimes she does nuzzle my neck and shoulder when she wants my attention.

'No.' She smiles happily. 'I just wanted to kiss you. And I realised I could and nobody would give a fuck.' She squeezes my arm. 'I like that.'

The desire that's been gently throbbing away deep down inside since the morning starts to beat a bit harder. I lean in and kiss her lips quickly. 'Good. I want you to be happy. Same again?'

'All right, then. Can we make this the last one, though? Please, Fiona? Anyone would think you were trying to lead me astray.' When she's a little bit tipsy, Diana has a slightly strange sense of humour which puts others off, though I think it's harmless. I think we get on so well because I can be just as randomly teasing back.

I laugh. 'Am I leading you into temptation?' I stand up off the bench and I know that her gaze follows the movement of my legs and the way my miniskirt slides over my thighs as I negotiate the bench. I smooth my skirt down, while her hand trails down my arm and takes my hand. Deep inside I feel the need to have not just her eyes on me, but her hands and her mouth. I glance at her face and feel a strong urge to kiss her endlessly.

She nods and kisses my hand. 'I damn well hope so. Especially when we get back.'

I move my hand and stroke her hair for a second, then brush her cheek affectionately and make my way back to the bar.

***

When I return, Diana seems a little more subdued than when I left her. To be fair, there was a bit of a queue at the bar now the place is beginning to fill up, and I wonder if she feels our little space is being invaded a bit. 'Sorry I was so long,' I say as I put our glasses on the table and slide in to the gap she's been keeping on the bench. I nestle closer to her to make room for a man who's installed himself at the other end of the table to smoke.

Nonetheless, I try a few topics to get her talking again and under the table I slide my hand up and down her leg where it's lying against mine. Eventually, after a long few minutes silence, I ask, 'What's up, Diana?'

She pushes up against me, but I can feel she's tense. 'The young woman up there. Brown ponytail, early 30s, tall, attractive...' She flicks her head up towards the roof terrace without actually looking in that direction. I raise my eyes in that direction and catch Catherine looking down on us. Catherine looks away quickly when she sees me glance up.

'That's Catherine. What about her?'

'Ah. You do know her, then?'

For the first time ever, I think I detect a hint of jealousy in Diana's voice. The butterflies in my stomach are not all pleasurable now. 'We got to know each other a while ago. And it was a while ago, I promise, and lasted no time at all.' I try to catch hold of Diana's hand, but she doesn't quite let me.

There's a horribly tense few minutes, but she eventually overcomes her own interior struggle and runs her hand down my back gently. 'I'm sorry, Fiona.' She leans in and gently kisses my shoulder again, and we both enjoy the shiver of pleasure that gives me. Her hand goes around my waist and comes to rest on my leg, just below the hem of my miniskirt. I lean back onto her a little as I enjoy the feel of her fingers spread out on my bare thigh. She clears her throat and talks softly into my hair. 'Can we go? Soon?'

I take a deep breath. 'We can go whenever you like, as long as we go straight home.'

She moves her hand off my thigh and hugs my waist lightly. 'When's the next train?'

'We could get a taxi.'

'That would be quicker, wouldn't it?'

'Yes.' I press myself back onto her and slide a hand onto her leg under the table, pretending that I'm really just feeling my way to pick up my handbag.

'You've just bought a round, Fiona...'

I pick up my bag and make sure my hand is resting high up on the inside of her leg. My face comes very close to hers. 'Fuck it, Diana. Seriously. Let's go.' We both stand up unsteadily and make our way out to the front of the pub, where we find a taxi within minutes.

***

In the darkness of the back seat of the taxi we make desultory conversation. Under her leather jacket, which is over our laps, she reaches out and places her hand firmly on my bare knee again. I shift so that I am sitting closer to her. Her hand slides up my leg – not quickly, but confidently and with a lightness of touch that is very sexy. I let my thighs part just enough to encourage her, and her hand reaches the hem of my miniskirt. The pressure of her hand on my leg, and the sway of our legs together as the taxi keeps moving, turns me on. It is a beautiful foretaste of what is to come.

'So...' I ask, trying not to let my voice shake with excitement. I twitch my thighs further apart and her hand slides just under the hem of the skirt. 'Why did you ask about Catherine?'

Her hand falters, and she leans over. 'Was she special to you?'

I know better than to muck about with Diana. I take a deep breath. 'After we...after I bawled you out that time in your office?' She nods and I go on. 'I thought I'd lost you forever. Blown any chance with you. I thought you'd never like me how I wanted you, want the same things as me. I tried to distract myself. Catherine was one of the people I met at that time.' I close my eyes and try to regulate my breathing. I need to sound calm for Diana, more than for me. I realise that what seemed like a weakness when I was single could now be a strength, because it's really what I wanted all along. I breathe deeply again and slide a hand under her jacket to take hold of hers where it's resting on my leg. 'I admit I was tempted, with Catherine. She was the nearest I came to thinking I'd got over you. To replacing you.'

I feel her hitch her breath in. 'Fiona...I never realised you were so...'

'Obsessed?'

'Interested.' She turns her hand to hold mine properly, still under her jacket. 'I underestimated you all along. I thought you were like the others and were just being bloody-minded or something. I'm so sorry.'

I turn my head and nuzzle against her neck quickly. 'I only ever wanted you to see me as more than just a fuck, Diana. That was all, in the beginning.'

She breathes heavily for a few moments. 'And now? Do you mind that it's become something else?'

'Of course not.'

She clears her throat. 'You'd like something long-lasting? Something real and permanent between us? Something nobody else could have?'

'Yes. I would, Diana. Of course.' I don't like her insecurity. How could she doubt me?

She buries her face in my neck, and I feel her lips move on my skin. 'Catherine...'

'I don't want Catherine.' I squeeze her hand. 'I did, before. She and I were good together. But we weren't meant to be.'

She pauses. 'And we are?'

'Yes.' I feel more sure of that than anything else.

***

The taxi pulls up at my house. Diana and I untangle ourselves and pay, then stumble indoors. In the hallway, I realise that her eyes are quite moist. I hug her, and she holds me close, and I feel her eyelashes a little damp on the bare skin of my neck and under the collar of my blouse.

Eventually she clears her throat again. 'Catherine said...she...she came and found me while you were at the bar, asked me if I was Diana. I said I was, and she said if I ever broke your heart she would personally ensure I regretted it for the rest of my days.'

I stay quiet and hold Diana close. No wonder she's been subdued. 'It won't come to that, Diana.' I lean round her and lock the front door, then take her hand to lead her straight upstairs.