Public Secrets

women who love each other make babies together, and most of the time they both want them very much. I have a baby right here.” She pressed Emma’s hand against her stomach. “Your father’s baby. When it’s born, it will be your brother or sister.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Emma slid her hand over Bev’s stomach. She didn’t see how there could be a baby in there. Mrs. Perkins across the alley had had a big bloated belly before little Donald had come.
“Where is it?”
“Inside. It’s very, very small now. It has almost six months more to grow before it’s time for it to come out.”
“Will it like me?”
“I think so. Brian will be its da just like he’s your da.”
Enchanted, Emma began to stroke Bev’s stomach as she sometimes stroked Charlie. “I’ll take good care of the baby. No one will hurt it.”
“No, no one will hurt it.” With a sigh, Bev slipped an arm around Emma’s shoulders and looked out toward the hedgerow. This time Emma didn’t inch away, but sat still, fascinated, one hand over Bev’s stomach.
“I’m a little afraid of being a mum, Emma. Maybe you can let me practice on you.”
After a deep breath, Bev stood up, bringing Emma with her. “We’re going to start right now. Let’s go up and put on your pretty pink dress. We’re going out to tea.” The hell with reporters, the hell with starers and gawkers. “We’re going to make ourselves into the two prettiest ladies in London and have our tea at the Ritz.”

F OR EMMA IT was the beginning of her first relationship with another female that wasn’t based on fear or intimidation. Over the following days, they shopped at Harrods, walked in Green Park, and lunched at the Savoy. Bev ignored the photographers who snapped them. When she discovered Emma’s love of beautiful materials and bright colors, she indulged them shamelessly. Within two weeks, the little girl who had come to her with only the shirt on her back had a closet bulging with clothes.
But at night the loneliness crept back, when each lay in bed pining for the same man.
Emma’s longings were more direct. She wanted Brian to come back because he made her feel good. Love wasn’t something she’d learned to define or agonize over.
But Bev agonized. She worried that he would grow tired of her, that he would find someone more in step with the world he lived in. She missed the good, strong sex they shared. It was so easy to believe he would always love her, always be with her during that calm drugging time after love and before sleep. But now, alone in the big brass bed, she would wonder if he filled up his loneliness with women as well as music.
The sky was just beginning to lighten when the phone rang. Bev groped for it on the third ring. “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “Hello.”
“Bev.” Brian’s voice was urgent.
Instantly awake, she shot up in bed. “Bri. What is it? What’s happened?”
“Nothing. Everything. We’re a smash, Bev.” There was a dazed and dashing edge to his laughter. “Every night the crowds get bigger. They’ve had to double security to keep the girls from flinging themselves on stage. It’s wild, Bev. Insane. Tonight one of them grabbed Stevie’s sleeve as we were making the dash for the limo. Ripped his coat clean off. The press is calling us vanguards of the second wave of the British invasion. Vanguards.”
Sinking back onto the pillows, Bev struggled to drum up enthusiasm. “That’s wonderful, Brian. There’ve been some snippets on the telly here, but not much to go by.”
“It’s like being a gladiator, standing there onstage and listening to the roars.” He didn’t think he could explain, even to her, the thrill and the terror. “I think even Pete was impressed.”
Bev smiled thinking of his pragmatic, business-first-and-last manager. “Then you must be something.”
“Yeah.” He drew on the joint he had lit to extend the high. “I wish you were here.”

She heard the background noises, loud music, male and female laughter mixed with it. “So do I.”
“Then come.” He pushed away a blonde, half naked and glazed-eyed, who tried to crawl into his lap. “Pack a bag and fly over.”
“What?”
“I mean it. It’s not half as good as it would be if you were here.” Across the room a brunette, nearly six feet tall, slowly stripped. Stevie, the lead guitarist, popped a Quaalude like rock candy. “Look, I know we talked about it and decided it was best for you to stay home, but we were wrong.