The Neapolitan Question

'Ok, ok, but you have got to tell me what's going on, Frank. I walk in here to find you two apparently basking in some sort of post-coital coma, phones off, locked in your own happy world. I could almost smell it on you both. I'm right, aren't I? I know I asked you to take care of her, but this wasn't exactly what I had in mind.'

'Ellie --,'

'Honestly, Frank. I didn't think you'd make a move on her --,'

'He didn't Ellie. It was me.'

Janey's standing in the doorway, arms folded across her body.

'You?'

Ellie twists in her chair to look at Jane, who nods slowly.

'Mmhm.'

'Well that's a bit of a fucking shock, Jane. Since when've you been in the business of propositioning blokes?'

There's a moment's silence before the two old friends let loose loud peals of laughter. If the kids weren't so totally exhausted I'm sure we'd have been surrounded by them, curious to find out what adult mysteries had caused such an outburst.

'Fuck, Jane, I'm so sorry. But, honestly, that caught me off-guard, it really did. Of all the things I thought you'd ever say, that was never one of them.'

They laugh some more while I watch them, wondering how much Janey's going to tell Ellie. I decide to open another bottle of wine anyway. It can't hurt, can it?

'Oh come on, you can't just leave it at that, Jane. Not even you!'

Ellie looks so indignant it makes me laugh.

'Eleanor, you know how useless I am talking about this sort of thing,' Jane smiles up at me as she sits down again at the table and I pour some more wine into her glass.

'And yet you somehow "propositioned" my brother?'

'Dutch courage,' Jane lifts her glass up.

'And you propositioned him before he propositioned you? My brother? Franklin the no-fear charmer?'

My sister leans back in her chair, pursing her lips, waiting for an answer. But none comes. Janey's eyes glint and I wonder if she wants me to jump in to save her from further interrogation.

'And that's all I'm going to get from you? Either of you?'

We share another look, Jane and me. Which doesn't go unnoticed, of course.

'Huh. Well, what can I say? Except you might want to put a chair up against the bedroom door if you don't want a bedful of kids first thing in the morning. They are no respecters of privacy, I can tell you.'

'S'ok, Ells, I've already made plans to buy a lock tomorrow.'

'That'd be the smart thing to do. So - cheers, then. Here's to the bloody unexpected.'

'Cheers Ellie,' and we all take a long drink from our glasses, at least two of us mightily relieved this conversation is over. For now.

It's not long after that we all call it a night. Despite my bravado about fixing locks to bedroom doors, I hesitate as we get closer to the end of the house where our bedrooms are. Janey's ahead of me (and probably in so many more ways than just this one) as we approach her bedroom door, taking my hand.

'I think my bedroom's the better choice, don't you, as it has the en-suite?'

We're lying in bed when Janey tucks herself closer to me.

'So -- today didn't turn out anything like we thought.'

'You can say that again.'

'I wonder how long Ellie's going to last before returning to the subject of us.'

'I'd give it another twenty four hours at most. Less, if she corners one of us on our own during the course of tomorrow.'

I roll on my back, pulling Janey onto my chest. She's still much too light. I need to give more thought to what I'm going to cook for the next few days. I run a hand down her arm.

'How much do you want to tell her? We should make a plan for what we'll say the next time she grills us.'

'How much do you usually confide in Ellie? Is she going to smell a rat if you don't give her enough detail?'

'Honestly, I don't tell her that sort of thing. There's too much of an age gap between us, remember, so by the time I was getting into girls, she had left home. I talked to her about Cate, but that was about the relationship, not the sex.'

'Hmm.'

'Let's just keep it simple. We were getting along. One night we had dinner; a bit too much wine, maybe. And you were the one brave enough to suggest we try something out.'

'Brave?' she snorts. 'That's not how I remember it.'

'It's how I remember it.'

'Don't be ridiculous.'

'I'm not.'

She sighs and makes to roll off me, but I hold onto her.

'Honestly, Jane. I'm the one with all the apparent experience here, and I didn't have the courage to make the first move. But you did.'

She snorts again but I kiss it out of her until her breathing is getting heavier.

'And I'm very glad you did.'

'So am I. But what is this? Beginner's luck?'

'Who for? You or me?'

'Me, of course. I'm the first timer here.'

'Not entirely, Jane.'

She squints at me, pushing her hair out of her eyes. 'What do you mean?'

'I've not, um --,' but I fade out.

'What are you so tongue-tied about?' She examines me, smiling quizzically. I'm bewitched, watching her work it out. 'Oh! What, you've never -- what's the phrase -- taken a girl's virginity before?'

I blink.

'Really?'

'Really.'

'How come?'

I blink again, resisting the urge to fidget under her firm gaze.

'I, uh, liked girls who were a bit older than me, more experienced, and they seemed to like me back, so --,' I shrug.

'Indeed?' she arches her pretty eyebrows at me, making me laugh.

Then wriggles her hips over me, forcing me to snatch at my breath.

'Indeed, Jane. Yes,' I laugh again, trying to hold her still, but she's having none of it.

'Well, then,' she draws herself upright, 'how was it for you?' a smile playing around the corners of her mouth.

'The best.'

'A fantasy fulfilled?'

She suddenly looks as though she might be feeling enchanted and afraid all at once. As if she's afraid too much is riding on my answer. Or is that me?

'Better than that, I think.'

A crowd of thoughts and emotions push and shove their way across her intelligent face, too quickly for me to catch them all. But I share the general experience of being overwhelmed by too many hopes and fears at the same time.

'This might be too much of a good thing.'

'Yes. It might be. Come down here for a bit,' I coax her back down to lie on my chest. It already feels barren without her lying there. How has that happened so quickly?

She lies on me; a comforting blanket and a thrilling novelty in one. I listen to her breath whistling through her throat (and, yes, I've googled asthma and pneumonia to get my facts straight on what their symptoms are) and try to stop myself from thinking about whether this might be too much of a good thing or not. The length of her body over mine and the regularity of her breathing act like a drug on me, relaxing me down into a dream-like state. It seems to be mutual. And then one last thing from the day seems in need of resolution for Janey.

'And, so, Mike's boss actually has her own jet?'

'Yep. That's what happens when you own several global brand luxury hotel chains,' I reply, smoothing a hand along her back.

'Wow. That's serious wealth.'

'You do know all this money is on Mike's side of the family, don't you?' I tease her.

'I don't give a fuck about money, Frankie,' she laughs back.

And -- have I said how much I love a bit of profanity from a well-spoken woman's lips?

'I love it when you talk dirty. Say it again,' I goad her, twisting my hips underneath her.

+++

The plane banks over the Bay of Naples, the view as beautiful as always. I swallow, trying to relieve the pressure in my ears. And calm my nerves. It's only been five days that I've been back in London, but it's felt far longer. Partly the intensity of two long days with a client, sitting in a windowless office prodding our way through a huge pile of documents before deciding whether to complete a pre-tender qualification questionnaire or not (I wasn't joking when I said what I do can be really boring), followed by a couple of meetings with potential clients I've not met before, trying to strike the right balance between confidence and cockiness. But mostly, the anxiety of being away from Janey. Just for five days! I shake my head. I've slammed into this harder than I've ever experienced before, and I'll admit that along with the euphoria of it, my chest is tight with the fear of it too. So much fear. So many what ifs.

Two conversations jostle around in my memory as we bank again, apparently circling over the airport now, not landing quite yet. Conversations with Jane. One was as we'd been sitting on the terrace, keeping our eyes on Sophie and George playing in the garden, everyone else over at the pool. I'd taken a deep drink of water before broaching the subject.

'Janey, I've been thinking, but for the life of me I cannot remember anything about your mam. What happened to her, I mean, that you and your dad were on your own.'

She'd turned her head slowly to look at me full on, an expression of utter surprise in her eyes.

'But she died, Frankie. Like your mother. When I was twelve.'

It'd hit me like a sharp fistful of ice. How had I forgotten that?

'Don't you remember? We used to talk about it, you and me. When Ellie wouldn't talk about it at all. Never ever. But you and me -- we used to talk about it into the wee hours. Don't you remember?'

I can't recall what I'd said in response, but the look on my face obviously said quite a lot in its own right, because Jane had got out of her chair, sat down on the edge of mine and taken my hand in hers.

And -- well, fuck -- how had I ever forgotten that?

Whispered conversations in their student digs; Ellie passed on out her bed; me and Jane huddled on the tiny, cheap sofa in the corner of the room, trying to find words to express what it felt like to carry on going to school, to watch favourite television programmes, to listen to the eulogy, with just the memory of a mother. How awkward it was to have to tell someone, 'oh, yeah, my mam died when I was a kid'.

The second conversation was even shorter. Maybe not even a conversation as such. I'd been in the pool for hours, it felt like, with George and Charlotte splashing about around me, Frankie sitting in a chair at the side, offering encouragement to them as they applied fierce levels of concentration to improving their swimming. Or clinging onto me, flicking water at me, or any other manner of things they found delightful. I'd been launching them out of my arms into the deep end, lots of squealing and giggling, until I was getting too tired to do it much longer, when Jane had slipped into the pool behind me.

'Aren't you exhausted?' she'd asked, her eyes smiling as she'd waded into view.

'Yep. I'm hoping to divert their energies towards dinner, soon, before my arms give out completely.'

'Noooo, uncle Frank. You have to stay here with us. Making dinner is boring,' Charlotte, the ears of a bat on her, had instantly cried out.

Right then, Ellie had called out from the windows, leaving them in no doubt it was time to get out of the pool and into the shower. The kids had scrambled out, grumbling and shoving each other towards the house as Jane touched my shoulders.

'Those kids adore you.'

'It's mutual, Jane. I'm their biggest fan.'

That was all we said. But the look in her eyes seemed to recognise everything else that was unsaid. A whole long list of stuff. Every time Ellie had so happily announced she was pregnant. The times I'd volunteered to babysit for them instead of going out to the pub. All their bright drawings and paintings pinned over my desk at home. The baby me and Cate couldn't have. All of it. Usually it made me feel so full I feared my chest might crack open. Jane had looked at me for as long as it'd taken for all those thoughts to tumble around inside me. And then she'd smiled.

What do I think happened right then? That she'd read my mind? Divined everything, even the things I haven't really articulated that clearly to myself?

I have no idea. But I do know I felt as though I'd be able to tell her about them all. The whole list. That she'd listen. And understand.

+++

I walk through the house, towards the kitchen, the source of all the noise. So much noise no one realises I'm here. I stand in the doorway, unnoticed for a few seconds. Long enough to see the usual uproar that four kids can create; clothes, colouring books, shoes, stickers, glitter -- the kitchen looks like a juvenile crime scene. Ellie and Mike are swigging coffee like addicts. George is sitting on Jane's lap, talking her through the finer points of his favourite dinosaurs. Frankie notices me first and raises his hand. I walk in and grasp it.

'Thank God you're back. The kids have been SO annoying,' he casts his eyes up to the ceiling, and I repress a smile. He's not even eleven and already he's trying so hard for sixteen.

Jane flashes me one of her big smiles and although it's difficult to keep my balance for children mobbing me, she's the only one in the room I can really focus on. But I pick the girls up and let Sophie put stickers on my face until Ellie calls time on the whole thing, announcing everyone needs to get ready.

'Where are you are going?' I ask.

'We're taking the kids to Giulia's for a couple of nights to see their cousins,' she replies, a barely suppressed tone of glee in her voice and a sly smile on her face. 'And we two grown-ups here will be back in time for dinner tonight. Mike's already made most of it. You might want to go out at some point in search of a bottle or two of full-bodied red to go with it. Sound good?' She actually winks at me.

'Yeah, so you and Jane can be alone all day because you've been away,' Frankie adds triumphantly.

I look around at my family, feeling as though I've been set up. Jane's not helping, her head bowed over George's book of dinosaurs.

'But I want uncle Frank to come with us,' Sophie announces.

Before I can reply, my sister jumps in.

'Frank got up at silly o'clock this morning to catch his flight here, so the last thing he needs is two hours stuffed in the car with you lot. He'll be here when you get back on Sunday, Sophie. And don't pout, that's a warning.'

I take the cup of coffee Mike offers me and while I drink it leaning up against the wall, the kids and their chaos recede under Ellie's repeated coaching, leaving just me, Jane and Mike in the kitchen. And then just me and Jane. With the noise of footsteps thumping down the stairs and car doors slamming in the background, she finally stands up and treats me to a full-on smile.

'I missed you, Frankie. Did you miss me?'

'Such a lot.' I pull her into me, pressing us together, head to toe. 'So much,' and bury my face in her neck, in her scent.

She whispers sweet words into my ear and pushes her fingers through my hair.

'Uh, ah -- sorry. Just need to grab this.'

I raise my head just in time to see Mike picking up his phone from the table and back out of the kitchen.

She looks up too; we share a smile.

'You had a haircut,' she offers.

I nod, suddenly self-conscious at how much I must be grinning at her. How much I'm giving away.

'Did you go to bed at all last night? You must have had to get up so early? What do you want to do today, or do you just need to sleep?'

'So many questions,' I laugh, and watch her shrug, one of her hands making to cover her face. I take a hold of it, slipping my fingers between hers.

'No, I didn't go to bed last night at all. I got home after seeing Rob and Zosia for dinner, showered, packed and took a cab to the airport. Didn't sleep on the plane either. Too wired.' I grin, pushing our hands between our bodies to press on her belly.

Her smile widens. 'Hmm, I see. But what would you like to do this morning?'

'Want to make a wild guess?' I press myself up against her.

'Are you giving me a clue?' she laughs, tipping her head back a little bit.

'What do you think, Janey?'

'I think I'm learning.'

I dive into her neck, press my lips into the soft skin there, take in the smell of her hair. Lemony? And push our hands lower, through the folds of her dress and into the gap between her thighs. She catches her breath, then expels it in a hot rush down the front of my shirt.

'Actually, Janey, I missed you so much it was ridiculous. Only five days,' I mutter, pressing our hands up against her, feeling the rub of the cotton of her dress and the squirm of her hips. I ease back enough to see if it's resistance or pleasure she's feeling. By the look of her face it's a bit of both, maybe? But a good resistance. Like she wants to lean into it; to feel it.

'I'm greedy for you, Jane. So much, it shocks me,' I confide, my lips brushing the top of her ear.

She exhales again; a low, throaty whistle, her head dropping heavy onto my chest.

'So am I -- for you, I mean' she draws breath. 'But I've been assuming it's because I'm just a novice at this.'

I close my eyes, afraid to ask, and afraid not to. What will win out? Which of the fears?

'Tell me.'

I imagine I can feel her making the same choice; feel her hesitancy. I wait. Hold my breath, hard.

'I feel as though everything with you is at it should be,' she says, finally.

'Hmm?'

'Yes. I've been questioning it since you left on Sunday. And then,' she gives a sharp laugh, 'and then, reminding myself how I tell the girls at school that you really do know how you feel. Deep down. You just have to pay attention to yourself. And if you're confused, then that is telling you how sure or unsure you are about something -- about someone.'

I hum, forming the words. 'And how confused do you feel, Janey?'

'Not at all.'

I swallow; my throat is dry.

'But -,' and she pulls her head upright, grasps mine in both of her hands, now, 'but, Frankie, if this is too much, too fast, it's ok. I can't imagine what your state of mind is, after Cate and the baby and, well -- and everything. I can't imagine it. And I'm probably being completely naïve ....'

'No, Janey. I don't want to do that. I don't want to take it slowly. I want to run into this headlong with all my energy. And courage,' I add softly.

I stare into her eyes, stripped down. Ok, so she was my first ever teenage crush. But that's not the long and short of it. Not at all. Not as simple as that. No. There's much more to it than that. She's the loving, kind, intelligent, funny and -- yes -- sexy woman I got to know at a pivotal time in my life. We shared so much about what it felt like to be motherless. After she reminded me about that -- and how had I ever let myself forget? -- I've spent a lot of time recovering those conversations from the back rooms of my mind. Remembering how much sharing it with Janey had helped me feel less of an alien in my own life. And wanting that for the rest of it.

'Yes! Yes, then let's run into it, full speed, Frankie. Life's too short to hold back, isn't it?'

I grab her into me and hold on tightly, knowing she'll probably feel how hard my heart is banging up against my ribs and not caring.

Whether she climbs onto me or I pick her up, I'm not clear, but I hold onto her, adjusting to her weight around me. Finally, our confessing done, we kiss. She wraps her tongue into my mouth, filling me. I let my eyes close, to concentrate all my senses on the feel of her; of the taste and scent of her enveloping me. I relax into it, into the deep, slow warmth of her.

Her hands in my hair is what tips me. Boringly consistent, remember? I lift her up higher onto my hips so I can move more easily, needing to relieve the tension in my back. And slide her onto the kitchen table.

'What are you smiling at?' I ask her.

In reply, she picks at my face and pulls off a handful of stickers. Well, that must have been the epitome of masculinity, I think to myself, looking at the assortment of kittens, ponies and dinosaurs now curling up on Janey's fingertips. She's still smiling.