More Than This by Alexa Milne

Author:Alexa Milne [Milne, Alexa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: LGBT Romance Fiction
Publisher: Totally Entwined Group
Published: 2020-05-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

Veronica

I smiled to myself as we strolled, knowing the purchase I’d made included the very lingerie set Cass had stared at. I knew her size and the assistant had fetched them from the storeroom without Cass realizing. I’d seen this set in the catalog and was pleased with myself for knowing her tastes and how those tastes matched my own.

It had been years since I’d been to Brighton pier. I also wanted to try the new i360 tower. I knew from the way Cass had fucked me against the window on the twentieth floor that neither of us had a fear of heights. A flush of heat rushed through me at the memory.

We wandered around the pier and played on the slot machines, which seemed so much more complicated than they’d been when I was young. I said as much.

“Anyone would think you were ancient,” Cass replied, laughing. I loved her laugh.

“I am beyond thirty,” I admitted. “Though only just.”

“Me too and so what? Enough, pet. I was promised fish and chips. There’s a place over there and we can find a bench. I can’t remember the last time I ate food wrapped in newspaper while sitting outside.”

The smell of the battered cod and chips brought back memories of those few times Mum had treated us to a chippy tea with fish. A lot of it had been scraps, those little pieces of greasy batter rescued from the huge vats of oil used for frying. A couple of fat seagulls landed on the wooden boards in front of us, hoping to capture a stray chip. It could be dangerous eating out.

“Ha’way with you,” Cass said, waving her arms.

I stared at her. “Are you a Geordie?” I asked.

“I am, pet,” she said, grinning broadly. “I gave myself away. Bugger! I worked hard to get rid of my true voice, but it comes out sometimes. I was born in Newcastle but got moved around the system. My foster parents moved south for my father’s work when I was a teenager, and I was encouraged to lose the accent so kids didn’t make fun of me in school.”

“It must have been hard,” I said. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to—you know, how you ended up in foster care.” But I want to know.

She took a deep breath and stared out to sea. “I never knew my father. I’m not sure my mother did either. She was a drug addict. No doubt some bloke she thought was her boyfriend had got her hooked. She’d managed to keep mostly clean while she was pregnant with me, but it didn’t last. There were always more men ready to tempt her back.”

Had her early experiences put her off men?

“My mother got caught shoplifting when I was five. Social services took one look at where we lived and took me into care. At first, I was in a group home. After that, I had a few foster places, then this older couple took me on when I was ten.

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