Archive of Our Own

Case File #0094 - The Woman at Number Seven

***Not affiliated with Kovalenko Investigations***

Julie has a new neighbour.

It’s not difficult to establish. In an apartment block with four flats per floor, it’s quite easy to see when someone’s coming or going.

Exhibit A: The couple who had lived there had moved out a month ago now, and that would be plenty of time to find a new tenant.

Exhibit B: Neither Megan nor Charles nor any other tenant seem to have jobs that require them to leave at six a.m, but there’s a car that now leaves before Julie does from the resident’s car park.

Exhibit C: Charles is excited, which is almost always a bad sign.

He introduces Julie to Didi Santos Cordero in the worst way possible over breakfast.

“Our new neighbour is very attractive,” Charles says, biting into a croissant.

Julie’s at the stage of her friendship with Charles where nothing actually surprises her, so she nods. “Sure. What’s her name? How old is she?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Charles says. “In her late twenties, perhaps?”

Julie grimaces. “Don’t you think that’s a bit young?”

Charles waves a hand. “Oh, no. Not for me. I was thinking you might like to get to know her.” He wiggles his eyebrows mechanically. Julie can tell he’s been practicing that in front of the mirror.

If it wasn’t her own apartment, Julie would’ve left. “I thought we agreed you were never doing this again,” she says. “Stop trying to set me up.”

“She’s a lesbian,” Charles says. “I checked.”

“What the fuck do you mean you checked?” Julie says.

“I asked her,” Charles says. “I went up to her with a basket of fruit, and I said ‘Didi, are you a lesbian?’ And she told me that she was and thusly I told her-“

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Julie said, warningly.

“Don’t interrupt. I told her that I knew a nice lesbian who I was sure she’d get along with like a house on fire,” Charles finished. He flourished his hand. “Et voila.”

“Et nothing,” Julie says. “Charles, one of these days I’m going to slap you and you won’t even be able to complain, because you do deserve it.” She rests her head in her hands. “I mean, does she know it’s me? Maybe she’ll think it’s Megan. She looks like a lesbian, right?”

Charles shakes his head. “No, I showed her three photos of you.”

“I hate you,” Julie says.

Charles nods. “Quite. You have a date this evening. Don’t be late.”

By the time Julie is getting ready to leave for her date, she has established three things.

One: Charles is possibly the nosiest man alive and should probably consider getting a hobby, because retirement doesn’t suit him (or, more accurately, her) in the slightest.

Two: The elusive Didi Santos Cordero is going to be stuck waiting at a restaurant unless Julie goes and joins her. Contrary to popular belief, Julie isn’t a complete monster, and so:

Three: Julie Kovalenko is going to have to go on a date.

Julie arrives at said date five minutes early with a prearranged spiel about Charles and his various ways of keeping busy in his old age, but before she can get a word in edgeways, a woman stands up from a table close to the door and greets her. “Didi,” she says, offering a hand to shake. “Sorry about this.”

“Of course not,” Julie says. She feels tension melt from her shoulders that Didi and her are on the same page about this. “I hear you’ve met Charles.”

Didi nods. “Definitely.”

Julie pauses to look Didi over. She’s pretty. Charles was right, not that she wants to take any sort of dating advice from him. “I’m sorry,” she says. “Charles has a thing about getting me a girlfriend. I think you might be collateral damage. Enjoy your evening.” She turns to go.

“No way,” Didi says. Julie turns back around. “We’re neighbours, aren’t we? Isn’t getting dinner a neighbourly thing to do?”

Julie furrows her brow. “Is it?”

Didi shrugs. “No idea. You up for dinner?”

“Not a date?” Julie says.

“Just dinner,” Didi says. “What do you say?”

“Okay,” Julie says. She sits down opposite Didi. “But if I find out this is some sort of mission Charles set you on-“

Didi laughs, loud and bright. “I can get my own women, thank you very much.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Julie says. She offers her hand to Didi again. “Okay. Let’s start as strangers then, then. I’m Julie, your neighbour.”

“Didi,” Didi says, shaking her hand. “Lovely to meet you.”

By the end of dinner, Julie has learnt three things about Didi.

One: She runs the residential care home that Charles’ friend Calbert lives in. She makes a mental note to ask Charles how Didi had never come up in conversation before, considering he visits Calbert most days of the week. She, like Julie, lives for her job.

Two: She is not a vegetarian, despite what her taste in food would have you believe. This was a fact Julie was only able to ascertain by discretely asking the waiter if the Parmesan cheese used calf rennet (it did.)

Three: She moved into Julie’s apartment block for three reasons, two of which Julie identifies as lies. She wants to be closer to work - true. She liked the area - lie. She liked the tenants - lie. Julie doesn’t know who she’s trying to fool with that sort of nonsense. She doesn’t hold it against Didi, though. She suspects Didi’s also lying to herself.

They walk home together after the meal. Julie walks roadside, because she’s pretty sure that’s the polite thing to do when you’re walking with a woman. It takes her a second to remember that she’s also a woman - one of the problems no one tells you about being a lesbian is which side of the road you’re supposed to walk on - and as a result she makes it a point to switch sides whenever the two of them cross a road. That seems like the most reasonable approach.

She points out her office when they pass it. “Kovalenko Investigations,” Didi reads off the sign. “Wow, you’re a big deal.”

“Have you met Megan?” Julie says. “She works for me. She’s excellent.”

“I have,” Didi says. “She and Charles were both very curious about me when I moved in. You were the only one I hadn’t met.”

“Why didn’t you knock on my door?” Julie says, curiously.

“Megan made it sound like you were some sort of troll who lived under a bridge,” Didi says. Julie snorts. She smiles. Julie notes that she smiles a lot. “Well, I’m glad I did meet you, in the end. You’re not at all like a troll.”

“Thank you,” Julie says with a laugh. “That’s possibly a very sweet compliment.”

Didi is also funny sometimes. That is observation number four.

Like all good observations, it becomes clearer and clearer with the passing of time. Considering Julie lives so close to her, it would be almost impossible not to speak to her sometimes, and she has a way of making Julie laugh that's fairly unique. Before long, Didi, who, despite not being a vegetarian, cares about the environment and car-sharing or whatever, proposes that they drive to work together in the morning. Sometimes Megan joins them too. More often, she comes in later, and it's just the two of them, windows down and music blasting.

So, by the by and consequently and all that, Julie discovers that she likes spending time with Didi, so when Didi proposes a road trip, she doesn't take too long to agree.

Here are the facts, in the order that Julie discovers them.

One: Didi’s staff are, essentially, useless. Didi doesn’t say this outright but Didi is too nice for her own good sometimes. Julie and Megan have agreed that if either of them is ever as incompetent as someone Didi employs, they’ll do the kind thing and suffocate the other.

Two: Nearly half of the forks Pacific View owned had been thrown down a well over the last week. Didi’s still not entirely clear on how. Julie had offered to solve the case for her, which is only half a joke because she thinks it could actually be a fun project, but was turned down.

Three: With both of those things in mind, the fastest method to get more forks is for Didi to personally drive to the manufacturer and buy them in person.

Four: The nearest pickup location is nine hours and thirty-four minutes away by car in Portland. Julie checks this on Google Maps when Didi isn’t looking. By deduction, this is a trip that is going to have to involve an overnight stay and a serious amount of driving around.

These three facts are revealed in pieces during movie night. Charles, who is very into neighbourly bonding and even more into telling people facts, had invited them around to marathon the Home Alone movies. Julie, who very quickly grows bored with his lecture on Macauley Culkin’s life story, ends up chatting to Didi about work, which is more or less where all her socially appropriate stories come from.

“So when are you going?” Megan asks Didi.

“First thing tomorrow,” Didi says. “If I leave early enough, I can get there before the manufacturer shuts.”

“Is this something you do a lot?” Julie asks.

“More than you’d think,” Didi says. “It’s so boring. You’d hate it.”

“Of course I wouldn’t,” Julie says, lying through her teeth. “I’m meditative as shit. Tell her, Megan.”

Megan opens her mouth, and closes it again, shaking her head. “Nope. Can’t do it. There’s a reason you work sixteen hour days.”

"One time you were so bored that you broke into my home," Charles said.

"That has nothing to do with anything, so shut up,” Julie says, "I love road trips. I drive all the time."

"Yeah, to work," Megan says. Julie shushes her.

"If you're so sure," Didi says, "you're more than welcome to come along. I mean, I could use the company."

Megan's got a shit-eating grin on her face that grinds Julie's gears enough that she nods. "Well, okay, fine. I'll come with you. I think it sounds fun." She raises her eyebrows and nods decisively.

Didi's smiling. It's not a nasty, "oh, I got you to do something you're going to hate, haha" smile like Megan and Charles'. It's a genuine smile of happiness. Didi's pleased that she said yes. Shit, Julie thinks. "Well, great," Didi says. "Be ready at six?"

"I'll be ready at five," Julie says in her most enthusiastic tone.

Didi snorts. "If you insist."

Julie bitterly regrets her words when her alarm goes off at four a.m the next morning. She fumbles for her phone to turn it off, when she sees a message from Didi ping in.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

Didi Santos Cordero >> Julie Kovalenko

Didi Santos Cordero
> I'm not getting up
> Six okay?

Julie Kovalenko
> 👍

_______________________________________________________________________________________

The relief Julie feels sending that thumbs up is, she thinks, semi-equivalent to the relief prisoners of war feel when they're released. She rolls over and goes back to sleep. She doesn't wake up until a loud banging comes at her door the next morning and she wakes up with a scream. She stumbles out of bed to the door, ready to cuss out whoever is there.

"Morning," Didi says, good-naturedly. "Did you forget?”

"Forget what?" Julie mumbles, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "Oh, shit!" She registers then that she's standing in the doorway, probably with horrible bed-hair and no makeup, wearing the Dr Seuss pyjamas that her nephew had given her for her birthday. "Come in. I'll get ready fast."

"I can go back to my place," Didi says. "It's about three steps away from here."

"No, come in," Julie says. "Or I'll probably just go back to sleep again." She yawns, and stretches. "Do you want breakfast? I'm making cereal.”

"No thanks," Didi says. She looks around. "Wow, this place is miserable."

Julie looks around. "It's functional." The various items of brown furniture had come free with the place, and she wasn't going to waste her time on interior design, even if it did look ugly. "My room's nicer."

"How much of your life do you spend at work for your apartment to be this empty?" Didi says.

"Um, most of it?" Julie says. "I don't like mess."

It's probably a good thing Didi had said no to breakfast, because Julie only owns one cereal bowl. The polite thing to do when hosting a guest is give them the right bowl, and Julie's damned if she's going to eat cereal with soup crockery. She dresses quickly and throws the last few things into her rucksack before meeting Didi in the kitchen. "As a gesture of goodwill, I'll get breakfast later," Julie announces.

"I can wait," Didi says.

It's clear to Julie that Didi doesn't appreciate how kind her offer is, especially since she'll be away tomorrow morning. That would be two days without her usual breakfast, which is no small sacrifice. But if Didi isn't complaining, then neither will she, and she joins Didi at the kitchen table. "So," Julie says. "What's the plan?"

"Drive till we get there," Didi says, shrugging. "There's a local B&B that says they'll take us."

"Is that it?" Julie says.

She probably looks as horrified as she feels, because Didi laughs. "We'll take breaks, Julie. Plus I downloaded a podcast you'll probably like for if you get massively bored of my company."

"Oh, great," Julie says. "You've thought of everything. What's the podcast about?"

Didi mutters something that sounds suspiciously like social skills. "The history of Middle Earth. According to Charles it's a must-listen. He said, and I quote, “Julie will pretend to hate it but that’s only because she doesn’t like it when I recommend podcasts to her. Someone’s been pilfering my Tolkiens and I know it isn’t Megan because she mostly reads pornography.” End quote.”

“Megan doesn’t mostly read porn,” Julie says, sighing. Charles had misread an author called Virginia as ‘vagina’ one time about six months ago and it had since become a running joke that Megan was a smut addict. Julie wasn’t, however, entirely sure that Charles had believed their explanation, and Megan didn’t care enough to debate the point, so now it was just sort of part of their life.

“But it is you stealing his books?” Didi says.

“It’s probably Calbert or something,” Julie says.

It is, absolutely, not Calbert. But Julie is a P.I. and that means she has a reputation to uphold that doesn’t involve robbing the elderly. She makes a mental note to remove the Hobbit from her luggage.

They're on the road about an hour after the proposed time. Didi stops at a drive through for a coffee and buys Julie one too, and puts on the podcast immediately rather than trying to make conversation, both of which Julie decides make her the best travel companion she's ever had. She drifts off quickly and wakes up some time during the First War to the sound of horns honking. She blinks open her eyes and sees that they're stuck in traffic. The SatNav has readjusted their arrival time to about two hours later than expected.

"What's going on?" Julie says.

"There was an accident a little further up," Didi says. Despite the delay, she looks relaxed.

"We can't wait that long," Julie says.

"Am I that horrible to be around?" Didi asks.

Julie identifies it as a joke, but shakes her head anyway. "No. You've been great. But we'll miss check in and I'm not sleeping in your car. Turn off here." She points at the exit.

Didi looks at her. "I'm not cutting across four lanes of traffic."

"Come on," Julie says. She takes the SatNav off the dashboard and starts playing around with it, seeing if she can find a new route. Didi doesn't do anything. "Come on!"

Sighing, Didi starts to crawl across the freeway and eventually makes it off at the exit. "This is going to make our journey even longer," Didi warns. She drives up to a roundabout. "Which exit?" Julie's still playing with the SatNav. "Julie?"

Julie looks up. "Uh, I don't know. Third."

"You haven't got a clue, have you?" Didi says.

"No," Julie says. "But GPS will. Just keep going. It'll readjust in a minute." She sticks it back on the dashboard, having been unable to change the route. It's indicating a U-turn.

Didi points at it. "Well?"

"Keep going," Julie says.

"You know more than GPS, do you?" Didi says. "I know you're smarter than this."

"I don't like traffic," Julie says, by way of explanation. The SatNav switches to a loading screen. "Ah! See? We're fine."

"At the next roundabout, take the first exit," says the SatNav, suddenly. Didi does. "Well done."

Its voice is oddly seductive and lightly accented - Julie thinks it's French. She narrows her eyes. "What's this?"

Didi snorts in disbelief. "Why are you asking me? You just spent the last twenty minutes fiddling with my settings. I haven't got a clue."

"I am Janet, your smart navigation assistant,” the SatNav says. “In one hundred yards, turn right.”

“Can she hear us?” Didi says.

“Yes,” Janet says. “Hello!”

“Great job, Julie,” Didi says, rolling her eyes. “Try and get rid of her, would you?”

Julie squints at the controls. “Janet, how do I turn you off?”

“Press the power button,” Janet says. “Excellent driving, Didi Santos Cordero. You are within the speed limit.”

“This is really creepy,” Didi says. “How does it know my name?”

"You input a username when setting up the smart navigation interface," Janet says. "I am powered by artificial intelligence and my only goal is to make our conversations as helpful and realistic as possible. Please take the second left. I hope I'm satisfying you."

This situation is so profoundly absurd that Julie starts to feel a laugh bubbling up in her throat. Didi glares at her. "Please get rid of her before she gains consciousness and kills me."

“She’s not gonna kill you,” Julie reasons. “She clearly wants you. When AI takes over, she’ll probably keep you as a pet or something.”

“Artificial intelligence is not going to take over,” Janet says. “Owning people was made illegal in 1865 under constitutional law.”

Julie points at the SatNav. “See? Constitutional law. You’re fine.”

“What, and AI has to obey the American constitution,” Didi says.

“All Americans must follow the constitution,” Janet says. “I expect you do too. So far, you’ve performed excellently.”

Julie bursts out laughing. She hears a muffled snort coming from Didi, who eventually gives in and collapses into giggles. “This isn’t funny,” Didi says, wiping a tear from her eye.

“If she keeps flirting with you I might actually wet myself,” Julie says, honestly.

They drive a little way on down the road until it reaches a lake and the road stops. “Keep going,” Janet says.

“There’s no road,” Didi says.

“Drive forwards into the lake,” Janet says.

Julie looks over at Didi. “You know, maybe you were right about her trying to kill us.”

Didi switches the car to reverse. “Nope. Not driving into a lake.”

“At the earliest opportunity, turn around,” Janet says.

“Like fuck,” Didi says.

“You tell her,” Julie says. Didi flips her off. “I’m gonna turn on Google Maps and get rid of Janet. Jesus Christ, Didi, where did you get this thing?”

“It isn’t mine,” Didi says. “Charles lent it to me.”

“You shouldn’t take anything from Charles,” Julie says. “Rule number one of living with him. It’s either a very boring book or something he got from an Etsy witch.” This is not an exaggeration. Charles is a very clever man who doesn’t like being retired. In gathering information about him, Julie has established his favourite pastimes.

One: hiring witches off Etsy and buying trinkets from said witches when possible.

Two: solving any problems Megan and Julie have that require calling customer service. Charles is an expert at remaining polite, but simultaneously making it clear that he has time to burn and he will outlast even the grittiest call-centre worker eventually. He is, as yet, undefeated, and Julie’s pretty sure Megan’s starting to make things up just to see if he can pull it off.

Three: emailing colleges to get positions as a guest lecturer, and similarly giving guest lecturers. The only real productive use of his time.

Four: going down to Pacific View, often now with Didi, to visit Calbert and smoke weed. Charles has told her on no more than three occasions that smoking weed is the single greatest highlight of being old, and that he would “probably be addicted by now if I didn’t live twenty minutes away from the dealer.”

The point is, it’s quite probable that Charles bought Janet from Madam Vivelda or some equivalent in a moment of idiocy. And while it’s unlikely that the thing’s an enchanted object, Julie isn’t taking chances. She powers off the SatNav and wraps it in a jumper before shoving it into the glove compartment.

They end up back on the freeway about an hour later, but Julie’s pleased to discover that they’ve managed to cut past the traffic jam and are making good time towards Portland. She doesn’t even turn the podcast back on, deciding that Janet is a pretty entertaining conversation topic for the time being, and the two of them stop at the services around noon in high spirits. Julie takes out the SatNav and throws it in the public trashcan. “We’ll tell Charles we were mugged,” she says.

“Well, obviously. I can’t tell you how often I’m mugged for my SatNavs,” Didi says, dryly. “What do you want for lunch?”

Generally speaking, Julie tries not to have preferences (in the interest of maintaining good espionage work) but explaining this to people usually makes her sound like a crazy person. "I don't mind," she says, instead. "You choose.”

They end up getting sandwiches from an ugly little café. Julie puts hers in her pocket for later and tells Didi she's going to the bathroom so she can stretch her legs for a bit. She tests herself with a few observational puzzles until she probably knows more about this particular ladies room than anybody else in the world, and then drifts off in search of Didi.

By the time she gets back to the café, Didi has disappeared. Checking her phone reveals Didi’s gone to fill up the tank with petrol, so Julie decides to have a look around while she waits. She paces lazy circuits around the various convenience stores and cafés.

It’s been years since she’s gone on a proper road trip. She and her sister had joined their mother on a drive to Florida, once. They were supposed to go to Disneyland. As it turned out, Vanessa had only brought them along to distract suspicion from the five kilos of uncut cocaine that had also needed to find their way into Florida. They hadn’t even made it into Disneyland. Julie remembers her and Anna being planted in a services on some destitute Florida motorway, having to hope Vanessa would return.

Well. That’s that, the thinks. She doesn’t allow herself more than five minutes of emotional musings at a time. She blinks a few times, shakes herself, and wanders into the Lego shop to browse the sets she’ll never be able to afford, not being a billionaire.

She snaps a few pictures of the Rivendell set for Charles (no, that is not an admission of guilt, and fuck you for suggesting it) and reacts with a thumbs up to the various articles on road trips he's sent her. On a whim, she skims a few of them. Most of it's shit like obeying the speed limit and not drinking behind the wheel - like she's even the one driving - but she realises that this is exactly the kind of research she should've done before agreeing to go with Didi, so she downloads the articles on the store's WiFi and wanders around while they save to her phone.

"Hey, lady," comes a voice.

Julie swivels to see the store owner. Or, at least she assumes he's the store owner. He's the only other person there, he's wearing a Lego shirt and he has a name badge that reads Hugo. Because of these things, she struggles to believe he'd be anyone else, but you never know with these things. "Hello," Julie says.

"You looking for anything?" Hugo says. "Cause you've been here a while."

"I'm waiting for someone," Julie says.

Hugo looks suspicious. "Open your bag."

Julie raises an eyebrow. "On what charge? Staying in a shop too long?"

"Stealing," Hugo says. "I had my eye on you ever since you walked in. You looked shifty."

Julie looks down at her outfit. She can't think of anything about it that makes her look any more shifty than she normally would. If anything, she thinks she looks more normal than usual, on account of being in a good mood. Maybe that's it. She makes a concerted effort not to smile. "I haven't stolen anything from you," Julie says. "Which you would know, if you'd really had your eye on me."

Okay, maybe not the best thing to say to the man accusing you of a crime, but that's a problem for later. Hugo's face twists. "Open your bag, or I'll call security."

He takes the step forward that men take when they want to remind you that they're stronger than you are, and Julie takes the appropriate step back. She may not like her mother very much, but it's not like she taught her nothing. There are four lessons in particular that Vanessa had hammered home at a young age.

One: Don't talk to strangers. Coming from any other parent, this might have been sweet, but Julie has long suspected it was in case the stranger was a plain-clothed cop.

Two: Don't take the Lord's name in vain, unless you're getting arrested in which case the Lord will understand.

Three: Never leave the house without your phone, a lipstick and a knife. This covers pretty much all possible problems you might face except for drowning, so Julie usually tries to avoid walking next to rivers.

And, most importantly, four: Do not, under any circumstances, waste your time trying to prove you're innocent if you can just run away.

Julie is innocent. And Hugo is a great fat hunk of a man, and Julie has enough experience in her field to know that you can almost always outrun great fat hunks, even when they’re stronger than you. Sometimes, they'll even faint, and that's just a bonus.

So, she spins on her heel and runs, ignoring the yells from Hugo that get further and further away the longer she goes. A brisk walk would probably have sufficed for her getaway plan. But she also has enough experience not to be arrogant, so she heads straight for the car park. She eventually finds Didi, walking out of the garage, eating a bag of Wine Gums.

"Hey," Didi says. She stares. “You look sweaty.“

"Long story," Julie says, although it isn't. "We should probably go, like, now-ish." She hops into the passenger seat. Didi doesn't move. She sighs. "What are you waiting for, exactly?"

"An explanation, maybe?" Didi says, finally getting in.

"I'll explain on the way," Julie says.

"Did you kill someone?" Didi says.

Julie squints. "You really think I'm capable of that?"

"Yes," Didi says immediately.

Julie laughs. "No, Didi, I did not kill someone." Against what should be her better judgement, she's a little bit flattered that Didi thinks she could do something like that. Clearly, Didi thinks she's significantly braver/more interesting/cooler than she actually is. She wonders, fleetingly, about lying about the reason for her grand escape, considering 'I got accused of stealing Lego' is probably the least cool crime someone can possibly be accused of, but thinks better of it. “I didn’t do anything. I was falsely accused. It was a real miscarriage of justice.”

“Of what?” Didi says, suspiciously.

"Does it matter?" Julie says. "How far are we from Portland?"

"Just over five hours," Didi says.

Julie hits her head on the dashboard. "What? We've been driving for ages."

"Yes, I know," Didi says, "but someone had the bright idea to take a two-hour long detour to avoid a one-hour traffic jam."

“Well, in my defence, that was a team effort,” Julie says, “considering Janet was trying to take me out so she could have you all to herself.”

Julie spends a very satisfying half an hour taunting Didi about the SatNav being in love with her. Didi returns the favour by spending what Julie suspects is an equally satisfying half an hour badgering Julie about her run in with the law - if you can call Hugo that. Julie doesn’t help this by encouraging Didi to go over the speed limit, because by now it’s starting to get dark and Julie doesn’t respond well to the dark. When she’d hired Megan, one of the first things Megan had done was institute Touch Grass O’Clock, because (according to her) Julie never went outside and that was going to make them both depressed. Somehow, it had worked. This is all to say Julie is eager for the journey to be over with as quickly as possible before the whole day’s wasted inside.

“We might just make it before the manufacturer closes,” Didi says, sounding pleased.

This proves to be tempting fate, because just under an hour later, they blow out a tire. Didi has to pull over onto the hard shoulder. Julie sees her recline her seat back and close her eyes, sighing. “Shit.”

Julie reclines her own seat too, so they’re both lying down. “Shit,” she agrees. “Should I call AA?”

“No,” Didi says. Her eyes are closed. “I have a spare. Just give me a minute.”

Didi can’t see, but Julie tilts onto her side to inspect Didi’s face. It matches her voice. She’s some level of disappointed, frustrated, or upset. She’s also not hiding it very well. Julie thinks for a minute, then reaches over and takes Didi’s hand in hers. Didi responds by squeezing hers.

She doesn’t know how long this lasts. She could stay there forever, she thinks. She’s just starting to drift off when Didi abruptly sits up. “Right,” she says. “You can help me.”

“No, thank you,” Julie says, eyes still closed.

Didi huffs, and Julie hears her door closing. For a moment, she thinks she’s got away with it, but her own door opens a few seconds later and Didi pulls the lever, jolting Julie into a sitting position. “Hey,” Julie complains.

“Hey nothing,” Didi says. “We need to get this done if you don’t want to spend the night in my car.”

Julie is, actually, perfectly content spending the night sleeping in Didi’s car. She’s slept in worse conditions and it’s not done her any harm. But one of the biggest lessons Megan’s ever taught her, aside from all that Excel stuff, is that her perfectly good logic is generally speaking not the best tool to use in a social situation. So she blinks a few times to wake herself up, and gets out of the car. “If you insist,” Julie says (she still refuses to act pleased about it.) “Just tell me what I have to do.”

As it turns out, most of Julie's job is just holding things still. She watches Didi as she works. Didi's taken off her jumper and stripped down to her vest top. Julie can see the muscles in her arms working. She swallows, her mouth suddenly dry. "You're doing it again," Didi says.

"Doing what?" Julie says.

"Staring at me," Didi says.

She isn’t wrong. Julie has a tendency to stare when she’s focussing on someone. Vanessa had once said it made her look sociopathic - and, Julie thinks, she would know. “I’m just admiring your work," Julie says.

"Yeah?" Didi says. She wipes her brow with the back of her hand. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s fine, but I’m gonna take twice as long to do this if I’m under pressure.”

Inside Julie, there are two conflicting desires. One really wants Didi to finish quickly. The other is perfectly willing to sacrifice the time to keep watching Didi work, because that’s somehow proving to be quite fun. It takes Julie a minute to realise that this second desire exists, and barely a few seconds to dismiss it as possibly the most idiotic thought she’s ever had. “Okay, I’m not watching,” she says, averting her eyes.

By the time Didi is done, the Sun has completely set over the motorway. The tarmac, which had been cast in orange, is now a miserable shade of gloom, and Julie is starting to shiver as the heat leaves the air for the night. Didi stands up, and wipes her hands on her trousers. “Done,” she says. She looks over at Julie. “Shoot, I forgot it was cold.” She tosses Julie her jumper. “Here."

“Don’t you need it?” Julie says.

Didi shakes her head. “No, I’m okay.”

Experimentally, Julie feels the fabric. It’s quite nice. Its neckline is low - and, she notes approvingly, Didi has removed the labels from it. She pulls it on over her clothes. “Thank you,” she says. She takes her arms out of the sleeves and huddles them close to her body while Didi puts the tools back in the car. She buries her neck in it, too. It smells like Didi’s perfume.

“You look like Humpty Dumpty,” Didi tells her, starting the engine.

“You really know how to flatter a woman,” Julie says.

This new bicker is still in its infancy when Julie phone rings. “It’s Megan,” she says.

She accepts the call. She can see Charles and Megan sitting together on Charles’ sofa. “Hello!” they say in unison.

“Hey,” Didi and Julie chorus.

“How are things going in Portland?” Charles says.

“We’re not there yet,” Julie says. She flips the camera to point at Didi, who pulls a hideous face. “We’ve had some small setbacks.” A thought occurs to her. “Oh, by the way, Charles, we got mugged. They took your SatNav.”

“Janet?” Charles says. “Oh, that’s a shame.” Julie only has a moment to dwell on the fact that Charles had intentionally given them that horrible thing.

Megan, who can probably read her better than anyone, raises an eyebrow. “Is that the truth?” she says.

“See, I told you it was a stupid explanation,” Didi says. “Charles, we’re very sorry but that thing was very creepy and we had to get rid of it after it started trying to drown us.”

Charles starts giggling. Megan rolls her eyes. “How long till you get there?” she says, over Charles.

“Just under an hour,” Didi says, sounding thoroughly relieved.

"There's no need to sound so happy about it," Julie says.

“You’re having fun, then?” Megan says.

Inconceivably, Julie is. “Obviously,” Julie says. “I told you, I love road trips.”

“I stand corrected,” Megan says.

She still looks pleased with herself, though, and Julie is still trying to work out why when Charles finally stops laughing and looms in on the camera. “Julie,” he starts to say, but then the dial tone beeps and they lose connection. This turns out to be a blessing when, a few minutes later, a message pings through on her phone.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

Charles Nieuwendyk >> Julie Kovalenko

Charles Nieuwendyk
> Cut off too soon! 👎 Didi and U looking 👀 very cosy !!!!!!!!!!!! 🤣👩‍❤️‍👩 also Here is an article on mating patterns in 🇺🇸 American 🇺🇸 bullfrogs 🐸 - Charles N.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

Julie’s got a soft spot for Charles. She’s not that ashamed to admit it anymore. He’d moved in post-retirement and quickly decided that Julie and him were going to be friends whether she liked it or not. Initially, she hadn’t. But Charles is nothing if not against-the-odds persistent (plus Megan had told her that being rude to kindly old men was generally frowned upon, even though Charles was perfectly sharp enough to cope.) Julie would now consider him one of her best friends. Despite that, however, he drives her insane, and most of the time she chooses not to dignify his texts with a response.

Didi's car is warm and dark. Julie doesn’t realise she’s drifted off until she wakes up to a hand shaking her shoulder. "You're always sleeping," Didi says.

Julie yawns, and stretches. “I wasn’t asleep,” she says.

“The snoring was just for fun, then?” Didi says.

“Um, yeah,” Julie says. She grabs her bag from by her feet. “Are we here or did we break down again?”

"Ye of little faith," Didi says. "This is it."

The B&B is quite pleasant. The owner, a Caucasian woman in her mid-to-late forties, about five-foot-five, shows them to a very pleasant room. It's got two beds, one small table and a pot with a pathetic-looking orchid in it. Julie huffs when she sees it. When she lifts it out, the roots are crowded and tangled around the bottom of the clear plastic liner. The orchid mix is tightly packed around it. “Well, this is going to die,” she says.

“You like orchids?” Didi says, joining her.

Julie shakes her head. “Not especially.” She brushes one of the petals with the back of her hand. “It’s just my grandma used to get them sometimes.” She sighs. “They’ve got a reputation for being difficult to take care of. But they’re not.” She gently places the liner back in the vase. “This one never had a chance.”

Didi’s eyes are inscrutable when she meets her gaze. “Yeah?” she says.

“Yeah,” Julie says. “They sell them in grocery stores in these tiny pots with no room to breathe. It’s been sabotaged from the start.”

Didi’s quiet. “What if you repotted it?”

“She wouldn’t look after it,” Julie says. “You need to change things slowly, or it shocks them. It wouldn’t last long - it’s too used to living like this.”

The two of them look at the orchid. Its leaves are just starting to curl. “It’s possible, though?” Didi says. “To save it, I mean.”

“Oh, yeah,” Julie says. “I’ve seen worse than this recover.” She thinks of her grandma, repotting the brown-petalled orchid she’d been gifted by a neighbour. In the end, the orchid had outlived her. “You just have to want it enough to make the effort.”

“I think it’s worth the patience,” Didi says, softly.

Julie can feel Didi’s arm against hers. “I think so too,” Julie tells her.

There’s no pen and paper in the room. Julie decides to go out to the shops and find something that they can have for dinner, plus some paper so she can leave a note for the owner. Didi offers to join her, but she shakes her head. “No, you should stay here and relax. You’ve been driving all day.”

“Are you feeling okay?” Didi says. “You’re never this nice to me.”

Julie laughs. “Maybe I’m just in a good mood. Is that a crime?”

She sets off in high spirits. Her phone says there’s a small supermarket about ten minutes away, and the roads are still well-lit with street lamps. It occurs to her that she doesn’t know what Didi actually likes. She ends up nearly buying one of just about every sandwich in the shop before she realises that Didi might not like sandwiches. The final selection of food is far more than two people can eat, but diverse enough that Julie thinks Didi will be able to find something she likes. On a whim, she also buys a bottle of wine. She’s just about to set off home when she hears a voice. “Julie?”

She can feel her blood turn to ice as she turns around. “Mo- Vanessa,” she says, unable to keep the shock out of her voice. “Why are you here?”

“I’m just passing through,” Vanessa says. “It’s lovely to see you.”

She reaches out a hand to Julie. Julie takes a step back. “I can’t say the same,” she says.

“Come on, Julie,” Vanessa says. The plea in her voice is more than Julie can bear. “It’s been so long. I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Julie said. “You know, while you were in prison.”

She goes to leave, but Vanessa blocks her exit. “How long are you here?” Vanessa says. “We could meet up. I’ll buy you a coffee.”

“No,” Julie says. There’s a treacherous ache in her throat and a wetness on her cheeks. “Please just leave me alone.”

Julie has never been very good at reading people. But it doesn’t take a genius to read her mother. She wears her heartbreak plain on her face as she steps aside, and Julie bolts. She doesn’t have a clue where she’s going. She ends up sitting on a stool in some disgusting little bar, keeping half an eye trained on the door in case Vanessa walks in.

The next hour is… not good.

Julie downs two shots in as many minutes, realises this is exactly the kind of reaction she's always hated her mother for having - shouting and then running away. By the third shot, she’s packing up her stuff to leave and go find her mother. By the fourth, she’s given up and is ugly crying in the middle of a Portland bar.

Didi calls her about half an hour in. “Julie?” she says. “Are you okay? You’ve been gone a while.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Julie says. “What do you care?” She can feel all her anger and frustration and rage at her mother simmering inside her, starting to boil over at the edges.

“I was worried,” Didi says. Her voice is still calm. “Am worried. What’s going on?”

And Julie really just doesn’t want to answer that question, so she hangs up and orders another drink. Once again, she realises she really is far more like her mother than she’s ever wanted to believe, and the alcohol isn’t doing anything except make her feel dizzy and sad. She ends up stumbling back to the B&B with the bag of food in one hand, and drinking the bottle of wine with the other.

It takes her a few attempts to unlock the door to their room. When she does, Didi is sitting on the couch, reading something. Julie stumbles inside, and Didi glances up. "You're drunk as shit," Didi says, by way of welcome. She closes her book. Her expression is full of kindness, and it occurs to Julie that she probably looks like total shit. Didi takes the bag from Julie’s hand and puts it down on the table.

“Yeah,” Julie says, hoarsely. She stands awkwardly in the doorway. The room is starting to spin. She closes her eyes, but even then, it feels like she's falling. She wipes her eyes with her sleeve. With a jolt, she realises she’s still wearing Didi’s jumper, and the tears start falling again.

Didi walks towards her. She braces herself for the rejection. Didi stops, and holds out a hand. Julie hesitates. “Come on. You trust me?”

No. Julie doesn’t trust anyone.

She steps forward and Didi’s arms fold around her waist.

Julie closes her eyes and leans against Didi's chest, and links her own arms around her back. “Do you want to talk about it?” Didi says. Julie shakes her head. “Okay.” She rearranges her grip. Julie moves her head up into the crook of Didi’s neck.

It’s stupid. She can’t work out why she’s reacting like this. More than anything, she hates that Vanessa still has that power over her. It’s so much easier to hate a memory than it is to hate a person when they’re standing right in front of you, telling you they’ve missed you. It’s messing with her head.

Eventually, Didi and her are sitting side by side on the couch. Julie presses her entire body into Didi’s, aching for the contact.

“I saw my mom,” Julie says, eventually. Her voice sounds scratchy from crying. She takes Didi's hand and starts playing with her fingers.

“Oh,” Didi says, sounding surprised. Her free arm finds its way around Julie’s shoulders. It feels at home there. “You don’t speak about her much. I’m guessing you two don’t get along.”

“Not really,” Julie says. “I’ve not seen her in years. I built her up into this evil thing in my head. And then I see her and she just… isn’t.” However much of a piece of shit her mom is, she’s still her mom, and Julie can feel that weighing on her chest. “I’m sorry. This is so stupid.”

“It isn’t,” Didi says. She plants a kiss on Julie’s head. “I mean, next time I’d rather you warned me before you go on a bender so I don’t worry you’ve been kidnapped, but other than that…”

Julie laughs wetly. “I’ll bear that in mind.”

The alcohol, finally making itself useful, tugs at her eyelids. She starts to drift off. At one point, Didi starts to move, but Julie makes a noise of protest and clenches her fist around Didi’s shirt. It has the desired effect. Didi settles back down. Julie’s sleep is restless that night, and every time she wakes up, Didi is still there. She dreams of a prison, overrun with a hundred thousand orchids that poke through the gaps between the bars like they’re looking for a way out too.

The next morning comes slowly. It’s only as the light starts to peak through the curtains that Julie’s head starts to pound with a vengeance. The slightest sound feels like drums in her skull, and her mouth is filling with the telltale saliva that tells her she hasn’t gotten away with last night’s lapse in judgement. She pushes herself up and stumbles to the bathroom, where she spends a miserable half an hour dry heaving in front of the toilet.

She hears Didi getting up and moving around. Thankfully, she doesn’t come in. At the noise, the memories of last night come back, and Julie groans in humiliation. She looks at herself in the mirror. Her face is pale and her eyes are red. She looks like complete shit. She splashes cold water on her face and arranges her hair into a braid until she looks somewhat more human.

“Good morning,” she says, as she exits the bathroom. She keeps her posture straight and face impassive, even though the bedroom light feels like actual bullets in her skull.

“Morning,” Didi says. She points at the little table. “Food, water, aspirin. Take your pick.”

“No, thank you,” Julie says.

Didi shrugs. “Okay. I’m going out in a couple of minutes. Manufacturer opens at nine, so I’m going to try and be there when it opens. You’re welcome to come if you feel up to it.”

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Julie says.

Didi raises her eyebrows. “Pardon?”

“You heard me,” Julie says. “I’m sure you loved me making a fool of myself last night. I don’t know what your game is, but it’s not going to work on me.”

Didi pauses for a second, looking incredulous. “My game? Julie, there is no game. What the hell are you on about?”

In Julie’s experience, kindness is rarely freely given. And now she thinks about it, she barely knows Didi. They’ve not been neighbours long. There is absolutely no reason for Didi to be treating her like this. She wants something.

She probably doesn’t express this very well, because Didi’s eyebrows are so far up her forehead they’re practically in her hairline. “Jesus Christ, Julie,” she says, slowly. “Not everything has to have some sort of a sinister ulterior motive. I was nice to you last night because you were upset. It’s not that complicated.”

“Well, I’m not upset this morning,” Julie counters. “So what’s with that?” She gestures at the table.

Didi runs a hand through her hair. “Is you being my friend not a good enough reason?” She sighs. “I’m going to go out now. I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you’re acting like a dick because you’re hungover but it would be brilliant if you thought about whether what you’re saying is actually sane before we have to spend the next ten hours in a confined space.”

Julie watches in silence as she pulls her coat on. Just before Didi leaves, she turns around. “And for the record, you didn’t make a fool of yourself. You’re a person. People cry sometimes. If the roles were reversed, what would you have done?”

That isn’t the same thing, Julie wants to shout, but Didi’s already closed the door.

Julie does what she always does when she’s confused. She calls Megan. Megan congratulates her on showing emotional intimacy, asks if she’s alright, and then berates her for five minutes solidly about how much of an idiot she’s been.

Here’s the thing.

Julie has a strong sense of what is right and what isn’t. That includes morally and objectively. But Megan is the one person in her life who will both ride with her to the end of the Earth (therefore, she hates Vanessa) and call her out on her ridiculous bullshit. And if Megan thinks Julie’s talking bullshit, then she probably is.

Here are the facts of the matter, as established by the time she hangs up.

One: Julie is deserving of love and should stop being paranoid and delusional. As Julie points out, this is more of an affirmation than a fact, to which Megan calls her three swear words and tells her to stop talking.

Two: Objectively true - Didi has been nothing but kind to her and Julie has repaid her with unpleasantness.

Three: She is at fault in this argument and so it’s her responsibility to fix it.

Four: Didi is the first real friend she’s had in a long time (at least, the first real friend who isn’t a coworker or a geriatric) and so this is unchartered territory. She needs to acknowledge that, even though:

Five: This doesn’t actually solve the problem at hand, so:

Six: She needs to put on her big boy pants and work out what she’s going to do about this.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

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Deciding that getting arrested is probably a terrible idea - because the last thing she needs is to have to make her one phone call to Didi for bail - Julie takes two aspirin, packs up the room and laces her shoes up. She hates running, even when she isn't horribly hungover. As far as she's concerned, just the intent to run should be enough for Didi to forgive her, but clearly she has a slightly unique way about thinking about this sort of thing, so she sighs and sets off.

The air is crisp and bright. It's Julie's favourite kind of weather. If it weren't for the pounding headache and the fact that she's having to run, she's sure she'd be in an excellent mood. She's in shape enough that she can cope with the exercise, but once again the alcohol has nerfed her with a horrible stitch in her right hand side. On top of that, she’s carrying a full rucksack on her back - thankfully, Didi had taken hers with her - and her hair is already doing its best to escape the braid. It is, truly, approaching the most miserable twenty minutes of her life.

By the time she gets to the cutlery manufacturer - which is a terrible destination, just to add insult to injury - her side hurts and her face is sweaty. Her headache has lessened, which is a plus, but the run has done nothing for the nausea and she has to lean hard against Didi's car for a minute to stop herself from throwing up on it.

“Well, hello,” Didi says. She’s carrying a huge cardboard box in her arms. Julie stands up and opens the door to the boot so Didi can put it away. “I didn’t expect you to come here.”

“Yes,” Julie agrees. “Neither did I.”

They stand there for a minute. Didi doesn’t look away. Julie realises she’s going to have to be the one who speaks first. “Um, I don’t want to talk about it because I don’t really like doing that, but I was at fault this morning and I’m sorry about that. I’m an idiot. Megan says I’m emotionally stunted and she’s probably right.” She thinks. “Oh, and I value your friendship, if that wasn’t clear.”

Didi’s smile might as well be the Sun for how happy she looks. “And I yours,” she says. She hugs Julie, hard. “Apology accepted.”

Julie allows herself a short grin of triumph. Her heart feels too big for her chest. If this is friendship, she thinks, she could get used to it. “I still think last night was stupid, though,” she says, her voice muffled by Didi’s shoulder.

“Agree to disagree,” Didi says, affably. “Anyway, I wouldn’t care if it was stupid. If you care about it, so do I.”

Julie barely has ten seconds to ponder that revelation before Didi is disappearing off again to get another box of cutlery. She follows her in and carries a box of her own to the car. Didi is one of those people with the sort of easy personality that makes conversation flow like water, and it feels like all hard feelings have dissipated by the time they’re setting off back for San Francisco.

Mercifully, the journey goes without a hitch. They sing karaoke until they have to stop and buy drinks, Didi treats Julie to story after story about the people at Pacific View - Julie pays close attention to the stories involving Calbert, because Charles absolutely has to hear those - and Julie returns the favour with lengthy criticisms on the American justice system.

They get back home just after dark and stand in the little area of hall connecting the flats on the second floor. “Thank you for coming with me,” Didi says. “I had a lot of fun.”

“So did I,” Julie says. It’s not even a lie. Those two days had been golden.

Didi's about to unlock her door, when she turns. "Oh! I almost forgot. Wait here." She runs downstairs. Julie stands in the hallway, unmoving. When Didi reappears, she has her hands behind her back. "Close your eyes and hold your hands out."

Julie closes them. When she opens them again, she sees the orchid in her hands. Her mouth falls open. "Didi-"

"I couldn't stop thinking about that stupid thing," Didi says. "I stole it. I left a fifty dollar tip, though, so hopefully she isn't too upset."

And despite the fact that Julie had read up on property theft laws just that morning, she decides it doesn’t matter. The gesture is so sweet that it almost makes her want to cry. "I can't believe you did that," Julie says. "That's one of the nicest things anyone's ever done for me."

"It's not just for you," Didi says, smiling. "The orchid deserves a chance." She raises a hand in farewell. "Goodnight, Julie."

Julie's apartment is dark when she goes inside, so when she switches the light on and sees Megan sitting on her couch, she jumps and nearly drops the orchid. She sets it carefully down on the side. "Megan! I told you about this. Stop breaking into my flat."

"What do I have a spare key for, then?" Megan says. Her eyes are mischievous. "Anyway, I just had to know. I can't wait till morning. How was your trip?"

"Many things," Julie says. She opens her fridge. "Did you eat my grapes?"

"You aren't answering my question," Megan says. "And no, I didn't, Charles is using them to brew ginger beer."

"He shouldn't use grapes for that," Julie grumbles. "It won't work, I've already washed them, the fungi and bacteria will be dead, and besides-"

"Julie," Megan says, exhaustedly. ”I can't even tell you how little I care about the microbiology of grape skins. How was your trip?"

“On your head be it when the ginger beer plant fails,” Julie says. “And I already told you. The trip was a lot of things. I had a nice time and I liked hanging out with Didi. Also, your advice saved my ass this morning, so thank you.”

Megan nods. "Of course." She points at the flower on the counter. "Why have you got that?"

"Oh, it's from Didi," Julie says. "It's nice, isn't it?"

"No," Megan says. "It's dying."

"That's what I said," Julie says, vindicated. "She stole it for me. So I could save it." She smiles at the orchid. "I'm thinking I might bring it to the office tomorrow. We could do with brightening up the place a bit. Plus it's good for plants to be around people." She looks over at Megan, mid-flow. "Oh, Megan, do you have any orchid bark? It needs repotting.”

"No," Megan says, because Megan is the sort of person who is prepared for all eventualities within reason, and an orchid emergency is probably not within reason.

"I'll go out and buy some," Julie says. She's getting her coat when she pauses. "Hey, do you think Didi would want to come? It's technically her orchid, since she stole it."

"Where are you going to get orchid bark from at this time?" Megan says. "Also, stealing something doesn't make it yours. Charles told me to make that clear to you regarding his Tolkiens."

Julie remembers the copy of the Hobbit that she'd left strewn on her bed, and shrugs. "Well, he's paranoid," she says. She finally sits down next to Megan. “I should go on road-trips more often,” she says, closing her eyes.

“I’m not sure the road-trip part was why you had so much fun, Julie,” Megan says.

Julie squints at her. “What are you getting at?”

"I'm just saying," Megan says. "You probably had a good time because you spent two days hanging out with Didi."

Julie nods. "Well, yeah, obviously. She’s my friend. You know, I really thought you were better at your job than this, Megan."

"I thought you were more intelligent than this, Julie," Megan says. "Use your brain for a minute here. Why would Didi be so eager to spend so much time with you?"

Julie rolls her eyes. "I spend time with Charles, Megan, is he trying to sleep with me?"

"You're being intentionally obtuse," Megan says. "You two shared a bed last night, for God's sake."

Julie shakes her head. "No, we didn't. We shared a sofa. Anyway, that wasn't gay. I was just drunk."

"Do you often cuddle with your friends when you're drunk?" Megan says. "I could count on one hand the number of times you've hugged me. And you're all over Didi."

Julie nods slowly. "Ah. I see what this is. You're jealous of her. I promise I still love you most, Megan."

Megan looks like a vein might pop out of her head. "Julie."

Julie sighs. "Okay. Whatever. What you're saying is Didi likes me."

"No it isn't," Megan says. "Of course she likes you. That isn't news to anyone. The problem is that you like her."

Julie pulls a face. "She so does not like me."

"Did it never occur to you that Didi wouldn't have agreed to a date with you if she didn't find you attractive?" Megan says.

"Well, of course she did," Julie says. Didi isn't stupid. "There are other factors at play, Megan.” Julie has learnt from her occasional forays into the gay bar scene that most people value attractiveness quite a lot less than she had thought they did. She never quite nailed the chatting up dialogue, at least, not when it was real rather than something for a case. This all probably bodes well for humanity or sociology or whatever, but quite frankly much less well for her.

"No," Megan says, with the sort of patience that makes Julie suspect she might actually snap. "No, there are not.” She gestures at the orchid. “That’s the sweetest fucking thing anyone’s done for you in a while. You seriously need to pull yourself together on this one.”

“How long have you been waiting in my apartment just to tell me off?” Julie says.

“I don’t know,” Megan says. “A couple of hours? Charles was here too, for a while. Then he got bored of waiting. But he agrees, by the way.”

“Excuse me for not taking dating advice from Charles,” Julie says.

Megan lays a hand on her shoulder as she stands. “I should go home too. Something to think about, I guess.”

“I guarantee you I’ll stop thinking about it the second you leave,” Julie says, opening the door for her.

Spoiler alert: she does not.

Unfortunately, Julie isn’t one to let things go. And this whole… does Didi like her, does she like Didi, has come from Megan. Megan is right far too often for her own good. And that means Julie now has to waste her evening fact-checking before she can even start thinking about the implications of what’s been said.

The problem with empirical evidence when it comes to people is that people don’t tend to be governed by empirical evidence. When it exists, it’s a jumble of lies and confusion and misinformation that makes it very difficult for Julie to work out what’s going on. She starts several mind-maps on scraps of paper that soon get discarded.

Julie is now facing a new problem. The evidence is completely at odds with her feelings. Didi is loud, exuberant, funny, and talkative. In high school, Julie had had an arch nemesis because he breathed too loudly. Didi had taken her off on a long expedition in a confined space - an awful concept - and had actually seen her vulnerable - possibly even worse. Yet none of this is coming close to making her dislike Didi. In fact, they’re all the things she likes about her. And letting emotions rather than facts guide actions is something she regularly encourages her clients against... and yet.

Julie sits back on her chair and sighs. This is very inconvenient. Women with jobs shouldn’t get crushes. She’s way past that. She takes five more minutes to scribble a rough plan on a new sheet of paper, and then she grabs her keys and goes and knocks on Megan’s door incessantly till she answers. “Megan. Megan. Megan.”

Megan answers the door in an actual nightie and nightcap, and Julie has to stop her eyes from popping out of her head. “What are you- never mind. Are you sure?”

“Yes. Go away,” Megan says. She shuts the door in Julie’s face.

Julie steels herself, and in possibly the worst decision she’s ever made she knocks on the door of number seven.

Didi answers quickly. She smiles when she sees Julie. Julie feels her heart skip a beat. It is, she realises, with a jolt, not an unfamiliar feeling. Shit.

“Hi, Didi,” Julie says. “I have some questions for you.”

Didi looks baffled. “Um, okay. Go ahead, I guess.”

Julie checks her paper. “Question one. Do you have, or have you ever had, romantic feelings for me?”

Didi splutters. “Well, I-“ She smooths her hair behind her ears. “What?”

“Yes or no?” Julie says.

Didi sighs. “Yes.”

Julie nods. “Question two. Would you be interested in the possibility of pursuing a romantic relationship with me?”

“Yes.” Didi’s face is now very red. “Unless-“

“Question three,” Julie interrupts. “If I kissed you right now, is that something you would enjoy or not enjoy?”

Her hands are starting to betray her, shaking slightly around the paper. Didi reaches out to hold them still. “You want to put the list away, Sherlock?” Didi says, sounding amused.

“Okay,” Julie says, putting it in her pocket. “But in that case you should probably take the lead because-“

She’s cut off by Didi pressing a finger to her lips. Her eyes go wide. “Shut up,” Didi says. “I’ve got a question for you. Is all of whatever this is, or is it not, a very convoluted way of asking me out?”

Julie nods. “I mean, I wouldn’t call it convoluted-“

“It’s ridiculous,” Didi says. “I mean, it’s kind of cute, but it’s ridiculous.”

Julie scans Didi’s face. It looks exactly the same as it always does. “You didn’t answer my question,” she says.

“Did I need to?” Didi says. She cups Julie’s face in her hands and kisses her. Julie feels a hundred thousand orchids bursting out of her chest as she feels Didi’s lips turn into a smile.

“I thought you’d never ask me,” Didi says, slightly breathlessly, leaning her forehead against Julie’s.

“I didn’t either,” Julie says. “You probably have Charles and Megan to thank.”

“Meddlers,” Didi says, and Julie nods. Though where would they be without them?

[Case Closed]