Bron-46

Continued from Chapter 45: Bron-45 | ABCtales

“What are you smiling at?” said Bron. They were in Hyde Park, Grace’s lunch break. The noise of the traffic wafted gently across from the Bayswater Road.

“Oh, nothing much.” Grace uncrossed her legs, looked up at the spreading chestnut tree. “Just thinking of little Tommy, in Holyhead, that’s all.”

“Oh yes. Lovely little lad.”

“You know, I was thinking, it would be great if we could have a kid of our own.”

“Can’t, can we? Physically impossible.”

“Could adopt. Or artificial insemination.”

“You mean like Bronco, with the Girls?.Ych afi!”

“Well, not exactly like Bronco. Bit more refined…less clinical.”

“It’d have to be one or other of us. Toss for it?”

“What, now?”

“No, not now. When – if – the time comes.”

“Maybe adoption would be simpler.”

“Would they let us? Two lesies…”

“I’m told some adoption agencies are getting a bit more progressive.”

“Progressive?”

“Letting same-sex couples adopt.”

“Where they get these kids from? Scoop them off the streets of Calcutta?”

“I don’t think they do things like that any more, Bron.”

“We could call it Gunga Din…”

“You’ll do no such thing, Bron. Anyway, I don’t think they’re keen on mixed-race adoptions these days.”

“Well, they wouldn’t let a Welsh woman get hold of an English kid, then, would they?”

“They wouldn’t take it to that extreme. I’m sure it’d be fine.”

“Better keep my mouth shut at the agency, just in case, though. To be on the safe side.”

“If you say so, Bron.” Grace lay down, on her back, looking up at the sun peeping through the bright green oak leaves, rolling a grass stalk between thumb and forefinger. Then she said: “Have you ever thought about getting married, Bron?”

“Married? Well no, I’m with you.”

“I mean … married to me.”

“But we can’t – we’re dykes. Not allowed.”

“We can’t get legally married. But we can exchange vows; we can have a ceremony. Would you like to do that?”

“Yes. It’d be cool.”

“It would be cool, wouldn’t it? I can’t think of anything cooler than being married to you.”

“Sort of married.”

“I can’t think of anything cooler than being sort-of-married to you, Bron.”

“Er, Grace? Did you, sort of …propose to me just then?”

“Yes, I did. And you said ‘yes’. I think.” Grace sat up. “Well, back to work. Those flowerbeds won’t weed themselves.” She pulled herself to her feet, picked up her plastic carrier bag and headed off in the direction of the gardeners’ lodge.

Bron stayed where she was, her back against the tree-trunk, staring straight ahead. Then, she scrambled to her feet and set off at a run, catching up with her companion. “Grace! Grace!” she wheeled round. “Yes, Bron?”

“Grace! I’m such a sod, aren’t I? You propose marriage to me and all I do is say, ‘yeah, that’s cool’.”

“Well, it would be cool! Really cool!”

“I mean – I should have sounded more happy. I am happy. I am! Really, really, really happy!”

“Bron! How long have I known you? Wouldn’t expect anything else.”

“I mean, no one’s ever proposed to me before. Well, apart from that evil sod Goronwy Evans, when he was completely out of his tree in the Vaults in Holyhead.”

“Did you say yes?”

“Collapsed over the table before I could say anything. Barman was furious – broke four of those big pint pots.”

“You know, Bron, this aura of romance just follows you around, clings to you, invests itself in your very being…”

“Yeah. I know.”

They linked arms and carried on walking.

“I wonder where we could have our sort-of-married ceremony? Camden, somewhere like that?”

“We could have it at Tan-y-Bryn.”

“At Tan-y-Bryn? You sure”

“Local vicar’s cool. I mean, he’s over eighty, completely barking. But he’s sound. Doesn’t take all that religious crap too seriously.”

“What would the neighbours say? You bothered?”

“Give ‘em a free feed, they won’t care if it’s one of our pigs, I’m marrying.”

“Well, I think you’re doing a BIT better than one of the pigs. Just a bit.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean it like that. Honest.”

“It’d be so romantic, having it at Tan-y-Bryn.”

“We’ll invite Georgetta.”

“Of course. And Avi from Metalmasters. Maybe one or two of the guys from New Birch; they can get cheap fares.”

“My mum and dad, and my brother.”

“Only one problem with doing it at Tan-y-Bryn. That little sod, Sian.”

“Bron! She’s your sister!”

“And she’s a little sod. You know what she said to me, after I’d told them about..”

“Yes, yes. I know all about the dildo wedding present. You’ve told the story, dozens of times…”

“Just know she’s going to try something. Just know it.”

To be continued in Chapter 47