Her hand was in Rachel now. Knuckle-deep in her, thumb on her clitoris – gently rolling it in the wet and warmth that leaked from her. Her chin was on Rachel’s shoulder, so she could look at the wall, not be confused by the face or the ears or the hair. Everything was dampness and grip in the high march towards the jumping off place. Rachel fumbled for her half-heartedly, settled for her thigh, grabbed, held. Rachel’s voice humid in her ear. The low moans backgrounded by the urgency of someone drunk on what they wanted. Rachel didn’t know her from Adam – Margaret hadn’t told her her name. But she was here now. Could Rachel trust her to take her all the way? She inserted another finger, her pinkie slipping back towards Rachel’s anus which throbbed and sucked as she moved towards and away from her. Towards and away. Close, close, then as far away as she dared. Finally, Rachel came and for a second Margaret was held there, pulled further in and the woman was panting in her ear and then reaching for her and then kissing her breasts, looking up at her. Then her stomach, and her thigh, still sharp from Rachel’s grip – fingernails almost breaking skin. Then Rachel eased Margaret’s legs open and her mouth sat differently but it was okay. With nothing to do she ran her hands through Rachel’s hair while her tongue mapped out the boundary of Margaret’s clitoris, breathing on it as she did. She moved slightly with Rachel and then Rachel had two fingers in her, deep, she felt herself widen and then it was everything all at once and in perfect time. Tongue quickly over her clitoris, hand deep in her cunt. The boundary between them became clearer and she arched her back and her head fell back and she called out fuck and for a split second she was two again. And then in the aftermath the air came in between them, and she could feel all of Rachel and it was all wrong. The space she took up. The way she moved. The strange way she couldn’t synchronise their breathing. But it had been close. For a second in time. For the first time since it happened, Margaret felt right.

Rachel didn’t stay. She got up and started pulling on her clothes and Margaret realised she wanted Rachel to stay.

‘You don’t have to go,’ she said.

‘Nah,’ said Rachel. ‘I do.’

‘But it’s really early.’ She was squinting at her phone.

‘Nah.’ Rachel was pulling her boots on now. ‘Thank you’ – and she kissed her – ‘but I need to go.’

‘Can I have your phone number?’ Margaret was sitting up now.

‘No,’ Rachel said.

‘I might see you at the bar,’ Margaret said.

Rachel shrugged. ‘You never know.’ But she wasn’t looking at her. They probably wouldn’t see each other again.