Begin Again | ongoing

twenty-nine

There is no better way to wake up on a Wednesday morning, two days off stretching ahead of her, than to the smell of coffee and the warmth soft sun pouring through the window when Viv opens the curtain. Light dapples the duvet and the coffee smell intensifies when the mattress dips where Viv is sitting on the edge with a tray on her lap. Not just coffee, but breakfast too – toast and orange juice and a bowl of fruit, and even a glass acting as a vase holding a few flower clippings.

"Wakey wakey," she says, bending over to press a kiss to Sunny's forehead.

Sunny doesn't like mornings but she could get used to this. She sits up and yawns and asks, "Breakfast in bed?"

"Nope. This is just my way of luring you to the table."

"Oh."

"I'm kidding." She scoots back to her space next to Sunny and swings her legs onto the bed, nestling the tray in the space between them. Sunny slurps her coffee more inelegantly than she intends to and bites into a crisp, buttery slice of toast with a crunch.

"Fuck, is there anything better than buttered toast?" She groans and takes another bite, butter dribbling down her chin.

Viv watches her, eyebrows raised, and says, "Sometimes you test the limit of my love."

"If your love is more tested by a buttery face than the fact that I literally forgot our entire relationship then I think that's a you problem," Sunny says. Viv laughs.

"Fair enough." She crosses her feet at the ankle and sinks back against her puffed up pillows, her shoulder against Sunny's. They are a picture of sapphic bliss, their little fingers finding each other in the dip of the duvet between their thighs.

The moment is perfect. Until the phone rings and it's all the way across the flat and Viv huffs as she gets back out of bed to answer it. Sunny focuses on her toast until her girlfriend appears in the doorway, holding the phone at full stretch, and says, "It's for you."

"For me?" She plants her palm over her chest. "Here?"

She realises after she says it that she has spent most of the past year here; she sees it in Viv's eyes. Scrambling out of bed she asks, "Who?"

"Your mum," Viv says, and Sunny doesn't ask for clarification because all will soon be clear.

"Hi, Mum."

"Honey"—that's Martha's soft voice—"I think we need to have a talk about Britney."

"Spears?" Sunny frowns.

"The kitten," Martha corrects.

"Oh, god. What's wrong? Is she all right?" Sunny's only met the cat a couple of times but she's attached to her already, the scruffy little black thing that loves nothing more than a warm lap.

"Yes, yes, she's fine, don't worry," Martha says, "but she's a playful little thing and Dingo and Ursula are starting to turn on her. I'm a little worried about the dynamic. I thought it was playfighting at first but they really seem to be laying into her."

Sunny pouts. Her shoulders sink. "You can't get rid of her."

"I don't want to," Martha says, but the tone of her voice says, that might be the only option, though. "I was wondering if you might be able to take her in?"

Hugging her knees to herself on the edge of the sofa, Sunny's frown deepens. "My landlord doesn't allow pets. I've asked before. No cats allowed and there's, like, a five hundred pound fine if he finds a pet." She doesn't need to add that she hardly has five hundred quid lying around.

Martha sighs a sad sigh. "I'll ask around and see if any of my friends are able to take her in. I'll get Sylv to ask around work, too."

Viv, leaning against the wall, whispers, "What's this about?"