A Time for Hope

by Anna Jacobs

  The nature of her business interests was beginning to seriously worry him. He didn’t want to get in trouble with the law, but he needed the money his involvement with Radka brought in quite desperately, to pay off some rather larger debts than usual. If he didn’t pay them, he’d be in trouble with people who didn’t mind what they did to wring their money out of you.

  He was never going to gamble in the big league again. He hadn’t been at all lucky in the past year. Once he was clear of all this, he’d find himself another hobby instead.

  And whatever Radka said, it might be useful to get the rest of that money from Gabi, especially if he could do it without being caught out. Gabi would only spend it on a deposit for another stupid little house. He had a much greater need for it.

  He walked across the room to smile at his reflection in the mirror. He’d still got his youthful good looks, give or take slightly fewer strands of hair. He bowed to the image in the mirror. Nature had been kind to him.

  Feeling at a loose end, he went to stare out of the window of the flat, wondering if he should go out for a stroll. No. He couldn’t be bothered.

  His thoughts turned inevitably to his ex and her money. It might be fun to let Gabi get settled in, then take away for a second time the stupid bourgeois bits and pieces she’d probably already started accumulating. He’d enjoy organizing that, especially if he could hang around this time and watch her reaction.

  How to do it without being caught was what he hadn’t quite figured out yet. He had a copy of her signature, could write it perfectly, and knew which bank she used, what her account and credit card numbers were. He’d kept her laptop from the goods that had been stolen, and had found all the details of her account passwords on it. What a fool she was, keeping such information in a file with such a simple protection system.

  He’d have to find a way to keep a watch on what she was doing.

  He wondered where she’d buy a house next. No, it’d be a flat. She’d not be able to get a big mortgage on her pitiful salary. She’d probably buy nearer town, so that she could get to work easily. Till she got somewhere, she’d be staying with that ditzy friend of hers – what was her name? Tania. Yes, that was it. She lived in a ghastly little block of flats near the centre of the village.

  He paced to and fro in the flat. Dammit, for all Radka’s charms, he really missed England. He hadn’t expected that.

  Since he had nothing better to do, he opened the laptop his employer had given him. Better check the afternoon’s emails. Oh, bugger! There was one from his boss.

  Need to see you about something important. Thursday at ten a.m. My office. Charge your flight to the company as usual. Patrick

  Maybe this wasn’t going to be as long an exile as Stu had feared. Well, he hoped it wasn’t. He’d had enough of Prague. Life was a lot pleasanter when you spoke the local language and weren’t dependent on an uppity female for so much of your leisure-time activity. And Radka seemed to go to London regularly. It wasn’t as if he’d not see her again.

  He frowned as he re-read the email. He didn’t appreciate the way he’d been treated by his company lately. He’d been very neatly sidelined to Prague and he knew who to thank for that. Maybe Patrick had thought better of this posting. Stu felt he was wasted here, absolutely wasted. Yes, that’d be it. They wanted him back.

  He knew who to blame for his exile and one day he’d pay Patrick’s damned personal assistant back for sending him here. In fact, he’d take great pleasure in doing it.

  After sending off a reply, he began pacing to and fro again, got himself a whisky but only sipped at it. He wasn’t into heavy boozing, didn’t like the feeling of getting drunk and losing control. Drinking couldn’t hold a candle to trying to coax a win from Lady Luck.

  He couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do tonight. Walking round Wenceslas Square with the tourists was all right once or twice, to say you’d been there, but what did he care about cathedrals? And as for that weird-looking Dancing House, you could keep it. He didn’t even know what ‘deconstructivist’ meant, let alone have a taste for modern architecture and buildings which looked as if they were going to fall over any minute.

  What a pity he’d never had a really big win. Without that he still had to climb corporate ladders, and that meant kow-towing to old fools with no hair and big bellies. Or putting up with Radka’s moods. She could be a real bitch at times, however good she was in bed.

  He sighed. Just one big win at the casino would have done it, set him up for life. Then he could have lived in style.

  He might go back a day early and have a sniff round Worton, see what Gabi was doing with herself. The thought of a few days in England cheered him up.

  Dan took Gabrielle to a hotel in Rochdale where he’d stayed before.

  ‘We’ll take the main suite. It’s worth the extra money for the space.’

  She must have looked worried, because he added, ‘The trust will pay your share.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes. Half the price of the suite is no more than a modest room.’ He winked. ‘There are some advantages to being a pair.’

  ‘A lot of advantages,’ she said demurely.

  He drew a deep breath and approached the reception counter. ‘Hello, Jenny. This is my partner, Gabrielle. We’d like the main suite.’

  The middle-aged woman behind the counter gave them a sentimental smile. ‘Certainly, Mr Monahan.’ She validated a pair of electronic card keys and held them out. ‘Early breakfast as usual?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  She nodded to Gabrielle. ‘I’m glad he’s found himself a partner. He’s a kind, loving man.’

  Dan blushed and hurried Gabrielle away to the lift. ‘She will try to mother me.’

  ‘I liked her compliment.’ She gave him a little nudge. ‘And I loved the way you blushed.’

  The lift came just then and she didn’t comment on the way he blushed all over again. But it was cute!

  Their room was a lovely, comfortable space with a super-king bed.

  ‘A six-foot bed!’ Gabrielle gloated, bouncing on it. ‘Lovely.’

  ‘Unless you want me to take advantage of you this minute,’ Dan said, ‘we’d better go out for some food. I’m assuming that you don’t want fine dining or room service here?’

  ‘I’d rather go out somewhere casual, given my lack of smart clothes,’ she said with a sigh. ‘I noticed that you didn’t give the receptionist my surname.’

  ‘I thought it might stop you worrying about your ex finding you. I wondered if you were going to give a false surname.’

  ‘Reading my mind again?’

  ‘No, your face. I love reading your face. Now, I desperately need feeding. Come on.’ Laughing, he tugged her out of the room and took her to a pub he knew from his previous visits. It had an excellent bar menu.

  The pub was full of people, even though it was only midweek. Good hearty food was on offer. She chose a ‘jacket’ with chilli con carne, grated cheese and salad. The potato was huge and she couldn’t finish it.

  ‘You’ll fade away,’ he commented, seeing her push the remains of the potato to one side and lay down her knife and fork tidily to signal that she’d finished.

  ‘I ate plenty.’

  ‘Call that eating?’ He finished his meal, then picked up the menu. ‘What do you want for dessert?’

  ‘Nothing, thank you. I’ve had an elegant sufficiency. I would like a decaf cappuccino, though.’

  But he tempted her into a couple of mouthfuls of his chocolate mousse, and as she took the food from the spoon he was holding out to her, she suddenly felt warm with desire for him. Again.

  ‘Tom Jones,’ he said. ‘The scene where they were eating.’ He offered another half spoonful of mousse and she sucked it slowly from the spoon, this time exaggerating the sensuality.

  It was his turn to go rigid for a moment or two.

  She smiled cheekily at him. ‘Cat got your tongue?’

  ‘No, but you’ve
taken my breath away, Gabrielle.’ He took hold of her hand and kept hold of it till they’d finished their coffees.

  She didn’t pull hers away. It felt right to be touching him.

  ‘What time do you want to leave tomorrow on our tour of the houses?’ he asked as they strolled back to the hotel.

  ‘Immediately after breakfast. I don’t want to be escorted round the houses by a hungry tiger.’

  He chuckled. ‘I’ve been here a few times before. They’ll do us a breakfast at six or seven o’clock, whichever you prefer, if you ask ahead. All we have to do is pay the morning cook for an hour’s extra work, which I always do. She’s used to me now.’

  ‘I usually eat at about six o’clock,’ she admitted.

  ‘Good. So do I. We fit together surprisingly well in the details, don’t we? Unless you like cricket.’

  ‘Cricket? I can’t be bothered with it. I find it boring.’ She held her breath, hoping she hadn’t annoyed him, because some people loved the sport.

  He laughed. ‘It’s all right. You won’t upset me. I can talk about it a little, so that I don’t stick out like a sore thumb with other guys, but I never watch it by choice.’

  ‘So we’re a pair of early birds,’ she agreed with a smile, ‘who like to quote Shakespeare accurately and don’t enjoy watching cricket. We clearly have a lot in common.’

  He gave her a smouldering look. ‘Oh, I think we have more in common than that.’

  Which caused her to blush.

  When they went back to the hotel, she unpacked her new clothes, laying them in piles on the bed. Four small piles and a fifth pile that she decided was finally really for the ragbag.

  ‘You’ll soon find other clothes you like.’

  ‘Yes. Of course I will.’ She pasted a smile to her face, but knew she hadn’t fooled him about her feelings. Well, seeing how few clothes she now owned would upset any woman. You didn’t have to be a fashionista for that.

  Dan held out a book. ‘Here you are. I bought you a present when we were shopping. Bedtime reading. You said you liked cosies. I must be a terrible sleuth, because I didn’t guess who committed the dreadful deed in this woman’s last book.’

  She cuddled the book to her chest. She hated not having a book on the go. This small thing made her feel better, more normal, and showed yet again how perceptive and caring he was about details. ‘Thank you.’

  He held out a tissue. ‘Nothing to cry about.’

  ‘Only happy tears.’ She mopped her face.

  When she yawned, he said quietly, ‘Come on. Let’s get you back to bed, Cinderella. You’ll sleep much better tonight, I’m sure.’

  ‘I am rather tired.’ She yawned again.

  They both took showers. As she lay in bed, she listened to his going on for rather a long time and she wondered if it was a cold shower. That thought made her giggle and feel good.

  She opened the book and tried to read, waking briefly when it fell out of her hands and landed on the floor with a thump. She saw him smiling down at her as he picked it up off his side and laid it on the bedside table.

  ‘Sorry. I’m so tired.’

  ‘Don’t worry. You’ve a lot of poor sleep to catch up on.’

  That was the last thing she remembered till morning.

  Ten

  The first thing Gabrielle saw when she woke was Dan’s face, his fine hair ruffled, greying a little at the temples, thinner on top. She had grown to love that face.

  He opened his eyes and reached out to touch her curls. ‘Hey there, curly!’

  ‘Hey yourself.’

  ‘A quick cuddle, then we’ll go down for breakfast.’

  But they didn’t get up as quickly as they’d intended.

  Gabrielle was eager to look at the houses on offer. She wasn’t surprised to find they were the only ones eating in the hotel dining room at seven o’clock in the morning.

  ‘You’re a pair of real early birds,’ the woman who served them said cheerfully.

  She soon came back with their order. ‘Good thing I like to earn the extra money by coming in early. Breakfasts are easy to prepare. Most of our guests like to stay in bed as long as they can.’

  ‘I’d just lie there awake, fretting to get up,’ Dan told her.

  ‘We’re all different, aren’t we? Me, I enjoy lying in bed. Only time I get a bit of peace with my kids racing round the house from dawn till dusk.’

  By eight o’clock Dan and Gabrielle had been supplied with plenty of good food and cheerful chat about the town, and were on the road for Top o’ the Hill. The roads into Rochdale were full of cars now, so it felt good to drive out towards the countryside.

  The village was reached by a winding road which followed what seemed to be a natural fissure that zigzagged down a steep slope at the edge of the moors proper. The cleft must have been gouged out over the centuries by a rushing stream, which was still there to one side of a road so narrow that it had to have passing places.

  Dan drove slowly up it and through the tiny village, which consisted of little more than a main street, fringed by three hundred yards or so of houses, and containing, in the centre, one general store, a kindergarten and a pub. A couple of short lanes led to houses planted in small groups behind the upper side of the street.

  They followed the road out of the village and up the hill, turning left just before a small church. Dan stopped the car and gestured towards the building. ‘I’ll show you inside that church another day. There’s a plaque to the King family members lost in the two wars. We might have time for a quick look at the graveyard today, at least.’

  He smiled at her and added ruefully, ‘Here I am promising future visits again, but we will go to these places once we’re both settled in the district.’

  ‘Does that mean you’re definitely taking the job as manager of Cousin Rose’s trust fund?’

  ‘Yes.’ He hesitated. ‘Well, unless it’d upset you to live here?’

  She stared at him in shock, not sure if this meant what she thought.

  As usual, he seemed to understand without her needing to explain. ‘We won’t go into any other details about the future yet, but that one’s rather urgent if I’m to accept the job.’

  ‘It wouldn’t upset me at all to live here,’ she said, choosing her words carefully. ‘The people seem friendly, and I like the way the towns and villages seem to nestle against the edge of the moors, or in hollows below them. But I can’t commit myself to anything else yet, Dan, I simply can’t.’

  ‘Of course you can’t. This job was more or less a done deal before I met you, but your positive attitude to the area does make it easier for me to accept, whatever we decide finally about our – um, future. It’s exactly the sort of job I like: part-time, so I can do what I want with the rest of the week – take on other jobs pro bono or whatever. And the trust job involves helping people.’

  ‘People like me.’

  ‘Yes.’ His smile was as intimate as a caress. ‘Just so you know where I stand, I’ve already had an offer on my house in the south.’

  ‘It must be great.’ She had been worrying about getting a mortgage, even if she got a job, because she’d only have been in that job for a short time. ‘Won’t you miss your old home, though?’

  ‘No. The house is old-fashioned with no charm whatsoever. I think my parents chose it because Dad loved gardening, whereas I find the big garden rather a burden. The house was built in the 1930s and is at the stage where it needs a lot of work doing to bring it up to scratch. It’s not worth it. I’ve sold it to a builder who’s paying an excellent price, considering. He’s going to knock the house down and build two or three others in its place. The local council planners are more liberal about allowing that sort of infill development these days.’

  ‘And have you found a house you like here in the north, or are you going to rent?’

  ‘I’m not certain yet what I’m going to do. Maybe when things have settled down, we could go house hunting together. It’d be good to have
a woman’s viewpoint.’

  ‘I’d enjoy that.’

  ‘Good. We’ll add that to our list of things to do.’ He pulled up in the parking area in front of a terrace of four dwellings, three storeys high, and turned her attention to them with a wave of his hand. ‘These are the cottages Rose left. They have handloom weavers’ rooms on the top floor.’

  ‘How can you tell?’

  ‘By that row of mullioned windows, each separated from the others only by a narrow stone column. They did that to give maximum light for weaving before the days of gas or electric lighting. It was the equivalent in the eighteenth century of a picture window. Working folks’ houses didn’t usually have big windows in those days.’

  He led the way towards the house on the left. ‘This is the one that’s available. The next one to it also belongs to the trust, but it needs attention before it can be used again.’

  Inside, the house felt dark and still, as if no one had been in it for a good while – as if the very air had sat quietly waiting for someone to come in and breathe life into it.

  But the house hadn’t been waiting for her, Gabrielle decided almost immediately as she followed Dan round. The only room she liked was the big one on the top floor. The rest was too dark, with a shadow cast by the moors behind it. The kitchen at the rear would probably be in shadow for most of the day.

  Dan didn’t comment till they came back down to the kitchen. ‘Not to your taste, eh?’

  ‘That sounds ungrateful. If it was the only house available, I’d take it happily, but as there are others, I’d rather see them before making a choice.’

  ‘It is rather gloomy. Come on, then. No use wasting any more time here. But I will show you the graveyard before we leave.’

  This seemed a strange focus, but she didn’t quibble. He must have some reason for doing it.

  He drove up the hill for about two hundred yards, stopping the car in a parking area in front of a small, plain, stone church. When they got out, he walked past the church, whose door was padlocked, and led her up the final part of the slope, stopping at a wall and opening a tall wrought-iron gate to let her in.