“Of course. I’m so pleased you know what you’re talking about.”
“That’s what you’re paying me for.” Her tone was businesslike, but her eyes glowed. Apparently she found it amusing to refer to our professional relationship. It served as a reminder of how much beyond that we’d actually come, while barely even noticing or trying to.
“Am I paying you well? I have to admit to only having a loose understanding of the budget at the moment.”
“Well enough.” She smiled slightly.
“But you’ll have to put up with that old car of yours for a while yet?”
“Unfortunately so.” Her words were filled with wry humour and I couldn’t resist another foray into a friendly—rather than formal—conversation.
“It is a beautiful car.”
“You like cars?” Anna raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
“Well, not really,” I confessed. “I mean, I’m no petrol-head or anything. But I can see the beauty of your car.”
“You’ll have to come for a drive with me one of these days,” Anna said, her face lighting up in a way that stirred something deep inside me. I watched as she realised how warmly she’d extended the offer and made an effort to moderate her expression. I almost laughed, but the knot of tension in the pit of my stomach prevented it.
“That would be lovely,” I said softly.
“Yes, we’ll arrange something.” She hesitated for a long moment as though she was going to add something further. She drew in a deep breath. “Well, I should probably be going.” I was disappointed she hadn’t said whatever she’d been thinking.
We climbed the stairs together, and lingered awkwardly in the hallway. “Thank you,” I said in the end. “I really do feel reassured having your help with Winter.”
“You’re welcome. I feel privileged to be able to work here.”
“I’ll try listening to the house, like you said.”
“Yes, do, and tell me what you hear.”
“I might not hear anything.”
“You will. I can tell you’re perceptive enough.” She smiled slightly and her gaze, intensified by her glasses, focused on mine intently. I felt she was trying to tell me something, but I didn’t dare allow myself to accept it, to try to understand it.
“Thanks,” I said quietly. “I’m still planning on visiting Durham in the next few days, are you still up for coffee?”
“Yes, very much so.” There was that unexpected enthusiasm again. It was enough to send a thrill of anticipation through my body. “Just call first,” She added matter-of-factly.
“Will do. I guess I’ll see you soon then.”
“Yes, you will.” Anna hovered for a moment, looking again as though she was going to say something more. “Bye then.” She turned quickly and headed for the front door.
“Bye.” I followed her to the door and watched her retreat down the steps and into her car.
The lingering glow of Anna’s company took even longer to fade this time. Winter was a brighter place in the aftermath of her visit. What was strange was how easily I managed to set aside my doubts. Over the next few hours I felt anything was possible as long as Anna was somehow involved in it. I knew I was on dangerous ground, feeling so strongly about a woman I barely knew, yet I was helpless to resist it.
*
As afternoon became evening, I decided to try listening to the house in the way that Anna suggested. I rummaged around in my boxes until I found a purple candle and a smoothly polished piece of deep blue lapis lazuli. Indigo, the colour of the third eye chakra, ajna in Sanskrit, located on the forehead and associated with intuition, insight, and open-mindedness. Some of my most successful meditations in the past had involved a focus on this particular chakra. Even if the stone and the candle had no effect at all, they helped to draw my thoughts to a singular point, to help me open myself to my intuition. I knew intuition and an open mind were what I needed to listen to Winter effectively, as Anna wanted me to.
I spread my blanket on the floor, and sat down cross-legged. I drew a deep breath and reflected on what I was about to do. The truth was, I’d not meditated since my mother’s death. Such a close encounter with mortality had made me less inclined towards any reflection, or to allowing my emotions to flow too freely. Losing both my job and Francesca had given me further obstacles to a completely peaceful mind and made the prospect of meditation even less appealing. I feared how vulnerable meditation made me to my innermost feelings.
But now I prepared myself to give it a go, because Anna wanted me to. It wasn’t only her influence. My intention this time was not to listen to myself, but to leave my mind open to a new awareness of Winter, which I felt more secure in than any exploration of my own emotions. Yet I couldn’t deny the part of me that wanted to do this for Anna. I wanted to demonstrate I was as perceptive as she gave me credit for, I craved her good opinion. I looked forward to telling her what I discovered when I saw her again. I inhaled deeply once more and tried to relax my shoulders.
I struck a match and lit the wick of the candle in front of me. Holding the lapis in my hand, I focused on the bright yellow flame of the candle as it guttered briefly, and then began to burn steadily. I began the process of emptying my mind of everything. I visualised the more awkward thoughts as solid objects in my mind, then bundled them up and threw them out. I imagined I was drawing the light of the candle into myself, feeling infused by its energy and brightness. Everything except that point of light blurred into shadows. I half closed my eyes until the flame became a star composed of shafts of golden light. I concentrated, imagining I really did have a third eye in the middle of my forehead with which I could see the world differently, an eye which opened wider as the bright energy from the candle reached it. I focused on making that area feel vital and receptive. I let my breathing relax into pranayama, the steady yogic breathing with a pause between inhalation and exhalation, to keep my mind calm. And then I listened for what Winter was telling me, allowing my perceptions to drift through my consciousness like passing clouds.
I noticed a gentle draught stroking my face, though I’d never been aware of it before. I heard the now familiar creaking of the wooden stairs, a groan from the old plumbing. Then, all at once, I felt the presence of the entire house around me. I had a perfect awareness of the proportions of every room, every dark corner, from the attics to the cellars. Instead of scattered, half-explored chambers, with so much still to discover, I sensed the house as a solid entity. It did not quite have a living energy, but was coherent and powerful. Winter Manor, two-and-a-half centuries old, but also the representative of a much older house which had stood here before. A repository of stories, of lives lived.
I focused on my breathing once more. Was I welcome here? Did Winter feel positive or negative? Was Anna’s optimism justified? A swirl of emotions swept into my mind. There was loss and longing, but also love, intense love, and everything in between those two extremes. I closed my eyes as I felt my heart ache with empathy drawn from my recent loss, the love I wanted so badly to be able to share once more. In the grip of those emotions, I began to understand my house, finally. Winter, though a cohesive presence, could not be pinned down. Though the building stood solid, a self-contained whole through the years, people came and went, their stories and emotions fluctuating. Winter was a different place to each of the people who passed through. I was neither welcome nor unwelcome; I was simply another story drifting though these rooms, interpreting the energy here in my own way, adding my own essence to the mix. I knew with certainty it was not right the stories played out in these rooms were lost, even if they could not be actively remembered. I’d bring Winter back, preserve it to the best of my ability.
I opened my eyes and let my thoughts drift back into total awareness of the present moment. I felt a little teary, but also excited. I couldn’t wait to tell Anna I’d acted on her advice, really listened to Winter, and actually heard something of what the house was telling me. I remembered the sensations of loss, an
d of love. That gave me pause for thought. Was I listening to Winter? Or was I really listening to my own heart? Was I recasting Winter as a character in my own story, as people had done for centuries before me? And why was my first thought, having done this, how badly I wanted to share my discoveries with Anna? I suspected however practised I was at meditation, and whatever energy there truly was in this house, the driving emotional force just then was the way Anna made me feel. I was only brave enough to meditate again because of Anna. She was becoming far too significant to me already. It was foolish, even dangerous, to allow those feelings to take hold of me as they had done, when I was still lost in an emotional wilderness without a map, and a terrible prospect as anyone’s girlfriend. And yet I found myself helpless to resist her lure. I looked around me at the grand hallway, mostly in shadow, and couldn’t help but wonder what the next chapter of this latest story of Winter would be.
Chapter Five
So strong was my urge to see Anna again, it was an effort to wait the two days I managed before I went to Durham. I woke up early, aware the light flooding into the hallway from the narrow windows either side of the door was somehow brighter than usual. I padded to the door in my thick socks to find the parkland coated in a thin blanket of pure white snow, shining blue in the shadows and hollows and glistening as though someone had sprinkled diamonds over it where the sun caught it. The outside world was serene and beautiful, and it infused me with inner calm and confidence. I glanced down the steps towards Phoebe, to see that she was half coated in windblown snowflakes. Shivering for her, I retreated indoors. I switched on my small electric heater and sat directly in front of it as I ate cornflakes for my breakfast and contemplated with trepidation just how cold the bathroom was going to be while I washed.
Choosing my clothes carefully, I selected a pair of dark purple corded trousers that wouldn’t look wrong with my sturdy boots, and a simple black blouse. I opted for my thick black woollen cardigan in the place of my ugly duffel coat and pulled my black beret onto my head. I slipped my polished rose quartz pendant around my neck—pink was good for the emotions governed by the heart chakra. Dangling Indian silver earrings completed my outfit, and I was able to smile at myself in the mirror. There was nothing designer or especially chic about my appearance, but I looked presentable enough.
I intentionally dressed to go out before I called Anna, an added incentive not to back out since, however much I wanted to see her again, meeting her for social as opposed to professional reasons was taking our relationship to a whole new intimidating level. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I picked up my phone and dialled her number.
“Hi Ros,” she answered, taking me by surprise with the warmth in her greeting.
“Hi,” I said, determined not to hesitate awkwardly, “I’m coming into Durham today. Do you have time for coffee?”
“I do. If you call into the office at twelve, I’ll have an hour or so then.” Her tone was matter of fact again.
“Excellent. See you later.”
“I’ll look forward to it.” She didn’t entirely sound as though she was anticipating our meeting with pleasure, but that was just how I expected her to sound, and I smiled as I ended the call.
My first view of Durham was from the road as I approached in my car. Having driven through tired mining villages, with their rows of functional terraces and working-men’s clubs, I wasn’t sure what to expect from the city. I soon discovered it to be something of an anomaly in its own county. The square tower of the huge Norman cathedral, perched on its hill, loomed over the entire town. I drove over the river and parked on a side street, keen to travel on foot into the town centre, along with hordes of shoppers, tourists, and cheerful students. I couldn’t help but be impressed. Durham in the snow was like a scene from a Christmas card. The cobbled streets had been mostly trampled clear of snow, but the rooftops, uneven and close together, were still dusted white. Though all the modern shops I expected were there, many of their frontages retained traditional Victorian styling and tasteful signage. Durham was quaint and bustling, a busy enough place that no one gave me a second glance, and I loved it instantly.
I had an hour or so to spare before I was due to meet Anna, so I contented myself with wandering around the shops, picking up a few essentials I hadn’t been able to find elsewhere. I teetered down a steep cobbled hill, which the signs told me was called Silver Street, to find myself crossing a bridge over the River Wear. The wide, glassy river was fringed by winter trees, their dark branches frosted white and reflected by the water. I stopped to look behind me, at a spot halfway across the bridge where two or three tourists were taking pictures, and was astounded by the view. The turrets of the castle glowered ominously above me, not softened at all by their dusting of snow, leading the eye along the hilltop towards the more refined, ornate grandeur of the cathedral. Stunning. I leaned on the cold stone wall of the bridge and let the passing shoppers and tourists fade away. My spirit seemed to break free and soar up the steep hillside to the cathedral. The sheer timelessness of the two buildings, so solidly eternal, moved me most of all. This view must have remained the same for centuries, long before me and my troubles, years and years before Winter Manor was even begun. At once forbidding and serene, the castle and the cathedral were guardians of everyone below them. Just gazing at the glorious relics of this city’s rich history infused me with an unexpected optimism. In that brief moment I felt myself to be so blissfully insignificant I had nothing to lose and anything could happen.
I was jostled from behind by a woman carrying an armful of shopping bags. The magic was lost in an instant, but a trace of the optimism lingered. I glanced at my watch and saw that by the time I climbed the hill back to the square next to which Anna’s office was located, it would be time to meet her. My heart sped up as I walked, and it had nothing to do with negotiating the cobbled incline.
The square was bordered on one side by a Gothic church and on another by the very quaint town hall. The other sides of the square were lined with colourful shopfronts. I turned to my right as I entered and walked a few yards down Saddler Street which led away from the square. A small black-and-white plaque next to a panelled green door proclaimed that I’d found Everest and Payne Architecture. Anna’s name was first, and I suspected it wasn’t from alphabetical considerations. I pressed the button next to the door and waited for the buzz to allow me access.
The offices of Anna’s company were on the first floor of the Georgian red-brick building, and the door opened only into a small lobby. I climbed the steep stairs, which turned back on themselves, to lead me to the first floor. The walls were papered in a very stylish floral design, which reminded me of an Elizabethan tapestry, clearly high quality and distinctive. As I reached the top of the stairs, a white door opened in front of me and Anna herself was standing in the doorway, smiling slightly. Waiting for me? My heart beat quicker. The pleasure of knowing she was looking forward to my arrival was only surpassed by the effect of remembering all over again just why I found her so physically attractive.
Her hair was tied back into a loose knot at the nape of her neck, and she wore the black pinstriped suit and white shirt she had been wearing when I first encountered her. As her eyes met mine I felt a disabling surge of nervous excitement. I wondered if any similar sensations rippled beneath her surface.
“Hello,” I said, as evenly as I could manage, “how are you?”
“Good, thank you.” Anna showed no signs of tension, or the awkwardness I remembered from our last encounter. “Glad it’s time for a break. You?”
“Good too. I’ve been admiring Durham.”
“It’s lovely isn’t it?” I saw she was pleased I liked her city.
“I’m not sure I’ve seen a prettier city, especially in the snow.”
The ice in Anna’s blue eyes melted once again with the warmth of her enthusiasm. “I was wondering, actually, what do you say to grabbing a coffee from the place on the square and then taking a walk up the hill to
have a closer look at the cathedral? There’s a view down to the river which is really beautiful.”
I was honoured Anna wanted to show me anything of the town, rather than simply allowing me to keep her company during her lunch break. I felt as though she wanted me to see more of her world. I was excited by the idea of learning a little more about her. “Sounds good to me.”
“I’ll just get my coat then,” she said, turning back into her office. Over her shoulder I caught a glimpse of more designer vintage wallpaper, a large desk, an angled drawing board, and several rows of filing cabinets. To my left was a small desk which looked to belong to a secretary, but was currently empty. Next to Anna’s office was another, closed, door. She was back in a moment, buttoning her long black coat and adjusting the royal blue scarf she had wrapped around her throat. The colour suited her perfectly, making her hair golden and bringing out the depth of the colour of her irises.
We made our way down to the street in silence and headed back towards the square. The coffee shop was on the corner where the street joined the square. The warm scent of roasted coffee beans was tantalisingly strong, even out here in the street. It was a fashionable, youthful establishment. As we entered, I sensed people watching us. Somehow, by just walking into the shop, Anna drew people’s gaze. A balding man, carrying a tray of full cups, even paused to let her pass in front of him, then almost collided with me. I was clearly not alone in being captivated by her. I felt a little less foolish for being under her spell, but also oddly possessive. I wanted to be the only one who was so impressed by her, the only one who truly wanted to see below the surface. My mind returned reluctantly to the sobering recollection that she was wearing a wedding ring.
“Long macchiato to take away, please.” Anna ordered her coffee and looked at me expectantly.
“Oh, and a caramel latte, please.” We watched as our drinks were made, then Anna insisted on paying. I found it difficult to argue with her. I trailed behind her as we walked out of the shop, feeling like a child running after a sophisticated grown-up.
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