by Nell Dixon
“It’s not very nice weather tonight.” I wondered if I’d made a mistake agreeing to see him again. I was still uncertain about where our friendship was going.
He grinned, “No, but luckily the rain’s stopped. I’ve a surprise to show you on the way to the pub.”
He opened the car door and I clambered in, an ominous feeling gathering in the pit of my stomach. I wasn’t big on surprises.
“Do I get to know where we’re going?” I asked as we set off along the back streets.
“We’re only going as far as here.” He pulled to a halt outside St Thomas’s parish church. A pretty yellow stone building that dated back to Norman times, at least that was what the painted board outside the church claimed.
Mike’s face was alight with anticipation. “Come on, there’s something in the churchyard that I want you to see.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Great, just what I needed right now, a date in a graveyard. I climbed out of the warm, pine-scented security of Mike’s car and peered at the forbidding ancient yew trees that guarded the lynch gate.
Mike was already inside the churchyard holding the gate open so I could follow him.
“The path is rather slippy so be careful,” he warned.
I trailed behind him along the narrow slabbed path between the tombstones, avoiding the puddles and hoping I wouldn’t get any mud on my heels. We walked up the small incline towards the church building and then turned off to the right towards the older part of the cemetery. Here the gravestones were worn and moss covered, many tilted at strange angles as if they had started to sink down into the soft earth that supported them.
“This way.” Mike left the path and made his way across the grass.
I gritted my teeth and followed him. If my new shoes acquired grass stains I would not be happy.
He halted in front of a grey stone with a curved top. The lettering was hard to read. Years of weathering had almost obliterated the stone mason’s work. I squinted at the grave trying to make out the words.
“Here lieth the body of… oh! It’s Francis and Isabella!”
Mike beamed at me as if I’d done something clever. I wished I could shake the feeling of unease that crept over me as I painstakingly deciphered the inscription on the stone. I tried to reconcile the words with the portrait I’d seen in the gallery.
Whoever my ghost was I was sure it wasn’t Isabella. The woman I’d seen at the window and in my dream was dark haired and her gaze had hit me with an intensity I hadn’t sensed from Isabella’s portrait.
“It feels a little strange after seeing the pictures of the cottage and Isabella in the gallery.” I forced a smile so Mike wouldn’t be disappointed by my reaction. He’d clearly gone to a lot of trouble to find this out for me.
“Come on, let’s go and get that drink I promised you.” He slipped his hand into mine as I took a final look at Francis and Isabella’s last resting place amongst the damp green foliage of the ancient churchyard.
We ambled back to the car together in thoughtful silence. The cool evening air made me shiver. Mike opened the passenger door for me.
“I called a paranormal investigator today – the one Mavis gave me the card for in class. I’ve had enough of the creepy goings-on in the cottage.” I sneaked a glance at Mike’s face as he settled into the driver’s seat next to me.
He swivelled in his seat to stare at me, his hand still resting on the unturned ignition key.
“You think I’m being stupid?” I asked.
He shifted his gaze to look out through the windscreen, a faint red tinge on his cheeks.
“No, well um, not stupid. It’s an unusual course of action.”
“But you do think it’s weird or that I’ve imagined everything?”
He turned the key and started the engine. “No, I’m sure you have experienced something. And, given your feelings about the cottage and its age, I can see why you might want to look at alternative sources to help put your mind at rest.”
“It’s just that things seem to be getting worse.” I told him about the latest incidents. “What do you think?”
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I can see why it would have been quite frightening. I suppose these paranormal investigation things are quite harmless and I must confess it would be an interesting experience. You say this Beaner man may know something of the history of the house?”
“That’s what Brian said. He said he was an expert on this sort of thing.” It struck me that it might be quite nice to have Mike there. His nice no-nonsense cool academic thinking might stop my wilder thoughts about ghosts from running away with me. “Do you want to come when they do whatever it is they do?”
“It would be fascinating to see what happens, and I can always verify anything historical which they might infer.” He flashed me a smile.
I smiled back. “When Brian calls me back I’ll let you know.” At least Mike hadn’t thought the idea was funny or peculiar, unlike Steve.
“I’ll look forward to it.” He pulled the car away from the kerb and we set off for the pub.
Mercifully, Mike kept clear of the Coach and Horses and instead drove us out of town to a small country pub further along the river. My mobile beeped as we pulled into the car park.
‘Txt fm Mum. Bk Tue will tlk to us then. L.’
I slipped my phone back inside my bag without sending a reply and wished I could shake off the uneasy feeling I got every time I thought about Mum and Chuck.
“Is everything okay?”
“Fine, it’s only a message from Lou.” I forced a smile. Mike was a very sweet person and I couldn’t help feeling guilty that I was somehow using him.
The pub seemed to be from a similar date to Myrtle Cottage. Inside, a large inglenook fireplace, the hearth filled with logs ready for the cooler autumn nights, stood waiting to be lit. Beams blackened with age and pre-smoking-ban nicotine assaulted the heads of taller unwary customers. Worn stone flags stained with years of spilled ale covered the floor.
I took a seat near one of the small diamond-paned leaded windows and waited for Mike to return with my glass of white wine. There were only a couple of other people in the bar and the room was quiet except for the soft murmur of conversation. I closed my eyes and allowed the tension I’d been holding in my shoulders to slip away. Why didn’t Myrtle Cottage feel like this?
“Is Chardonnay all right?”
I opened my eyes as Mike placed a glass in front of me and took a seat opposite.
“Lovely.” I picked up my glass and took a gulp, savouring the chilly smoothness of the wine.
Mike hunched forward in his seat and fiddled with the edge of the cardboard beer mat under his pint of lager. He lifted his head to look me square in the face.
“Is something wrong?” A prickly sense of unease chased away my relaxed state.
“I know you said things were over between you and Steve…”
“They are,” I rushed to reassure him, ignoring the fact that I’d snogged my ex not so long ago and I still harboured lustful thoughts about him.
“…I was going to say that even if you aren’t together, I’m not so sure you’re ready to move on. Or at least, maybe not with me.”
I opened my mouth to protest and closed it again when he gave me a rueful smile.
“It’s okay, Kate. I do really like you; I think you’re a beautiful girl. I like spending time with you, and yes, if I’m honest I fancy you like mad, but it’s not the same for you, is it?”
His blue eyes looked deep into mine and I swallowed hard. I guessed it was time to tell the truth. “No, it’s not the same. I wish it was. I do like you too. I love going out with you and talking together. You’re the smartest bloke I know, but maybe you’re right, it’s too soon after Steve. I’m sorry.” Tears welled up in the back of my eyes and my throat went all lumpy and thick.
As I blinked to clear my eyes, my chilly hands were captured in the warmth of his fingers as he gave them a gentle
squeeze.
“It’s okay. We can still be friends. And then maybe one day if you change your mind or feel ready?”
“You’re too nice a guy, you know.” I swallowed my tears and gave a weepy sniff before extracting one hand to fish a tissue from my bag. It felt better to have my confusion out in the open even as I wondered where this left me. Steve didn’t want me and now Mike was ever so gently giving me the let down too. It stung my pride a little even though I knew it was right.
An impish twinkle appeared in his eyes. “And of course if you’re ever desperate for sex with no strings I’d be happy to oblige. You know, the whole friends with benefits thing.” A wide grin split his face and I couldn’t help grinning back at his joke. “Hey, I’m still a bloke.”
I shook my head and blew my nose.
“Friends then?” he asked.
“Friends.” I tucked the tissue back in my bag and picked up my glass to clink it against his, sealing the deal.
We had another drink and spent the evening chatting. By the time we wandered back out to the car I felt much more mellow and relaxed.
Mike drove me back to the cottage and gave me a kiss on the cheek to say goodnight before waiting until I’d navigated my way through the garden to the back door. I waved goodnight from the doorway and stepped inside.
Mr Flibble was curled up asleep on his cushion in a corner of the kitchen, and with the lights on, everything seemed reassuringly normal. I filled the kettle to make my bedtime cup of tea. Mr Flibble stretched and opened his good eye to blink at me as I lifted the biscuit barrel down from my side of the kitchen. The tin was suspiciously light. Steve must have uncovered my latest hiding place.
The kitchen lights flickered as I switched on the kettle and I hoped it wasn’t a sign that yet another bulb was about to blow. Mr Flibble yawned and wandered over with a hopeful look on his furry face as I opened the biscuit tin.
“I don’t think so Flibby.” I bent to scratch the top of his head as the lights gave another flicker.
I straightened up and took a bite out of a custard cream, ignoring my cat nudging my leg in protest. The kettle came to a boil, switched itself off and the lights flashed once more.
“I’ll have to get these electrics checked out. This is ridiculous.” I crossed the room to find the torch in case the room should suddenly be plunged into darkness.
The eerie feeling of not being alone any more swept over me as I opened the drawer. I fumbled for the torch, scared to either turn around or lift my head.
* * *
As the storm reached its peak I faced my father’s wrath. I refused to give Joshua’s name. How could I when I had been forbidden to see him? My father had hoped for a wealthy suitor for my hand, not the miller’s third son. There was no chance of my father prevailing upon Thomas Crabbe to accept me now even with the house and land as my dowry. Father’s anger and grief would have been compounded still further if he knew that my heart lay with a man who had gone to fight the King’s forces. A man he would consider a traitor.
* * *
The lights began to flicker wildly, flashing off and on as if someone were pressing the switch up and down. I stood, frozen to the spot. Suddenly I heard a bulb pop and the room went dark. Mr Flibble mewed and I gave a little scream.
I tugged the torch free from the clutter in the drawer and switched it on. At the same moment I heard the catch on the back door click. My heart in my mouth and my pulse hammering like an express train, I pointed the beam at the door.
“Bloody hell, Kate, you’re blinding me. What’s the matter with the lights?”
Steve stepped into the room, shielding his eyes with his forearm.
“I think another bulb blew. The lights were going berserk, flashing off and on for no reason.” I lowered the beam away from his face.
Using his mobile to give some light he disappeared into the hall. A few seconds later the lights came back on minus the one over the Aga which must have been the one that had blown.
He came back into the kitchen. “I saw them flashing when I got to the caravan so I came straight up to see if you were all right.”
I dropped the torch back in the drawer and rubbed at my bare arms which had suddenly grown cold. “It keeps happening. The bulbs keep popping.”
“Shite electrics. I’ll get someone to check them out again, make sure I haven’t missed something.” He reached out to gently grip the tops of my arms. “Are you all right, Kate? Your eyes are red, have you been crying?”
“I’m fine.” I was more unnerved now by the expression in his eyes when he looked at me than the bulb blowing. It was like having the old, caring Steve back again. The Steve that had been in love with me.
“Your arms are cold.” His gaze stayed locked with mine.
My mouth dried and my pulse speeded as he lowered his head and our lips touched. Somehow my arms seemed to find their way around him drawing him closer as the warmth of his kiss heated my body, making desire rise low and hot in my belly.
He tasted of beer and maleness as his tongue tangled with mine, slowly at first then building as I moved closer in to him, desperate to feel the long hard length of his body against mine. It had been too long.
I closed my eyes as his lips blazed a trail from the corner of my mouth to the sensitive spot below my ear. My fingers worked their way under his tee shirt to caress the skin of his back while my breathing speeded in response to his kisses.
“Oh God, Kate.” He slid his hand under the hem of my skirt to grasp my buttocks, bringing me tight against the tell-tale bulge in his jeans. The flimsy silky material of my knickers proved no barrier to the expert exploration of his fingers and I clutched at him when he found the spot he was seeking.
Blindly, I manoeuvred my hands around to the button fly of his Levi’s, fumbling with the fastenings while his mouth grew more demanding on mine. I knew what we were doing was madness but somehow I couldn’t bring myself to stop.
Chapter Twenty-Four
It was light when I woke, and my bed was empty. It took me a few seconds to remember why I was naked and the muscles of my thighs felt as if I’d been on the rowing machine at the gym. Heat infused my body as I recalled exactly why.
I buried my face in my pillows and groaned. The cottage was silent too. He must have gone back to his caravan leaving me asleep. I ran my tongue across my lips trying to bring some moisture back to the surface. Memories of Steve’s fierce and demanding kisses made me curl up in a ball. I wished I could undo the events of the previous night.
It was no use. I fumbled for my nightshirt and yanked it on over my head. I needed a cup of tea and a slice of marmalade smothered toast to restore my equilibrium and give me a sugar boost before I saw Steve. I collected my bra from the stairs on my way to the kitchen. My knickers lay on the tiles next to the kitchen table.
Cringing, I stuffed them into the washing machine and slotted some bread in the toaster. I glanced through the kitchen window. Thankfully the rain from the day before had disappeared and it promised to be a lovely summer day.
I collected my tea and toast and opened the back door. Air already warm from the morning sunshine caressed my bare legs as I carried my breakfast outside onto the patio. Skirting the scaffolding, I sat down carefully at the patio table, tugging my nightshirt down so that it properly covered my bum. Birds chirped and warbled happily in the walnut tree and the clippings of the weeds I’d cleared yesterday added a fresh, green perfume to the air.
Surrounded by the peaceful atmosphere of a Sunday morning I munched my toast and tried to think through what I should do. Why had I gone to bed with Steve?
Lust? Habit? I took a gulp of my tea. What did it say about his relationship with Her if he was so willing to have sex with me?
I brushed the crumbs from my mouth when I saw Steve walking towards me along the garden path. He’d changed from last nights Levi’s into the canvas board shorts he wore when working and an old Danger Line tee shirt. I fidgeted on my seat and wished I’d put m
y knickers on before coming outside.
“Um, morning.” He halted on the patio a couple of feet away and tucked his hands into the front pockets of his shorts.
“Morning.” I studied his expression for some clue. Did he regret sleeping with me?
“About last night…” He hesitated.
“Yeah, well, it was just one of those things.” I said quickly. I couldn’t bear it if he said it had been a big mistake or some other crap like that. It had been a big mistake but I didn’t want him to say it out loud.
“Um, if you like, just one of those things.” His brown eyes were serious and thoughtful as if he wanted to say something else but wasn’t sure what.
“Look, I think it’s better if we pretend last night never happened.” I tried to sound confident and assertive like Lou would be.
“If that’s what you want.” He frowned.
“Absolutely, well I’d better go and get dressed. I want to chop down more of the jungle today.” I picked up my mug and plate. The sooner this highly awkward and embarrassing encounter was over the better and we could resume our separate lives once more.
“I’ll try and finish getting the bath plumbed in today so you can use it.” Steve dropped his gaze and kicked at a small stone on the patio.
“That would be nice; the whole getting strip-washed in the kitchen is getting old.” My face heated even as the words left my mouth. Yes, I’d stripped off in the kitchen the previous night.
A dull red stain appeared on Steve’s cheekbones and he couldn’t quite meet my eyes.
“Kate, I um, never mind.” He shook his head and walked off inside the house.
I wondered what else he’d planned to say.
I followed behind him at a slower pace. Once I heard the sound of hammering and banging coming from the upstairs bathroom I had my usual scrub down at the kitchen sink and promised myself a long soak in the newly fitted bath later on.
