Chapter 4

‘Your carriage awaits, madam.’

Jay doffed his hat theatrically and Marilyn felt slightly silly as she got into the jeep and turned the key, simply to feel the comfort of the engine running. The afternoon was already well-advanced; freeing the barn doors had only been a start. Before they could move the car or do anything more, they’d had to make the tree safe. She’d watched, heart in her mouth, as he cut through the branch from the top of a ladder and they lowered it slowly through the hole in the roof. He’d waved away her embarrassment that she hadn’t got round to learning how to use the chainsaw, wielding it expertly and insisting he was glad to do whatever it took to help. After a late lunch of hot soup, they’d managed to coax the car with its erratic electrics into life and she could now bring it safely into the open.

Relieved, she turned off the engine and got out. The roof was dented and scratched, and she ran her hand over it. She shrugged. ‘I suppose it adds character.’

‘It’s out and working, no real harm done … Sorry, that’s a bit like the old “could be worse”, isn’t it?’

‘I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. It’s…a relief. Thank you for all your help.’

He offered to chop the branch up as a substitute for her buried woodpile.

‘Don’t feel you have to. I’ll run you back to Holdwick if you like. You should be able to find somewhere to stay, but you’ll not get there on foot before it gets dark.’

‘Much appreciated.’

He started to gather up the tools he’d been using, pausing to stick out a hand as some scattered drops of rain fell. He looked across at her.

‘You know you were talking earlier about your builders not coming for a while?’

‘Mm-hm…’ She could imagine where this was heading and was already trying to think of excuses.

‘I’ll be honest with you. I haven’t had any steady work for a while. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not about to starve or anything but, well, I’ve enjoyed today, and…if I can make myself useful till they start, perhaps…?’

He looked slightly embarrassed and she wondered, not for the first time, what his circumstances were. Her mind raced but no excuses came. It would certainly speed things up, and in any case, even if she managed to find someone else to finish clearing the yard, she had no guarantee that she could trust them any more than this man, who at least came with the character reference of a day’s willing work.

‘Let me think about it. I suppose I’d have had to pay Alan extra anyway, what with all this.’

‘The price isn’t an issue, don’t worry on that count. I know I can do a good job in preparation for the experts, and it’d be satisfying to be working on something worthwhile.’

‘I’m not promising anything, but…’ The rain was getting heavier. ‘Step in for a moment.’

He joined her in the porch, dragging his rucksack in behind him.

‘Listen, I’ve got quite a bit of food in the fridge and freezer that’s only going to go off.’

‘And you need me to dig a hole to keep the stuff cool underground?’

He grinned and she smiled back.

‘I think you’ve done enough digging. I mean I could use some of it up by cooking you a meal. To say thanks.’

‘Hey, that’d be amazing, cheers. I’ve even got some supplies I could contribute.’

He opened the top flap of his rucksack and produced the carrier she’d seen him get at the market.

‘Then I’ll run you to Holdwick.’

‘OK. Or, well, could you just show me a field where I could pitch my tent? Save you having to drive.’

‘It’s no trouble,’ she said, waving a hand at the glass roof of the porch, where the initial drumming had increased to an insistent tattoo. ‘You can hardly call this camping weather.’

‘I’m used to it.’

She realised how tactless she’d been, assuming he could afford bed and breakfast in town, and rushed to cover up for herself.

‘You know, I…I could just about clear enough space for you to sleep in the spare room for tonight. It’s a bit of a tip though. I haven’t got round to sorting it out yet; I…’ She stopped herself talking, realising the words were spilling out to hide her incredulity at the offer she’d just heard herself make.

‘Don’t worry about that,’ he said as if reading her mind. ‘You don’t have to.’

‘I mean it.’

‘The barn’s cleared now. That’s more my usual style.’

Looking at him, she could believe it.

‘We don’t know it’s safe, and there’s a great big hole in the roof,’ she said, ‘You’d get soaked.’

‘There’s plenty of space away from the hole. I could even put the tent up in there. Whatever. You’re on your own here, aren’t you?’

She shrugged; no point trying to deny the obvious.

‘The barn’ll do me fine, really.’

‘I can’t just chuck you out in the rain.’

‘Well…’ He hesitated, but not for long. ‘If you insist.’

As she showed him the spare room she realised clearing enough space would be harder than she’d thought; there was hardly room to fit his rucksack in. The bed frame and its mattress were leaned against the wall to make room for boxes of her stock.

‘I’m intending to set up my workshop in the barn. This is my store till I do,’ she said, annoyed with herself for feeling the need to justify anything.

‘You make pottery?’ He picked up a piece from a nearby box. One of her favourite wall plaques, a stylised landscape in blues, purples and greens.

‘I do. Until I get the barn sorted I’m having to work somewhere else. It’s not ideal, but I need to get established – supply enough stuff to local shops in time for Christmas, then get going properly for next year’s tourist season. So it’s what I’ve got to do.’ She sighed. ‘It’ll all just take a bit longer now.’

‘You haven’t been here long?’

‘Several years. Just not on my own. My partner, Matt, and I split up early this summer.’

‘Oh. Sorry.’

‘Nothing for you to apologise about. We did up an old mill in Holdwick, ran a craft centre there. Since we split he’s been converting the top floor to a flat. I stayed here.’ She stared, unseeing, into the jumble of boxes in the spare room. ‘Well, in a manner of speaking. Actually, I went off to Ireland for a while. Stayed with a friend from college who’s living the good life in the wilds of Donegal. She runs a pottery, too, so it was a chance to get some experience working with someone else. It was great for a while. Exchanging ideas, all that. But I began to feel I was overstaying my welcome. She never said anything; I dare say she’d be mortified to hear me say it, but…it felt right to come back. You can’t run away for ever.’

She looked up, caught him frowning.

‘You know about running away, too, then?’ she ventured.

‘Figuratively, you mean?’ She felt a sudden unease that the question had even occurred to him. ‘I believe it’s part of the human condition.’ He shrugged, laughed softly and ran an appreciative hand over the plaque before passing it to her carefully. ‘Now then, you’d better tell me where you want these boxes.’

He’d got the two of them moving before she found her voice to press him further. By the time they’d finished, the small landing was crowded but there was a space in the bedroom big enough for one person to sleep in.

‘We can bring cushions up from the chairs, later, and I’ll get you a spare duvet.’

‘Thanks, but my sleeping bag’s all I need.’

After sorting out candles and lamps before it got fully dark, she packed him off to the bathroom with some old clothes Matt had left behind. She insisted Jay gave her his things to wash, despite his protests that she shouldn’t feel obliged.

She’d left his two sets of scruffy clothes to soak and was contemplating the contents of the fridge when she heard the low hum of an engine approaching. Out in the rain her neighbour, Richard Harrington, appraised the landslide and its effects and was most apologetic about being unable to come and help sooner.

‘I see you’ve managed admirably, though,’ he said, nodding towards the jeep.

‘It wasn’t as bad as it looked.’ She found herself somehow unwilling to mention the help she’d had, or reveal to Richard her impulsiveness in inviting a stranger to stay the night. If there was a wrong impression to get, he’d probably get it. ‘The car started, thank goodness, so I’ve got a lifeline. There’s still a lot of work to do though.’

Despite the rain and deepening dusk, he insisted they walked up the hillside to inspect the slip. He knew this land far better than she or Jay did and she was reassured when he confirmed their verdict that it was probably safe from further movement.

‘Dot said to tell you you’re welcome to come over and stay with us while the electric’s off, love.’

‘Thanks, but I’ll be fine. I’ve got far too much to do; I should stay here. There’s the cat to think of as well.’

‘I’m afraid I can’t really come up and help you for a few days. I promised to take Dot over to her mother’s tomorrow. She’s not well. Tom’ll be keeping an eye on the farm, so we’ll be away till the end of the week. I could drop her off and come back, though, and—’

‘Don’t feel you have do anything of the sort. I can manage. If the phone’s still off next weekend I’ll pop down and see you so you know I’m still here.’

‘I have to admire your independence, love.’ He laughed, but sounded relieved.

She watched his tail lights disappear down the lane through the trees, went indoors and began to think about cooking. Her guest eventually emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, Matt’s clothes looking slightly big on him. He appeared to have made a real effort.

‘Sorry to have been so long. Dozed off.’ He grinned sheepishly and with brushed damp hair, neatly-trimmed beard and clean face seemed quite at home. He glanced over to his own clothes in the sink. ‘It occurred to me, your washing machine won’t be working. I can’t believe you made an offer like that.’

‘I’ve been thinking the same thing myself.’

She left him with instructions to prepare the vegetables he’d brought and went to enjoy the luxury of a hot bath. A short time later she returned to a scene of candlelit domesticity, the table laid, a row of clothes strung up and steaming above the Rayburn, the occasional spitting hiss as a drip hit the hob, lidded pans bubbling away. A bottle of wine was open on the table; she was looking at it as Jay came through from lighting the living room fire.

‘Hope you don’t mind,’ he said, waving a hand towards her wine rack. ‘I know as a dinner guest I should’ve brought something, but…’ he gave her another of his disarming smiles, ‘I wasn’t sure where the nearest off-licence was. I’ll make up for it tomorrow.’

‘Um, don’t worry, I’d have opened one anyway,’ she lied as he picked up the bottle and poured two glasses with a flourish.

‘Here’s to good old-fashioned hospitality,’ he said, raising a glass.

She chinked hers against it and as she sipped heard heavy rain battering against the window. A wind had risen. She felt vindicated; she’d never have forgiven herself for turning anyone out on a night like this. She went to the stove and gave the casserole a final stir.

‘I really appreciate this,’ he said as he sat to the table. ‘You don’t want to know how long it is since I had a hot bath. And a square meal, let alone a dinner half as good as this.’

‘You haven’t tasted it yet.’ She brought the pot over to the table.

‘A proper roof over my head,’ he continued, ‘and a pretty woman for company.’

‘Less of the sweet talk,’ she said, turning back to drain the vegetables and put them in serving dishes he’d left to warm with two plates.

‘Only being appreciative.’ He grinned. ‘But I’d better shut up or you’ll have me out in that barn before you can say garrulus glandarius.’

‘I’m not likely to do either of those. What did you say that meant?’

‘Posh name for the jay.’

She laughed. ‘Suits you.’

‘Garrulous? That’s why I remember it.’

He reached out and took the plate she handed him, put it down quickly and shook his hands dramatically. ‘Ouch – hot.’

As she watched him begin to attack the food on his plate – there was no other way to think of it – she wondered just who it was she’d taken in.

‘What were your plans? Before…this.’

‘I don’t usually do plans,’ he said as if that answered everything, before devoting his full attention to his long-awaited square meal.

She watched Genghis make his cautious way round the edge of the kitchen, drawn through to the living room by the warmth of the fire. He eventually settled in its warm glow, tucking paws and tail in neatly but keeping his head alert, like a ship about to set sail across the rug. Marilyn thought that if the cat could accept the presence of this man in the house, perhaps she should put away her doubts. They ate in a not-uncomfortable silence. Jay wolfed his plate clear in no time and glanced at her, eyebrows raised, hand already on its way to the pot.

‘Help yourself to more.’

He made short work of a second helping, sitting back satisfied as she finished her first.

‘Thanks for all this, Polly,’ he said as she topped up their wine glasses.

‘Marilyn.’

‘Polly originally comes from Mary, did you know that? Mary – or Marilyn – became Molly became Polly. I think it suits you.’

‘Makes me sound like an old woman.’

He drank. ‘Age is the product of one thing alone – the time that’s gone by from when you were born to the present. I don’t see that what people call you has anything to do with it.’