Mike appeared more attractive with each glass of Chianti I consumed. After my third glass I decided I definitely would have to take a taxi home and collect my car after work tomorrow. There was no way that I could drive.
The food was delicious and Mike was a pleasant and undemanding dinner date. He chatted about scholarly things and I nodded in all the right places so we were both happy. By the time the waiter bought the bill and a liqueur with my coffee I had decidedly mellowed towards him.
The cooler evening air hit my face as we left the restaurant and roused me from my fuzziness. Mike and I exchanged wine flavoured kisses on the pavement but to my dismay even in my tipsy state there was still no zing.
“Thank you for a lovely evening.” I had enough presence of mind to flag down a passing taxi before Mike could suggest more coffee back at his house.
I thought he looked disappointed as I scrambled into the back of the cab, leaving him at the kerb. “I’m sorry I have to run out on you but I’m at work tomorrow and I’ll have to get up earlier to get the bus.”
It wasn’t a lie. I would have to leave the house half an hour before my usual time, and, since my bank uniform was in a carrier bag in my car boot, I’d have to press my other one which was buried deep in the ironing pile.
“I’ll give you a call tomorrow,” Mike promised.
I waved goodbye through the cab window and settled into my seat for the short ride back to Myrtle Cottage. The taxi dropped me off and I decided in my slightly merry condition to see if Steve had kept his promise about easing the front door. I didn’t think my balance was good enough for me to negotiate my way in the dark round the back and along the garden path.
The cottage was in darkness as I made my way along the short path to the oak front door. The leaves on the walnut tree rustled and sighed with the faint night-time breeze. I fumbled my key out from my bag and leant out from under the honeysuckle-laden canopy that covered the door so I could see what I was doing in the moonlight.
The air was sultry and heavy with the scent of the plants. I finally found the right key and inserted it into the lock.
The door creaked open without needing a shove. I reached into the hall to snap on the light. It pinged on for a brief second, illuminating the bare floorboards and dirty cream walls of the hallway. Then the bulb fused and plunged me back into darkness.
* * *
There have been prowlers around the house. The dogs are barking and Richard has gone out armed with a lantern and a big stick. Dorcas, Mother and I are waiting for his return. There have been deserters and camp followers in the countryside ever since the battle. I pray Joshua is safe and that Father returns soon.
* * *
“Damn.” I blinked to try and regain my focus in the darkness before feeling my way cautiously along the hall towards the kitchen. The floorboards creaked beneath my feet and I prayed nothing hairy would scuttle over my sandal-clad feet.
Reaching the door to the kitchen I fumbled for the old-fashioned iron latch.
Once I’d found the torch from the kitchen drawer I’d be able to fix the fuse in the cupboard under the stairs. I pushed open the door to the kitchen to discover that it would only open part of the way, bumping against some kind of obstacle. I squeezed through the narrow gap into the moonlit room.
The area that had previously been occupied by my ancient pine kitchen table was now taken up by the new, and very expensive, cast iron claw footed bath which should have been in the upstairs bathroom. My table and the chairs had been pushed to one side leaving a narrow walkway through to the fridge, sink and kettle.
Any remnants of my nice wine-induced fuzzy-headedness disappeared as I fumbled my way around the piles of furniture to the cabinet drawer in search of the torch.
“Where the hell has it gone?” I rummaged in the drawer groping for the smooth steel barrel of the torch amongst an unravelled ball of string, miscellaneous nails and screwdrivers. I finally found it and clicked it on, shining it around the room to figure out what had happened.
The kitchen was in a worse state than I’d imagined. My chairs were piled in a haphazard heap in front of the Aga and the roll top bath took up a huge amount of the available floor space.
The unexpected rumble of a key in the back door made my heart leap into my throat. I span around, my pulse racing.
“Kate, is that you?” Steve stood in the doorway, one hand raised to shield his eyes from the dazzling beam of my torch. “What the hell are you doing? Where’s your car?”
Taken by surprise I tripped over one of the bath’s clawed lion paw feet. Before I could hit the floor Steve had stepped forward to catch me.
“Have you been drinking?” His face was inches away from mine and his eyes gleamed with laughter in the moonlight.
I never got drunk. Two glasses of wine was usually my limit and I rarely drank that much. I don’t think in all the time Steve has known me he’s ever seen me get more than a little merry. Yet I was pretty sure that tonight I’d drunk most of the bottle of Chianti and then I’d had a liqueur with my coffee. By my standards I was plastered.
“I may have had a few glasses of wine with dinner.” I struggled to sound dignified and to stand back upright.
“I thought we had burglars. I was about to go to bed when I saw the torchlight.
Then I realised your car was missing.”
His body was close to mine and I realised he was only dressed in a pair of dark coloured cotton boxer shorts. “The lights fused. I think a bulb blew in the hall.” I gestured vaguely with the torch at the door leading to the hall, acutely aware that Steve was still holding my other arm in his hand.
He released my arm and squeezed through the partly blocked door. A few seconds later he was back. He switched on the kitchen light. The brightness made me blink and it took me a moment to focus. Steve eased through the narrow gap between the piled up furniture and turned on the kettle.
“You look as if you need some coffee,” he observed.
“Why is there a bath in my kitchen?” I wished I had somewhere to sit down.
My toe throbbed from where I’d tripped on the bath and I didn’t feel all that steady on my feet.
“It won’t fit up the stairs. I didn’t think it would. We need to take out the bathroom window and winch it in from outside with a block and tackle on the scaffolding.” Steve busied himself pulling mugs from the cupboard.
“What scaffolding?” I hobbled to the kitchen window and peered out into the dark garden.
“The scaffolding I put up this afternoon.”
Sure enough scaffolding framework filled the back patio. “Does the council man know about you taking the window out?” I leaned against the back door frame glad to have something solid to rest against. The room swayed slightly in quite an alarming fashion.
Steve lifted a chair from the top of the pile and set it down in front of me before handing me a mug of coffee. “No. We plan to get it all done over the weekend while he’s not likely to be around. He’ll probably find a reason to call anyway if he gets wind of scaffolding being put up.”
I sank down gratefully onto the chair. My head had begun to hurt. “What will you tell him?”
Steve smiled the disarming grin that had won him a legion of teenage fans.
“I’ll tell him I need to work on the bargeboards – which I do – so it won’t be a big lie.
We can have that window out and the bath installed in no time. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
The coffee burned the tip of my tongue. “Won’t he wonder how the bath got up the stairs?”
Steve shrugged, the muscles of his shoulders rippling beneath his tanned skin.
“There’s nothing he can do once it’s in. I’ll be careful with the window. You’ll never know it’s been disturbed.”
I rubbed my free hand across my forehead. I shouldn’t have drunk so much wine.
He frowned. “Don’t worry about it, okay? It’ll speed things up and that’s what you want, isn’t it?” His tone softened. “Go on up to bed, Kate. I’ll run you into work tomorrow. I need to call in at the salvage yard anyway.”
“Thanks.” I levered myself up from the chair still clutching my coffee.
“I’ll lock the door behind me,” he offered. He was very close to me in the confined space and I could see something in his eyes that might have been affection, amusement, pity? I was too tired and too drunk to work it out.
“Thanks for the coffee.” I went to squeeze past him when something in his expression made me pause.
He lowered his head and kissed me very gently on the lips sending a wave of heat rushing through my body.
“Nice top by the way. See you in the morning.” He stepped sideways and out through the back door leaving me standing dazed in the middle of the jumble of furniture. The key clicked in the back door.
I made my way along the moonlit hallway vowing to replace the blown bulb in the morning. Why had Steve kissed me? I’d been convincing myself all night with the help of the wine that Mike’s kisses were just as big a turn-on. With one brief touch of his lips Steve had blown that idea right out of the water.
* * *
I woke the next morning to the sound of my mobile ringing and with a thumping headache.
“Hello, darling.” my mother chirped brightly in my ear.
“Mum?” I squinted at my watch. Seven-thirty, way too early to make conversation with anyone.
“Just to let you know that Chuck and I are going away till Tuesday. I’ve stopped the milk but can you nip down and check the letterbox every now and then.
Oh, and make sure you water the hanging baskets if we don’t have any rain. I’ll be back in time to go to Louise’s scan so tell her not to worry.”
“Where are you going?” I mumbled the question out over dry lips and a tongue that felt like a piece of shag-pile carpet.
“Devon, of course. We’re looking at properties by the sea. I won’t keep you as I know you need to get ready for work. See you soon.” I heard Chuck calling her as she rang off.
I lay still staring at the old watermarks on the bedroom ceiling while the pain behind my eyes subsided to a dull ache. However the throbbing in my head increased as I tried to recall what had happened last night. I closed my eyes to ease the discomfort and attempted to focus.
There had been Chianti, lots of Chianti, and a cab ride home, then the bulb had blown in the hall. Steve had kissed me and said he’d give me a ride to work. My face heated with the most startling memory. Gingerly I slid out from under my sheet and stumbled towards the bathroom. I had a wash basin now and a half-plumbed freestanding shower which I couldn’t use until the tiling was finished.
The lukewarm water I splashed over my face and body helped to clear my head. I retrieved my spare uniform from the bottom of my ironing pile and put it on.
Luckily nylon didn’t crease very much so I wouldn’t look too awful although Nasreen would be sure to comment.
The kitchen didn’t look any better in the morning sunshine. I forced two headache tablets down along with a cup of weak tea and wished my eyelids would stop hurting. It was justice on me I supposed from being so ratty with Steve and Jamie when they had pitched up yesterday morning nursing hangovers.
Mr Flibble wandered in and sat down next to his bowl.
“I suppose that’s a hint?” I opened the back door to let some air into the house and filled his bowl with cat food.
There was no sign of life in Steve’s caravan and I wondered if I’d imagined his promise to give me a lift to work. I carried my tea out onto the patio and stared up at the scaffolding that now covered the back of the cottage. The birds in their mud nests under the eaves probably wouldn’t be very happy if Steve started to mess with the bargeboards. I hoped there wasn’t much to be done with them. The carved oak pieces that sat under the gutters would be hard, and expensive, to match up.
The leaded lights of the bathroom window twinkled in the sunshine, reflecting the clear, pale blue morning sky. Steve would need help if he intended to take the frame out in one piece. It was the largest window on the second floor besides the one in the master bedroom, which was where we were storing all our tools and equipment.
My gaze wandered along to my own bedroom window and I stared intently at the glass wondering if I’d see the woman’s face again. Had she been some mere trick of the light? A flaw in the centuries-old glass? Nothing appeared and I couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed.
“Are you ready to go? I need to see if those couple of floorboards we need for the lounge have surfaced at the salvage yard yet and I’ve got to pick up the block and tackle ready for the weekend.” Steve had walked up behind me. I had been so intent on my examination of the windows I hadn’t heard his approach.
“I’ll get my bag.” I scuttled inside, annoyed with myself for colouring up like some adolescent school girl when he spoke to me. I was over Steve – way over him.
One quick drunken kiss changed nothing. The sooner we finished renovating the cottage and sold up the better.