Chapter Sixteen

 

 

A FEW MINUTES LATER, HETTY swans into my living room and casually asks, “Who was that then?”

Actually, there’s nothing casual about her words, which are loaded with innuendo.

“He’s popping round to check on me. Could you make yourself scarce?”

She stares down her nose at me. “Not on your nelly.”

So, she intends to make this as uncomfortable as possible for me…

Well, she hasn’t met Sam yet. Not even Hetty will be able to resist Sam’s charm. She’ll see. She’ll begin to understand once she’s met him.

When the doorbell chimes, she’s first out of her seat, eyes wide with expectation. “Can’t have the lady of the manor answering her own door, the help must go, must they not?”

I try to summon a retort but she’s gone from the room before I can complain.

Waiting in the living room on my own, all I hear is silence. Is she telling him to get lost? Is he having second thoughts? Are they having a showdown? My heart starts pounding and my head hurts. I walk to the window to see if I can get a look outside, to see what’s going on.

Before I know it, I hear his voice, projecting from behind me. For some stupid reason I can’t find the strength to turn around. Maybe I don’t want him to know I’ve been seeking him, maybe I can’t take the way he makes me feel when I look at him. For these few seconds, I’ll just be glad he’s here at all.

“Hello, Liza,” he says, his London accent always thrilling.

“Hello.”

“He’s brought you flowers, shall I get a vase?” Hetty asks, butting in. There’s something restrained about her now.

“Yes, if you like,” I whisper.

When she’s gone from the room, I suddenly become aware of my appearance. My hair’s down because after Hetty brushed it earlier, she left it like this and I didn’t think to tie it up or plait it. I’m also wearing plaid pyjamas and fluffy socks and my most horrible grey cardigan with a million bobbly bits which just happens to be the warmest thing I own.

“How have you been?” he asks, his voice cracking.

“I only got out of bed today,” I confess.

“I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” And yet I still haven’t turned to face him.

Hetty returns to the room, her footsteps announcing her before her voice. “There, don’t they look beautiful, Liz? Hmm?” She plants the vase on my glass coffee table, where she knows I can’t have flowers. The kids are likely to cause not only the vase damage, but themselves. I quickly spin round and make a grab for the vase, lifting it onto the mantelpiece.

“It’s out of reach up here.” I primp and preen the bouquet, which is just a simple white arrangement of inoffensive English flowers.

I spend longer than necessary rearranging them.

“Do you want a drink, Sam?” she asks, with a slight edge of amusement. “Tea? Coffee? Vodka? Some horrific protein crap my boyfriend lives on? Or Liza’s most abused poison, Horlicks?”

I have to bite my lip to stop myself smiling.

He manages a small laugh. “I’ll have a cup of tea.”

“Liza?”

“Same,” I respond.

She bustles off again.

My legs take me towards the large sofa and without being invited, he takes a seat a couple of cushions away from me.

“I did warn you about her.” I stare down at my lap, pulling at the bobbles on my cardi.

“She’s exactly how you described.”

“Larger than life?”

“That… and scary.”

“Oh, yes. I agree.” I take a deep breath and add, “Thanks for the flowers, by the way. They’re beautiful.”

“You’re welcome. I just never know what else to pick up in these situations.”

“That’s okay. I didn’t expect anything. I don’t expect anything. I’m just glad you’re here at all.”

There’s silence and it forces me to look up and into his eyes.

“Do you mean that, Liz?”

“Mean what?” He appears hurt and confused, scared and wary. Where did his easy charm disappear to? When did it all become so serious? For so long, it’s only ever been a laugh and a joke between us – nothing too alarming. All this is very different. We’re no longer just friends.

“You’re glad I’m here.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I’m glad every day you’re breathing, Sam.”

He swallows and when he does, his Adam’s apple shifts in his long, elegant throat. “You’ve not been in touch.”

“I’ve been in hell.”

“I have, too. I’ve wanted to be here for you, but I’ve not known how; whether I even have permission or if you think it was all a mistake, or if…”

I begin to see we’re both feeling and looking rather foolish right now.

“I don’t remember the funeral,” I begin explaining. “Hetty wasn’t there, but she heard from other people that I did some things. Apparently, I accused my mother of having an affair and me being the result of that affair.”

“Oh, bloody hell, Liza.”

“I think I got home after that and shut down. That’s the only way I can explain it. The shock, the entirety of the whole situation… all the stuff I’ve been harbouring for so long… it’s all taken me down and that’s why I’ve been like this. It has nothing to do with you.”

He gradually makes his way closer, edging across the sofa towards me. He covers my hand with his and whispers, “Okay. Okay. Well, now I’m here, what do you need?”

What do I need? I ask myself. What is it I really need?

Hetty breaks the moment with a spirited, flamboyant entrance, carrying a tray of stuff including my entire tea service.

She drops to the floor by the coffee table and kneels, stirring a teaspoon around a big pot of tea.

“Joe texted; they won two-nil. I think they needed a win. I don’t think he will stay long with Hull, you know.”

“Oh, why not?” I enquire.

“He wants to spread his wings. He trained with them as a sprog, remember?”

“You mean, you might move away?” I question her.

“Potentially. I’ve felt it in my bones a while. It probably will happen. I guess it’s a matter of time.”

I suppose this is really why she’s selling her house without immediately looking for someplace else to buy – because she knows a move is on the horizon, but she doesn’t know where yet.

Hetty passes around a packet of biscuits while Sam keeps his hand fastened around mine.

“Everything’s changing,” I mutter.

“If you ask me, all for the better,” she exclaims, while staring right at Sam.

She makes no bones about it – clearly, she never favoured Gage. No love loss there.

“What about your dresses?”

She glances at me warily as she passes me a cup and saucer, already having added milk for me.

“What about my dresses?” she says, sounding affronted.

“We said we were—”

She gives me a small smile. “I don’t need rescuing anymore, Liz. You already did that. Let me worry about my dresses and how I’ll get them out into the world.”

I glance at Sam who’s quietly observing our exchanges, working out our dynamics and power play.

“But…” I lose my train of thought, instead sounding only disappointed.

“It’s only the past few days I’ve picked up on vibes from Joe; he won’t be allowed to say anything yet, but I think I know a transfer is on the horizon. Things change, Liz. Like all the time. It’s the one thing we can be sure of. Well-laid plans diversify. Paths separate or converge.”

“You’ve become far too fucking grown up, Hetty,” I accuse, making them both chuckle.

“Yeah, well…” She shrugs, sipping her tea.

Hetty pours herself another cup and rises to her feet, cradling her book underarm.

“I’m off to bed,” she announces loudly. “Joe will tiptoe in when he gets back late tonight. I can’t guarantee silence, though. Elizabeth recognises when her father is back home and tends to need booby after that. Anyway, make of that what you will. I bid you goodnight.” She whistles for Cece the dog and the grumpy little staffy waddles after Hetty, following her upstairs to bed.

I don’t miss the wink she shoots me, nor the way she wafts her face when she’s out of Sam’s eyeline but still in mine. She still has no shame, it seems. Some things never do change.

After she’s upstairs and in the spare bedroom, Sam speaks: “We were talking before. You were going to tell me what it is you need…”

“Yeah, yeah… I was.” Just what is it that I need exactly? I’m not sure. I take a breath and blow it out. Then I whisper, “I just need one peaceful night’s sleep.”

He takes both of my hands in his, staring at the way his dwarf mine. “Since our night together, there hasn’t been a day when I haven’t thought about you. In fact, I think it’s been this way for quite a while… when things just remind me of you… and I want to speak to you about it. I think about you all the time.”

Tears well in the corners of my eyes. “Me too. The same. On all counts.”

“I’m not going to pressure you, but I just want you to know how I feel.” There’s that crackly quality to his voice again – perhaps nerves or uncertainty, I don’t know.

I tighten my fingers around his. “I feel exactly the same way. I guess I just… I denied it. For so long.”

“It’s always been there… but it’s always been…”

“…to much of a comfort,” I finish for him. “Just always… present. Taken for granted.”

“Yes, yes…” He continues staring at our joined hands while I stare at his throat and body in a t-shirt and jeans.

I’ve never felt like this about anyone. It’s like I woke up this morning contained by this horrific fog of depression, but now that he’s here, I can see the sun again. It’s like I’ve been starving myself of him, but now I’ve got him back, I feel marginally happy again.

It’s as I’m feeling this high of happiness that I begin to recall what made me so miserable in the first place. Anxiety threatens to turn my stomach upside down again and he notices a change in me, moving closer to pull me into his arms. With his touch, I feel instantly better and I take some deep breaths, my eyes closed while I absorb his warmth and affection. Perhaps this is all I really need.

I leave my seat and turn off the gas fire, holding out my hand for him. He takes it and follows my lead. We head out of the room and up the stairs.

Once we’re in the master, I shut the door and head for the bed, taking off my woolly cardi before I dive in.

“It’s not the one he died in,” I remind Sam. “He’s gone, anyway. His spirit left me a few weeks ago. I can’t feel him anymore. He’s out of sight now.”

I curl up in my pyjamas, pulling a big teddy into my embrace. It’s one of Emily’s but she’s letting me borrow it. She still has her comforter in the form of a care bear with Gage’s picture safety-pinned on the belly.

“Do you want me to stay? I’m not sure…”

I lift my head and catch sight of him looking so unsure of himself… so unlike Sam.

“Please… stay. I’d love for you to. If you want to.”

He toes off his shoes and pulls off his socks before dropping his jeans. He climbs into bed with me, spooning up behind me. He’s so lean and tall, his body defined and angular, and yet he fits nicely around me, even if I’ve recently lost so much weight.

He rests his head on top of my hair and wraps his arms tight around me and the teddy bear. Within a few minutes, I notice him shaking violently. It frightens me so I don’t turn to question him. Instead, I eventually whisper, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s okay. I was just frightened I’d lost you, that’s all. I’m going to be all right now.”

“Oh…”

“Don’t be sorry. Just close your eyes and fall asleep. I’m not going anywhere.”

I reach for his hand and grasp it tight. “Sam?”

“Yes, kitten.”

“I love you.”

There’s silence. And more shaking. He holds me tighter and I stroke my fingers through the wispy hairs on his forearms.

“I love you very much,” he murmurs, kissing my cheek.

I reach back to dig my hand in his hair and his lips press to my cheek, again and again.

My frozen heart instantaneously burns bright; all it would take is for me to roll over and we’d be toast, writhing in each other’s arms all over again.

I turn my head back slightly and realise he’s not shaking because he’s upset; it’s actually because he’s fighting his urges.

He’s shaking with desire.

His eyelids are heavy even though he’s staring right at me… and his breathing isn’t normal.

With my hand dug into the back of his hair, I bring him down to my lips and the moment he kisses me, I’m reminded what true loyalty and passion tastes like. He cradles my cheek and kisses me softly, passionately. I wish I could dive right into this, get myself good and lost with no way out – but the problem is, he means too much to me. I care a great deal about what happens next.

When he lifts away to look down into my eyes, he’s searching my face, seeking something. It’s then he wipes my tears away, which I never even noticed were falling as he was kissing me.

“My beautiful girl,” he reassures me, before tugging me back against him, lying down with me and encouraging me to sleep.

We lie entwined for quite some time, snuffling and holding hands, all our limbs tangled up. Eventually, though I become impatient for sleep and roll over angrily, flinging myself onto his chest to rest against his body. The teddy gets slung in the process and as I lie listening to the beat of his heart beneath his t-shirt, it’s then I have something other than my own despair to focus on. The rhythm of his body lulls me to sleep and because he has me wrapped so tight in his arms, I begin sinking… falling and falling…

It feels like this perfect embrace is the only thing I shall ever really need.