Ghosts of Winter (15 page)

“My mum died at the beginning of May,” I said, surprised how much emotion just uttering the words stirred inside me.

“Oh, Ros, I’m so sorry.” Anna’s sympathy seemed genuine, and I was relieved she didn’t look at all uncomfortable. I’d found it surprising in recent months how many people refused to confront death, or even conversations about death. “Was it an illness?”

“It was cancer. Of her pancreas. By the time they diagnosed it, it was too late. She only had months left by then.” I reminded myself not to be angry, not with my mother or with the doctors who could do nothing. My mother had held a lifelong belief if she ignored a problem it would go away. She’d not recognised the signs her relationship with my father was heading for disaster until he’d walked out the door for the final time. She’d never seen the need to intervene when my sister and I drifted further and further apart. And having endured crippling pains in her abdomen and joked about her sudden weight loss, she’d only approached a doctor when her skin had turned yellow with jaundice. There was nothing the doctors could do by that point other than offer her pain relief.

“Were you close?” Anna’s questions were so gentle, being able to talk about it was an unexpected balm to my grief.

“The funny thing is that we weren’t at all. I always thought she liked my sister more than me and felt sort of separate from them, you know?” Anna nodded and waited for me to go on. “But she needed a lot of care in those last months, and I was the one who could take the time to do it.” My sister, with her two jobs, unemployed husband, and young child could hardly have been expected to care for our mother. I’d wanted to do it. I was the oldest, I was the one with a job I could take leave from and go back to. “In all those hours with her, I think we came to a sort of understanding. She was very different from me. But I felt how much she loved me for the first time. Then she died.” I glanced up into Anna’s sympathetic listening face and realised I’d taken advantage of the opportunity to share my feelings. “Sorry,” I said, “you don’t want to hear all of this.”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to hear it,” Anna replied bluntly. Her direct tone was remarkably comforting. “So you didn’t go back to work after she died?”

“No. I suppose the time away from it, and the sudden confrontation with how short life really is made me stop to think if my job was really for me. And it wasn’t.” I looked down at the ground. Breaking up with Francesca had been such a big part of the process too. I wasn’t ready to share that with Anna yet. “So you see, I wasn’t really brave choosing to come up here. It was more that it was my only option.”

Anna smiled a smile that reached right into me and soothed my anxieties. “That says plenty about you though, Ros. When the going gets tough, most people wouldn’t think so dramatic a new start is the easiest solution.”

“It sounds good when you put it that way.” I smiled in response, looking into her eyes to make sure she knew I appreciated her positive opinion of me. She didn’t know the whole story yet, but it didn’t stop me feeling buoyed by her words. “I think I’m going to like having you around here, Winter needs some optimism,” I told her. I needed the optimism too. Did she sense that?

“I feel like it’s an optimistic house, don’t you?” she said.

I pondered her question for a moment before I confided, “I don’t know. I’ve been so busy trying to feel at home, I suppose I’ve been though all sorts of feelings about it.” I was surprised at just how honest I felt able to be with Anna. The pleasure of the surprise was intensified because I sensed she valued my earnestness. Certainly her expression remained interested and sympathetic as I spoke.

“I always find you have to listen to find a house’s personality, let it introduce itself to you. Sit quietly and think about nothing else, you know?” She said it in a confidential tone, as though she was revealing a secret, something she wouldn’t share with everyone.

“Is that what you do?” I asked.

“When I have the opportunity. Though often I have to rush through the introductions and concentrate on the structural integrity and such like.” Anna shrugged, as though she suddenly wanted to trivialise what had actually been very heartfelt advice.

“Well, you can take the time to listen to Winter whenever you like,” I told her. “What you said, it’s almost like meditating. Letting the house speak to you, picking up on the energy. I think I might try it.”

“You meditate?” Anna’s tone was genuinely inquisitive.

“Yes. Not so much as I used to, I find it harder to clear my mind these days. But I do try, now and again.” I hadn’t for a while, my mind had been impossible to clear for months, but Anna didn’t need to know that right now. I was enjoying her interest.

“Time for reflection is important, whether you reach full meditation or not,” Anna said. I guessed from that she had some experience of it herself. “I think Winter will be a wonderful place to reflect, with time.”

“You’re probably right. When I can reflect on something other than the renovation and sleeping on a camping bed, I’ll find out. I’m surprised you get a moment to pause for thought yourself.”

“I make time,” she said simply. I imagined every moment of Anna’s day being timed to perfection, including an allocated period of relaxation and reflection. The thought made me want to smile, and I fought not to let the amusement show on my face for fear she would think I was mocking her. I wondered once more about that gold band on her finger. Nothing she said gave any clue there was anyone significant in her life, to take up any of her time, to cause her to compromise. Even as I learned more of her, she remained as much of a puzzle as ever. It was so intriguing, putting the pieces together, with no idea quite what the completed picture was supposed to be. I knew it was going to be something very beautiful, but I could not yet see it in all of its hues and complexities. If she didn’t volunteer the information I wasn’t sure of the wisdom of asking.

Another vaguely awkward silence descended between us. “So, what was it you wanted to measure?”

“The height from floor to ceiling, both at the walls and where the vaulting is at its highest. And the size of the windows. I honestly can’t believe I never took those measurements before.” Anna actually looked embarrassed.

“I think even you’re allowed to miss something occasionally.”

“Oh no. I pride myself on never missing anything.” She sounded perfectly serious.

“Is that why you’re such a good architect?” I asked, teasing slightly.

“I hope I’m as good as you think.” She paused and the corners of her mouth twitched again. “And I don’t just mean professionally.”

She looked away from me and up at the vaulted ceiling. I felt my face growing hot as I looked at her, dumbfounded. How was I supposed to interpret a comment like that? “Well...can I help?” I offered tentatively, thinking I should say something but at a loss for any suitable response for her last remark.

“Yes.” Anna reached into her briefcase, on the floor at her feet, and drew out a tape measure, a notebook, and a pen. “Here, hold this end on the floor down there, I’ll measure where the vaulting meets the floor first.” As I squatted and held the end of the tape against the tiled floor, Anna moved close to me and reached up to measure the distance between the floor and the place where the vaulted ceiling met the wall. I caught her scent at once, that intoxicating and increasingly familiar essence of spice, tobacco, and flowers. Exotic and refined all at once. It was proof there was more to Anna than that cool exterior. You simply could not wear that fragrance if there weren’t multiple layers to discover.

Drawn by the sense of her so close to me, I glanced up. I found myself looking up the entire length of her body, along the slender legs sheathed in close-fitting black fabric, past where her pale green shirt was tucked neatly into her belt, where her short, fitted jacket was pulled upwards as she reached, to her long, smooth neck and defined jawline. She was paying no attention to me as she squinted to read the measurement, and I suddenly felt I should turn away, as though there was something voyeuristic in my gazing up at her body in this way. I looked down at her feet and speculated just how expensive those shoes would have been, how unusual they were. Unique like their wearer.

“Right, that’s one done.” Anna allowed the tape measure to retract into its casing and made a note of the measurement in her notebook. “We’ll measure the highest part of the arches now.” She was matter of fact and professional again, all traces of her former awkwardness and teasing, even the gentle sympathy, eclipsed by the job in hand. I was glad, since it meant she was far less likely to notice the way I was reacting to her proximity, to her scent, to the way her clothes fitted her body, to the tone of her voice. I was losing control of all appropriate behaviour, as hot emotions ran riot in my body. It was impossible she wouldn’t see it; and yet her focus was steadfastly on taking her measurements, making her notes, and the occasional comment on the good condition of the brickwork. In fact, she had become suddenly so efficient we made no small talk, or even eye contact. Was it by her design to avoid any further tension? I didn’t imagine Anna was the sort of woman who relished feeling out of control or confused by her emotions. Perhaps her professionalism was an excellent way of keeping them at bay. Was there any chance at all she was feeling the same as I was?

As Anna made short work of measuring the windows without my assistance, I chided myself again. I knew it could be a mistake to try to work out how this remarkable woman dealt with her emotions or what those emotions were. Such considerations were meaningless to me, she was my architect, nothing more. It didn’t matter how damned attractive I found her, there were two major obstacles to the development of anything significant between us. The first was that I had no idea about Anna’s status or sexuality. Just because she didn’t strike me as someone who was married, didn’t talk like someone who was married, didn’t mean she wasn’t. That was what the wedding ring was for, after all, to tell me—and the rest of the world—she belonged to somebody, she was unavailable. A jolt of jealousy shot through my veins once again. I took a deep breath and ignored it.

I also had no place feeling jealous or otherwise about Anna. The very simple truth, whatever her situation in life, was there could never be anything between us anyway. I just wasn’t in a place where I could try anything like a relationship with a woman like her. My recent failures in love and my career, my mother’s death, were still taking their emotional toll on me. Here I was, dependent on Anna’s skills and capability to help me restore someone else’s ruined country house. What could I even begin to offer her?

These sensible musings were all well and good while Anna was measuring windows and paying no attention to me. It was quite another thing when she had packed her tape measure and notebook away and finally turned to smile at me once more. Something inside me simply disintegrated when those hard-set lips curved into a smile.

“All done?” I asked, through a thick throat. She looked at me curiously, as though she had noticed the strain in my voice but was uncertain what the cause of it was. Or uncertain how to react.

“Yes, all done. I think I have everything I need now. You’ll be pleased to know I don’t think there’ll be any problems at all turning this back into the kitchen, the ceilings are plenty high enough to meet regulations. You might want some dividing walls or something though. I’ll draw up some plans, we’ll have to see what we are allowed to do while still complying with the listed status.”

“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.”