Ghosts of Winter (29 page)

“Nice to meet you. I’m Ros.”

“I know. Great place you’ve got here.”

“Thanks.”

“Sam is a plasterer, but especially skilled in historical restoration. She uses the materials they would have done when the house was built to make sure it’s authentic,” Anna said.

“Excellent. You sound like just the woman for the job then.” I was determined not to let Anna see my hostility towards Sam. Not only did I have no claim on Anna, I also had no right at all to feel jealous because she’d brought a plasterer—who just happened to be a hot lesbian—to the house.

“Yep. When Anna told me about your house, I knew I wanted to be involved. Fascinating. We were talking about it over dinner last night.”

“Dinner?” I raised my eyebrows in Anna’s direction. She kept her gaze steady, challenging me to react.

“Yeah, Anna showed me this little place in Durham she likes.”

“Lovely,” I said, through gritted teeth. My impulse was to slap her, as she looked at Anna in a distinctly lascivious way. Anna even smiled back at her. I couldn’t make sense of it. Sam was the last woman I’d have expected Anna to have any interest in at all, yet they’d had dinner together last night, and it was difficult to misinterpret the glance they’d just shared. I’d thought myself unsuitable for Anna, but I could sooner picture myself at her side than this grinning woman who stood too close to her now. I stared at the pair of them and felt sick. Had I really lost my chance with Anna so quickly?

“Do you mind if she has a look at the work that needs doing?” Anna said, the smile fading from her face as she looked at me. I longed for her to smile at me.

“That’s fine, of course,” I said stiffly, though all of my instincts were to forbid Sam to cross the threshold of my home. Instead I held out a hand and gestured for them to go inside. As Anna walked past me the air was filled with her leather, vanilla, tobacco scent. I bit my lips and fought the urge to cry. I’d brought this suffering on myself, after all. I’d had no choice. I would get through this like every other challenge this year.

I endured Sam’s inspection of the places where Winter’s walls were crumbling and in need of repair and had to admit she did sound as though she knew what she was talking about. She irritated me by directing most of her comments at Anna, as though she was trying to impress her with her expertise, when it was me who would be paying her. By the time she had looked in every room, she was infuriating me simply by breathing. She was probably a perfectly nice woman, but the way she laid her hand in a familiar way on Anna’s arm, as though that barrier of personal space I’d always felt around Anna meant nothing to her, the way she winked at her when she made some vaguely suggestive remark about smoothing the plaster, made her insufferable to me. What I couldn’t work out was why Anna laughed at her jokes, or why she even wanted to talk to her in the first place.

Anna herself was even more attractive to me, now I knew some of what lay beneath that cool surface. I couldn’t believe it was possible I had denied myself the chance to discover more of her. I caught her looking at me thoughtfully at one point, though her icy mask returned when she noticed. How badly had I hurt her by pushing her from me? Was it beyond redemption?

As they climbed back into Anna’s car and pulled away, my heart ached. Maybe I’d shoved her away too firmly and she wouldn’t risk another attempt, but I had to try. If I could find optimism for Winter and finally a vestige of pride in myself, perhaps I did have something to offer Anna one day too.

*

Sam was so wrong with Anna, it would have almost been a comical pairing if I’d not been so fiercely jealous. The thought consumed me for the rest of the day. What had Anna revealed to Sam? Was there a whole other side to her I didn’t know yet? I wanted to understand everything there was to learn about Anna. I regretted the way I’d treated her. Why had she brought Sam here with her today? They hadn’t needed to come in the same car. Could she not bear to be parted from her? A thought occurred to me, though I tried to dismiss it as vain and self-absorbed. What if she was trying to make me jealous, to show me she didn’t need me, to remind me just how much I wanted her? Had she been interested enough in me to go to those lengths? It didn’t seem feasible, yet I couldn’t quite let go of the possibility.

I couldn’t stop thinking of how much I wanted to speak to Anna again. By the evening it had grown unbearable. In the end, lying comfortably on my newly delivered bed in the Blue Drawing Room, I picked up the phone and dialled her number.

“Hello, Ros.” At least she wasn’t ignoring me. That had to be a good start.

“Anna. Hi. How’s it going?” I had her on the other end of a phone, her undivided attention. I knew I had to make every word count. But I wasn’t used to this and wasn’t sure which words to start with.

“I’m okay. What can I do for you?” Her tone reminded me of the cool nature of our first conversation. But so much had happened since then, I knew she must be feeling something.

“I need to talk to you, Anna.”

“Is something wrong at the house?”

“You know I don’t mean that.”

“I was under the impression that all other topics were closed.”

“I know. I know what I said. Oh my God, Anna, if I could change how I reacted, I would. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m not hurt. At least you made your feelings clear before things went any further. I’m only disappointed.” Her tone suggested she was rather more than merely disappointed, though she wouldn’t say so. Regret jolted through me.

“I was wrong, Anna. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and I realised a lot of things. Taking on Winter is really something to be proud of. I’m not as confused as I was. I really think everything’s going to be okay.” I knew, as I said the words, I finally meant them.

“I’m pleased for you, Ros, really. But what does it have to do with me?” Her reply was colder than I had expected and stung me sharply.

“I was being stupid before. I was letting things weigh me down.  I thought you were too good to be true.”

“You know that’s perfectly ridiculous. Could you not trust me?”

“I do, I really do. I’m getting a grip now Anna. Starting to understand what I want.”

There was a pause from Anna’s side of the conversation. “This is all very well, I’m glad you’re feeling better, but why are you telling me? I’m not your personal therapist.” Her icy tone almost made me shiver. She was a hard woman to persuade. Perhaps she was just protecting herself. I wished she would express an emotion in return, hurt, anger, anything but this cool and formal tone. How was she feeling?

“Anna. I want to go forwards now. I want going forwards to involve you.”

“You’re paying me to be involved in what you’re doing.”

“You know damn well I don’t mean that. Anna.” I paused to gather myself. “I’m sorry for everything,” I added more quietly. Uttering the apology released the tension inside me.

“I accept your apology. I know you’ve been through a lot, Ros, and I truly sympathise. I’m glad you feel like you’ve found your way again. And I think I’ve made it clear already that I like you—”

“I like you more than that, Anna.”

“You’ve made that perfectly clear as well,” she said, in slightly warmer tones, and my heart began to skip with hopeful excitement. She was hard to read, harder still over the phone, but she said she forgave me and she liked me. She paused and I heard her inhale deeply. “But I’m not sure you are ready for a relationship. And I’m going out with Sam tonight. I have to get ready. I’ll call you.”

With that she ended the call. I stared at the phone, wondering if it might ring. She’d disconnected so suddenly I was almost sure she’d made a mistake, she’d at least been going to say something more. When the phone did not ring, I discarded it with disgust on the bed next to me. The disappointment was worse because it was preceded by the rallying of my hopes when she had accepted my apology. Still, that was something.

I looked around the room from my bed. My eyes settled on the ornate fireplace, with its fluid, curvy, organic carvings. Very baroque, even if it wasn’t actually
baroque
. Something else I’d learned from Anna. I smiled with the recollection of the day when she’d explained the differences between baroque and Palladian architecture, and I’d instantly categorized her as Palladian. Linear and playing by the rules, that was Anna on the surface. But I knew now, underneath she was far more baroque. I’d had evidence enough on Christmas Day. The memory stirred a heavy warmth low in my belly.

The flush of heat chilled abruptly as I imagined Anna on a date with Sam. That coupling was still so wrong in my mind I could hardly accept she was telling the truth. Admittedly, I could imagine Sam’s considerable professional expertise would hold some appeal for Anna. But what did she have that I didn’t? A swagger in her stride? Maybe it was my own burning jealousy that made it so difficult to comprehend. What did I know about what Anna really liked? I’d just hoped to have further opportunities to learn more.

I sighed and leaned back to gaze at the plaster mouldings on the ceiling. The Blue Drawing Room was still unfamiliar accommodation to me, since I’d spent so long in the hallway. Now that I was sleeping in here, I began to truly appreciate just how beautiful the rooms of Winter would look once the renovation was complete. I wanted very badly to be able to share that with somebody. There was nobody I could imagine sharing it with better than Anna.

After everything, even with the new optimism I’d managed to dredge from somewhere deep inside me, I was still here, alone. I found that difficult to reconcile in my mind. Winter was being restored around me, rescued from its decay, given a new future, and the house was mostly in Anna’s hands. I wanted her to care about my future that way. But the end of the phone call had made it clear. Anna would not be cruel, but I’d lost my opportunity. I was ready, but Anna had moved on.

Every morning I was tempted to linger in bed and put off facing the day until later. But the workmen arrived early and forced me into rising not long after the sun. Once I’d opened the door and welcomed whichever workers were due that day, and dealt with anything they wanted to talk over with me, there was a lull before I made them a first cup of tea. The day after my call with Anna, the time to myself stretched interminably. I didn’t like to appear to be interfering with the work by wandering around to the various sites of activity around the house, so I secreted myself in the Blue Drawing Room, slumped in the mustard-coloured armchair, and attempted to read a magazine and not to think about Anna and Sam on a date.

The sound of a wood saw reached me from upstairs, where a team of joiners were working on the floorboards in the east wing. The sounds heralded Winter’s revival, and I loved them. I wanted to tell someone about it, and I wanted to prove to myself that I too was capable of being revived, along with my house. I glanced across at the phone. I scrolled through the menu until I found my sister’s number and pressed
dial
.

As I listened to the ringing and waited, I grew more and more nervous. My hand, holding the phone, was shaking. I very nearly gave up the attempt. Just as I was coming to the conclusion there was no one home and the pre-emptive tension had been for nothing, Jeanne answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Jeanne. Hi, it’s Ros.” I waited for her reaction, my shoulders tense.

“Ros? I’m so glad you called. I didn’t think you would.” Her tone was warmer than I’d dared hope for and took me by surprise.

“It’s been a while hasn’t it?” I said, floundering for better words.

“Yes. I’m sorry, Ros. I got so caught up with everything—you know, Phil losing his job and all—that I forgot you were going through this all on your own.” My heart soared with Jeanne’s words. As soon as she apologised and offered her sympathy, my contrary nature told me that I didn’t need it. I’d been strong enough to cope after all. I’d come through the grief, and the break up with Francesca, and here I was on the other side, still in once piece.

“It’s okay, Jeanne,” I said with some assurance. “Things were tough for a while, but they’re much better now.”

“Do you mean it?”

“Of course I do.”

“I was worried about you, Ros. Losing your job like that, not looking for another one, and then Francesca too—”

“I think what happened with Francesca had been inevitable from the day we first met. We just weren’t meant to be together forever.” The awareness that I could now say it with remarkably little pain startled me. That was something new.

“But your job?”

“I didn’t lose it, Jeanne. I chose not to go back to it. I decided a steady career in teaching wasn’t everything I needed it to be. You know I’m not like you.”

“I do know that. I’m sorry if I sometimes seem judgemental, Ros. Phil tells me I can be from time to time.”

“I know you care about me, Jeanne.” I recalled Maggie’s words of wisdom. “And I don’t understand your way of going about life any more than you understand mine. But being different doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be better friends than we are.”

“I agree. I think Mum would be sad if she knew we barely talk.”

“Then we should do something about that, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” Jeanne replied. I could hear the smile that had come into her voice. “And to begin with, I have some good news.”