Wishing Water (20 page)

‘It’s turning colder.’

‘Yes.’
 

‘Winter coming on.’

‘Hm.’
 

They talked like strangers and looked at each other like lovers. ‘Sorry about the other night.’

‘Family business, that’s all,’ she said, wondering why she felt the need to explain. ‘I over-reacted.’

‘No, like you said, none of my business. Right blockhead I am. Won’t do it again.’
 

‘It’s OK.’
 

‘Will you be my girl?’ he blurted out. Oh God, he thought, I’ve messed it up again. What’s the matter with me? No wonder she was staring at him. Probably wondering how to let him down easy and get rid of him without giving offence.

As he set one hand at each side of her head on the door frame, she blushed hotly, feeling oddly trapped. Yet she could easily walk away into the living room. Not that she wanted to. She couldn’t seem to move a muscle. Her legs had quite turned to jelly. ‘I – I don’t know,’ she said, looking up at him through lowered lashes. Waiting. When the kiss came, with only their lips touching, she felt a shudder of desire run right through her like an electric current. It was as if her mouth had found sanctuary and yet opened the rest of her body to an excitement she had never believed possible.

‘Lunch is ready,’ Jan called from the kitchen and they broke hastily apart. Gave a half laugh. Embarrassed, as if she had actually caught them.

But if Jan had missed the kiss, more than half the people on the lakeshore benches certainly hadn’t. They’d thoroughly enjoyed the moment, sighing as they remembered sweet young love. Save for one man in a pinstripe suit, who sat frowning with displeasure into his uneaten sandwiches.

Renee Colwith stood before Miss Henshaw wearing what could only be described as a mulish expression. ‘I’ll wait,’ she said.

‘Mr Brandon has appointments well into the afternoon,’ replied Miss Henshaw through pursed lips. It wasn’t true but she didn’t believe it gave a good impression for the General Public to imagine they could simply walk into a solicitor’s office and be seen right away. Particularly a madam such as this who was clearly no better than she should be.

‘He will see me,’ Renee insisted, bending her knees slightly so she could peer under the gold lettering on the glass panel of the inner office door to see if anyone was inside.

Miss Henshaw was incensed by such impertinence and got up, ready to bar the way with her own frail body if need be. ‘You should have rung for an appointment,’ she chided.

Renee laughed. ‘The only bells that get rung in our house are in the budgie’s cage.’ She resented the secretary’s hard gaze, judging, making assumptions. And after she’d put on her best pink fluffy wool coat and black gloves too.

The stand-off might have gone on indefinitely had not Philip Brandon chosen to return early from lunch. Disturbed by the sight of Lissa in the arms of his own clerk, his appetite had gone.

‘Yes?’ he barked at the girl with the orange mouth, bright pink coat, and the most ridiculous bleached blonde hair, hopping about on her stiletto heels that were drumming holes into his office lino.

Vera Henshaw made plain her disapproval of this unexpected visitation. ‘This girl wishes to speak with you. I told her you were engaged, and offered to make her an appointment later in the week.’
 

‘It’ll only take five minutes.’ Renee batted her spiky eyelashes, which usually did the trick where men were concerned. This one, however, wasn’t even looking at her.

Short on patience in his current mood, even with his secretary let alone a potential client, Philip stormed past both women, burst into his office and flung off his coat in a single movement of fluid rage. ‘I can spare you two.’
 

It was enough.

Renee’s wriggled with delight as she cast Miss Henshaw a sweetly venomous smile and sashayed into the inner sanctum, shutting the door with a cheery wiggle of her fingers through the window.

When she had finished telling Philip Brandon her plans, he reached past her and drew the green blind down over the glass.

‘Sit down please, Mrs Colwith. You and I should talk.’
 

Derry had been given the task of calling upon Elvira Fraser to ask her to sign a document for the bank. The old lady was disappointed that it wasn’t Philip himself, but warmed instantly to the fresh-faced young man who was shown into her parlour.

‘Would you care for some tea? Indian or Earl Grey?’
 

Derry politely declined. If he got this over with quickly he would have time to call and chat with the girls, assuming the old dragon wasn’t anywhere about. He explained his need to hurry to Mrs Fraser in more diplomatic terms.

‘Mustn’t be seen to be wasting time,’ and brought a smile to the old lady’s drooping mouth.

‘Not all young men would see it in that light. Mr Brandon must inspire loyalty in his staff.’
 

Derry made a non-committal grunt. ‘I’ve brought you a form to sign, something to do with releasing funds.’
 

Elvira hooked her glasses on her long nose as he handed her the papers. ‘Ah, this will be concerning my investments. Should I read it?’
 

Derry inwardly groaned. If the old dear read every word on these two closely packed pages they’d be here all day. ‘I shouldn’t worry,’ he said, anxious to be off.

‘Will I have enough income to keep on my dear housekeeper, do you think? Then there is the man who does my garden. I really couldn’t manage it on my own.’
 

She fiddled anxiously with the rings on her plump fingers and Derry felt suddenly sorry for her. Old and vulnerable, Elvira Fraser reminded him of his own gran. Never missed a trick, his old gran. But she’d been poor, Elvira Fraser was rich. House by the lake, servants. What was she worrying about? She was loaded.

And if he explained it all wrong, he’d be the one to get it in the neck. ‘I’m sure Mr Brandon will explain it all properly when he calls next time.’ Derry held out the pen.

Elvira smiled at the charming young man, thinking it would give her a lovely excuse to invite Philip to luncheon. They could have salmon mousse, and finish with a nice glass of port. ‘Of course. Where do I sign?’
 

It was the Monday following Renee’s discussion with Philip Brandon that Derry burst into Stevens Drapery, his face crimson with outrage. ‘What do you think she’s put me in the garden shed.’
 

Jan and Lissa stared at him for a moment, nonplussed. ‘Who has done what?’
 

‘Renee. She says she wants my room and she’s put my bed in the shed. I either sleep in there or get out.’ Both girls exchanged a long glance, then burst into peals of laughter.

‘It isn’t funny.’ Derry sounded deeply hurt. ‘It’ll be cold out there come winter.’
 

‘Buy a paraffin lamp. Weren’t you a boy scout?’ his unsympathetic sister suggested.

Derry took out his comb and began to smooth back his quiff as he always did when he was agitated. ‘I wondered if I might kip down on the floor at your place?’
 

‘Think again,’ Jan told him as Lissa’s heartbeat quickened, though whether from fear or excitement she couldn’t rightly say.

‘Why is she throwing you out?’ Lissa asked.

‘Would you believe she’s going to do B and B? It’s all your fault, Lissa. You started her on this cooking lark.’
 

Lissa couldn’t help but giggle at the look of outrage on his face. ‘Why shouldn’t she do bed and breakfast? Sounds like a good idea to me. But that isn’t till next season surely?’
 

‘Claims she needs to redecorate and refurbish. She’s got Dad doing up the loft to use as a bedroom for them.’
 

‘Fumigate your room, more like,’ Jan laughed, backing away to avoid any retaliation. ‘You’d best get out of here before the dragon catches you. The last thing I need is my notice because of your troubles.’
 

‘I might catch pneumonia in that shed,’ Derry mourned. ‘I’d rather stay at the boathouse.’ He’d taken quite a fancy to the idea. He’d get all his meals made and see Lissa every day. A nagging landlady clocking him in and out was not Derry’s idea of a peaceful life.

Jan rolled her eyes. ‘Why should we help?’

Because if he couldn’t find a room, he might leave, Lissa thought. But Jan wasn’t for backing down. Derry was on his own. The subject, it seemed, was closed.

Chapter Ten

Autumn was coming to Carreckwater and the numbers of visitors declined. Families had gone home, children returned to school, and elderly couples who enjoyed a little gentle walking occupied the narrow streets. Gentlemen in good sound windcheaters, ladies in sensible twin sets and tweed skirts, woollen socks and walking shoes. Both sexes sporting cherry wood walking sticks and warm woolly hats.

Locals breathed a deep sigh of relief, pulled down the shutters on their guesthouses, and returned to their winter activities of bell ringing, flower arranging, photography and amateur dramatics.

With the promise of a restful, quiet autumn and winter ahead, now was the time, Lissa decided, to pay a visit home. She readily accepted Derry’s offer of a lift in his new van, knowing it was only an excuse to show him off, and Jan too. She was almost sure that Meg would like her new friends. How could she not?

Meg and Tam came running down the fells from where they’d been checking the sheep, to greet them. There were tearful hugs and kisses which set the young dog Ruff, grandson of Rust, into a frenzy of barking.

‘Oh, it’s so lovely to see you all,’ Lissa declared on a happy sigh. She gazed around at the mountains thick with fronds of bracken like a matted bronze beard. Heard the familiar sounds of hens clucking about the yard, sparrows squabbling in the hedge, the moan of the wind through the ash trees. Relished the dearly loved scents of green grass and woodsmoke.

When she returned her gaze to Meg, it was to find her eyeing the two smiling visitors with a query in her grey eyes.

‘Sorry, this is Jan Colwith, my best friend.’ Lissa felt proud to introduce her as such.

Jan stepped forward, hand outstretched. ‘Pleased to meet you, though I feel I know you already.’
 

Meg smiled an acknowledgement but her eyes slid to Derry.

Lissa had grown so used to Derry’s outlandish style, knowing it didn’t give a full picture of his complex personality she’d come to ignore it. It certainly didn’t affect the way she felt about him, particularly when he kissed her.

But looking at him now through Meg’s eyes, her heart shrivelled a little inside. He cut an odd-looking figure in leather jacket, narrow black trousers, huge crepe-soled shoes and string tie. A skiffle king with a fancy to be a cowboy?

Is this the best my darling girl can do? the grey eyes said. Is this why I brought her up with such care, to have her throw herself away on the first dandy that crosses her path? All this was evident, and more, in the set of Meg’s mouth, the tightness of the skin around her shrewd eyes, the whole stance of her body.

Lissa could see that Derry too had noted the disapproval for he adopted a defensive, insolent look.

Lissa drew in a quick breath as she introduced him. ‘Jan’s brother Derek, though he prefers to be called Derry.’
 

There was a long awkward pause as Meg made no move towards him. Then Derry, responding to a nudge from Lissa, held out his hand. Howdy,’ he said, as if he were a US Marshal. Lissa inwardly cringed.

‘Good afternoon,’ Meg coolly responded, not taking her hands from the pockets of her jeans. For a moment the awkwardness deepened before Tam slapped Derry on the shoulder and ushered them all inside.

‘So good it is to see you we’re forgetting our manners, are we not? I’ll put the kettle on. Meg, you fetch that fruit cake you made the other day, since we haven’t got a fatted calf.’
 

Everybody laughed and the moment of tension passed.

An hour drifted by pleasantly enough with Lissa learning all the latest news and gossip, though the conversation grew stilted at times. Derry didn’t say a word and nobody spoke to him. He sat and gazed upon them all with impudent arrogance on his face and Lissa chewed on her fingernails and worried.

Tam finally excused himself, saying he’d catch them a rabbit for tea. ‘Would you be wanting to come with me, lad?’ he asked Derry, who blenched and shook his head.

‘N-no thanks. I’m OK here.’
 

Tam chuckled and went off whistling.

Lissa recognised a flicker of annoyance in Meg’s eyes, as if she’d been hoping that Derry would disappear in a puff of smoke, so she started to talk about the draper’s shop, anything to lighten the atmosphere.

‘You wouldn’t believe how old fashioned it is, and Miss Stevens spends all her time in the office though what she does there I can’t imagine. I’d love to be let loose on the place,’ Lissa declared, suddenly realising that she would.

Meg, scraping potatoes for lunch at the kitchen sink, looked up in surprise. ‘Why, what would you do with it?’