Chapter Ten

The commencement of the reconstruction of Winter coincided with an increase in the temperature, which made it pleasant to have doors and windows all over the property open to allow the fresh air to sweep through, though on some days the breeze brought with it a fine drizzle. I imagined pockets of air that had lingered since the house was shut up in the 1940s suddenly flooded with the oxygen of a new century, and Winter beginning to breathe more easily. I couldn’t help but think of Auntie Edie’s mother, forced to abandon the house she loved through lack of money, and never able to return to live here. Her legacy was in my hands, and that was a privilege to value. I recalled what the lawyer had told me, and wondered what Auntie Edie’s mother, who had been called Evadne, was like. Hers was one of the stories Winter sheltered I would dearly love to know more of. Auntie Edie had apparently, according to her lawyer, never known her father, who was not named on her birth certificate. What had happened in Evadne Burns’s life to lead her to make that unusual decision for her times? Why had she not married the father of her child? There were so many untold stories here. I could have been concerned my renovation, the flood of fresh air, would wash them away. But instead, I felt as though I was restoring them with the house, giving these shades of the past renewed life. I was proud of myself. The feeling was upon me before I had a chance to consider it, and more powerful and enduring for the lack of thought involved. I saw a true glimmer of happiness on the horizon where there had been previously only dark clouds.

I moved my living accommodation into the Blue Drawing Room, which thankfully—after a good clean—needed very little substantial work. It would need thorough redecoration, but such things were still months away. On the first day I enlisted the help of one of the builders to assist me in moving the mustard armchair downstairs from the attic. I dusted it off and threw a blanket over it, and I finally had somewhere comfortable to sit. That night, I decided I’d slept on a camping bed for long enough and would order a real bed the next day.

Since Auntie Edie had provided an ample budget, I concluded it was better for the house to be renovated in one all-encompassing onslaught, rather than tackling it gradually. Hence I had builders, roofers, joiners, and electricians all working at the same time. The rooms, silent for so long, were suddenly full of activity. Admittedly, I was unsure if Winter appreciated the intrusion, especially since the initial work seemed to make the state of the house worse. The damaged section of the roof was removed and replaced by a billowing blue tarpaulin, huge sections of floor and ceiling in the east wing were removed, and the electrician began chasing out a network of channels in the plaster of the walls. The sounds of drilling and hammering took the place of the silence, and I found I was glad of the noise.

Men in dusty jeans and dirty overalls were wandering backwards and forwards through the hallway all day. I tried to keep them supplied with cups of tea and biscuits, but gave up any effort to keep track of who was doing what. Instead, I inspected each job at the end of the day, to make sure I was getting what I was paying for. After a week, I was still massively impressed by both the standard of the work and the speed at which it was being done. But then these tradesmen had been recommended to me by Anna, and it was unlikely she would use any but the best.

I was so absorbed in coordinating the beginning of the work, it was difficult for me to think about much else. However, I had propped Jeanne’s card up on my table and read the words inside over and over. I was excited at the prospect of seeing Jeanne again, of telling her about—hopefully showing her—Winter. Maggie’s faith my mother would be proud of me for taking Winter on had finally started to convince me that there was something brave about my decision to move here. I actually thought Jeanne might be impressed, might admire her older sister for the first time in our lives. I felt warm at the prospect. I’d call her soon, once the renovations were well under way and I’d thought of exactly what to say. I looked forward to it.

My feelings regarding Anna were rather less straightforward. So soon after pushing her away with doubts and insecurities, implying I didn’t trust her, I was beginning to feel more optimistic. Had my night with Anna and her words in the morning played a part in my being able to finally see the light? I found I wanted to believe the words I’d made myself ignore. Was I jumping from confusion to optimism too quickly? And was there any chance with Anna anyway, after the determination I had shown to persuade her to leave me alone? Even more confusing, I was still very much aware I had no clear idea what Anna wanted from a relationship. I knew her views on marriage. Did she view any commitment in a similar way?

As I watched the progress Winter made, saw the way the house had actually kept a firm grip on its beauty over the centuries and only needed a gentle hand to help recover it, I grew reassured that my optimism was not, for once, transient, but apparently with me to stay. Yet there was still a pain deep in the pit of my stomach, and I knew perfectly well what the cause of it was. Anna.

Reminders of Anna were everywhere. Workmen mentioned her by name, referred to her plans. As I began to see a future for myself at Winter, her suggestion of the artists’ workshops or yoga retreat became a more and more realistic prospect. I wanted to talk about it with her, both in a professional capacity with regard to the necessary planning permission, and on a personal level, as the person who had suggested it with such enthusiasm. The memory of how I’d treated her that morning haunted me, and made me feel hollow. After such a perfect night, how could I have done it? Part of me was inclined to call her, beg her forgiveness.

Yet, at the same time, I was frightened of her forgiveness. If I had a second chance with Anna it would mean I had to take the risk I was shying away from, embrace the idea our relationship might not work out. Embrace the equally frightening consideration it might work out perfectly, and my life would change beyond recognition. I was in a different place to where I had been a year ago, but my heart had still not broken free and moved on. Was I capable of it?

*

I heard nothing from Anna for two weeks, though I had a visit from the local council planning department to ensure I was doing everything necessary to comply with Winter’s listed status. I muddled through on my own, and everything seemed to be in order, but I would have truly appreciated Anna’s professional input, since the plans submitted to them were hers. I wondered how badly I’d offended or hurt her, and just how awkward it was going to be when we eventually met again.

I was standing on the steps outside the very next day, watching as the final touches were made to the eastern end of the roof. The new tiles were reclaimed and matched so perfectly it was impossible to tell where the repair began. I heard a car motoring up the driveway towards the house. During the past weeks, I’d grown used to all manner of cars and vans arriving and departing, and I didn’t even turn to look until the car came to a stop behind me, and I recognised the purring throb of the engine. Builders did not drive vans with engines that sounded like that.

I whirled around, barely daring to breathe, as I felt the tension rise in my chest. Sure enough, I found myself facing Anna’s red Audi, Anna herself climbing out of the driver’s seat. The car seemed to grin at me, mocking my nervousness.

“Hello, Ros.” Her tone was coldly formal, not hostile, but nothing more than polite.

“Hi, Anna.” She did not return my smile. Her hair was tied back today, and she wasn’t wearing a coat. Her suit was a deep maroon, which made her eyes a deeper, darker blue. I remembered that gaze running over my naked body, those lips exploring every inch of my skin, and I began to ache. “I’m glad to see you.” I attempted to sound as though I had a far better grip on my emotions than I did.

“I thought I should come and see how the renovation is going. The roof’s looking excellent, I must say.” The passenger door of the Audi opened, and I realised Anna was not alone. “And I wanted to introduce you to Sam too.”

I looked at the woman who climbed out of the car and then sauntered around to stand next to Anna. She held out a hand to me and I shook it automatically. “Sam?” I said.

“That’s me, love.” That Sam was gay I was in no doubt. Even if it had not been for the distinctly masculine cut of her jeans and T-shirt, and the spiky, gelled hairstyle, I just knew. The effect was completed by a tattoo of interwoven women’s symbols on her left arm. What I did wonder was why the hell she was climbing out of Anna’s car. She didn’t so much walk as swagger, her attitude one of confidence, and she looked at Anna as though she was ready to devour her. Grudgingly, I admitted to myself her confidence was justified. She was incredibly good to look at. I read a challenge in her expression.

“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.