Chapter Thirteen

Repair of the floor—and the ceiling I’d plummeted through—was well underway when I awoke the next morning, in my own bed in Winter. There was no question of anyone being to blame for my accident, except myself, since the danger area had been clearly marked off by the tape, and as I recalled now, one of the workmen had warned me about an area of the floor he considered to be unsafe. I’d just not listened properly.

I spent the day in bed, propped up by pillows, while Anna took care of both my needs, and those of the workers. One moment I watched her making cups of tea and coffee, and the next she was finding her plans for the renovation and becoming the professional architect as she went to consult with the builders. She was extraordinary. I was very happy and grateful she was with me, not only because I was practically helpless, but also because the renovation of Winter progressed remarkably in the few days that she was constantly there. A few times I wondered if her lingering in the house with me was entirely for my benefit, or if she had become so devoted to the restoration of Winter’s glory that she simply wanted to be at the house all the time.

Anna stayed overnight with me for three days. My bruised elbow mended quickly over that time, which made it possible for me to begin to balance on the crutches, at least as far as the bathroom, about the farthest I could make it before the pain in my ribs became too much to bear. I was glad of the greater degree of independence and told Anna I’d be fine if she went home, at least at night. Whatever was happening between us, I was viewing our reunion after my accident as a fresh start, a more honest and open beginning. I didn’t want the early days of our new relationship to be based on her caring for me, helping me walk to the bathroom, and cooking my meals. I wanted to retain some sense of mystery and glamour, for a short while at least. She tried to protest, but I was insistent. I satisfied her concerns by calling Maggie Potter, telling her what had happened to me, and securing her promise to call in on me the next day. Reassured, Anna left in the late afternoon, bound first for her neglected office and then home, with a lingering kiss that almost made me pull her back inside.

As I reflected on everything that had happened over the last few days, my first thought was that I was very glad indeed to be alive. Life was finally something to enjoy again, and I hadn’t needed to fall through a ceiling to bring that feeling home to me. But the picture wasn’t quite complete. I knew all too well what the missing piece was. Anna. She was part of my day-to-day life now, and I was getting to know her on a far more relaxed basis than I had up to this point. Everything about her stirred emotions in me, tender and lustful, amused and trusting. I wanted her, there was no doubt in my mind about that.

At the same time though, there was so much unspoken between us. She knew my story but I did not know hers. She said she was frightened, but of what? Was she experiencing those kinds of doubts about commitment now? Was that the cause of the distance that remained between us? How did she feel “different” from before? Why did she feel that way? I had more questions than answers where Anna was concerned.

If that distance was erased would I now be strong enough in myself to be able to deal with the intensity of a full relationship? I was happier and had a far better sense of myself than I’d had for years. I had Winter as a solid and hopeful presence in my life. But relationships involved being able to give some of yourself, to be able to compromise, to take on elements of another person’s self as part of your own existence. Was I ready for that? Would Anna be prepared to give it to me? I’d thrown her invitation to trust back at her once. What if she wouldn’t go there again?

I looked forward with undeniable excitement to seeing her again, but I couldn’t help the mounting tension, deep down. Just how did Anna and I, seeing each other every day as she tended to my invalid’s needs and to my ramshackle house, advance any further in our relationship if we were both afraid of where that next step would take us?

*

Anna came to Winter daily for the next two weeks, to check how I was coping, and to have some personal input into the renovation. The more times I saw her, kissed her hello and goodbye, the more I wanted to touch her. Every look we exchanged contained the promise of what we could share. Her kisses were satisfying and teasing all at once. The slight touches of her hands were never enough. I smelled tantalising traces of the sweet spice of her scent in every room.

Moreover, I sensed Anna’s desires were equally frustrated. I hoped they were. I contemplated her desire often, as I watched her. Did she want me as much as I wanted her? There was a pink flush on her cheeks and a spark in her eye, which made her ever more beautiful. Every kiss and embrace we shared left us both breathing hard. I was convinced she desired me, there seemed to be evidence enough. Knowing she reacted that way to me made me feel more confident about our relationship, and my mind knew no rest from thoughts of Anna. Just watching her walk across the hallway, jacket off and shirt sleeves rolled up, brushing her hair back behind her ear, or biting her nail as she bent over her plans, could make my heart pound. But how on earth did we go about acting on it?

The connection and the attraction between us were undeniable. Yet the more I desired her—that desire increased by frustration—the more I grew anxious. What if all of this longing and teasing came to nothing because neither of us ever took that next brave step? I couldn’t stop pondering the situation and trying to find answers. Was she keeping her distance—both physically and emotionally—to protect me? Had she taken my point that awful morning and come to the conclusion I was too vulnerable for more than flirting and kissing? Or was she nervous of any further entanglement with me for herself? Already open about her uneasiness with commitment, my own uncertainties and outright rejection of her would not have soothed her concerns. Was that the root of her fear? We needed to talk, as she had acknowledged herself. But it was a difficult conversation to know how to start.

The more I watched Anna, the more kisses we shared, I knew I had to get closer to her. My desire grew unbearable to the point it was beginning to eclipse some of my concerns. I knew that could be a mistake, but craving Anna became all consuming and made me prepared to take risks. I couldn’t help but think intimacy with her might propel us forward before either of us realised we’d taken the step. She was too tough to resist anyway. Initially my cracked ribs were prohibitive, but after about a week and a half of gazing at her and wanting her, the urge was too much. In tightly tailored grey trousers, long jacket, and a white shirt which accentuated the pink of her skin, she bustled around the house with a determined look in her eye, and there was no way I could watch her and resist her any longer. And so, I devised a strategy.

I was already on my feet when she came to check I had everything I needed, and made a feeble attempt to trap her against the wall of the Blue Drawing Room with my crutches. Admittedly, the attempt would have failed had she not co-operated. Emboldened, I pressed myself to her, kissing her hard with all of my pent-up desire. Relief washed through me when she met my kisses with enthusiasm, and I began to burn with arousal for her. From the way her hands rapidly slid under my clothes to explore my skin, I knew finally her frustration matched mine, and I kissed her harder. I wobbled on my one good leg, and she pulled back gently. “I’m not sure this is safe.”

“I don’t care,” I gasped, unable to bear it any longer.

“I don’t want to have to take you back to the hospital and explain how I damaged you.”

“I’m not that fragile.”

“But your ribs…”

“I don’t care about my bloody ribs! God, Anna, I want you. You drive me crazy. If you don’t let me have you, I’ll do myself a real injury when I spontaneously combust!”

“Do you think you might be overreacting slightly?” She wanted to smile, I could see it, though her mouth barely twitched.

“No, I don’t. Kiss me, please.” She still hesitated slightly. “Please, Anna, I need you.”

Anna did as I asked, moving her lips lightly and teasingly over mine. I didn’t miss the sparkle in her eyes or the lust that crept into her expression. “Hmm, are you begging me?”

Heat pulsed through me at the hungry way she was looking at me. I smiled and licked my lips. “Yes, I am. I want you, Anna, please, come to bed with me. Now.”

“It’s the middle of the day.”

“Who cares?”

“I might not be responsible for my actions.”

“Good.”

Our progress towards the bed was awkward and faltering, and it proved impossible to undress and walk with crutches at the same time, though we tried. Eventually, I was sitting on the bed as Anna pulled my top over my head. I watched as she removed her tailored jacket and began to loosen the buttons of her shirt. Every layer she peeled away revealed a different aspect of her. The perfectly cut jacket made her imposing and professional. With it removed, in her shirt sleeves, she took on a more practical, solid appearance. As she unfastened the buttons and revealed her pink skin and plain bra, the barriers collapsed too, and she lost all the traces that made her intimidating and became purely sensual, a faint blush spreading over her chest and reaching the gentle swell of her breasts. I watched as she reached behind her back to unfasten the bra and let it drop to the floor. Her nipples hardened with the touch of the air, and I felt sweat prickling all over my skin. I was able to enjoy the wonderful spectacle of her nakedness in all of its detail this time, not so blinded by the sheer excitement of our first night together, and I watched her hands as she unzipped her trousers and stepped out of them.

She approached me as I sat, entranced by her and largely helpless to move anyway. She bent to kiss me and her firm nipples brushed against mine as the kiss grew more intense. I pulled her towards me, tried to urge her on top of me, but she resisted.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispered.

“You won’t.”

“I’m not taking any risks.” She slid her hand underneath the hem of the long denim skirt I was wearing and rubbed up my calf to the inside of my knee.

I groaned with pleasure and anticipation. “God, I want you, Anna.”

 Her hand stopped and she kissed me lightly, before pulling back, her eyes full of light. “Are you sure?”

“For God’s sake, please.” She ran her hand a little higher along the inside of my thigh, and I felt the electric intensity shoot from the place she touched to gather low in my abdomen. She paused again.

“You really want me to?”

“Anna, please.” I gritted my teeth. This time her hand made it all the way to rub over the cotton of my underwear. “Off, take them off.” I endured her doing so with excruciating slowness, a knowing smile on her lips.

She traced her fingers over her previous path all the way up the inside of my thigh, but more quickly this time. Her lips made soft, moist contact with mine just as her fingers reached my centre, and I moaned into her mouth with the relief of her touch.

“You’re so wet for me, Ros.” She pushed her mouth back against mine. Her fingers were exploring, teasing, stroking, and I pushed my hips towards her to increase the pressure, running my other hand over the smooth skin of her back. I pulled my lips away from hers to kiss her jawline, her throat, and the soft flesh of her breasts, and heard her breathing deepen. I ran my tongue up the muscle at the side of her neck and grasped her hair to pull her ear to my mouth, so that my breath caressed her there.

“Fuck me, Anna, I want you inside me.” She moaned, a deep, feral sound, and her fingers slid lower, teasing still.

“Ask me again.” She kissed my open mouth. I breathed in the air she exhaled and let the anticipation take me over.

“Please fuck me, Anna. I need you to—” My words evaporated as she did exactly as I asked and slid her fingers into me. I drew in a deep breath and pressed my forehead to hers, and gazed deeply into her eyes.

“God, Ros,” she moaned against my lips, her breath coming harder and faster.

“I’ve never wanted anyone so much, Anna.” She slipped her fingers virtually out of me and then drove them back in powerfully. I rocked my hips with the movements of her hand and pushed my mouth back onto hers. I gave myself up entirely to the heat of her mouth, the slide of her tongue over mine, and the wonderful stretch of her fingers inside me, the way she skilfully caressed my most sensitive spot with her thumb. I knew I was digging my fingers into her shoulders as I felt the pressure building between my hips. I threw my head back and felt her mouth on my throat, knew the caress of her teeth there had left a mark. Then there was nothing but dizzying intensity, as all of the sensations became one and found their focus where her hand continued to move, meeting there and exploding so powerfully tears came into my eyes, and I couldn’t see as I cried out loud.

Anna’s fingers remained inside me, and as my vision cleared she was trembling and panting for air as hard as I was. In awe of her arousal, and the idea it was a reaction to me, I reached for her, sliding my hand to her slick sex, and pressing where she needed the touch to send her over the edge. For a moment she stopped breathing, and then she was shuddering, a deep sound of satisfaction in her throat. She wrapped her arms around me and held me close to her hot body. When I looked up into her face, she was flushed and her eyes shining, her expression one of slight surprise.

 “Fucking hell, Ros, I didn’t know that was possible.”

“What?” Still breathless, I eased back so I could see her expression.

“So easily, so quickly. I don’t know how you did that. It’s never been like that before.”

“Never?”

“Never. It’s usually much more...drawn out, if you remember.”

“Does that make me special?” I smiled, filled with pleasure she’d experienced that with me.

“Absolutely. You really don’t know, Ros.” Her words sounded deadly serious. “But don’t let it go to your head.” She laughed gently.

“Too late, it already has.” I was intrigued. There was still so much to learn about Anna. Maybe we could start properly on that journey now. “Come to bed with me,” I said, trying to tug her down next to me.

“It’s the middle of the afternoon, Ros, and insatiable though you might be, some of us have work to do.”

“I’m paying you, you have to do what I say.”

She looked back at me with her arousal very apparent in her eyes. “Ah, but it doesn’t work like that, sweetheart. If you don’t let me go and do my job now, I won’t spend the night with you tonight.”

“You’re going to stay overnight?”

“If you want me.”

“You know I do.”

“Then let me work now, or I won’t show you what I’ve got in mind for you.”

“Even if I beg?”

“I could be persuaded. But are you going to take that chance?”

I considered, then smiled. “No. Go on, go and do architect things to my house. I’ve got to look at some colour schemes the interior designer sent me, anyway. I’ll save my energy for later.”

“You’ll need it.” She grinned wickedly, and then began to dress. “I’m going to nip back to the office for a short while, shall I bring some food back from Durham with me?”

“Sounds good.” It did sound good. Yet part of me was unsatisfied still. The thought of Anna spending the night with me, of more fabulous sex, was exciting. Even just a night chatting with her was a thrilling prospect. But when was I going to get more? When would I finally be able to connect completely with the real Anna? Understand what she expected this relationship to be? Did she want to confide in me on that level? She’d seemed to tell me she would. I felt the change in her, dared to hope her fears had mellowed. But when would she assure me? Was I brave enough to ask?

“Any preference? I was thinking maybe Thai?” Anna’s expression gave no clue she felt there was anything unspoken between us. She had to feel it though. She’d admitted it herself. I was certain there were things she wanted to say and hadn’t quite worked out how. I wanted to create the opportunity for her to tell me. Not just to ease her mind. I needed her to tell me.

“Excellent.” I looked at her speculatively. How on earth did I begin such a conversation? I didn’t want to risk the happiness of the place we were in now.

“How’s it going with the interior designer, by the way?” Businesslike Anna was reasserting herself. Now wasn’t the time to ask. But it had to be soon. For now I would enjoy the moment, but I knew the nagging feeling wouldn’t go away until I had answers.

“Oh, she’s excellent. More down to earth than I thought she would be. She’s got some interesting ideas involving keeping most of the period style but adding a modern twist so it’s not like a museum.” I thought back to my meeting with the designer, a woman in her mid-thirties with bobbed black hair, who had arrived wearing a startling canary-yellow dress teamed with scarlet tights. “She’s an interesting character. Is she really called Marigold?”

“I have no idea,” Anna replied as she buttoned her shirt. “If she is, then her parents clearly had some idea of how she was going to turn out. Or maybe she moulded herself to fit the name. I’ve always known her as Mari, but I never asked if it was her real name. She’s probably called Doris or something.”

“You know such a lot of interesting and useful people.” How well did any of them know Anna? Did she let anyone in?

“I keep hold of contacts once I’ve made them, that’s all,” she replied with a dismissive shrug. “You never know when you might need someone with a particular talent.”

“Is that why you’re attracted to me?”

“Well, show me some more of what you’re talented at tonight, and I might decide to keep your number handy,” she said, bending to lace up her shoes. I couldn’t help but laugh, though in doing so I overrode the part of me that wished she wouldn’t joke about her attraction to me so much. I shut out the doubts. For now. She shrugged her way into her jacket, retied her hair into its ponytail, and removed her glasses, polished them with a soft cloth from the case in her pocket, and put them back into place. My efficient, tailored, intimidating Anna was back, but still smiling at me.

“Do you know you’re slightly frightening when you’re in professional mode?”

“Not frightening I hope,” she returned. “I aim for efficient and maybe a little unapproachable.”

“You actually aim for unapproachable?”

“Yes. Makes my appointments shorter I tend to find. People are less inclined to chat with me.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Didn’t work on me.”

“No. I must have done something wrong.”

“I guess I find unapproachable sexy.”

“Are you saying you find me sexy, Ros?” Her mouth was twitching with amusement again.

“Is that what I implied?”

“Yes.”

“Then that must be what I mean.”

Her teasingly hard face relaxed into a warm grin, and she came to me and kissed me. “I’ll show you how sexy I find you later,” she said softly, kissed me again, then picked up her briefcase and left the room. I watched her go, and smiled to myself with the knowledge she would be back later. These were still early days. Anna showed no signs of losing interest, and the spark between us seemed to be igniting a flame. I could content myself with that for a while. Besides, the sex was great. I could linger on those thoughts instead of worrying about how to get Anna to talk to me. Perhaps she would open up in her own time without me probing. Thinking of Anna, of all that had just passed between us, it took me a while to rouse myself from my pleasant repose to pay attention to the colour schemes Marigold the interior designer had left me to consider.

*

By the middle of February, the pain in my ribs had faded to a dull ache, and though my leg was still in its cast, I’d become so used to it I could get around easily. The renovation of Winter had hit no unforeseen problems and was progressing well. Anna had drawn up plans for the conversion of the attics to guest accommodation and a studio space, along with the addition of an extra staircase to access that floor, incorporating much of the east wing into the guest area. It was, as she said, perfect if I did want to start a business at Winter, but an excellent use of the space even if I did not. I trusted her professional judgement implicitly.

The rest of the house had become a huge blank canvas. The plumbing and electric systems had been overhauled and updated and the walls re-plastered by Anna’s friend Sam, who was, it turned out, delighted Anna and I were together. I found my hostility towards her vanished now she was no longer my rival, and even managed to laugh with her about my previous reaction to her performance, as we took a break together on her first day working at Winter.

“You’re a braver woman than me,” she’d said, laughing and patting my arm as though she had sympathy. “I wouldn’t go near Anna as a date myself.”

I looked over at Anna who was smiling wryly as she reclined in my armchair, drinking a cup of coffee. “She is rather terrifying,” I said conspiratorially to Sam.

“Scares me to death,” Sam replied. “It’s the only reason I’m friends with her. I want her on my side in a fight.”

“I know what you mean—”

“I’ll have you know this is a carefully cultivated image I’ve had to work very hard at creating,” Anna said. “And you didn’t have any complaints last night, Ros.” Then she winked at me. I was so astonished at the brash gesture and blunt words, I was lost for an articulate response and burst out laughing, blushing at the memories. Though my ribs ached with my laughter, it felt so good to share a light-hearted moment with a friend and the woman I was convinced I was falling head over heels for, the pain was worth it.

The evenings Anna did not stay with me were the worst times. Though I was left with a lingering warmth every time I saw her, when I was alone in the huge rooms, I missed her. Missing her, I began to think about our relationship carefully, and that was when doubts resurfaced. We were in a good place. There was flirting and good-natured conversation, the sex was undeniably hot. But we’d not made the progress I’d hoped for, and I couldn’t help the feeling there was still something missing. There was still part of Anna I didn’t know.

I’d become increasingly confident that my own sense of myself was here to stay. I didn’t doubt my own judgement, and I was finally able to understand just why Anna wanted to be with me. If I was still dubious about accepting I had been brave to take on the challenge of Winter, I could at least understand why Anna saw it that way.

But I still couldn’t read Anna completely. Our relationship was still new, and neither of us had laid any ground rules at all. I didn’t want to push while we were still feeling each other out. But I was increasingly certain I needed to reach out to that hidden part of Anna if I was ever going to understand her fully, if we were ever to truly be together. Was she still frightened? What of? I resolved to make sure my actions demonstrated the strength of my feelings. And I would look for a moment to begin the difficult conversation. That I had the strength in myself to even consider it was something I was inclined to be proud of myself for, and that was a very good feeling indeed.

*

Nervously, I invited Jeanne to visit at the end of February. Winter was tidier and less dusty by then, most of the remaining heavy-duty work located in the attics and the basement kitchen. The bathroom had been completely refurbished, the facilities fully functional. I’d managed to make the Blue Drawing Room into something like a respectable living area, with the addition of a small sofa, a coffee table, new curtains, and some real cupboards to get my possessions out of cardboard boxes. It still needed to be fully decorated, but I could light the fire in the fireplace and at least offer guests a seat other than my bed. Though it was tempting to wait to invite Jeanne until all the work was done, I soon realised how keen I was to see her again.

She came, with her husband Phil and six-year old Madeline, on a Saturday morning. Anna left me early that morning to return to her own house. She told me she wanted me to have private time with them, but I couldn’t help wonder if she was wary of the connotations of meeting my family and facing their reaction to our relationship. More commitment than she was ready for? In truth, although part of me was keen for her to meet my sister, I wasn’t entirely sure how the encounter with Jeanne would progress, and I wasn’t convinced I wanted Anna as a witness if it did not work out as well as I was hoping.

My fears were unfounded. Jeanne’s visit was more than smooth, it was fun and encouraging. By the time she left I felt my new optimism had been replenished. Seeing my sister again, little changed since the last time we’d met, reassured me there were constants in my life that the last year could not take away from me. I should cherish my baby sister, however different our personalities were.

In addition, Jeanne and her husband Phil’s admiration of Winter had made me so proud of everything I’d achieved here so far. I was pleased the house was now fit to be admired, a daunting remnant of the past no more. Jeanne’s visit allowed me to see it through fresh eyes.

When Anna returned to Winter, Jeanne and Phil had only been gone for about half an hour. She found me seated on the front steps, my plastered leg stretched out, still smiling in the aftermath of the happy visit.

“I’m guessing it went well then?” she said, as she closed her car door and walked over to perch on the step next to me.

 I leaned over to kiss her briefly before I replied. Even that slight touch of our lips, however many kisses we had shared, sent a pulse of heat through my whole body. I’d never felt about anyone the way I felt about Anna. But how did I convey the strength of my feelings without causing her to back away? I was almost certain her sentiments were as strong. Every touch and kiss and glance reassured me. But how to get her to open up to me? To let me truly know her in the way I needed to? I was falling in love with the woman. But how could that be when I still understood so little of the way she worked? Anna’s air of mystery had intrigued me to begin with. Now I knew I needed answers. 

“It did go well,” I told her, trying to gauge her mood. “In the end it was just so nice to see Jeanne again—in happy circumstances—we forgot a lot of the bad things. And she was so impressed by Winter—”

“Who wouldn’t be impressed by this?” Anna gestured at the parkland spread out in front of us.

“True. But it was more than that. She was impressed by what we’ve done with the place too. How we’ve rescued it.” I paused and hoped Anna had noticed that I said we and not I. “And she thought the idea of using it as a venue for retreats of some kind was really exciting too.” I added. Anna’s idea. I was still so grateful for every bit of input she’d had in Winter’s resurrection. “She said Mum would be proud.” I added the last words more quietly. Of all the things Jeanne had said today, that had been one of the best.

Anna’s arm circled my shoulders, and she pulled me closer to her. I rested my head on her shoulder, sighing with the peaceful pleasure of being so close to her, feeling her warm and solid next to me, filling my nostrils with her scent. “Your mum would be proud of you. And I know it must have meant a lot to you for your sister to think so too.” I loved how well she understood me. How could we have these moments of perfect understanding and gentle intimacy and still have so much unspoken between us?

I was quiet for a moment, contemplating this. “She asked if I thought the place was haunted.” I said it idly, as if I wasn’t actually pondering the entire basis of our relationship and wondering how to make her talk to me more.

“And do you?” she asked, with laughter in her tone.

“I haven’t changed my mind about believing in ghosts. But I told her how I feel like I’m looking after a legacy. Like the people who lived here will always be here, somehow. Not their spirits or anything like that. I don’t know. Just something of their essence or their energy.”

“It’s a beautiful thought, Ros,” Anna said, squeezing my shoulders tighter. “And I think you are looking after a legacy. Even in the most practical and solid sense. Winter was designed and built by living people, it was remodelled internally, the trees we’re looking at now were planted, the furniture you have was brought to the house. Winter does bring a little of all the people who were here before into our present, just by existing.”

Anna’s eloquence moved me, especially because it gave me yet another glimpse of the aspects of her character I was still learning about. I wondered if there was any chance of drawing out further, more personal insights while she was feeling this expressive.

“You know I couldn’t have done any of it without you, don’t you?”

I saw a slight tension come into her expression. “You could have done it with any half-decent architect.” She shrugged and looked away from me.

“You know I don’t mean that,” I said. “You’re not only the best architect for this kind of project I could imagine, you’ve also been there for me. Even after...what I did...” I hoped some direct honesty of my own would draw more truths from her. “I’ve not said it properly before, Anna, but I need to. I’m really sorry for the way I behaved at Christmas.”

Anna shifted uncomfortably, but her face was tender as she looked into my eyes again. “It’s in the past now, Ros. You don’t need to dwell on it. I understand why you reacted like that.”

“But I hurt you, Anna. And after everything you’d done you didn’t deserve that.” It felt good to be finally so honest about my own regrets. I hadn’t realised I was carrying so much of the residual tension on my shoulders. Maybe this was what was needed to draw out Anna’s confidences, me to be entirely relaxed and confident in our relationship. Maybe she’d been sensing the lingering strain.

“I was only hurt I couldn’t convince you to trust me, Ros. I felt like you weren’t seeing me at all. Just a random woman you were beginning a relationship with. You were frightened of the idea of a relationship, but you didn’t pay any attention to the fact that I was prepared to understand that, to give you time and space. To give a relationship a chance to develop.” She hesitated, as though she wondered if she’d said too much, revealed the source of her pain too honestly. I wanted to stop her checking herself in that way. This conversation was already a step in the right direction. What she told me was not a total revelation. I’d known it was my inability to trust her which had hurt her most, but now I came to understand how I’d done exactly as she described and not seen Anna for the good and kind, but also very perceptive, woman she was.

“I am really sorry, Anna. I’ll always feel so lucky we got a second chance.”

“So will I,” Anna was quiet, and she appeared to be contemplating her shoelaces. When she looked at me again I saw very real emotion in her gaze. “You know, when I saw you on the floor that evening...Oh God, Ros, I thought you...well...you know. And the thought that I’d been indulging how hurt I was instead of trying to understand where you were coming from...God...it made it so I couldn’t breathe for a moment.” Anna’s emotion was so vivid in her tone as she spoke. I could even see the gloss of tears forming in her eyes. I didn’t like having made her recollect something so distressing for her, but I felt the relief in my own heart when I saw those emotions break through the surface and show themselves.

“It’s okay, Anna,” I said. I leaned in to kiss her briefly on the lips and took her long, cool fingers in both of my hands and held them tightly. “I’m here. You got there in time to be sure of that. And now I can really work on getting to know you...I really want to know everything there is to know about you, Anna.”

She looked at me, and I saw something like hope in her expression. A vulnerability that was unusual in Anna. She appeared to be assessing whether she believed me or not.

“You do?” she said. Her voice carried a heavy strain.

“Of course I do. You’ve come to mean so much to me Anna. I want to understand you. I want to know— ”

“You know a lot already.”

“I know you’re a brilliant architect. I know what turns you on. I know that you cook wonderful Italian food and like to listen to both Mozart and the Eurythmics. I can make you laugh, and I know which perfume I should buy you.”

“Isn’t that enough?” Anna shrugged and ended her question with an awkward laugh as though she wasn’t enjoying this focus on her.

“You know it’s not, Anna. I want to know what makes you cry. I want to know what frightens you.” I’d said it and felt a rush of relief. I waited for a response, pleased she didn’t look at all upset. Just uncomfortable. As though there was something she wanted to say but wasn’t sure how. Was she going to trust me and take that step now?

“You know...” She faltered.

“Yes?”

“I sometimes find sharing hard.” I gripped her hand to comfort her and persuade her to go on. I wanted to hear what she had to say so desperately. “What I’ve said about commitment—I didn’t mean to make it sound like I never want to commit to anyone again. It’s not even really commitment that worries me. That’s just the easiest way of explaining it. What frightens me is losing myself.” She paused and pursed her lips as she considered what she’d said. “Or rather, not being seen for me. I’m not good at sharing and I know it makes it hard for you—or anyone else. And it’s just that—”

Anna’s attention was suddenly drawn away from me and her revelation, towards the driveway. She fell silent, and I was reluctant to force more words from her. Seconds later, I heard what she had: a car approaching. Inwardly, I cursed whoever it was who had chosen that particular moment to arrive. But my heart felt lighter too. Anna had begun to reveal how she really felt. I’d heard enough to begin to be reassured. To want to comfort her and ease her fears. What had happened to make her feel that way? I knew it was more than simply my rejection of her at Christmas. Now we’d begun the conversation, we would find time to continue it. But not now. Anna’s expression was a confused mixture of relief and frustration. Now she’d started to talk, and she wanted to go on. I hoped the urge remained with her until we were alone again.

“We’ll talk more later,” I said to her, hoping she would hold on to the need to confide in me. She blinked, as though she was a little surprised she’d said so much already, and smiled her acknowledgement briefly. I looked to the driveway as the car appeared. I recognised it at once as Maggie’s little blue runabout. “It’s my neighbour Maggie,” I told Anna. “I’m glad you’re going to have the chance to meet her.” I smiled as Maggie pulled up, her car an odd contrast to Anna’s sleek model, and Anna gave me her hand to help me to my feet. Maggie was one visitor I couldn’t resent, however bad the timing.

Maggie climbed agilely out of the driver’s seat, glancing at Anna’s Audi as though there was nothing remarkable about it at all. “Hello, pet.”

“Hi, Maggie. Perfect timing! You can meet Anna.” Maggie turned keen eyes on Anna’s tall figure and smiled warmly.

“Anna Everest, the architect,” Anna said, shaking hands with Maggie.

“And my girlfriend,” I added, feeling a flush of pleasure, which only deepened when Anna smiled warmly in response. Maggie grinned broadly at me.

“Good for you, pet,” she said, patting my arm. “Lovely to meet you, Anna. Nice to see more than just Ros here at the old place.”

“You have to come inside and see what we’ve done. It’s looking fantastic now, Maggie, I think you’ll be pleased.” My pride and excitement surged through me.

 “Miss Everest is clearly a very good architect in that case,” Maggie said. “And I have every faith in you, Ros, to make sure everything is in keeping.”

“Thank you. It means a lot that you trust me like that,” I said. “I’m so glad you’re here Maggie, we even have some lemon cake left from my sister’s visit this morning. Not homemade, I have to add.”

“No doubt good with a cuppa though,” Maggie said. I saw her pleased reaction to the news Jeanne had been to Winter, and we exchanged a private smile. I felt as though she was proud of me too.

 “That’s decided then,” I said, turning to make my slow progress up the steps towards the front door. “Come on in.”

We made our way up the steps. When we reached my stony friend Phoebe, I paused. “Maggie, do you think this statue looks happy?” She didn’t seem to think my question was at all odd.

“Not happy, exactly,” Maggie replied. “But content. Like she’s looking for something else, maybe missing something, but satisfied.”

“I think she looks expectant,” Anna put in. “Like she knows something we don’t.”

“Do you think so?” I pondered Phoebe’s expression for a moment longer. “Knows what, though?”

“I don’t think she’s going to tell us, pet,” Maggie said, laughing.

“Now we’ve demonstrated we’re as crazy as you, Ros, how about that tea?” Anna said in an amused tone. We all laughed and headed into the house. I noticed the way our mirth-filled voices echoed in the hallway, and my spirits soared, knowing I had brought life back to Winter. My interrupted conversation with Anna gave me hope that happiness could finally be restored to my life in a similar way. So the architect needed a little guidance on this particular restoration. But I felt it now for the first time in months: I had the strength inside me to be there for her too. I had that to offer her, and more. Now I just had to make her understand that if we were to truly have a  happy relationship, she would have to trust me with her heart, reveal what was holding her back. She could trust me, and she could depend on me. I had to understand just why she was so reluctant.