Ghosts of Winter (38 page)

“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.

I did not induce Anna to talk about her feelings again on the night of my sister’s visit. Maggie stayed well into the evening, admiring everything we’d done to Winter, and by then, it was far too tempting to simply succumb to Anna’s invitation to join her in bed.

In the morning, as we ate our breakfast, I watched her closely. I knew she hadn’t forgotten the conversation we’d started. The tension in her body language suggested to me that she was both looking for an opportunity to resume it, and hoping I wouldn’t press her on it. If I’d had all day to wait, I might have made myself content with the step we’d already taken, of how much more I already knew about Anna. But she was leaving after breakfast to meet with a prospective client. I wanted to take the opportunity of talking to her before her professional mask descended once more.

“Anna?” I saw her flinch at my serious tone.

“Yes, Ros?”

“What you said yesterday. About being seen...” Anna’s eyebrows drew together and she looked down into her mug of coffee. “Anna, please, look at me.” She did so, and I saw how vulnerable she felt with her heart exposed. “I see you Anna. I don’t understand all of you yet, but I’m not going to let it stop me seeing you. Not the wealthy architect in the designer suit. You. Anna.”