Part 25 (1/2)

'I've made my own way since I left Harwood and I think I'll carry on doing so,' he'd said, in a bantering tone. Jessica did not press the matter. She saw in his eyes how he felt.

George, obviously happy these days, was silent most of the time, as though pondering on the imponderable; or walking with Jessica or reading the paper, sometimes commenting on various articles, although not often. He hardly made any comment about what Raymond had done in the thirteen years of his absence from Hynburn.

'Alaska, you say,' he'd said one day. 'Big country, yon,' he'd added.

George had begun to use dialect quite often. Jessica did not seem to mind. Once she would have been beside herself to hear her hushand saying 'nowt', 'aye', 't'mill' and the list seemed to be growing.

'I'll be using it myself soon,' she said to Raymond jokingly. Wonders would never cease!

He finished his breakfast, a huge affair, which Maud Walters saw fit to cook as 'Master Raymond always had a good appet.i.te.' The sideboard was piled with eggs, bacon, kidneys, kippers, porridge toast, and a variety of jams, honey, and fresh fruit. He wouldn't be able to fit through the door soon he told Maud when he went down to see her in the kitchen. He had a cup of tea with her and Grimsby while he was there, feeling more comfortable than in the living room upstairs.

'Nice chap,' Grimsby said to Maud after he'd gone.

'Aye, a right smasher as well,' she said, rolling her eyes.

'Maud!'

Raymond crossed the Town Square and began the steep climb up Belmont Road. Even in his light slacks and short sleeved s.h.i.+rt he was perspiring heavily. What on earth had happened to the rainy, dreary, day after day of drizzle which had been the Harwood he remembered, often even in summer? His bare arms bulged with hard muscles from heavy work in Alaska and the blue of the s.h.i.+rt emphasized the smoky blue of his eyes (women's eyes tended to follow him as though drawn by a magnet).

As he drew nearer Leah's house (right at the top, number thirty), he began to feel apprehensive. What was he going to say to her? Why was he visiting her at all? She belonged to another man. He pursed his mouth in a grimace as he thought of Walter. He couldn't imagine Walter and Leah in bed together. He felt sick at the thought. That skinny runt with luscious Leah! He had tried not to admit how much he was taken with her; had tried to get her out of his mind. He had even begun a letter to Mike and Paquita telling them when he'd be back, then torn it up. He'd never been in love before and didn't even know if what he was feeling was love. It was frustrating, to put it mildly. Did he want to be in love if this was it? As though he was in limbo? Neither here nor there, not knowing if he was coming or going (quite literally was he going back to Alaska or was he here to stay?) How the h.e.l.l was he to know? Then there was the other side of the question. How did Leah feel about him? It was all a conundrum but perhaps he'd be clearer in his mind after this visit.

Yesterday he'd called at Glebe Street. Emma had told him that Walter was fixing cupboards for his mother today so he decided to pay Leah a visit whilst Walter was out of the way. Emma was taking Christine and Stephen to Blackpool for the weekend so Leah would be on her own and they could have a talk. He reached the gate of number thirty and pushed it open. It squeaked on a rusty hinge, and must have heralded his visit because the door opened as he walked down the path.

'I heard the gate,' Leah said, beaming at him. He heaved a sigh of relief. So she was glad to see him! She looked good enough to eat in a simple blue and white check dress, and her hair tied back with a blue ribbon. Her legs were bare and she wore white sandals. She looked young and ravis.h.i.+ng and enchanting and took his breath away where it wafted up to the sky and try as he might he couldn't get it back until he swallowed and took another deep breath.

'Just having a walk and thought I'd pop in and say h.e.l.lo,' he finally managed. He was sweating again.

'Come and have a cup of tea, then. I've just put the kettle on.' She stood aside to let him in and her arm accidentally brushed his. A tingling sensation, almost like an electric shock, pa.s.sed through him (had his hair stood on end as well?) Leah closed the door and walked ahead of him down the pa.s.sage to the kitchen. Raymond followed her, wondering how to start what he'd come for. What had he come for, anyway? There was only one way to find out! He suddenly realized that except for that first meeting when she'd fallen down in front of him, (if you could call it that), this was the first time they'd been alone together.

He sat on a chair and looked around the kitchen as Leah got the tea things ready. She clattered around a bit with the cups and saucers. She was obviously nervous! It was a bright kitchen in green and white, check curtains at the windows, white cupboards and green oilcloth on the floor. There was a bowl of yellow roses in the middle of the table.

'When are you going back?' Leah said as she put the cups and saucers on the table then picked up the teapot and began to pour.

'I'm not sure.' He could see she was avoiding eye contact, making a great display of getting up to get some biscuits from a tin and putting them on a plate.

'Oh.' There was silence for a few minutes as she sat down and they drank their tea. Raymond looked at her over the rim of his cup. He put the cup down on the saucer with a clatter. Leah's eyes flew to his, startled.

'What?'

'Mother and Father would like to meet Stephen.'

She looked wary. 'I don't know, Raymond; why now, after all these years?'

'They're regretting that, Leah. Give them a chance, will you. They've been through a lot.'

'So have I,' said with some bitterness.

He put his hand across the table involuntarily and squeezed hers. 'I know.'

Leah looked at his hand on hers. 'All right,' she said. She pulled her hand away and he sat back, awkwardly.

'Only if Stephen wants to, I don't want to force him.'

'No, no, of course not, what about Sunday, then? They'll be back from Blackpool and I can pick him up from your mother's.'

Leah nodded. 'That should be all right, I suppose.'

She still didn't sound too happy about it. He didn't blame her. There was silence again. He looked through the open kitchen window onto the meadow beyond. There were b.u.t.tercups and daisies in the field waving their bright heads in the wind as though nodding to him. A bee droned lazily past the window, birds chirruped and he almost expected to hear sheep baaing and cows mooing, the scene outside was so rural.

'Nice view,' he said, nodding towards the window.

'Yes. One of the reasons I wanted this house at the end, although it is a fair walk up.'

'And steep,' he said. Leah laughed at the expression on his face.

Unsaid words seemed to be flying around the room, looking for some way to burst out. There was tension building. It was palpable, and Leah could feel it pounding at her from the man sitting across the table.

She had thought she'd never feel the same way about anyone as she had about Stephen. She'd been a girl then: naive, and innocent in every sense of the word. Now she was a woman, the blood pounding through her body, sending messages to her brain, which really, did she want? Did she want to go through that turmoil again? She wasn't at all sure she did. Her life before Raymond's sudden appearance had been settling into a peaceful, easy existence. Perhaps even boring (she thought of Walter) but it was preferable to the highs and lows of what she'd experienced in the past.

'Leah.' She blinked as Raymond spoke her name urgently as though trying to force her into something she didn't want. He was so positive, so forceful, that voice so deep, so masculine, penetrating right to the core of her and setting every nerve on edge.

'What?' Her eyes flickered in alarm.

'We have to talk.'

'We are talking.'

'Not like this. How're you, how's the weather, what will the weather be like tomorrow. I want to talk about us, you,' he pointed his finger at her, 'And me.'

Leah glanced over to the window, avoiding his gaze. The sunlight streamed bright like a golden river onto the kitchen sink, creating dazzling patterns of light.

'There's nothing to talk about.'

'You don't believe that for a minute.'

She looked up, angrily. 'How do you know what I believe, Raymond, you hardly know me.'

Raymond laughed and raised his eyebrow (as Stephen used to). Leah caught her breath. 'You can know some people for years, yet never really know them. Others you meet for two minutes and it's as though you've known them forever. That's how I feel about you, Leah. If you're honest I think you feel the same about me.'

'So what good does that do?'

'Come on.'

She looked at his earnest face, those blue eyes, the lank of dark brown hair on his forehead (wanted to touch it, press her face close to his), but she knew if she showed one sign of weakness she was doomed. Doomed because this enigmatic, volatile man was playing such havoc with her emotions she felt dizzy.

Raymond lent forward and gripped her hand. He put his face close to hers and she could feel his breath on her, not disgusting as she thought of Walter's, but intoxicating. 'I love you, Leah. G.o.d, you must know it.'