I spun round to face Hector, speechless with surprise. It was unmistakably his voice on the other end of the phone, but he was standing right beside me, not speaking, not even looking at me. His expression was baleful and his eyes were fixed on Tom.
Unable to catch Hector’s eye, I spoke into the phone. ‘I’m afraid this really isn’t a convenient time. I’m rather busy at the moment.’
‘Aye, and that’s what I was wanting to talk to you about.’
‘Well, in that case, I think you’d better ring back tomorrow.’
‘Get rid of him, Ruth. The miscreant child has matured into a blackguard.’
‘Look, I appreciate your interest, Mr Munro, but I really don’t wish to discuss this now. I’m entertaining a guest.’
‘This one expects to stay the night.’
‘That’s no concern of yours!’
‘It is if you expect me to sit outside your bedroom door all night.’
My jaw dropped, but I made a quick recovery. ‘Thanks all the same, but I don’t think I’ll be requiring that service.’
Hector looked at me then, his eyes wide, his expression pleading. The voice at the other end of the phone said, ‘You need my protection, Ruth!’
‘I do not! Nor do I need your advice.’
‘He locked you in the attic. He pushed you into the pond and left you to drown!’
‘That’s a matter of conjecture. I think we should stick to the facts, don’t you?’
‘When you turn your back, he looks at you as if - as if you’re something on a butcher’s slab!’
‘Times have changed, Mr Munro! This is the twenty-first century. I have no complaint about the service you’ve provided in the past, but if I wish to engage a new contractor, that’s my business.’
‘Och, you’re drunk, woman!’
‘I certainly am not.’
‘You’re making a mistake, Ruth!’
‘Possibly. But if I am, it’s my responsibility, not yours. Goodbye, Mr Munro. Oh, and please don’t ring back. I shan’t answer the phone.’
Shaking, I replaced the phone on its cradle.
‘Who the hell was that?’ Tom asked, laughing. He’d refilled his brandy glass and was drinking again.
‘Oh, just some building contractor. He’d given me an outrageous quote for building an extension,’ I said randomly.
‘Stupid time to ring.’
‘Oh, the man has absolutely no concept of time!’ I heard myself, then looked round guiltily, searching for Hector. There was no sign of him and I felt relieved. To avoid joining Tom on the sofa, I kneeled down in front of the fire and poked at the burning logs. Maybe Hector was right. Perhaps I was drunk. Tom had been topping up my glass all evening and I’d lost track of how much I’d had.
I didn’t hear Tom move, so the next thing I knew was his arms going round my waist and his face nuzzling my neck. I tried to wriggle free. ‘Tom, I’m sorry, I’m really not in the mood for this. Not after giving Mr Munro a piece of my mind.’
He didn’t answer. He gave no sign of even having heard. His hands were busy at my waist, but it was a moment or two before I realised he’d undone the belt of my dress. As he pulled it open, I yelled, ‘Tom, no!’
‘You don’t mean that,’ he murmured in my ear, then slid his hand inside my dress and began to fondle my breast.
I twisted away from him and tried to stand up, but he was kneeling on my dress and I heard it rip. He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me back so hard, I toppled over on to the hearthrug. He rolled me on to my back as if I were a doll, then lay on top of me, pinning me to the ground.
‘Get off!’ I bellowed in his face, but he was completely gone. His eyes looked dark and dead, as if he was on some sort of automatic pilot. I tried to bring a knee up to his groin, but he was so big and heavy, I just lay there helpless. He held me by my wrists and looked down at me, smiling lazily, as if savouring the moment. I started to feel frightened.
If Tom tried to kiss me, I decided I would bite his tongue or even head-butt him, which might daze him long enough for me to get out from underneath. I was watching his face, waiting for it to come into range, when behind him, I saw Hector materialise. He stood over us, looking down, his expression murderous.
I looked up at Hector over Tom’s shoulder and whimpered, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it! Please—’
Tom grinned and said, ‘That’s more like it! You just like a bit of rough house, don’t you? Well, that’s OK. Happy to oblige.’
As I struggled, he kissed me, forcing his tongue into my mouth. I thought I would choke. Behind Tom’s golden head, I saw Hector move quickly to the fire. He bent down and, to my utter astonishment, plunged his white hand into the fire, displacing a log so the coals shifted and then settled again. Tom, who was now fumbling with the catch of my bra, took no notice, but I threw my head to one side, craning to see what the hell Hector was playing at.
As Tom lay on top of me, crushing my ribcage so I could hardly breathe, I watched, appalled, as Hector put his hand into the depths of the fire again. His fingers emerged holding a glowing red coal, which grew duller as he held it. Grim-faced, he moved toward Tom.
‘No! You mustn’t! I shrieked.
‘Just watch me, lassie,’ Hector whispered.
To my horror, he extended his arm, touched Tom’s cheek with the hot coal, then dropped it on the hearthrug where it lay, burning a hole.
Tom screamed and rolled off me, clutching his face and swearing profusely. Scrambling to my knees, I clutched at the folds of my dress, pulling it round me. I got up, staggering, then bent down to pick up the fire tongs. I took the hot coal and threw it back on to the fire. I was about to replace the tongs when I thought better of it. Sinking into an armchair at a safe distance from Tom, I decided to hang on to them in case his ardour still wasn’t quenched.
‘Are you all right?’ I asked, my voice hoarse with shouting.
‘No, I’m bloody not! I’ve got a burned face!’
‘Should you see a doctor?’
He shook his head. ‘No point. It’s superficial. Just bloody painful!’
‘I’ve got some Savlon. Is that what you put on burns? Or do you need a dressing of some sort? I could have a look in Janet’s First Aid box if you like. But I’m afraid I’m not much of a nurse.’
‘Don’t bother. I’ll live.’ Touching his cheek gingerly, he glared at the fire. ‘I’ve never known that happen.’
‘What?’
‘A fire spit out a big lump of coal like that.’
Hector was still standing over Tom and his lips curled into a smile. I looked up at him and, without thinking, snapped, ‘You’d better leave, before you do any more damage.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Tom replied. ‘I’m sorry,’ He looked at me and winced, but something told me it wasn’t the burn that was causing him most pain. Both men were staring at me now, though Hector was beginning to fade. God knows what I must have looked like, sitting there. Certainly not Florence Nightingale, with my tangled hair, smudged make-up and my torn dress wrapped tight around me.
Tom shook his head. ‘I don’t know what got in to me.’
‘Booze. Far too much.’
‘You do know, don’t you, that I wouldn’t have—’
‘I don’t want to discuss it, Tom! I just want you to leave. Now. Please call a taxi. Or start walking. I’m going to bed. Good night.’
I left him sitting on the singed hearthrug and went up to the bathroom where I locked the door and kicked off my shoes. Removing my make-up, I tried not to think about how the evening might have ended. Then I told myself I was being ridiculous. Tom would never have hurt me. He was my friend. But the fact was, I didn’t know the man at all, I only knew the boy. And according to Hector, the boy had left me to drown.
I stared at my naked face and watched as big fat tears slid down my blotchy cheeks. I didn’t recognise myself. How did I ever get to be this lonely? This vulnerable? This crazy?...
Wiping my eyes, I told my reflection I was goin
g back to London. Stan would just have to be cancelled. Inviting him had been yet more evidence of my lunacy. Tom could look after the house and garden till I put Tigh-na-Linne on the market. He owed me now. Exhausted and emotional, I picked up my shoes and padded across the hall to my bedroom.
Where I found Hector waiting.
As I switched on the light, I saw Hector seated at my dressing table, facing the mirror. He had his back to me, so I looked at the glass expecting to see his face, but of course there was nothing there. He was staring at blankness.
He rose as soon as I came into the room, turned and stood almost to attention, his hands behind his back, his face as blank as the mirror. I dropped my shoes and quickly tied the belt of my dress to make myself decent. Furious with Hector, Tom and especially myself, I said, ‘You had no business to be there tonight! You weren’t invited and I specifically asked you to keep away!’ Hector didn’t reply and just stood there like a post, so I bent down to pick up the clothes I’d discarded earlier and tossed them on to a chair. ‘You really didn’t need to hurt him that much.’
‘I wanted to hurt him that much.’
‘Why?’ Hector didn’t reply. I stared at his impassive face and slowly, light began to dawn. ‘Oh, my God - I do believe you’re jealous!’
He looked startled then and said, ‘He wasn’t listening to you. Or looking at you in a way that befitted a gentleman. He simply wanted to... possess you. Had you not been willing, he would have forced—’
‘Of course he wouldn’t!’
‘Are you sure, Ruth? Quite sure? This is the lad who pushed a wee girl into a pond and left her to drown!’
‘You don’t know he did that.’
‘I think you do.’
‘Tom was just trying it on this evening. Some men are like that. They get drunk and boorish. Surely men haven’t have changed that much in a hundred years?’
‘No gentleman would have treated a lady the way that scoundrel treated you.’
‘Well, Tom isn’t a gentleman. And I’m not a lady.’
‘Are you saying you enjoyed being treated like that?’
‘Of course not! Tom was very drunk and he went too far. He’d misread the signs. But that was partly my fault. The other day I’d given him the impression— But this is none of your business, Hector! I don’t have to explain myself to - to a ghost!’
‘So you’d make excuses for his behaviour then?’
‘No! But it wasn’t as simple as you seem to think. Things got very... confused. So did I. And Tom picked up on that confusion.’
‘What do you mean?’
I sighed. ‘You were born in 1880. I’m not sure you’ll understand. Tom’s a very attractive man. And he knows it. And... well, women like to feel desirable.’
‘Och, hell!’ Hector snarled. ‘D’you need to be treated like a streetwalker to feel desired?’
‘Oh, come on! How else is a guy to make his feelings known? Morse code? Telepathy?’
Hector blinked at me, his eyes wide. ‘By declaring them, of course.’
‘Declaring them? What do you mean?’
It was Hector’s turn to be confused. He bowed his head and was silent again. After a while, I assumed he’d conceded the argument, but then he looked up and, standing very straight, addressed me, saying, ‘Until now, I’d loved only one woman. A woman whom I admired and respected beyond all others. A woman whose beauty, kindness and intelligence I believed to be unsurpassed. It was my intention to make her my wife. For reasons I don’t propose to go into, she would not accept my marriage proposal, even though she loved me and... gave me proofs of that love. Unfortunately, my life was cut short before I was able to persuade her to change her mind...
‘I never expected to feel love - feel anything - ever again. I certainly never expected to feel... desire. Of any kind. After my experiences as a soldier, I was convinced I’d never feel the desire to harm a human being ever again. In all this, I was much mistaken. I’ve found in you, Ruth, a woman whose character and beauty I admire... and whose body I wish to possess. You’ve also shown me a man I find I wish to kill, simply because he’s capable of giving you what I cannot. Capable of taking from you what I cannot.
‘I’m proud of none of this, but I wish to demonstrate to you, with the very limited means at my disposal, that you’re not only desired by me, you are loved. Until now, I’d never thought much of the loss of my body. I was resigned to being just a spirit. A soul. The essence - I hoped, the best - of my human self. Until now.’ Hector drew himself up to his full height and looked at me, his blue eyes blazing. ‘Had I the opportunity, I would choose to die again - and in the same terrible manner - if I could be made whole for just an hour. An hour in which I would wish to do nothing more than offer myself, body and soul, to you, Ruth.’
I stared at him, scarcely able to take in what I’d heard. ‘Hector... I - I don’t know what to say.’
‘There’s nothing to say. I simply wished you to know, that’s all. I may seem - and from what you’ve said, I may feel to you like a cold fish, but in what passes for my heart, there burns a desire for you as real, as painful and as hopeless as any I knew when I was a man... And now I think I’d better leave.’
Speechless with shock, I watched him as he turned away. When he reached the bedroom door, I cried out, ‘Please don’t go!’
He wheeled round, his eyes glittering. ‘Och, don’t ask me to stand outside your door tonight, Ruth! I’m by no means certain I’d be able to resist the temptation to open your door and gaze on you while you sleep, allowing myself in my imagination the liberties of which I’m no longer capable!’ The derision in his voice was more than I could bear, though I knew his scorn was directed at himself and his spectral form.
I swallowed and, my voice not entirely steady, said, ‘How do you know?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Have you tried? I mean, how do you know what you’re capable of? Have you actually ever tried to make love to a mortal woman?’
‘Of course not!’
‘Then how do you know you can’t?’
His eyes searched mine for what seemed like a long time. I saw confusion. Fear. Then a kind of wild hope.
‘But... you say I feel cold. Insubstantial. You surely wouldn’t want to touch me... Would you?’
‘Right now, I do. I want to touch you. Hold you. I don’t think I really care what you feel like, Hector. Whatever it’s like, I want it. Because no one’s ever spoken to me the way you have tonight. No one’s ever put his hand into a fire to protect me. A ghost has never been in love with me before. And I - well, I’ve never fallen in love with a ghost.’
‘Ruth—’
‘So whatever’s available, whatever you’re offering, that’s what I want. Do I make myself clear? This is my declaration, Hector. I don’t want you sitting outside that door, or even standing at the end of the bed, lusting. I want you in the bed. And, if it’s at all possible, in me.’
He took a step toward me, then hesitated, uncertain. I turned and switched on the bedside lamp, then folded back the patchwork quilt and bedclothes, my hands shaking. When I straightened up, Hector still stood as if dazed, so I walked over to him, reached past his shoulder and switched off the top light. As I drew my arm back, he grabbed my hand, pressed the palm to his cold face and closed his eyes. His flesh yielded, but my hand didn’t penetrate his form. There was an uncanny resistance. Had he felt more solid, I suppose I might have thought of a corpse, but Hector was no more corporeal than a waterfall, or a river in spate. I could sense that energy, that force in him.
I took his chill, long-fingered hand and slid it inside my dress so that his palm lay on the curve of my breast. I didn’t need to ask what he could feel. The expression on his face and the noise that escaped his lips suggested he might be close to collapse, but he spread his fingers and they slipped easily beneath the lace of my bra. The sensation was one of cold, silky water trickling over my body. His fingertips found my nipple, which hardened under his t
ouch, then he pulled me toward him and pressed his mouth on mine.
For a second I panicked. Inundated by the cool liquidity of Hector’s form, I felt as if I was drowning, until I realised I didn’t need to hold my breath or prevent him from entering my mouth. I was quite safe. Relaxing, I gave myself up to that sensual, generous mouth, enjoying the movement of his cool tongue against the heat of mine.
He let me go and I opened my eyes, to see him unbuttoning his tunic, revealing a lean and muscled torso, pale as a marble statue. I ran eager palms over his chest and shoulders, which felt cold and smooth to my hot touch.
‘Hector!’ I exclaimed, gasping with pleasure and surprise. ‘To think all this has been going to waste for a hundred years. It’s simply tragic.’
He laughed, bent down and lifted me. It was as if I’d been knocked off my feet by a powerful wave and was now being carried out to sea. I felt powerless, but the sensation was far from unpleasant. Hector put me down on the bed and I lay back on the pillows while, with trembling fingers, he undid the belt of my dress and slipped it off me. I assumed he wouldn’t have any idea how or where a bra fastened, so I spared him the awkwardness and removed it myself while he took off his boots and socks. At the sight of my naked breasts, he seemed almost overcome and clasped the bed head, as if he needed to support himself. I sat up, wriggled out of my knickers and, naked now, I set about unfastening the buckles of his kilt, steeling myself for potential disappointment.
I needn’t have worried. When we first met, Hector had said he presented himself to me as I would wish to see him. As his kilt slid to the floor, I saw him exactly as I would wish to see him. I shivered with excitement, which he misinterpreted.
‘Och, you’re freezing, lassie!’ He turned his head and gave a nod in the direction of the fireplace. Immediately, a blazing fire appeared in the Victorian grate where some ancestor of mine had set a hideous two-bar electric fire. I shrieked in alarm, thinking the bedroom was on fire. Hector laughed again, caught hold of my hand and kissed my fingers. ‘You’ll not catch cold now.’
I lay back again, watching the firelight play on his white limbs as he climbed on to the bed and lowered himself to lie between my parted thighs. He cradled my head with one of his hands and said, ‘You’re sure now? I wouldn’t want to take anything you don’t want to give.’
The Glass Guardian Page 13