Into the Light

by Megan Hetherington

  “And you don’t feel you have to twist the knife because of how much of a dick he’s been to you?”

  “No. Not at all. I think I’ll leave it to him to do that to himself.”

  I squeeze her hand in admiration of how much stronger she has become. She’s come a long way from that first broken woman I saw, swigging champagne from the neck of a bottle.

  “So, what’s next?”

  “My solicitor is pushing the conveyancer at the practice to exchange contracts with the buyers of the house, completing on the divorce and then that’s pretty much it. Just need to find somewhere else to live.”

  The flies are now starting to annoyingly buzz around our plates of half eaten food.

  “Shall we make a move?”

  I reach out for her hand. Pleased that she is comfortable with the outcome and happy that we’ve talked about it before we get to the cottage. It can all be about the future now. The past has been laid to rest.

  We walk from the beer garden onto the street and in search of a shop.

  There’s a small convenience store which has a small range of fruit and vegetables on display at the front and when we step down into the shop it seems to have a huge array of pretty much everything we’ll need.

  “There’s kindling and wood at the cottage so we just need food and whatever you fancy to drink.”

  “Kindling and wood?” she questions.

  “Yeah, for the range cooker and the fire.”

  I’m sure she just shivered again. It makes me laugh. I think the vision she has in mind is worse that the reality. It’s actually a beautiful cottage set in the most amazing landscape and the lack of mod cons only serves to enhance the simplicity of its beauty.

  I can practice my caveman skills, foraging for wood in the neighbouring forest and show off to Rosa when I swing an axe.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Rosa

  My stomach is in my mouth and my knuckles are white from gripping onto the door handle. I thought when we did a sharp left, off the single-track road we had been bumping along for the last half hour, that we were pulling into the driveway or something up to the cottage.

  Well it has turned out to be more than something. We’ve been heading up, and bouncing repeatedly off, a dirt track, probably only designed for a tractor, for another half hour.

  I can’t see how we would ever get out of here if it was winter, or a rainy summer like last year.

  My poor little TT has been bouncing off the pot holes and wheel spinning on the cow pats like a cartoon car.

  All I can say, is I’m glad Kane is driving, and when I look across at him, I can tell he is enjoying it too. Men!

  “You okay?” He looks back at me. One arm extended onto the top of the steering wheel and the other casually leant on the central arm rest, like he’s a professional rally driver and this particular stretch is a piece of cake compared to his usual circuit.

  “Yep…think…so.” The air knocked out of my lungs with every bump in between words.

  “We’ll be there soon.” He moves his hand from the central arm rest to give my knee a squeeze.

  Really? I can’t see any sign of a house for miles, in any direction. But I can see seagulls, lots of them, so we must be close the to shore now.

  Wow!

  Just wow!

  We’ve stopped and I look across at Kane before fumbling with the door handle to step out of the car and take it all in for real.

  The little cottage is perched right on the edge of a cliff, with a perfect view out to the moody sea on one side, and back down across the heathland and rolling hills, from where we came, to the other. Hunkered down by a roof that hangs half way up the single storey white-washed walls.

  It doesn’t snuggle into the crook of a hill or run along the side of a road, like the other places we’ve passed on the way here. It’s not been placed here for convenience. It’s been positioned by someone with a lot of confidence, someone who has held a middle finger up at what everyone who would have advised against its positioning.

  It makes a statement.

  A statement that feels so right to me at where I am in my life.

  I’m here because that’s where I want to be.

  “Well? What do you think?” Kane is half out of the car.

  “Yeah…” I nod, “yeah… it’s.” I hold out my arms, taking in the structure and its environment. “It’s…” I’m lost for the right word, and just leave it at that.

  Kane goes into a little shed, nailed to the side of the cottage. It looks as if it grips on tight when the inevitable winds buffer, as I’m sure they’ll do regularly here. He comes back out triumphantly with a key on a large iron ring.

  I follow him in through the heavy door, and when my eyes adjust to the light, I can make out the kitchen arrangement. On the far side are two small windows, each with three-foot angled window reveals built from the heavy stone walls. Wooden window seats with stylish floral cushions inviting guests to sit and stare out at the sea vista, framed at the top by the overhanging reeds on the roof, like giant eyelashes.

  He immediately starts a fire in the range cooker and then goes back out to get the shopping from the car.

  “Is there a fridge?” I ask him when he returns.

  “No. Here.” He shows me a small room off the kitchen with shelves and stone slabs and a small hole in the corner covered up with a round wooden lid. “Everything will keep cold in here.”

  I raise my eyebrows at the simplicity of it.

  “What do we do when it gets dark?”

  He points at the candles in the wall hung lanterns.

  I press my lips together at the thought of it.

  “And the bedroom?”

  He opens a creaky door that is pulled to with a Suffolk latch. I bend down to go through the doorway and smile at the huge four poster bed. It has one of those mattresses that is so overstuffed that if you venture towards the edge you just know you’ll roll off onto the grey flagged floor. There are heavy brocade curtains tied back at each post with thick knotted silky rope. They can’t be original but were probably replicated on the sort that would have been used to keep draughts at bay, and the fabric design matches the curtains at the small picture window. This one looks out to the field at the side and the hardy wildflowers that pepper the landscape with dots of bright reds, oranges, whites and blues.

  “So, is this it?” Realising, as soon as I said it, that I sounded rude. “I mean, are there anymore rooms to show me?”

  “No. This is it.”

  “Bathroom? Toilet?” I wince, hopeful that there is indeed another room. One he has overlooked.

  “Oh yeah.” He laughs, scratching his head, which I now know is not a great sign, as it seems to precede any tricky revelation Kane makes.

  I don’t think I’m going to quite like this, as he leads me out of the bedroom, through the kitchen and back outside to the shed. Or what I originally thought was a shed.

  Oh my.

  There’s a stone butler’s sink on legs of stacked bricks, leaning up against the stone wall and another half size door, which he opens to reveal a built-in toilet with a large square wooden seat.

  “It’s self-composting.” He deadpans.

  “What does that mean?” I gasp.

  “Means you just put some of that sawdust from over there,” he points casually to a wooden bucket, “over any business.” He can’t hide his amusement.

  I’m fully aware that my jaw has hit the floor but it serves no purpose in making the situation any better.

  “There is hot water though.” He adds, as if that makes everything alright. “The range, once it’s fully cranked up, sorts that out.”

  He turns one of the taps over the butler’s sink as if to prove the point. It splutters for a few seconds before steaming water pours out.

  “Good.” I manage to orate.

  He strides up to me and gives me a hug.

  “It’ll be fine. You’ll enjoy it. Getting back to basics is good for
the soul.”

  If I didn’t know that he was right, I would probably cry right now. But I don’t, because he is. It does however mean I’m in need of a glass of wine.

  I laugh into his chest.

  “I know. It’s wonderful. Just very different to what I’m used to. But I do really love it. Just like I really love you.”

  He cranes his neck down to look into my eyes.

  “Good I’m pleased about that, because I really love you too.”

  I can feel the heat stirring and I’m not talking about the firing up of the range, but I know what Kane’s like and I’m not going to start something here in the presence of a self-composting loo. I think I would be scarred for life.

  I break from our exchange just in the nick of time, as I can feel his arousal against my stomach.

  “Let’s sort all that shopping out. I could do with a glass of something. There are glasses aren’t there?”

  “Yes of course. Although you’ve proved you can get around that shortcoming.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me.

  If he’s referring to the champagne glugging incident, then he’s right, I can but would rather not.

  “Needs must and all that.” I laugh at his joke.

  We head back into the cottage, my mind wandering to how I would tackle the bathroom in the dark. What if there are spiders? Or worse?

  Ugh. I think I might need the whole bottle never mind a glass.

  There’s no way Kane is accompanying me to the bathroom in the dark. We’re no way at that point in our relationship. Not yet, anyhow.

  The sky has darkened over and there are plenty of grey heavy clouds on the horizon out to sea.

  “I’ll get the fire lit too.” Kane announces.

  He busies himself, bringing armful’s of firewood into the living room from the log pile outside and takes some into the bedroom too. The range cooker is pumping out some serious heat now. The sticky humidity outside is not apparent in here, the thick stone walls keep the air cool and dry. I’ve found some glasses and I pour a decent glug from the red wine bottle into one and make a cup of tea for Kane.

  It still feels a little strange drinking alcohol in his presence but he is not perturbed about it, at all. I would curtail it if he was.

  I nestle in to one of the window seats watching the storm approach with more than a little apprehension, but a simultaneous acceptance of what will be, will be. I’ve never been a lover of storms. The brutal force of mother nature is not something I relish. But sat here now, I feel as if there is nothing to be done about it. No amount of cowering or shaking is going to stop it. And then there is Kane, my protector, I feel safe with him no matter what the world throws at me.

  Kane stands up to look out the window. The fire is stoked up nicely, the kindling crackling and popping in the grate.

  “Looks like we’re in for a show tonight.” He holds one hand up to a beam on the ceiling, leaning into the window, like Jupiter conjuring up the thunder.

  Yeah, I’m safe.

  He glances down at me, his eyes twinkling. “How are you with storms?”

  “Not normally very good.”

  “Am I going to have to hold you extra tight tonight?”

  “I reckon so.”

  He pulls me up to his chest and puts my glass down on the table.

  “Better start now then,” he rumbles into my ear, the distant sound of thunder echoing him from across the water.

  “Mmm,” I buzz onto his lips, my tongue searching out his.

  He reaches both hands up through my hair greedily pulling at the roots and pushing my head deeper into his kiss.

  The pressure in the cottage now matches the sudden drop in pressure outside. It feels tight on my chest, making it difficult to breathe.

  The light outside disappears as the sky folds in on us and the fire spits and hisses when the first few drops of rain find their way down the chimney. The ferocity of the flames defiant against the rain’s attempts to put them out.

  Kane hitches up my skirt, the tight jersey fabric stretching over my hips, and with no courtesy he pulls roughly at my panties, snapping the elastic and throwing them into the fire.

  He kneels onto the floor pulls on my hips until I have little choice but to sit on the window seat. He yanks on the back of my knees and then pushes them apart. My head falls back onto the cold window pane, his face illuminated by the flash of lightning that sheets over the cottage.

  But he doesn’t notice it, he’s too mesmerised. His mouth falling open as he gently pushes two fingers inside me.

  Oh my.

  He then bites on the corner of his lower lip, his eyelids hooding over, as if the feeling he is giving me right now, is what he is experiencing too.

  His thumb is now circling my clit, making me shiver with anticipation at what is to come. He lowers his head, pausing to look up into my eyes, a wicked grin on his beautiful face.

  Oh my.

  The first lick is all it takes to send the first sensation of ecstasy into my belly.

  The second has me writhing on the cushion, his hands firmly holding back my knees and stopping me from squirming.

  The third and I’m about to lose my mind.

  The rain smattering on the window behind my head and the relentless sucking from below, push me over the edge. My whole body goes into meltdown before exploding into the stratosphere.

  I don’t feel him release my legs, I don’t resist when he pulls me up and turns me around, leaning me forwards over the window seat. I don’t think when my hands steady on the windowsill. But I do feel him when he pushes in.

  Oh my.

  Do I feel him.

  I’m still throbbing from his mouth and I’m still thick from my release and already it’s building up again. I’m not sure where I can go with this one.

  It feels like it’s too soon, like it never really stopped.

  The rain is smashing into the glass in front of my face and my breath is steaming up the pane. Another flash of lightning highlights the reflection of the pleasure on Kane’s face.

  Oh my.

  He’s taking it slow. The feeling is intense, just keeping it there. His slow, thick penetration keeping my orgasm going, on and on and on.

  My legs are trembling and he takes hold of my hips holding me up, while pinning me down.

  My arms are like jelly and I have to lower onto my elbows to stop them from shaking.

  The change in position is too much for him and mostly too much for me.

  It’s deep.

  So deep.

  Each thrust sending shockwaves around my body.

  I can’t take anymore and I reach through and take hold of his balls.

  Just the slightest touch and he comes like a train, roaring out at the blackened angry sky.

  Oh. My.

  It takes a few seconds of him laid over my back and me breathing out deeply over the cold glass before either of us can speak, let alone move.

  When we eventually do, he hands me back my glass. “Sorry about that Rosa, I interrupted your drink.”

  I slap him on his bare, beautifully rounded backside for his trouble.

  “Ouch, what was that for?” He jokes, pulling his jeans back up.

  “For ripping my favourite Calvin Klein’s. And for throwing them in the fire.”

  He just shrugs his shoulders with a wicked, forever forgivable, grin on his face.

  “Have you brought that white lacy all in one thing with you?”

  “Well if you think you can throw that on there too, you can think again.”

  “No, I was just thinking about how sexy you looked in that’s all.”

  “Oh yeah?” I sip on my wine, bubbling inside at the incredible high it gives me hearing him say that.

  He takes me in his arms and looks me dead in the eyes. “You are so sexy Rosa, and I feel like I’m the luckiest man alive to have you here with me now.”

  Wow.

  I feel the tears rushing up into my eyes.

  Oh my. This ma
n.

  “Me too,” I manage to blurt, before my throat constricts with emotion.

  “Are you hungry?” he asks.

  I nod.

  “I’ll sort something out.”

  He tops up my glass and leaves me seated on a sheepskin rug in front of the fire while he lights all of the candles around the room.

  The rain has subsided a little and a pale moon furtively steals a glimpse at us through the monochrome clouds.

  Kane is humming a tune when he re-enters the living area from the bedroom and starts to sing quietly when he puts together a wooden tray full of nibbles and snacks at the small kitchen table.

  “What’s that you’re singing?” I call over to him.

  He stops and looks at me for a second. “Didn’t realise I was singing out loud.”

  I laugh. “Really? It sounds like Ed Sheeran.”

  “Yeah, think it was. Certainly, that was what was in my head anyway. I didn’t think I was singing out loud though.” He shrugs his shoulders.

  “Sounded good.”

  “Don’t know about that. I haven’t sung in public since I was a freshman.”

  “Sung in public?”

  “Yeah, I was in a band. Thought we were real cool. I was the lead singer.”

  Wow. Another thing to add to the list. I don’t think I can cope with anymore.

  He puts some more wood into the range cooker and then the living room fire.

  “I need to go to the loo before we eat.” I grimace.

  “Well it’s stopped raining, so I suppose now is as good a time as any.”

  “Yeah, but it’s dark out there now.”

  “I’ll come with you.” He lights a storm lantern and walks towards the door. I follow him, tiptoeing through the puddles in the sandals that I have slipped back on. Reaching up to take the lantern from him when we get to the shed door.