The Heights

by Juliet Bell

  She raised a hand to touch his face, hesitating a fraction before her skin met his, afraid he would melt away like a shadow if she tried to stroke his cheek.

  ‘Cathy.’ Her name was a strangled whisper on his lips. Her fingers closed that final fraction of space and then she was in his arms. He pulled her to him so tight she could hardly breathe. She dug her fingers into his arms as if clinging on for her very life.

  ‘Cathy.’ He whispered her name again and again into her hair. It was as if he was trying to inhale the essence of her, and in that moment, she wished he could. There was more passion in this one embrace than she had felt in all her life since he had left her.

  ‘Cathy, what have you done?’

  Heathcliff’s words fell on her like cold water. She slowly disentangled herself and took half a step away. She still held his hand because she couldn’t bring herself to let him go entirely.

  Slowly they both turned towards the door. Edward was standing a few feet inside the room. His face was pale, and his mouth was set in a hard line.

  ‘Heathcliff,’ Cathy said in a very quiet voice. ‘I married Edward.’

  Edward’s body felt as if it was frozen in ice. So many emotions pulled at him. Anger at seeing the despicable man in his home. And fear… a terrible fear that he had come to steal Cathy away. The Heathcliff who had invaded Edward’s home was a new man, not the boy he remembered. Edward could see he was not as handsome or compelling as this man who stood so large in his living room. Nor would he have any chance if it ever came to blows between them. But Edward told himself that he must be the better man. Better educated. Better behaved. He had moral strength that Heathcliff, as a boy, had lacked. And he could give Cathy a better life.

  Edward had won Cathy by being the better man. He would keep her the same way.

  ‘Hello, Heathcliff,’ he said. ‘What a coincidence that you’re here the same day Cathy and I get back from honeymoon. Where’s Isabelle’

  Heathcliff’s mouth twitched.

  ‘She’s upstairs. Getting changed. We were going to go to the pictures. But I’m sure she’ll want to stay and catch up now you’re home.’

  Edward didn’t like the sound of that. It sounded like Isabelle and Heathcliff had been spending time together. It would have to stop. He was responsible for Isabelle and there was no way Heathcliff was an appropriate influence.

  A sound on the stairs caused them all to look around. A moment later Isabelle appeared in the doorway. She froze, her face a mask of disappointment as she looked from Cathy to Heathcliff and back again. Then she darted across the room.

  ‘Cathy, it’s lovely to have you back,’ she said in a voice that was far too loud. ‘How was the honeymoon? It must have been wonderful to have Edward all to yourself. And look at the both of you. All tanned from lying around on the beach.’ She slid in between Cathy and Heathcliff and wrapped her sister-in-law in a hug. ‘Marriage agrees with you.’

  Cathy shrugged herself out of the embrace.

  ‘Look who’s come back to us,’ Isabelle gushed, as if trying to fill the awkward silence in the room. She reached out to take Heathcliff’s hand. ‘It’s wonderful to have Heathcliff back. He and I have had such a lovely time these past days, catching up.’

  She tugged Heathcliff’s hand as if to draw him to her side. Edward was shocked. He looked at Heathcliff and saw a slow, triumphant smile spread over the man’s hated face as he moved closer to Isabelle. Cathy was looking at Isabelle as if she was seeing a slug that had just crawled in from the garden.

  All the happiness of the past two weeks drained out of Edward, and a cold fear slid into its place.

  ‘Come on, Heathcliff,’ Isabelle said too brightly. ‘Let’s go. We have plans for this evening.’ She tugged on his hand, but she might have been a fly for all the attention Heathcliff paid her. His eyes were firmly fixed on Cathy’s face.

  ‘Oh no. I won’t let you take him away from me after so little time.’ Cathy stepped forward. ‘You must stay, Heathcliff. And tell us everything. We can get a takeaway and have a whole evening to talk. Just us.’

  ‘The four of us. What a lovely idea, Cathy.’ It wasn’t. It was a terrible idea, but Edward knew this was a battle he couldn’t win tonight. And at least, this way, Heathcliff and Isabelle would stay where he could keep an eye on them. His sister was still clinging to Heathcliff’s hand. The sight of her skin against that man’s flesh turned Edward’s stomach. She was his little sister. If Heathcliff had laid a finger on her, he would… the anger ebbed out of Edward. He didn’t know what he would do. He just knew it was his job to protect his sister. And his wife.

  It wasn’t fair. Isabelle had made such plans for this evening. Yesterday, she had caught the bus into town, where no one knew her, and gone to the supermarket. A packet of condoms was now hidden in the back of the top drawer of her bedside table. Tonight it was supposed to happen for the first time. Her and Heathcliff. She loved him so much, and he did want her, she was sure of it. At least, he had until Cathy had flounced back into the house and taken him away from her.

  Isabelle stared across the table where her sister-in-law was engaged in animated conversation with Heathcliff. Look at her, touching his arms. Batting her eyelids at him. She was married now. She had Edward. She couldn’t have Heathcliff as well!

  ‘So, Heathcliff…’ Edward interrupted. ‘You’re looking well. What have you been doing with yourself all these years? Whatever it is obviously suits you.’

  ‘I’ve done all right.’ Heathcliff dismissed the question.

  ‘You’re sounding almost Irish. Did you go back to Ireland?’

  Heathcliff didn’t reply.

  Isabelle felt her whole body tense. He’d refused, every time she’d asked, to say a word about where he’d been for the last three years.

  Her brother continued. ‘I hope you weren’t caught up in any of the Troubles. Bad business. There was a bomb at the Stock Exchange while we were away. And they were targeting army recruitment places before that.’

  Heathcliff turned slowly. To Isabelle, his eyes looked like black holes as he stared at Edward. She felt a little shiver of fear. She too had heard the trace of Irish in Heathcliff’s voice. Was that where he’d been?

  ‘Ireland is a good place for a man who’s willing to do what it takes,’ Heathcliff said. ‘But I have no family there. I’ve never been that far from here, not for long.’

  Once again, Isabelle felt a small shiver up her back. Heathcliff was so strong. If only Cathy and Edward hadn’t come home. Everything was different now.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  July, 1990

  He was waiting for her. Exactly as she had known he would be. He was sitting in their old spot. The track leading up the hill was now overgrown with grass, even the bare places where they had kicked at the loose rocks and dragged their toes in the gravel. There was no trace left of their younger selves who had spent so many hours here, simply being together. He hadn’t seen her yet, and for a moment she stood drinking in the sight of him. He was no longer the boy she remembered. He was a man now. Time had changed them both. Last night, he had been as at home in the Lintons’ as she had. She could remember how out of place he’d been there when they were kids. Now he looked like he belonged. How did she look now through his eyes, she wondered. Did he see the new clothes and the honeymoon tan and did he still see his Cathy underneath?

  They had both changed, but maybe that didn’t matter. One thing had not changed. For all these years, there had been a hole deep inside her. A place that only Heathcliff filled. Now he was back and at last she might be complete again.

  Cathy started to run. She scrambled up the steep slope to the top of the biggest of the blue hills. Heathcliff heard her coming. He looked up at her. In her mind, she had imagined him getting to his feet to wrap his arms around her and pull her tight, as if he would never let her go. Never leave her again. She had imagined them running across the hills together, their hands linked, the same as they had when they were
children. She wanted to leave everything and everyone behind and just be together.

  Heathcliff remained seated in their old spot, now overgrown with grass. Puzzled, she dropped down next to him, her breath coming in sharp pants after her run.

  ‘You never used to be panting when we ran up here,’ Heathcliff said.

  ‘I haven’t been since you left,’ she replied, stung by the sharpness of the comment. ‘There was no point without you.’

  ‘There isn’t much point to anything without you.’

  Cathy frowned. ‘You were the one who left.’

  ‘Because you didn’t want me. You wanted that wuss Edward instead. Him and his fancy family and his money. Shame. That’s what you said. You were ashamed of me.’

  She thought back to that last afternoon at the house at Moor Lane. Had she said that? It wasn’t how she remembered it. She remembered him being angry. She remembered that he’d left. This time she would make him stay.

  I’m not ashamed of you, Heathcliff. It would be like being ashamed of myself.’

  ‘Perhaps you should be ashamed of yourself.’ Heathcliff scrambled to his feet.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Cathy leaped up to follow him. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him around to face her.

  ‘You married him.’

  ‘Of course I did. You left me here with Mick. I couldn’t stand it. I was his skiv – cooking, and cleaning, and looking after the baby, while he went down the pub. There was no money. I was alone, and Edward was a way out.’ Indignation pulsed through her. ‘I found a way out. Just like you did.’ She paused. ‘And besides, I love Edward.’

  Heathcliff grabbed her by both shoulders, digging his fingers in as he stared into her face. His eyes blazed with anger.

  ‘Love him? You don’t love him. I know you. You love his money and that fancy house. You love the idea of being the respectable Mrs Linton.’

  ‘So?’ She wrenched herself free of his grasp. ‘I wanted a better life. So did you. Neither of us wanted to stay there.’ She turned and looked down towards the Heights. The row of terraced houses looked smaller than she remembered. ‘There was nothing for us there. We’d have ended up just like Mick. Signing on, scratching around for money. The same thing every week. We both wanted something better. And we both got it.’ She wondered if that was true. She still didn’t know where he’d been.

  ‘But we could have had it together.’

  Cathy didn’t reply. She pulled air into her lungs and screwed her eyes closed. She refused to picture the life he was describing. Heathcliff’s voice was ragged with emotion. She wasn’t sure if it was anger or regret.

  ‘You don’t get it. After I left, everything I did was for you. I wanted to make something of myself. Make money. So you would be proud of me. And then I see that wedding photo in the paper.’

  ‘You saw the photo? How? Where were you?’

  ‘I’ve never been very far away, Cathy. Not for long. I went to Ireland for a bit, but I was still watching out for you. I got the paper posted to me. I must have missed a couple. I didn’t see an engagement announcement. If I’d seen that, I’d have come straight back. I would never have let you marry him.’

  He grabbed her shoulders again and pulled her close. Her flesh felt on fire where his fingers touched her bare skin.

  ‘I thought I’d lost you, that there was nothing left for me. I wanted to see you just one more time…’

  His piercing eyes searched her face. She felt as if he was devouring her. It was frightening, but at the same time, deep in her core, she knew there was nothing she wanted more.

  ‘The thought of him touching you…’

  Heathcliff slowly ran one hand up the bare skin of her arms, leaving a scorching trail in its wake. He stroked her neck and she wondered if the skin there was turning red from his touch.

  ‘We should be together, Cathy. You and I. We’re meant to be together. You see that, don’t you?’

  She leaned closer to him, feeling his hard, strong body against hers. It was as if their flesh was merging into one being. She could feel his breath on her check. She could feel his heartbeat, and her own heart began pounding in time.

  Edward never made her feel like this. In her whole life, nothing had ever made her feel this alive.

  ‘Cathy.’ The word was a moan. Heathcliff’s lips brushed against hers and his whole body trembled.

  This was what she had been born for.

  A harsh cry made her flinch as a hawk swooped low over them. In that moment, she heard something else. Voices. There were other people out here in the blue hills. The realisation that they weren’t alone shocked her out of the moment.

  ‘Heathcliff, no.’ She tried to push him away, but his grip was too strong. ‘Heathcliff, you’re my brother.’

  ‘I was never your brother, Cathy.’

  The voices were getting closer. ‘But people think you are!’ she almost yelled, pushing him away. His grip faltered for a second and she wrenched herself free.

  ‘What do I care what people think?’ Heathcliff snarled.

  ‘If they saw us like this, they’d say we…’

  Heathcliff’s arms fell to his side. He stepped back, his face darkening, not with passion, but with anger. ‘Do you really care what people think?’

  She didn’t answer.

  ‘You’ve always cared what people think about you. You probably even care what Edward thinks. You care more for their opinion than you do for me.’

  ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’

  She had no reply. The voices of the approaching people had vanished away onto the moors, but now, everything was different.

  ‘You know, when I saw you were married, I thought my life was over. There was no reason to go on living. One kiss was all I wanted. One kiss and I could die happy. But you can’t even give me that. Maybe it’s time you learnt what it feels like to have everything that matters taken away from you.’

  ‘Heathcliff…’ She was frightened by the intensity in his eyes as he looked at her with something very like hatred.

  He stepped back and, after one final look at her, spun and walked quickly away, sliding down the loose scree. And then she was alone in their special place, with only the endless sky and her own salty tears to comfort her.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  July, 1990

  What was that bloody noise?

  Mick raised his eyes and tried to focus on the door. Surely Harry couldn’t be making all that racket. He lifted the beer can and took a swig. It was empty. He stood up and staggered to the fridge. One beer was sitting on a shelf next to a pack of butter. There were a few bottles of jam and stuff in the fridge too, but not much else. He needed to go to the shops. He’d already had social services on at him with nutrition charts and fuck knows what else for Harry. And he needed some more fags.

  The noise started up again as he ripped the top off the can. Voices outside in the street. That was unusual. He went to the front room. Harry was standing on a chair peering out into the street.

  ‘Get out of it.’ He pushed past the kid and pulled on the curtains that hadn’t been opened fully for years.

  A lorry was parked outside the house next to his. A couple of blokes were unloading stuff from the back. Someone was moving into number 35. Mick shook his head. New people didn’t move to the Heights any more. People moved out. People got stuck here, but nobody chose to move in. Mick would’ve got out years ago if he’d thought he could sell the place. Why would anyone choose to live here? Mick watched as furniture, a big TV, and a stereo were lugged into the house. So, whoever it was, they had money, which made it even stranger that he would want to live in this shithole.

  Mick turned away from the window and headed for the front door. Least he could do was be neighbourly. Maybe the new people would invite him over for a beer. Harry followed like he always did.

  When he got outside, he noticed the car parked a distance back from the truck. It was one of those Japanese jobs
. Bloody Japs. Taking jobs away from people like him. Mick turned towards the front door of the neighbouring house, just as the removal men appeared again.

  ‘All right?’

  The men nodded and walked back to their van. Mick followed.

  ‘Don’t often see new people moving in here. Is one of you going to be my new neighbour?’

  ‘No. I am,’ said a voice behind him.

  Mick turned slowly to look at the man who had emerged from the house. He was a few years younger than Mick, but it was clear from his face and hands that he had never laboured down a mine. His clothes were trendy and clean and new, but he didn’t look like a queer. No pushover, this one, and there was something about those dark eyes. Mick felt goose bumps rise on the back of his neck as his new neighbour looked him up and down, studying him as he might examine some dog shit on his shoe.

  Then he remembered.

  ‘Heathcliff.’

  ‘Mick.’

  ‘Never thought you’d come back.’

  ‘I was always coming back,’ Heathcliff said. His low voice with the hint of Irish sounded dangerous.

  Just then, Harry pushed his way past his father’s legs to stare up at the tall, dark stranger. Mick heard Heathcliff’s sharp intake of breath, and knew without thinking what had caused it.

  ‘He’s the spitting image of Cathy, isn’t he? Nothing of my Frances in him at all.’ Mick felt the familiar grief well up inside him. He needed a drink.

  ‘So, I guess you know Cathy got married?’ He took perverse pleasure in seeing the sudden flare of anger in Heathcliff’s eyes. ‘Them Lintons closed the pit and took our women. Too good for the likes of us she is now.’

  Their conversation was interrupted as the removal men carried another load of boxes into the house, almost tripping over Harry, who was still staring wide-eyed at Heathcliff.

  ‘Get out the way.’ Mick cuffed the boy carelessly over the back of the head. Harry shrank away from him, his eyes darting quickly from one man to the other.