Luke Adams Boxset 1

by Dawson, H A

  How long had her grandmother lived here? Had she known the house intimately, its creaks and groans, its walls and recesses? Leanne’s own recollections were vague, experiencing only moments of familiarity, from trotting through the vast house to climbing onto an older woman’s lap. She could almost smell Janet’s fine figure, a comforting maternal aroma, safe and reliable. However, such memories relating to her mother seemed non-existent. Where had she been? Why was she absent from her memories? Had she erased her for some atrocious reason? It was also possible that she never had a relationship with her mother, and her disappointment rose and her decision to search for her seemed like a foolish and rash quest.

  Unable to blank her wandering doubts, she considered her conversation with Luke and wondered if he acted with honesty and was as supportive as he had appeared. Had she seen derision hidden behind his eyes and dishonesty behind his words of support? Uncertain of her response, she thought of Imogen, her perfect figure, and beautiful mellow skin tone and lush eyelashes, and wondered about her opinion. Did they think her stupid and laugh at her expense?

  Leanne headed into the kitchen, glimpsed at the newspaper and jacket left by the unidentified visitor, and strode to the sink. The water spluttered through the system, first grey, and then clearing. Her thoughts, the mystery surrounding her mother, were still in her mind, and she prayed to Janet, her questions innumerable. Had she carried the answers to her grave? Had her last words been an accidental mumble? Maybe there was wisdom in her intended silence; maybe she was better off in her ignorance.

  There was a sharp knock at the door. Startled, Leanne hurried through the lobby, her longing directing her towards images of Steven.

  She opened the door. Her heart sank. ‘Hello, Ted. Thanks for doing the work.’

  ‘You get my invoice?’

  ‘Yes. I can pay you now if you like.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  She reached for her handbag, retrieved her wallet, and headed to the table.

  He hovered beside her, his eyes wandering around the room. ‘Anything else you need doing?’

  ‘I don’t think so, but I haven’t been here long. How can I find you?’

  ‘You may see me in the fields, but failing that, my house is along Birch Lane.’

  ‘Where’s that?’

  ‘Just off the main road . . . can’t miss it. Mine’s the one with farm buildings.’

  ‘Okay.’

  She counted out the notes and then straightened her back. He was staring at the jacket.

  ‘Do you know who’s that is?’

  He turned away and plodded to the outer door. ‘I know nothing.’

  Questions regarding his acquaintance with her mother edged towards the tip of her tongue. She held back, her foolishness overriding her inquisitiveness, and followed on his trail.

  A gust of air rushed into the house. There was a blanket of grey clouds overhead, and a gentle sway of branches nearby. Grasses were withering and leaves were turning brown as the dark winter days approached.

  ‘A man passed by the other day,’ she said, ‘his name is Steven. Do you know where I can find him?’

  Ted stopped and turned. ‘Steven George?’

  ‘I don’t know his surname. He has a dog.’

  ‘Aye, that’ll be him. He lives on the edge of the village. He often passes this way . . . usually about this time.’

  ‘Have you seen him today?’

  ‘Not for a few days. I heard his missus is giving him grief.’

  ‘I thought he was separated.’

  Ted grinned. ‘Is that what he said?’

  ‘So he’s not?’

  ‘Not for me to comment.’ He headed away, stepping through a weave of trampled grasses.

  Forlorn, she returned to the kitchen to make a sandwich and reprimanded herself for putting her expectations on a man she hardly knew. She should never have had the boards removed, and should have taken the time to consider her actions. What an idiot! What would Ted think when she asked him to replace the boards, as she feared she must? She would be a laughing stock, and rightly so. Would Steven realise one of her primary motives for the stay had been to form a relationship with him? Would he tell his friends, the community? Would her mother hear of her stupidity?

  Leanne dropped to a seat and held a hand close to her mouth, her foolishness grating. Even if a relationship with Steven were to blossom, which now seemed unlikely, it would take time, and that was not something she had. Her life was in the city; Tyler was in the city. She needed companionship and a job. She would not find what she was looking for in an isolated house in the country.

  She leaned back into the chair. A little voice told her she must forget Steven and return her thoughts to her search for her mother. Yet no matter how she tried, she could not eliminate the visions from her mind - the teasing glint in his dazzling eyes, the seductive expression on his face, and the muscular tone of his slender legs. He was a wonderful man. Her chest swelled with sorrow.

  She scanned the garden and the adjoining field, her eyes passing through the dusty glass. It was a lifeless vista. Wanting for the comforting sights and sounds of someone familiar, she thought of Tyler. With only a brief text and a promise he would call later, her loneliness was crushing. In her turmoil, she reached for her phone, dialled his number, and held her breath.

  It rang and rang. He would be enjoying himself, as he should be; yet she still prayed he would answer. He didn’t. For a couple of minutes, she sat and waited, urging him to return her call, yet she knew, as hard as it was to admit, that his desires to speak would be far less than hers. Tyler had already told her that he was okay, but his written words were insufficient. She needed to listen to his voice and hear the proof, and she needed to feel his youthful exuberance, a trait unappreciated by the young.

  Leanne plodded up the staircase, following the stream of light that passed through the landing window. She skimmed the fields, the small row of trees, the flat farmland, and she looked for Steven along the edges, her longing refusing to budge. The vastness of the landscape was intimidating, and she wondered how anyone could find it anything other than hostile. Wondering if that was how her grandmother felt, she left the room and moved to the next. Inside were two single beds, a wardrobe and a dresser. She headed to the window and perched on a padded stool, and gazed at her reflection in the mirror. She was almost certain that his room had been hers, yet her memories were hazy.

  A few days previous, she had recalled her childhood yearning to be with her mother. It seemed real, and it was quite understandable if this was the last place that they had last been together. But as she had scanned the darkness with the torch, her recollections had developed into something more. She had missed her father, and her sister and brothers too. Considering she was an only child, the thoughts were chilling.

  She scanned the room, gazing at the beds and the old wooden wardrobe with curved edges and a brass handle, and searched for answers to a shrouded past.

  Her phone rang. Startled, she sprang to her feet and plucked free her phone.

  ‘Tyler,’ she said, ‘how are you?’

  ‘I’m fine. Sorry, I haven’t called.’

  ‘What have you been doing? Is everyone being good to you?’

  ‘Yeah, everyone’s been great. Jake, my cousin is fantastic. He was telling me about all the concerts he’s been to. He’s had some pretty wild times.’

  ‘Like what?’

  Tyler hesitated. ‘Oh. Just parties.’

  ‘I hope you’re behaving yourself.’

  ‘I always do.’

  There was a hint of irritation in his voice, but he continued to chatter, telling her in detail about the closeness of the two families and the life they shared. Wandering towards the window, she struggled to find the right tone in her voice and grappled with her concerns. What kind of principles did these families have? Was he going to all-night parties, drink and drugs, as had been Darren’s way? Had she taught him well enough to know the difference between rig
ht and wrong? Was he experimenting with girls?

  Her replies shortened as she fought with her dilemma. She had much to ask and so little time, and did not want to dampen his mood or his desire to speak with her again; yet despite her efforts, a concerned comment slipped through her defence. Her regret was as instant as his belligerent reply.

  Finally, he asked her about the house.

  ‘I’m staying here while you’re off school, but don’t forget, if you need me, I can be there in a couple of hours.’

  ‘What’s it like?’

  ‘Impressive, you’ll like it. The house is in good shape, but the garden is nothing more than a bed of weeds.’

  ‘What are you going to do with it?’

  ‘I will be selling it.’

  A flash of movement outside caught her attention. A woman was fleeing towards the barns, away from the house and with a jacket and newspaper in hand. Panic clutched Leanne’s throat, tightening her breath.

  Tyler was saying something, but his words floated in the air. She was fixated on a podgy woman with short dark-brown hair, a thick blue jumper, and loose fitting jeans trotting through the clumps of grass. Then the woman disappeared out of view.

  She ended the call, raced downstairs, and flung open the outer door. Passing through the cool gusts of wind, she scampered across the ground. Her heel caught and her foot slipped free. She stumbled. She rushed back for her shoe, her eyes glued to the trampled track.

  ‘Wait!

  There was no reply.

  She carried on, scurrying around the back of the barn. In the distance, heading towards the village was a fading figure. Leanne’s moment of opportunity had gone.

  The charm of the house was fading and Leanne’s childhood memories were losing significance. She had explored every room, every drawer, and every cupboard, and it provided her with little more than a faint appreciation of her newly acquired assets. There were no further clues relating to the history of the place, nor of the strangers Mr and Mrs Coombs. Her grandparents had removed all personal possessions and documents.

  The vast space, the silence, and the absence of happy vibes, caused her sorrow to swell. It was a house that should be shared and have children skipping along the corridors, adults relaxing in the music room, and visitors commenting on the beauty. Her loneliness had never been greater, and her memories of family life a distant dream.

  To be alone in a tiny room was acceptable, but to be alone in a vast house was not. She sank her arms onto the kitchen table, clasped her hands and puffed out, and for a moment, she listened to the silence. There was nothing, no gusting wind, no passing cars, and no voices. A shiver travelled across her body, descending her spine. She held her breath, almost too intimidated to break the atmosphere, and felt the eeriness encompass her.

  She yearned for Tyler, Phillip, and Janet: her son’s youthful exuberance, her deceased husband’s confidence and support, her late grandmother’s wisdom and friendship. Were Janet and Phillip side-by-side, watching over her? Not the religious type, although not an atheist, Leanne’s uncertainty lingered; yet she still hoped for a reassuring signal or gesture, something that would give her the power to pull herself away from her misery and search for something more.

  With a heavy heart, she considered her options. She should return home, search for a job and give her life meaning, but deep within was an unsettling ache, a yearning for Steven. She fought to brush it aside, but as she did so, it appeared with more influence and clarity, and the butterflies danced in her stomach.

  The teasing twinkle in Steven’s eye became more pronounced in her mind, yet so did Ted’s suggestion that he was married and her face scrunched. She told herself that he would not have lied, said he was not the type, and focused on his last words. ‘My ex,’ he had said. Definitely, ‘my ex.’

  However, she hadn’t seen him since the start of the week, and she wondered if he had been avoiding her. Perhaps he was still with his wife and had realised his mistake, or perhaps she meant nothing to him and the perception she had of his feelings was nothing more than fabrication. Carrying the dirty plate and cutlery to the sink, she decided it was too soon to be involved with another man, especially since she wasn’t certain he was single. Her life was too cluttered with grief to make space in her heart for such a complication, and her desires too few. Steven was a friendly man. He probably had a flirtatious glint in his eye with everyone.

  Concluding she had no reason to stay, at least not until she had a lead on her mother’s whereabouts, her departure seemed imminent. Deciding to search for any carelessly scattered possessions, she checked each of the downstairs rooms in turn, and in doing so closed the curtains, turned off the lights, and closed the doors. Then she progressed upstairs and entered a room overlooking the rear fields. Having proceeded to the window, she gazed outside.

  Beyond the barns, at the other side of footpath and hedge, was a housing estate. It was a recent development, with the houses appearing to be ten to fifteen years old. The structure of each was simple and box-like, and the gardens small. Then, her gaze wandered along the adjacent track, and onto an adjoining cul-de-sac. A person wearing trousers and a jacket climbed a stile, exiting the estate, shortly followed by a child. Together they headed alongside the wall and out of view. Moments later, two more people emerged from the next street, both following the same track and with both women wearing long woollen jackets.

  Leanne’s curiosity triggered and she thought about the intruder that had been in her house earlier in the week. Believing the woman may have lived in the estate, and with little to do apart from returning to her family home and the suffocating memories, she decided to take a walk.

  Grabbing her three-quarter length coat and handbag, she left Honeysuckle Cottage and headed around the back of the barn and along the track. There had been a little rain in recent weeks and the ground was firm and the moisture sparse, meaning she was able to keep the bottom of her trousers free from splashes. Even her ankle boots still gleamed as she reached a gap in the wall.

  She scanned the street. There were numerous parked cars in the distance and a gentle murmur of voices floating by. Up ahead, three energetic youngsters raced from somewhere out of view to a car and waited on the roadside, their excited babble too difficult to decipher. A man and a woman appeared moments later, and they all climbed into the car and headed away. With the gusts cooling her skin, she continued towards the vacated parking space. She hadn’t made the distance when two young women with pushchairs and engrossed in a conversation, crossed the street and turned into the same spot. Seconds later, she saw the village hall, set back and out of view of the rest of the street. Today, a fete was taking place.

  Nervously, she followed them inside. The room was bustling with stalls, and through a door at the opposite side was a sign for a café and a games room. Heading in that direction, she weaved past the warm throng of bodies and stopped at a table containing lacework, from tea cosies to tablemats. After offering a polite glance, and with her face deliberately nondescript, she moved to the next table, but rather than looking to the assortment of cakes, she turned to the centre of the room and scanned the meandering folks.

  Most people were fifty or older, with younger men, in particular, quite scarce. Disappointed that she could see neither Steven nor the female intruder, she looked towards the doorway at the far side. Three small children scooted towards a thirty-something woman on a stall, almost skidding on the shiny wooden floor as they crossed the middle of the room. Then, clutching something, and with the woman ordering them to walk and not run, they headed back, their steps quickening with each heartbeat.

  Leanne decided to follow. Feeling a little lost without a companion, she kept her head low and her eyes averted. The corridor was heaving and personal space limited. The first room served teas, sandwiches and cakes, and the next room was the games room. There were a surprising number of youngsters in the far room, and she peered inside, noting how easily the teenagers controlled the animated youngsters.<
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  Turning back around, she almost stepped straight into three teenage girls, all with wafer-thin bodies and wearing skimpy glittery tops and tight pants. They looked lovely - she could almost smell the hormones oozing from the nearby boys as they unashamedly inspected them up and down - yet she could not help feeling that they were a little skinny and nothing like she had been at that age. Darren had told her she had been nicely rounded with more than a handful to fondle; yet, she had felt fat and heavy-breasted and avoided anything tight or revealing. With hindsight, Leanne decided she had been shapely, and now craved that adolescent figure.

  Holding her arms across her middle, she stepped into the café. An elderly couple blocked her view, yet she could still see numerous tables and chairs, tightly packed and mostly occupied. A burble of voices filled her ears as she breathed in a stale scent of air mingling with a slight aroma of coffee. She looked to a plate, and a jam and cream scone, and her mouth watered.

  The couple shuffled forwards in the queue, enhancing her vista, and her eyes stopped dead. Steven was at a table at the far side of the room. Leanne’s heart hammered and her mouth loosened. He was talking, apparently quite intimately, to a woman. Was she his wife?

  Their closeness was evident. There was adoration in his eyes and a pureness radiating from his heart. He swept back his golden-brown hair with his hand. He smiled. He rested his hand on hers.

  Leanne dropped her gaze. Phillip had been her life-mate, her one chance at love. She wanted for no one else. Downcast, she waited as a young boy and his mother moved through the door and then followed them back into the main hall.

  It had been a pointless exercise and she wanted to return home. Patiently, she squeezed through the groups of people striding to the outer door.

  ‘Leanne?’