Luke Adams Boxset 1

by Dawson, H A

  What else was there for Leanne to lose? Tyler was her one remaining relative, and he had gone, and now, as if life wasn’t bad enough, she found herself without a job. She may be wealthier than before, but as she contemplated her options, deciding if she should sell the house or have it renovated, she decided that the income from the sale would be no match for all that she was without.

  ‘What are you doing here? Visiting someone or passing through?’

  Leanne raised her head and looked vacantly at the woman.

  ‘You’re a pretty little thing,’ she continued, ‘have just the right proportions I’d say. Girls, these days, are far too skinny. It’s unhealthy I tell you . . . no good for you.’

  Her body tightened and she pressed her arms across her breasts, conscious of her extra weight.

  ‘I’ll bet you have the men queuing up. My girl was like that. Gorgeous she was, I’d have fancied her myself if she wasn’t my daughter.’ She cackled. ‘And, of course, if I was a man. I can’t do with those queers. It’s not natural you know. God made men and women for each other. All that other stuff . . .’ she pulled a face, ‘. . . should be banned. They can even marry now, did you know that?’

  The woman did not wait for Leanne’s answer and continued to babble, unaware, it seemed, that her eyes were expressionless and her mind wondering. When the woman stopped speaking, Leanne jolted and looked up, straight into the woman’s drilling eyes. ‘Sorry, what did you say?’

  ‘What you doing here?’ the woman asked.

  ‘I’m looking for Fen Lane.’

  ‘Fen Lane? It’s the other side of the village, just on the edge. It used to be quiet along there, but they’ve built an estate close by after farming land was sold. I curse that woman for selling! This village once had two hundred residents but now it has over two thousand. Did you know that?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘When I was a lass, it was a beautiful place to live, now it’s filled with yobs. They hang around the pubs and at the youth centre in the village, and they frighten the life out of us old folks. I told the council there would be trouble. They didn’t listen you know. I told them, I did.’

  Leanne rushed down her coffee and cake. The monotonous tone of the woman was grating and she was unable to maintain focus on the conversation for long. She didn’t want to appear rude, but she wanted to leave; her ears were starting to hurt and her head was pounding. She stood up. The woman continued to prattle, unwilling to take the hint.

  Leanne waited. She opened her mouth to announce her departure. The woman spoke even faster. With her patience wearing thin, she spoke in a loud, clear voice, talking over her and telling her of her decision to go.

  The woman stopped mid-sentence, her mouth agape.

  ‘Nice to meet you,’ Leanne said, and scampered away.

  Smiling wryly to herself, she stepped outside and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. The café assistant was depositing something in the bin at the rear. She caught her eye. ‘Sorry about Mrs Wilkinson,’ she said, ‘she’s a bit lonely . . . lives alone and has no family.’

  She frowned. ‘So I’ve gathered. She can certainly talk.’

  ‘Don’t let it put you off. She’s only ever in on Tuesday mornings, as regular as clockwork, never any other day.

  ‘I’ll remember that.’

  ‘She drives some of my other customers away . . . at least the intolerant ones.’

  Stepping away, she wondered about the elderly woman’s situation and her overwhelming loneliness. In addition to being without family, she may not have much to occupy her days and may spend her time watching television or staring into space. Her life was likely to be different to her grandmother’s; she had always had someone with her and never felt the need to seek out strangers. Was it due to chance or had Janet made more of an effort to acquire friends? Leanne turned the ignition key, released the handbrake, and pulled away. Her grandfather’s voice sounded in her head. ‘Life is what you make it,’ he had once said. He always had been positive.

  Leanne drove steadily along Fen Lane in her car, passing cottages close to the village and glancing towards the isolated houses further along. Clouds were gathering, darkening the skies overhead and decreasing her visibility, and the wind whipped the branches overhanging the lane. She felt cold just looking outside, and shivered involuntarily.

  The first house she passed had lights on in the downstairs rooms and two cars occupying the gravelled drive. She hoped it would be easy to determine which house was Honeysuckle Cottage, and ambled by, following the natural curve in the road and glancing at the scurrying rabbits. It narrowed and became a single track. She avoided a pothole and the ragged edge and pulled away from an encroaching hedge. Then the view opened out, and before her, set back from the road, stood a boarded-up house, dilapidated barns, and a row of tall trees. Her heart leapt; she had arrived.

  She turned along a track overrun with weeds and tall grasses and arrived at the house. She turned off the engine, retrieved her three-quarter length woollen coat from the back seat and stepped outside. The sun peeked through a gap in the clouds, illuminating the house in a pleasing glow. It was a welcome sight.

  Painted white, there were ten large windows, a stone porch, and at the rear almost out of sight, an adjoining building set at an angle. It was far bigger than she expected and appeared fantastically spacious. She could live in style and have a lounge, a dining room, a study, and a library. She would even have room for a piano and could have parties and put up any number of guests. Her lifestyle would be different to what she had now and it made her three-bedroom townhouse seem poky in comparison.

  Dumbfounded, she continued to stare, searching for cracks, loose tiles, and sagging walls, but there didn’t seem to be anything in need of repair, forcing her to conclude that her grandparents must have maintained it. Why they would do such a thing and then leave it empty was beyond her reckoning.

  Regretting her inappropriate footwear, she strode to the rear and trod through the long grasses and weeds in her ninety-millimetre heels. Rather than pondering her defence, she imagined Phillip’s mocking reprimand and a smile slipped to her face. He would have loved this house; he had always wanted a place in the country.

  Her sadness fluttered. She fought to disregard it and willed herself to be grateful for her good fortune, but a pleasure had to be shared to be appreciated, and with Tyler away, she had no one. She dropped her hands into her pockets and watched two pigeons scuffle in a tree.

  If only Phillip had not chosen to go paragliding in France. Then they would be stood together, their excitement mingling, the beauty more vivid. More than likely, they would be considering moving and she may even be thinking about setting up a handmade jewellery business, her true desire. She puffed out. It was not to be; her life had taken a different turn.

  Living alone in a house so large would be a step in the wrong direction. It would overwhelm her and she would feel even more isolated than she already did. At least her existing home was part of a community, and if her loneliness intensified so much that it became unbearable, she could chat to passing folks. She turned around and glanced along the lane. Not even one car had passed since she had arrived. Her decision to sell was gathering strength.

  She wandered around the perimeter of the house, her eyes drawn to what once would have been the garden, and her mind became cluttered with memories. Believing she must have once lived there, she pondered the vision in her mind: the colourful blooms, the herbs, and the vegetables. She could see herself running across a lawn to a swing, and then tripping and falling. A woman had loomed overhead, screaming at her for dirtying her dress before slapping her thigh. Recoiling, she had peered over her shoulder, searching for comfort. An older woman had stood by the door of the house, her face pensive. Had that been her grandmother?

  Leanne had to find out more. This house was her heritage. It would be foolhardy to sell it immediately and she needed a reason to stay. She didn’t have to live in the house permanently but
could stay for a few days at a time, reasoning that it may provide her with clues to finding her mother. Needing guidance and a friendly voice, she perched on the edge of a wall and removed her phone from her pocket

  Tyler answered within seconds. ‘Hi Mum, I can’t talk long, we’re just about to go into the Imax at the National Media Museum. It looks fantastic . . . something to do with space.’

  ‘So you’re having a good time?’

  ‘Everyone’s great. We’ve just had the biggest lunch. I’m stuffed, I can’t move. Tomorrow I’m going to meet my uncle. He’s a son about my age. I can’t wait. It’s just what I needed.’

  She held her breath, her words restricted.

  ‘What did you want?’ he asked.

  ‘Nothing. I just wanted a chat with my boy.’

  ‘I thought you’d be at work.’

  ‘I . . . I’m visiting a house, one that Gran owned. You’d like it, it’s massive, and in good condition.’

  ‘I didn’t know she had another house.’

  ‘Neither did I-’

  ‘Sorry Mum, but I’m going to have to go. Fill me in later?’

  ‘Okay. Love you.’

  ‘You too. Bye.’

  The ring tone sounded in her ear. She slipped her phone into her pocket, pulled her collar tighter around her neck, and stood up. She missed him and her heart burned. He should be with her. She should, at least, be able to provide him with a family. What kind of mother was she? She continued around the side of the building.

  She spun around, her subconscious informing her of another presence. There was an elderly man wearing big baggy trousers and a scruffy woollen jumper standing in the adjacent field and staring. Even after she made eye contact, he did not speak and continued to gawk. Feeling ill at ease, she approached him, treading with care as she progressed through the long withering grasses in heels.

  ‘You living here now?’ he asked.

  ‘I . . . I’m not sure.’

  ‘It’s been empty for years. All these fields,’ he pointed, ‘are mine.’

  ‘Did you know the owners?’

  ‘Might have done.’

  ‘Mr and Mrs Coombs?’

  ‘Aye lass.’

  ‘What do you know about them?’

  ‘You a journalist?’

  ‘No.’ She hesitated. It may not be a good idea to share her position with him. ‘Did you know Roy and Janet Jefferson too?’

  A faint smile crossed his face and his eyes glazed. ‘I knew their daughter, Karen. She was a live wire. I don’t think there was a man around here that didn’t know her.’ He grinned, a wide toothless grin. ‘Who are you?’

  She looked at her feet. ‘Is she still around?’

  ‘Has been, on and off.’

  ‘Do you know how I can contact her?’

  He offered nothing more.

  ‘Please, it’s important. Have you seen her recently?’

  ‘You related?’

  ‘She’s my mum,’ Leanne blurted. ‘Can you tell me where she is? I have to find her.’

  He turned and started walking away. ‘I know nothing.’

  ‘Please, it’s important.’

  ‘I’ve said enough already.’

  ‘But . . . do you know where she is?’

  He made urgent steps away from her, walking along the edge of the field and ignoring her as though she did not exist. Her opportunity was fading and her panic rising.

  ‘Wait, please,’ she cried.

  She stepped forward, but her shoes were ridiculously unsuitable and caused immense difficulties, and she had to retreat. Having returned to the house, she slumped onto a brick wall and pondered their conversation. Her mother was alive, at least that had been confirmed, so where was she and why hadn’t she attempted to make contact?

  The reality of her situation gripped, weakening her body and overwhelming her mind. Her mother had abandoned her, and her grandmother, whom she trusted wholeheartedly, had lied to her for years. How could they, damn it? She sat in the chilling air, frown lines upon her forehead and with her lips pouting. She knew nothing of the circumstances surrounding her mother’s departure, and there was no one who could tell her, bar the woman herself. It was frustrating.

  Her eyes wandered to one of the boards on the window at the far side of the house. It looked as though it was lifting away. She walked towards it, stepped over the shattered glass on the ground, and lifted the board. Inside the house, there was darkness.

  Crouching to one side to allow as much light through as possible, she peered into the room. There was a carpet on the floor, light fittings hanging from the ceiling, and a large dresser at one side. In the centre was a rectangular table. She strained her ears, searching for noises, but only heard the whooshing of the wind and a whistling sound coming from overhead.

  Scurrying to the door, Leanne fumbled in her pocket, feeling the soft woollen texture of the fabric in her fingers, and extracted the key. She had to throw herself against it before it opened, and then it swung in, causing her to stumble.

  Feeling like a trespasser, she peered through the doors and into the downstairs rooms. It was difficult to see anything, as little light filtered from the doorway across the lobby, but she could tell that there was furniture within, increasing her bewilderment. It was puzzling that Janet would leave the property in such a manner. What kind of person would not want to live there?

  ‘Hello?’

  The voice startled her. She spun around and looked towards the outer door. The man’s figure was shadowy and indistinct.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I didn’t mean to scare you. I saw the car and wondered if everything was okay.’

  She stepped towards him. He backed away into the light and her body rippled with excitement. He was gorgeous with dazzling eyes, high cheekbones, and dishevelled hair. And he smelled sensational. Her eyes wandered down his frame, noting his wide shoulders and strong slender legs.

  ‘I’m Steven,’ he said, stretching out his arm.

  ‘Leanne.’

  I’ve been keeping an eye on this place for years. We walk past every day.’ He looked down to his dog. ‘Don’t we Tansy?’

  The dog, a scruffy mid-brown short-haired mongrel, looked to him, panting emphatically.

  ‘I’ve just inherited it.’

  ‘You knew Janet?’

  ‘She was my Gran. How did you know her?’

  ‘Just in passing. She kept the place in order. I only saw her a couple of times but she seemed a nice lady. Sorry for your loss.’

  Suddenly, it didn’t seem that important. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I never understood why she didn’t live here,’ he said. ‘I thought that maybe it was too big for her.’

  ‘It is rather grand. It’s all a bit of a mystery to me too. I thought I knew everything about her, but she never even mentioned this place. She never even told me that my mother . . .’ Leanne gulped. He was staring; he was holding onto her every word. But it was too soon to share the news that she still processed in her mind. ‘. . . never mind. How often did she come down?’

  ‘Not often. Roy used to keep the place in order. I take it he was your grandfather.’

  Leanne nodded.

  ‘I assume he died.’

  She nodded again.

  ‘I used to see him a couple of times a year, and then . . . well, that was it. He was a friendly guy.’ His eyes glazed. ‘It must have been about five years before Janet paid a visit. I once believed, a few years ago, that they were planning to move here. They had a heating system installed and the whole place was modernised.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘You’ll love it inside. I guess you’ve already found out it’s furnished?’

  ‘Yes. Do you know anything about the original owners?’

  ‘No, afraid not. It wasn’t your grandparents’ house then?’

  ‘It was.’ She hesitated. ‘They did live here for a while, but they inherited from a Mr and Mrs Coombs. I’ve no idea who they were.’

 
Steven leaned against the wall and held her in his gaze. Her heart fluttered and she could sense her eyes widen, absorbing every flicker and every breath.

  ‘Well Leanne,’ he said, ‘I must say you have brought a bit of excitement to my day. Are you planning on staying?’

  ‘I . . . I think I might.’

  She traced his muscular tone, studied his slender boyish fingers, and gazed adoringly at his rosy cheeks, and her blood surged, rising up through her collar to her face. She could barely breathe, besotted by his presence, and gawked.

  ‘Great. I’ll look forward to seeing you again. I’ve got to go, Andrea’s expecting me.’

  Her heart sank. His wife? It had to be. He was far too nice to be single.

  He spun around and passed her a twisted smile. ‘My ex.’

  Chapter 4

  Steven ambled along the path, his gait loose; his left arm swung at his side, his feet pointed outwards, and his head bobbed. She visualised his smile, his beautifully symmetrical face and his dazzling eyes, and she imagined running her fingers across his body and through his hair.

  He turned his head, caught her looking. Embarrassed, she looked away, but then, unable to resist, peered out of her eye corner. He had a glint in his eye and a hint of pink in his cheeks, and slowly and almost seductively, he smiled. Holding her breath, she felt her heat rise and her pulse vibrate across her body. She lifted her head, too wrapped up in her tingling emotions to maintain any aloofness, and smiled back. With one easy swing, he threw a ball for his spirited dog.

  The teasing look in Steven’s eyes remained with Leanne as she watched him disappear from view. There was now no doubt in her mind that she would have to stay, in the least to assess the property and furnishings, and maybe, just maybe, they could form a friendship. Did he pass every day? Would he come in for a coffee? What did he think of her?