Eventually we paused to catch our breath. “Feeling relaxed, sweetheart?” she asked softly.
“I was feeling very relaxed thanks to my excellent yoga instructor. However, now my girlfriend has me feeling rather worked up again.”
“You make it sound like I’ve got multiple personalities.”
“You can add outrageously talented architect too. But it’s all one wonderful personality. You’re just ridiculously good at too many things.”
Anna’s eyes grew serious suddenly, and she moved slightly back from me, as though she wanted to see me properly. “I’m not good at everything.”
“No?” I said, smiling. “I’ve yet to discover anything you’re bad at.”
Anna looked, as she often did, as though there was something she really wanted to say, but didn’t know how to articulate. Her expression grabbed my attention at once, snapping me out of my lazy contentment and into hopeful alertness. Did she finally feel it was time to confide in me? “I know you’ve noticed,” she said.
“Noticed what?” I saw the tension return to her body and attempted to lighten the mood. “Admittedly I’ve not heard you sing, or played chess with you yet. You might be terrible at those things.”
“Well, you’re right, I can’t sing. And I don’t have the patience for chess.”
“See, I knew we were meant to be together.”
“There, that’s exactly what I mean.”
“What?” I asked, confused. From her expression I knew she was telling me something of great importance to her, but I couldn’t quite work out what she meant.
“You say things like that so easily. It just doesn’t come so naturally to me.”
“Like what, Anna?”
“Like expressing the way you feel. You’re always saying things that make me feel special, and sometimes I think I’m letting you down because I don’t.”
“Are you saying you’re bad at talking about how you feel?” I saw that trace of vulnerability in Anna, that edge of insecurity behind the confident façade.
“I guess so,” she said, shrugging awkwardly. “I’ve never been able to really tell you how much you mean to me.”
“You just did.” I tried to pull her close again. She looked so frightened of what she had revealed.
“I want to explain something to you,” she said.
“Go on then,” I said gently. I knew instinctively this was the moment Anna had chosen to tell me her story. She didn’t need my questions, just my attention.
“My last serious relationship ended two-and-a-half years ago,” she said abruptly. I knew at once I was being allowed into the place in Anna’s past and in her heart she had been scared to allow me before. I stayed silent and allowed her to continue. “It was with a woman called Louise, and we’d been together for nearly two years. We got together very quickly. I suppose I couldn’t help myself. She was just so into me, showering me with compliments and attention. And pretty good sex too. She even talked about getting married. When I told her I wasn’t sure, she got so angry. I’d never known anyone to lose it with me like that. So I reassured her how much I loved her, that I would be happy to marry her. But even when I said it, I knew it was a lie. I loved her, but not enough. What I really loved was how she made me feel. Successful, beautiful, and powerful. She played to my ego so very well.
“A few months later, all the passion had died. I felt as though she was punishing me, not wanting sex with me because I’d suggested that I might not commit to her forever. But I didn’t dare complain and risk another explosion of all that pain and anger.
“She was still so wonderful when we were in public, with friends. She would hang on my arm and look so very interested. She was pretty, you know, and everyone told me how lucky I was. I thought I must be, and I tried to believe it. But when we got home she was so cold with me. It dawned on me that she liked me for my money, my job, for the image we could present to the world together. But that she’d never really seen me. I felt used, but I felt trapped too. I was frightened of her anger, and I was frightened what people would say. I thought they would blame me.
“And a big part of me still wanted to make it work. I thought that maybe if I let her see a little more of the real me, bit by bit, she could learn to love me. How stupid is that?”
Anna paused and took a deep breath, looking at me for a response. I stroked my hand over her back. “It’s not stupid at all. Trying to make a relationship work. It’s love and it’s commitment Anna. What happened in the end?” I waited for her to go on.
“Every part of me I revealed seemed to just make it worse. It was as though I was destroying her image of me. She actually told me that I’d lied to her when we met and pretended to be something I wasn’t. In the end I almost thought she was right. I’m awful at making it clear how I feel, so perhaps it was my fault that she’d not understood me.”
“That’s not how it works, Anna.” I felt so much compassion for her, so much anger at the woman who could have treated her this way.
“I know that now. I didn’t then. And I didn’t think I could leave. I’d committed myself to her, and she told me how much it would hurt her if I left. Then one day everything changed. She came home and said she’d met someone else who wouldn’t lie to her. She dumped me. After all that, she dumped me. Even worse, she spent the next month telling all of our friends it was my fault. More of them believed her than you might think. She had a way of convincing people.
“And so I suppose I decided it was better that I didn’t look for committed relationships. It took me a long time to persuade myself it wasn’t all my fault. I thought the only way to protect myself from that again was to avoid the situation altogether. Because I really am bad at talking about how I feel. Sharing my real self in the early days of a relationship even though there’s nothing I want more. To be intimate in that way. Maybe I’m not made for it.”
“You came here with a bunch of mistletoe on Christmas Day and seduced me, and you’re worried you’re not made for intimacy?” I asked, smiling and hoping the memory would make her return my smile.
“I didn’t say sex, Ros. I can do sex. It’s really being close to someone I’m less sure about. Letting them know how I feel. If I don’t do that, how will anyone ever see the real me and want to be with me? I mean I really feel like I’m close to you—but what if I can’t ever show you in the way you deserve?”
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned lately,” I said, moved by the emotion in her words, “it’s that you can’t define yourself by your history. Stuff happens, and a lot of it hurts. But you keep living, you learn from what happened in the past, but you have to think a lot more about the future. And you have to live in the present, as well. You taught me that.”
“I know, I’m a hypocrite,” she conceded. “It was partly why I found it difficult to deal with everything you were suffering, of course. When you told me about Francesca, it made me confront some of my own ghosts. I was so ready to throw myself into a relationship with you, I was taken aback when you weren’t too. And then I began to wonder why you ended things, if it was really all about your own insecurities. I guess I was angry with myself as much as hurt by what you said. Hurt enough to avoid your phone calls. Here I was, prepared to enter a relationship, and you weren’t ready to even risk beginning.”
“You were prepared to take a risk on me?” That revelation meant more than anything she’d said. Careful and intellectual, frightened, Anna had been prepared to venture onto uncertain ground on my behalf, having only encountered me those few times. No wonder rejecting her had hurt her more than I had expected.
“I was. I thought that you saw me. Truly saw me.”
“I did. And I’m so sorry I didn’t return the favour, Anna. I was so frightened of myself at that point.”
“It’s okay now, Ros. We’re in a different place now. Thank God for rotten floors.”
“Are you still prepared to take a risk on me?” I looked at her earnestly.
“Absolutely.
But I have to tell you, Ros, it doesn’t feel like a risk. I’ve never had that before. I don’t feel I have to pretend to be anything with you.” Her trust in me moved me so very greatly. Finally I knew I could tell her the true extent of my feelings for her.
“You don’t. Anna, I see you as you are. That image never fooled me, and I don’t care about your car or your money or being on your arm in public. None of that’s important to me. What’s important is that I love you.” My heart soared as I said the words and knew it was safe to say them, a step forward, the final proof I was back, alive and in control of my emotions. Happiness wasn’t something I needed optimism to envisage now. I was happy, and the main reason for that was next to me on the spring grass bathed in dappled light. I finally felt I knew her completely. I was safe, and I was in the happy future I’d longed for. I grinned at Anna who once more looked as though she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. I pulled her head towards me and kissed her, hoping to make the reassurance more complete. “And you know, you’re very eloquent without words,” I said softly.
“Really?” Anna asked, starting to smile but still seeking my affirmation.
“I promise. But just so we’re sure, tell me how you feel now.” I knew it was okay to make the demand. She wanted to tell me, everything in her expression spoke of the words just waiting to be said.
“I love you, Ros,” she said, and my heart soared high above the trees and into the blue sky above. “You’ve come to mean everything to me.” Her tone was so heartfelt, I couldn’t help but hold her even tighter and kiss her again, hoping to tell her I felt the same without words.
“Was that so hard?” I asked her, in between kisses.
“No,” she replied. “But you knew anyway, didn’t you?”
“I had my suspicions,” I teased. “But thank you, Anna. For telling me as well as showing me.”
“Are you happy, Ros?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied, delighted to be able to give such a simple answer to her question. “Are you?”
“Completely.” The blissful expression on her face left me in no doubt she meant it.
She kissed me with more intent now, shifting so her body covered me and sliding one hand under the waistband of my loose trousers. “Shall I show you now?”
“Anna, we’re outside!”
“So? I don’t think anyone’s going to disturb us.”
“I thought you were respectable.” She slid her hand lower, apparently undeterred by my protests.
“Whatever gave you that idea?” Her fingers found their target. “Besides, it doesn’t feel as though you’re thinking respectable thoughts.”
“You have me on that one.” I inhaled the fragrant air as she began to massage me with her fingers. I groaned and looked up at the criss-cross of branches above our heads, the patches of blue sky between the fading blossoms. Her other hand reached for my breast, caressing softly. Arousal surged through me at her touch. I turned back to Anna, her desire very apparent in her expression, still hardly able to believe she was mine, she wanted me. Feeling wanted by Anna turned me on every time I thought about it. I gave myself up to it, covering her hand with mine and encouraging her to press harder, as our tongues twined together, as I undulated my body against hers as she lay above me.
She noticed when my whole body tensed, and I virtually stopped breathing, so close to the edge, and she slowed her caresses.
“Oh God…” I moaned, and she teased with her fingers. I gasped for air and pushed my hips towards her hand. “Anna, please, oh God, I’m going to…Oh God.”
She slowed her touch even more, until she was stroking me so lightly I could hardly bear it. “Anna…I have to…please.”
“I love you. Come for me now, my love.”
The breeze stirred in the trees, and I did exactly that.
*
By early June, Winter had a fully functioning kitchen downstairs, with the original range and huge table still in place. The bathroom was completely finished, in an art deco style. Much of the decorating was still underway, but the Blue Drawing Room had become a perfect living room, with powder blue walls to suit its name, the white marble fireplace and beautiful moulded ceiling restored to their original bright purity. The furniture was all dark wood and royal blue upholstery, including an antique chaise longue I’d fallen in love with in an antiques shop in Durham. Anna insisted on buying it as a house-warming gift. I’d only accepted when she’d informed me that she fully intended to help me put it to good use.
Anna was spending a lot of time at Winter, although by mutual agreement we were in no hurry to move in together. She loved her own little cottage, and I wasn’t lonely at Winter when she wasn’t there, though I was always keen to see her again. Our mutual agonising over our relationship potential might have eased, but we were both aware that small steps were safer than great leaps forward. For me, I was growing accustomed to the new feeling of being happy in my existence, and having finally made choices I truly felt were right. Anna, I knew, was growing used to the idea that I would not judge her silences as lack of caring, and that, when a relationship was based on real love, commitment did not mean being trapped. She visited nearly every day, and she stayed more nights in the week than she was away. For now, the situation suited us perfectly, and the lack of pressure about domestic arrangements left room for our relationship to flourish.
I’d also made one of the upstairs rooms a priority, and I finally had a real bedroom. One sunny Saturday morning I relaxed in my bed, thinking how much I loved the delicate green swirls of the wallpaper on the wall above the wrought iron headboard. Anna had climbed out of bed early, returned shortly afterwards with a cup of coffee for me, and informed me I wasn’t allowed to leave the bedroom or look out the window until she told me I could. She’d been unmoved when I’d tried to make her tell me what was happening with promises of a most improper nature if she did so, and left me mired in my curiosity.
I was still smiling now, an hour later, as I thought about the look in her eye as she’d blown me a kiss and slipped out of the bedroom. I’d heard a vehicle pull up outside the house and men’s voices, but I’d not been able to make out the words. I stretched contentedly in the soft cotton sheets and sat up in bed. I was smiling to myself a lot these days, and probably appeared like some sort of lunatic to many people I met.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror of the rosewood dressing table, which faced the bed. The Ros who looked back at me appeared much the same as a year ago, the frizzy curls hadn’t changed. But so many other things had been transformed. I knew myself now, and I knew what I wanted from my life. I could see a new determination in my own expression, a confidence I’d learned from Anna. My past still had its painful memories, but I knew now that it was the past. Wounds healed and life went on. A scarred heart didn’t stop beating. I looked forward to my future with real hope, knowing Anna was a fixture in it, and I belonged here at Winter.
A few minutes later Anna came back into the bedroom. Even dressed in her faded jeans and baggy white shirt, her hair loose and almost—by her standards—unruly, she was stunning. She lay by my side on the bed and propped her head up on one arm, grinning mischievously, then leaned down to kiss me. “Good morning again.”
“Good morning again.” I pressed close to her. “Mmmm, you smell different,” I said appreciatively. She smelled of orange blossom, violets, and freshly cut grass.
“I wondered if you’d notice.”
“Is it the one I bought you? Vent Vert?”
“Of course. You have impeccable taste.”
“It smells better on you than it did in the bottle.”
“That means you chose perfectly.” I smiled in satisfaction that my first exclusive perfume buying expedition had been a success.
“You smell of summer. Hints of what’s to come.”
“Oh, there’s so much to come, sweetheart.”
I turned to kiss her again, feeling the heat beginning to pulse through my
body. But I wanted to know what the big mystery of the morning was. “Am I allowed out of the bedroom now?”
“If you really want to get out of bed,” she said, her hand sliding over my body.
“It’s Saturday,” I said, smiling and forcing myself to resist the temptation for now, “we can come back to bed later. Right now I want to know what you’ve been up to this morning.”
“In that case, come with me,” she said, springing out of bed like an excited child. I followed her, pulling on a purple cotton robe from the end of the bed. We went down the stairs, now re-carpeted in a beautiful crimson, and crossed the hallway to the front door. She stopped and grinned at me. “I bought you a present.”
“Another one?”
“It’s my prerogative to spoil you if I want to. Besides, this one’s for Winter too.”
“Come on, put me out of my misery!”
“Okay, come here.” She pulled me to her, stood behind me, and put her hands over my eyes.
“Is this some sort of new kinky game?” I asked, giggling.
“No, but we can try it later if you want. For now, just reach out and open the door. We’re going out and down the steps, and I don’t want you peeking.” I did as she said, and we went out into the warmth of the early summer sunshine. The stone of the steps was warmer than the tiling of the hallway floor beneath my bare feet. Anna guided me down some of the steps, turned me slightly, and then we stopped. “Are you ready?” she asked.
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