Watch for Me by Twilight

by Kirsty Ferry

  ‘Oh – I say. Right. Yes.’ Rob peered into the gloom. The flickering shadows were playing across the brick wall facing him and there was also a golden light coming in from further afield, to the right.

  ‘Come on.’ Stella suddenly turned and vanished.

  ‘Stella!’ He stopped and reached his hand out to the right-hand side, hardly believing what he had seen. No way could she have disappeared into thin air. She had to have gone somewhere.

  And then he spotted it. ‘How very clever,’ he said, half to himself. ‘A fake wall.’

  ‘Come on!’ Stella’s voice echoed excitedly. ‘There’s nothing to fear. Turn to the right, then sharp left.’

  Rob puffed out a breath. ‘I’m coming.’ He studied the gap in the two walls, trying to make sense of what the creator of this folly had done, then gave up. It was not for him to think. He just had to follow her as he had promised. As well as the golden light, there was a reddish glow from somewhere. He fixed his eyes on that and did as Stella had instructed, and immediately found himself in a little room.

  Rob let out a low whistle. ‘My God,’ was all he could say. ‘Where are we?’

  ‘Behind the fountain. See?’ Stella indicated a wall, which made no real sense to Rob, but he trusted her. She had clearly been here earlier tonight. There were candles in the brass sconces, all lit and warm and welcoming, and a small fireplace was set into the wall. She had lit that too, and it was those dancing flames which threw reddish light along the hidden corridor.

  ‘Stella!’ He was stunned. Absolutely stunned. ‘I’m half under, I have to be. This isn’t real. Is it?’

  ‘You’re not half under. You’re perfectly sober. It’s real. It’s all real.’

  The room must have been about twelve feet wide by twelve feet long. There was a wicker chair and a small table by the fireplace, and a pile of neatly folded blankets stacked up on the polished floorboards. A brass bin held wood for fuel, and there were two coat hooks on the wall and a brass rail at waist height. Several fluffy towels hung on the railing and two warm-looking robes dangled from the coat hooks.

  Rob looked up, and he could see stars through the windows in the cupola.

  ‘There’s more,’ she said. ‘Do you trust me?’

  ‘Always.’ He dragged his gaze away from the room and back to her. ‘But what can top this?’

  ‘Watch and learn.’ She dropped to her knees, and leaned across to a small trapdoor on the floor he hadn’t noticed. She grabbed hold of a brass ring and tugged gently. The trapdoor lifted, and he hurried forward to take it from her as she knelt before a large hole in the floor. Light flickered through there too, accompanied by a small breeze which gently lifted a few curls from Stella’s forehead.

  ‘There’s a staircase! So this is your hidden wine cellar. I often wondered.’

  ‘Indeed it is. And look – some helpful person already stocked it with champagne for later. I don’t bring everyone down here, you know.’ She looked up and smiled at him. ‘In fact, you’re the first person ever to have come in here with me, apart from my brother.’ She swung herself around so her legs were dangling down the hole. ‘It’s very safe. I promise.’

  She began to climb down the steps and Rob shook his head. ‘I suppose I have to follow you down there as well, do I?’

  ‘Not at all. Just wait there and I’ll send a bottle up to you. There you go.’ She smiled up at him. ‘Now,’ Her voice echoed a little. ‘Be a darling and grab the robes, will you?’

  ‘The robes?’ He looked at them hanging on the coat hooks and shrugged. ‘The robes it is then.’ He grabbed them and waited as she clambered out, the robes in his arms, the champagne bottle held carefully in his hand.

  ‘This way,’ she said, relieving him of the bottle. ‘I want to show you something else.’

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Back the way we came. Do you need to hold my hand?’ There was amusement in her voice.

  ‘I don’t know if it’s a case of needing to hold it, but I’d quite like to.’

  She stretched her hand out and beckoned. ‘Come on then.’

  ‘I trust you.’ He took her hand and her fingers entwined with his. Her hand was warm and soft and fitted his perfectly as it always had done.

  ‘Good.’ She laughed, a low throaty sound that was nothing like her normal giggles. It sounded strange and very alluring.

  She began to tug him back through the room, and soon they were in the woods again. ‘Now this way, on this tiny little path around the other side. Can you see it? I’ve made it rather special.’

  Rob looked where she indicated and, threading their way through the darkest part of the wood, was a little trail, lit by candles in jam jars.

  He grinned. ‘I wonder where this will lead to?’

  ‘Why, Heaven, of course.’

  Stella led the way along the candlelit trail in the woods, and they broke out onto the riverbank. The warm evening air wrapped itself around her as the River Hartsford rushed past, and a little further along, the Faerie Bridge was a dark shadow against the sky. She had another collection of candles in a semi-circle and a picnic rug all laid out, with a wicker hamper in the centre of it.

  ‘Ta dah!’ She sang out a little triumphant tune and waved her arm, encompassing the river. ‘What do you think?’ She twirled around and looked eagerly at Rob.

  ‘The riverbank?’ Rob laughed and put his hands on his hips. ‘Very nice. I’ve never come that way before. It looks jolly beautiful as well, with the starlight twinkling in the water, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Will you write a poem about it?’ teased Stella. ‘All about the moon and June and – I don’t know.’ She shrugged and laughed.

  ‘I do. Here.’ He pulled the ever-present notebook out of his pocket and produced a pencil from somewhere. He scribbled down a few words in the gleam of candlelight and handed the page to Stella. ‘My masterpiece, my love.’ He bowed and stepped away so she could read it.

  ‘“Twas in the month of June and she danced naked ‘neath the moon. My love was gone too soon, and led me to my roon”. What the hell is that supposed to mean?’ Stella re-read it laughing.

  ‘You’ve led me to my ruin, of course! Roon, ruin, what’s the difference?’

  Stella gave a shout of delight. ‘There’s a world of difference. But, you’re in trouble. In fact – give me your pencil, please.’ He did so and she bent her head to the task, scrawling some words beneath his, finding it difficult to keep the writing neat with nothing to rest on except her thigh.

  She handed the page back and Rob took it with a smile twitching at his lips. ‘“Rubbish! Not amused. See me. You’re in big trouble. This is simply not worthy of the great “Jack Shelley”.’ And you’ve underlined amused. How splendid. What’s my punishment to be, then?’

  ‘This, Mr Shelley.’ She plucked the paper away from him and tucked it in her pocket, then reached out and started to unbutton his shirt.

  ‘Hey! I say!’ It was Rob’s turn to laugh. He reached up and covered her hand with his. ‘I thought you said it would be a punishment! D’you need some help with that?’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘Your hand’s shaking.’ He disentangled it from the fabric and brought it up to his mouth. He kissed it gently and smiled down at her. His eyes glinted mischief in the starlight.

  ‘It’s because I’ve never actually swum naked with anyone before.’ Her voice was low and husky.

  ‘Oh! And is that what we’re going to do?’

  ‘Yes.’ She giggled and laid her head against his chest, burying her burning cheeks against the cool fabric of his shirt. ‘I’m sorry. It seemed like such a good idea earlier.’

  ‘It is. It’s a very good idea. Do you need some help with your clothes? My overcoat, that is?’

  ‘Maybe a little.’

  ‘All right.’ He slipped off his own shirt and dropped it to the ground. His muscles, toned from so many years of university sports, stood out clearly as he opened the top few buttons of her
coat, and his fingers brushed her bare skin, sending tingles of excitement all over her. ‘Oh, my goodness,’ Rob continued. He made a show of leaning forward and peering. ‘Lady Stella, you appear to have forgotten your underclothes. You do intend to swim naked, don’t you?’

  ‘My goodness.’ Her voice was as shaky as her hands. ‘Have I really forgotten them?’

  ‘I think so. I might need to explore further.’ This time, there was a little tremor in his voice. She didn’t stop him as he unbuttoned her coat some more and she positively encouraged his further exploration, turning her face to the sky and closing her eyes, parting her lips as the fireworks shot through her system.

  Finally, she was naked, as the coat eventually dropped to the ground and she helped Rob remove his trousers. Then they stood, facing the moonlit river, and held hands.

  ‘Shall we?’

  ‘Yes. Let’s.’

  They jumped, as one, and Stella shrieked as the cold water engulfed her.

  ‘Oh, my God!’ she cried, half laughing. ‘I didn’t think it would be so cold.’

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ll soon warm up.’ Rob was laughing and treading water. The river wasn’t that deep really; Stella could probably have stood on the bottom and just had six inches or so of water above her head, but it was deep enough that they could swim and dive around one another.

  ‘Was this what you meant about being wild?’ asked Rob.

  ‘Yes. And I haven’t shown anyone else that room at all – believe me!’

  ‘How long’s it been here?’

  ‘Since I was twelve. My mother heard about the design from somewhere and wanted it recreated. She died before she got a chance to use it though.’ Stella screwed her face up. ‘My father wouldn’t let us down here, so we could never play in it. And to be fair, Leo was too old to play anyway.’ She swam around to Rob and he caught her in his arms. ‘None of my other chums have ever been in the secret room – not Helen, not Rosie – none of them. Just you.’

  She bobbed gently next to him and he held her tight. It was a strange sensation; his cold, wet body next to hers. She’d never been naked with another person before, but with Rob it didn’t feel odd. It felt right.

  He drew her closer and the water didn’t seem so cold any more. He nuzzled into her neck. ‘Then thank you for showing it to me. Are you feeling chilly yet?’

  ‘Not right here, not when you hold me like that.’

  He smiled. ‘Are we to stay in here all night then? Stella, you’re shivering.’

  ‘Not with cold. You see, I’ve never – done it – before, either. But I’d rather do it on dry land, I think.’

  ‘It?’ He smiled down at her. ‘So that’s what this is about then? You wanted to seduce me?’

  ‘Yes.’ She wasn’t going to lie. ‘It’s my birthday and you’re the only person I’ll ever want in that way.’

  ‘Stella.’ He held her away from him gently. ‘Is this the champagne talking from earlier?’

  ‘No. This is me, absolutely sure that I want my first time to be with you. My first time and all the other times after that. I’m ready, Rob. I am.’

  ‘Are you sure? I don’t want to—’

  ‘Yes.’ She pressed up against him. ‘I’m certain. Like I said, it’s my birthday and I can do what I want. I’ve waited ages. Shall we go back to the little room? There’s a fire there and we can dry out.’

  ‘Slow down. You do realise once we’ve done this, there’s no going back?’

  ‘I know. I’m not going to play the silly virgin, don’t worry.’ She grinned. ‘It’s you I want. It doesn’t matter if we do it now or tomorrow or next week or next year. You’re it. You’re mine.’

  He drew her close again and kissed her, slowly, his lips warm in the curve of her neck, on her lips, on her collarbone … Meanwhile, his hands traced the outline of her shoulders, her back and the curve of her behind with languorous, delicious movements. The fireworks started up again and her toes curled. This was what she’d craved. His fingers on her skin, their bodies as close as it was humanly possible. She wanted him with every fibre of her being.

  ‘Stella, I want it too, and I want more than anything to make love with you, but I don’t want you carried away by everything and then regretting it tomorrow.’

  ‘I won’t regret it. And if we go back to the room, I’m prepared.’ She felt herself flush furiously. ‘I’ve got – things – in the coat pocket. You know. To stop me having a baby.’

  Rob laughed and pulled her even closer. ‘Oh, God, Stella. Never change. Never change.’

  ‘But I don’t know if I want to wait until we get back. I—’ She ended the words on a little gasp as he kissed a trail from her collarbone to her shoulder and she thought she would explode. ‘Oh, Rob.’ The words were little more than a breath.

  ‘Stella.’ He kissed her again and scooped her up gently in the water, cradling her close. ‘If you’re absolutely certain, and you’re prepared, as you say, I’m very happy to comply.’ His voice was light-hearted, but the way he held her so very, very tightly and buried his face in her neck told her he meant every word. ‘I love you and I’ve always loved you.’

  ‘I love you too,’ she murmured.

  And he carried her to the shore, and held her in his arms, all the way back to the secret room.

  Chapter Eight

  Present Day

  Motorbikes were Cassie’s secret obsession. Her Pinterest board was filled with them.

  She hadn’t ridden a bike for absolutely ages, what with organising the Living History weekend and helping Alex and Elodie out. She had a bright red Yamaha in the garage, but it was tucked at the back behind everyone else’s cars and it hadn’t been out for a decent run since the previous autumn. She had taken it for a nice long drive up to Aldeburgh, on the coast, in September. They’d had an Indian summer, and she wanted to make the most of it.

  This T5 machine made her want to go straight into the garage and get the Yamaha back out. Then the sensible side of her remembered that she had a visitor to the Hall and he was here to show her something that he thought was relevant to the Country House Party Weekend. She watched covetously as he pushed the bike up the drive and parked it.

  ‘I’ve got a Yamaha R6,’ she said. ‘Red and black. Love it.’

  Aidan let out a low whistle through his teeth. ‘Nice. Do you get out on it much?’ He unzipped his leather jacket and revealed a close-fitting black tee-shirt which made Cassie take notice of him again, rather than the bike.

  ‘Not really.’ She put her hands on her hips and forced herself to look back at the T5. ‘Not as much as I’d like. There’s been lots going on here that I need to prioritise.’ She shrugged. ‘I’ll get out on it again soon, I will.’

  Aidan laughed. ‘You sound as if you’re trying to convince yourself.’

  ‘Maybe I am. Anyway. You said you had something to show me from the Hall?’

  ‘Well, I was hoping you could help me with that.’ He went over to the bike, hung his helmet off the handlebars and opened the bike’s storage compartment. ‘This book belonged to one of my relatives, Robert Edwards.’ He handed Cassie a small, brown-coloured book, its pages held together with an elasticated band, not unlike a Moleskine today. The stitching down the spine was a little frayed and the pages yellowed where she could see them, but there were tiny gold-blocked initials in the bottom corner – RE.

  ‘Robert Edwards.’ Cassie looked up at Aidan and frowned. ‘Why do I know that name? Wasn’t there a war poet called Robert Edwards?’ Vague memories of alliteration and enjambment came back to her, relics of English Lit lessons at high school.

  ‘That’s him. He made his name during the second world war.’ Aidan could barely hide the pride in his voice as he continued: ‘He was one of these chaps who finally found a niche, and his niche was words – his war poems were the most brilliant things he did, and they’ve kind of been his legacy. He seemed to try everything before all that, and he wrote some not so good poems as well when he was youn
ger – many of them referring to his “muse”. I’ve never known for sure who she was, but I’m interested to find out. I’ve only got a handful of Robert’s things that he left behind at the family home when he joined up. Came to me through my Great-Great-Grandfather Jack’s side. My own grandfather told me that Jack looked up to Robert. He was his hero. So much so, that he joined up as soon as he could as well. But Jack died right at the end of the War, so we only ever had stories.’

  Cassie smiled. ‘My brother’s a bit like that with a couple of our relatives. Nothing wrong with a bit of hero-worship. What makes you think Robert Edwards had a connection to the Hall, though?’

  ‘The last page in that book. Here, let me show you.’ He leaned across and took the book back. As he came close to her, Cassie was aware of a smell of cedarwood and petrol, combined with leather, and it was rather pleasant.

  Aidan gently eased the elastic binding off the book and opened it to the last page. ‘I think this might be your Spa. I saw the old photograph in the magazine article and it just looked the same.’ He shrugged and stared at the sketch. ‘I came here in February, but you were closed to the public, so I couldn’t look. I just wondered if Hartsford was a house he used to visit. Then I saw your photograph and it made me think about it again. So much gets lost when people tell stories through the generations, doesn’t it?’

  It wasn’t a particularly good sketch, but Cassie could see where he was coming from. There was a pool, and a tennis court and the corner of a building that might have been their very own squash courts.

  ‘It does. But I can understand how you thought it might be here.’ She looked up, towards the tennis courts and pool beyond and nodded towards them. ‘Come on. Let’s go over there and see if we can match the angle he drew it at.’

  ‘Sounds good to me.’ Aidan nodded and closed the book up. ‘Will I be okay to leave my jacket and helmet with the bike?’

  ‘Of course. Nobody’s going to steal it.’

  He looked at her and grinned. ‘Are you sure about that?’