‘I’m a keen hiker,’ he says.‘Well, I used to be. Not so much lately.’
You’re full of surprises,I think but don’t say it aloud.
‘Do you want me to come with you?’ he offers. ‘It should be fine tomorrow or the day after.’
I pick at the ragged edge of the bar mat, incredibly tempted by the thought of spending more time with him. But it isn’t a good idea.
‘Thanks, but I should be fine,’ I say, thinking that it’s better to be safe than sorry. ‘I’ll probably go with Klint.’
But I know with utmost certainty that he won’t want to set foot on the moors.
Chapter 7
Wander as I may through the house this night,
I cannot lull the blast.
(Charlotte Brontë,Villette)
‘How did it go?’
Klint is sprawled on the bed with his laptop propped on his chest. From what I can see, he’s playing a computer game rather than working on his thesis.
I shuck off my damp windbreaker and hang it on the back of the door before answering, ‘Good, I think. We didn’t talk too much about the Brontës, though.’
Klint scooches into a sitting position, putting his laptop on the bed, and frowns. ‘I thought that was the whole point. What did you talk about for an hour?’
‘Uh, his childhood. His aunt. His cat.’
He rolls his eyes. ‘Sounds fascinating.’ His attention returns to his game, and I lie down on my side of the bed, facing him.
‘He’s sending me a link to the online Brontë Museum and Library.’
Klint is busy moving soldiers around in his virtual army and doesn’t reply, so I close my eyes. ‘How was your meeting?’
‘It was cancelled. The station manager lives in Keighley and didn’t want to drive over in the fog on his day off. We’ve rescheduled for next week.’
My eyes fly open.If we’re staying in Haworth for another week, I could meet with Dain again.The thought thrills and dismays me. I can’t. I shouldn’t. As if it’s a warning, my arm, which has been fine all day, starts throbbing.
‘Oh. Should we extend our stay at the hotel then?’ I ask nonchalantly.
‘Could do. I’m expecting another funding payment to come through tonight. Unless you want to shift to an Airbnb? I found one that looked OK.’
I take a deep breath. ‘We can stay here. I’m getting used to it now, and there haven’t been any paranormal happenings so far.’It was only my overactive imagination.
Klint nods in agreement. ‘Great, I was hoping you’d say that as I can’t be arsed moving.’
After dinner, Klint is in the restaurant, working on his thesis; and I’m lounging on the bed, flipping through the movie channels, having finishedVillette. The book has put me in a strange restless mood. The hastily wrapped-up ending has me longing for something more satisfying. It doesn’t help that the wind has chased the fog away and is moaning at the windows once more. I flick off the TV with the remote and flop back on my pillow. My traitorous mind fills with questions.
Whereabouts in the village does Dain live? What does he do at night? Does he like reading contemporary novels or only classics? Does he wear pyjamas?
I send out my random questions into the universe as I lie there, looking up at the plaster ceiling, feeling silly. Why does it matter if he wears pyjamas or not? But my wonderings have obviously sent out some kind of psychic vibe his way because, when I look at it, my phone shows an email notification from him. The back of my neck prickles. Spooky.
I grab my laptop from my tote and fire it up. Might as well see what he’s written properly.
Hi Lizzy,
Great chatting with you today, even if I did hog the conversation. You wanted to discuss the Brontës, not hear my life story! Anyway, as promised, here’s the link to the museum and library collection, where you can browse as much as you like. If you want to talk about anything, I’m around the parsonage most days. Just follow the sound of someone lecturing.
