“Well,” said Mavis, tapping my hand reassuringly. “I happen to know the Director is looking for something – someone – very particular. He’s a firm idea in his mind of the kind of person who would fit in with his way of doing things – that’s what the crew told me, when they gave me the card. He’s a tough old stick, they say, is Nicholas Crowthorne.”
I shivered at the name, Nicholas Crowthorne. Now the marketing made sense. My skin pebbled, for some reason, and my hairs stood on end to hear about a man who was particular about his needs. I couldn’t help but wonder if I might meet those needs, and what he’d say if I was to present myself, looking for work.
“He sounds...mysterious,” I said. “What makes you think he’d accept me?”
Mavis’ eyes twinkled mischievously; a knowing look which piqued my curiosity all the more.
“He needs somebody capable of the work, yet sensitive, discrete, respectful...”
“You think that could be me?” I asked, feeling baffledyet hopeful. I’d never considered that I could leave the dale before now. It had never been a possibility.
Mavis smiled fondly. “You’re young. So, so young, with enough responsibility behind you for ten people. I thought of nobody else but you when I read the description. With your skills, your experience, your...well, you. You’d be the perfect choice. Who knows. It’s London. This could be a whole new start for you.”
I stared at the card and began to dream up impossible dreams, excitement building in my belly.
Could another life be waiting for me, far away from everything I knew?
Mavis drew her hand away abruptly as Tom approached with our coats, his eyes moving between the pair of us, wondering what we’d been discussing. I folded the card into my palm and pocketed it in my purse, never meeting his gaze as I shrugged on my coat.
“Think about it,” Mavis whispered, giving my arm a squeeze. “Nice to see you, Tom.”
“What’s Mavis want you to think about?” asked Tom, frowning after her. As if it was any of his business. Once again, that eerie feeling crept over me, wondering what Tom had on his mind.
“Nothing,” I said, sighing. “I’m ready if you are.”
The walk was slow and arduous, but not because of the terrain or even the drizzle. The tension between us was tangible. I longed for us to be kids again, when things were simpler and there were no expectations, and when Tom didn’t make me feel this sense of dread within my core.
As we approached the front door, I decided to break the tension myself.
Breathing out a long sigh, I turned to face Tom on my doorstep.
“I just wanted to tell you how grateful I am to you for tending the cows and chickens all these months, while I looked after my mother. I couldn’t have coped without you,” I said. I meant every word. Tom had been worth his weight in gold.
“Don’t mention it,” he said. “I’ll receive fair pay when it’s time for the cows to go to market.”
“Right, of course,” I said. “But I wanted to thank you all the same. You’ve got your own lot to tend to, and I’ve no right to impose on your time.”
“It’s no bother,” he said, gazing off into the distance. The last smear of orange sunset was disappearing behind the hills, leaving its cloak of deep navy blue behind, dotted with sparkling stars. A romantic night’s sky, for the right couple.
“It’s a pleasure to help you, Grace,” he said, finally looking at me. “It’s always been my pleasure.”
I swallowed hard, letting my gaze drop to my feet. Suddenly I regretted stopping on the doorstep without putting my key in the lock first.
“Well, thank you,” I said. “Goodnight, then.”
But Tom didn’t bid me his farewell and step away. He stayed firm, and before I knew it, I felt his hand curling around the back of my neck. He urged my head towards him and kissed me hard, his lips covering mine with a sudden aggression that made me moan my horror against his mouth.
I shoved him in the chest and pulled away, wiping the offensive sensation from my lips.
“Tom, what the –”
He looked stricken, at first, and then angry. Even in the darkness, I could see his complexion deepen as heat rose behind it, and his eyes pooled with a loathing I had never seen in him before. Never directed at me, anyway. Not until now.
“You said you were grateful,” he said stiffly. “I’ve been patient, Grace. I’ve been respectful while you grieved, while you looked after your mother –”
I felt my expression twist in confusion, and disgust.
“All this time, you did this because of...of what? Because you thought it would make me feel obliged to..?”
