While I Was Waiting. Georgia Hill

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СКАЧАТЬ It’s hard enough the first time when you know what you’re supposed to do!’

      Rachel studied him. Despite what he’d said, she imagined Gabe having no problems in that department. He seemed very at home in his skin. ‘Erm, yes. Edward must have been an unusual man to have that conversation with her. I just can’t picture a repressed Edwardian telling a young girl the facts of life like that.’

      Gabe scratched his head with the pencil that seemed to be permanently stored behind his ear. ‘Don’t know how repressed they were. You say this Edward was some sort of scientist?’

      Rachel nodded. ‘He went off to university, apparently.’

      ‘Well, maybe he took a scientific approach. Just told her the bare facts, like. Probably the best way. Better than being all coy.’

      Rachel nodded. ‘Possibly.’

      ‘Kind thing to do, though. Think I like Edward. So, do you reckon she’d been hauled in to marry him, then?’

      ‘Well, Hetty certainly had that impression. It sounded as if they needed her money to keep the house going. It had fallen on hard times.’ Rachel paused. ‘She sounds torn, though, between the two brothers. As you say, Edward is kind, but Richard sounds far more fun.’ She turned to Gabe. ‘Do you know anything about the old house?’

      Gabe shifted, as if uncomfortable on the step. ‘What, this Delamere House?’ Gabe shoved the pencil back behind his ear and shrugged. ‘Don’t know, I’ve never heard of it. Likely it’s been pulled down. Especially if you said it was in a pretty poor state.’

      ‘It was, at least Hetty gives that impression. What a shame. I was hoping I could go and see it.’

      Gabe couldn’t bear the disappointment evident in her expression, so he added, ‘Tell you what, I’ll ask Mum. She’s lived round here all her life and she’s interested in old houses. She might know something.’

      ‘Oh, thanks Gabe, that would be wonderful. And thanks for all you’re doing, by the way. I really appreciate it.’ He always went that one step further, like today; she was sure he wasn’t supposed to be clearing gutters as well as re-pointing.

      ‘Not getting in your way too much, then?’

      Rachel shook her head. ‘Not one bit. In fact, I really like having you around. I hadn’t predicted how isolated I’d feel up here sometimes. It’s lovely knowing you’re here.’

      Gabe coughed to hide his pleasure. Rachel hadn’t said anything as nice to him before. Most of their conversations centred around jobs in the house or this Hetty woman. He smiled. ‘What you going to do about the garden?’

      Rachel looked about her. If anything, the neglected weeds had grown even higher since she’d moved in. She’d been concentrating on getting the house sorted. Thank goodness it had been dry; a damp spell would have made the garden even more rampant. The back of the house was better, it was shadier there, in the lee of the hill, but out here she had to concede that it really did look a mess.

      ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘I’ve just been commissioned a job, quite a big one. That’s why I had to go to London.’

      Gabe nodded. Ridiculously, he’d missed her. It had meant he got on with the guttering twice as fast, but he’d missed her presence. He gave himself a mental shake. He was getting in way too deep here. ‘What’s the job?’

      ‘A series of flower drawings for a nature magazine. They want some seasonal paintings, twelve in all, to go with an article about identifying wild flowers.’ Rachel bit her lip. ‘It’s a huge job, the biggest I’ve been offered in ages, but it’s not going to leave much time for gardening. Such a shame,’ she added, almost to herself, ‘I’d seen myself sitting out here enjoying the garden, a glass of wine in my hand. Oh well, maybe next year.’

      Gabe could see her sitting there too, in a big hat and flowery dress. He’d like to sit beside her. He sat up, as a thought occurred. ‘I might know someone who could help!’

      ‘Oh Gabe, you are kind.’ Impulsively, Rachel put her hand on his arm. ‘But I can hardly afford to pay you and your dad, let alone hire a gardener.’

      Gabe couldn’t tear his eyes away, dazzled by the warmth in her voice. He could feel his skin humming at her touch. ‘I don’t think there’d be any money involved,’ he began at last. ‘There’s a friend of mum’s. Stan Penry. I mentioned him before. He’s not long lost his wife and he’s looking for something to do. He likes his gardening. I could get him to come up and see you if you want.’

      He coughed again, to cover his pleasure at being touched. If he reacted like this to one innocent touch on the arm, what the hell would it be like to kiss her? Or do more? He cleared his throat again and shifted away.

      ‘Well, maybe that would be an idea,’ Rachel said, not entirely enthusiastic to have yet more people disrupting her life. She looked at Gabe in concern. ‘Are you all right? You’re not getting a cold or anything?’

      It was too much. Not only had she been nice to him, she was now worrying over his health. ‘Fine, I’m fine.’ He stood up quickly. ‘Better get on. Want an early finish today. I’ll get Stan to give you a ring.’

      He began to walk away, but then changed his mind. ‘You know,’ he said, slowly, as he turned back to her. ‘You could write this up, couldn’t you? Hetty’s story, I mean.’

      ‘I’m an illustrator, not a writer.’ Rachel shook her head. ‘Never written a thing in my life. It’s not a skill I possess.’

      ‘But the writing’s been done, hasn’t it?’ Gabe added, thinking through the idea as he spoke. ‘All you’ve got to do is add the pictures. The illustrations.’ He spread a hand to the view. ‘And you’ve got most of the material here.’

      Rachel stared at him, mouth open. ‘What you mean? Like a sort of –’ she wracked her brain to remember the name of the book that had taken the publishing world by storm, years before.

      ‘The Diary of an Edwardian Country Lady!’ Gabe supplied triumphantly, slapping his thigh and making brick dust fly. ‘It could be something like that. Mum loved that book. It’s still on the shelf in the kitchen somewhere. She’d buy another like it.’

      Rachel felt excitement rising. Could she produce the drawings and paintings that would fit with the strange mix of writings Hetty had left? It might just be something she could do. And it would sell. She knew enough of the market to know that. It would be a charming book if she edited out some of the more personal stuff; she didn’t think she could allow Hetty’s intimate details to be known. Then her cautious nature kicked in. ‘It’s a bit early to be thinking of things like that, though, isn’t it? I’ve only read a few pages.’

      He gave her a long, measuring look. ‘You underestimate yourself a lot, don’t you? Of course you could do it. Have confidence in what you do! From what I’ve seen of your work, you’d have no problems.’ The easy smile appeared and she realised how much she looked forward to seeing it every day. ‘I really think there’s mileage in it. Never say never, Rachel. I bet Hetty never did.’

      And with that, he strode away, leaving Rachel staring, unseeing at the view.

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