Ruin (4 page)

"Actually," Ben said, "I was going to cook."

Jane and I stared at him. "Why?" I asked.

"I like cooking, and I haven't had a chance to do it in a long time."

I was about to ask him why not, but decided not to. Besides, I was still stunned at meeting a guy who liked to cook.

"Sure," Jane said. "You can make dinner. I'm not that great a cook anyway."

"Do you have a grill?"

"Not one that works."

"A stove?"

"Of course she has a stove," I said. "They don't live in the Dark Ages."

Jane pushed open one of the heavy double front doors. The smell of dust and damp wafted out. I was used to it, but now I saw the house through a stranger's eyes as Ben looked around. He took in the threadbare carpet covering the broken floorboards, the gaps on the wood paneled walls where old paintings had once hung before being sold off, and the darkness. Mrs. M didn't like the curtains to be open, even during the day. Daylight hurt her eyes apparently. Despite all the problems, the entrance hall was still a statement of grandeur. The dominant central staircase split in two halfway up, each side sweeping left and right in arcs to the next floor. It was a staircase made for dramatic entrances by debutantes and socialites. High above us, the cobweb-shrouded chandelier hung like a planet in space. None of the hundred-odd globes had worked in years.

Jane put a finger to her lips. "Shhh. Gran's having her afternoon nap. Come with me to the kitchen."

We walked down the long corridor to the back where the servants would have once bustled about, fixing dinner for the Merriweathers. It was much the same as it would have been a century ago with the enormous iron cooker, the large central workbench, and the collection of pots and pans hanging from ceiling hooks above it. Sometimes I thought I could still hear the echoes of those busy servants, barking orders, chatting and sometimes singing to pass the time.

Ben must have felt it too. He set his duffle bag down and ran his fingers along a deep cut in the benchtop. He looked around and breathed deeply. "This is an amazing place," he said.

"Amazingly old and tired, you mean," Jane muttered. "I'm sorry about the conditions. It's tough to keep it all going." Her voice hitched and she looked away.

"Hey, it's better than my place," Ben said cheerfully.

"You have a place?" I asked.

"No."

I laughed and Jane smiled. "Put the steaks in the fridge for later," I said. "Let's show Ben to his room."

"But I haven't made it up," she said.

"We'll do it now while he gets to work on...something."

"I'm spoiled for choice," Ben said.

"Sorry," Jane muttered.

"Stop apologizing." I grabbed her hand. "Come on."

Ben picked up his bag again, and we returned to the entrance foyer. We climbed the stairs to the next floor. Jane and I tiptoed across the landing. Ben tried, but he was too big not to make any noise. One of the floorboards creaked.

"Is that you, Jane?" called old Mrs. M from behind the first closed door on our left.

"Yes, Gran," Jane called back. "I've got some friends with me. I'll be there in a minute."

"Friends? What friends? Jane Merriweather, who have you brought here? I demand to know."

"It's just me, Mrs. M," I shouted. "Kate Bell."

"Oh. You."

I rolled my eyes at Jane. Her grandmother had never really liked me, but I didn't take it personally. It was more my position in the social order that she didn't like, rather than me. She didn't think I was good enough to be friends with a Merriweather. Problem was, nobody left in Winter was good enough. Anyone with any pretensions had got out before or soon after the mills closed. Mrs. M was one of the few who'd stayed, and she'd paid the price, not only in the loss of her sole income, but also in her loss of friends. Sometimes, I actually felt sorry for her.

We continued past her door, but didn't get far.

"Didn't you say
friends
?" Mrs. M called. "Who else is here, Jane?"

Jane grabbed Ben's arm and pulled him after her. "I'll explain later, Gran."

"Jane? Jane? Miss Jane Amanda Merriweather, get back here!"

Jane pointed at a closed door. "Leave your bag in the corridor," she said to Ben. "I'll prepare the room while you go and do whatever you need to do. There are tools in the old stable block. Kate, put your stuff in my room."

"Jane!" screeched Mrs. M. She had an amazing set of lungs on her for a frail old thing.

"Coming." Jane opened her Gran's door and slipped inside. I heard their murmured voices, but not the actual words.

I was left alone with Ben, staring at the shut door. "Is she in trouble for bringing me here?" he asked.

"I'm sure Mrs. M just needs time to get used to the idea."

"Is she always like that to her granddaughter?"

"Yeah," I said softly. "The worse her health gets, the worse she treats Jane."

"That doesn't seem fair."

"No, it's not. But who's going to stop her? Jane could, but she won't leave. Her Gran is all she's got, and Jane's all Mrs. M has got. They need each other, in a weird way."

He gave a grim nod. "It can be nice to have someone." His gaze flicked to me then away.

He strode off down the corridor, back the way we'd come. I had to run to catch up.

"I'll take you to the stables," I said.

We went back out the front door and rounded the side of the house. Ben stopped before we'd got too far and looked up at the external wall. "These vines will do a lot of damage if they're not removed."

"And who's going to remove them?"

"Couldn't the town organize a working party?"

"Mrs. M wouldn't have anything to do with it. She believes in paying people to do her bidding, which is one thing I admire about her. If there's no money to pay, it's up to family, and Jane's her only family..."

"That's a lot on Jane's shoulders. I suppose she'll inherit this place?"

"What will be left of it by then. I think old Mrs. M will live forever."

"That may not be a bad thing. At least Jane'll have someone for a while yet."

That was the second time he'd mentioned family with wistfulness in his voice. He'd already said he had no siblings, and I was beginning to think he also had no living parents.

"The old stables are this way," I said.

We followed the drive past the side of the house to the stable block. He helped me open one of the creaky old doors. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dimness inside. The windows were so filthy that hardly any light could get through.

"Isn't anything locked around here?" he asked, walking straight in.

"Nobody steals anything in Winter."

"Why not? Your local cop a real badass?"

Dad was so far from badass that I laughed. "No. I guess there's just nothing in town worth stealing."

He fought his way through a low-hanging cobweb while I stayed back. No way was I walking into that thing. What if the occupants were still living in it?

"I don't know where the tools are," I called out. He'd disappeared down the back where large wheels and an old cart loomed out of the darkness.

"You should come down here," he said. "There's some amazing old stuff."

"There's a huge cobweb in the way."

He emerged from the shadows, a smile on his lips. "It's not an impenetrable force field."

He poked a finger into the web. It shook, but didn't break.

"It looks horrible. Can you see any spiders?"

"No. It's probably abandoned."

"I'm not sure I want to take the chance."

He held his hand out low, beneath the web. "Let me help you."

"I don't need help walking through a damn cobweb." I took his hand anyway. A wash of tingles traveled from our joined fingers up my arm. Our gazes locked, and I could have sworn time slowed. My awareness of him heightened, blocking out everything else. I could hear only our breaths, loud in my ears, see only his eyes and that intense blue gaze that was all for me.

"Come with me, Kate." His voice thrummed in my veins.

"Yes," I whispered.

His free hand lifted the curtain of webs, and I stepped underneath it without a moment's hesitation. He lowered it again and his fingers brushed my shoulder, down my bare arm to my hand. He held both my hands in his. They were warm and big and closed around mine easily.

I wanted to be closer to him, to feel more of that heat. I took a step forward. Lifted my face. He lowered his, and I knew with every piece of me that he was going to kiss me. I wanted it. It was crazy and way too fast, but I shoved that little voice away and listened to my heart.

Besides, it was pounding much too hard to be ignored.

I breathed in the scent of him. He smelled like sunshine and fresh grass, like he'd been lying in a park somewhere, taking in the scenery. I liked that idea. Liked it very much.

Then he let go of me. I must have been leaning forward because I stumbled a little. He wasn't there to catch me. He stood with his back to me, dragging his hand through his hair.

"Sorry," he muttered. "That was...wrong."

It hadn't felt wrong.

But I couldn't tell him that. For one thing, I didn't think my voice would work, and for another, it was bad enough being rejected once, I didn't need to relive it.

He stalked off to the back of the stables. I felt sick to my stomach, and my heart hurt. I wanted to run out, but I forced myself to stay. I could pretend that it was no big deal, if I put everything I had into the lie.

Fuck, fuck and damn.

What the hell had just happened? I'd never felt anything so powerful. When he let me go, I felt...hollow. Like something had been taken out of me. Something that was raw and vital.

Something I needed.

Chapter 3

Ben made a lot of noise down the back of the stable block until he finally emerged carrying an old wooden box filled with tools. He gave me an uncertain smile that made my knees weak.

Whatever mortification I'd felt at him pulling away vanished.

"Want to show me the water heater?" he asked.

We left the stables and made our way round the back of the house. I could feel his hot gaze on me, but I didn't feel self-conscious. I felt beautiful, which blew my mind, in a good way. How could such a hot guy desire
me
? I thought I was pretty, but definitely not beautiful.

"Wow, look at that," he said on a breath.

I stopped dead, paranoid that I'd suddenly developed a hole in my shorts or something equally humiliating. But he was staring beyond me to the river. I turned to follow his gaze, and for the first time, I took in the view the way a stranger would. I saw the elegant weeping willows bowing down to meet their reflections and the ducks paddling lazily in the shallows. The colors seemed unnaturally bright. The green of the trees, the blue of the sky and water, the yellow ball of the sun hanging over everything. It was breathtaking.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"For what?" He stood very close. Too close, if I wanted to keep my brain functioning. But it wasn't me who took a step away. Ben did, as if he'd also suddenly realized he was standing too near.

"For showing me how pretty this place is. I've been coming here for years, looking at that river from this very spot, but I've never really
seen
it." I shook my head. "It sounds weird."

"No," he said. "Sometimes we don't know what we have until others point it out to us."

"Yeah."

We stood there in the breathless hush. A sense of deep satisfaction settled over me, and I could have stayed there all afternoon. Ben broke the silence, however, with a long, slow breath.

"As much as I want to stare at that scenery all day, I've got work to do," he said.

We walked side by side to the back of the kitchen. The water heater looked as ancient as the house, but was probably only a few decades old. He checked it out while I hovered nearby, not sure whether to stay or go. In the end I stayed because he looked mighty fine as he got all hot and greasy.

After fifteen minutes, he shook his head. "It's about to die. Mrs. Merriweather will need a new one."

"Oh. She can't afford it." I looked at the tank and swore under my breath.

"You can get cheap reconditioned ones, although I don't recommend them. She's better off buying a new one. It'll last longer."

"Probably longer than her."

"But not Jane."

"No, but she may not stay around long enough to get the maximum benefit of it."

"Why would she leave? Look at this place."

I barked out a laugh. "It's falling apart!"

"Yeah, but..." He sighed. "It would be a shame to give up so much family history and memories. She must love this house."

I shrugged. "Once Mrs. M has gone, she'll probably move on, start a life of her own somewhere there are people our age."

He blinked at me. "Right. Okay."

He didn't get it. Clearly he wasn't someone who'd lived in any place long enough for it to get stale.

"So Mrs. Merriweather is sick?" He squatted beside the toolbox, not looking at me. He didn't take out any tools, just rummaged through them.

"She's been sick for as long as I can remember. I'm not sure what's wrong with her. Hypochondria maybe."

He picked up the box and stood. "How long has Jane been taking care of her?"

"Her parents died ten years ago. They all lived here. After their deaths, Mrs. M became Jane's guardian, but as Jane grew up, it was difficult to tell who was looking after whom. Now, it's very obviously Jane taking care of her Gran."

We walked together to the front of the house, past the tangle of vines and overgrown shrubs. I decided that I'd spend more time up here this summer and try to tidy it up a little. It would be hard work through the heat of the day, but there was little else to do in Winter. Maybe when Beth returned she could help too. Her parents had met her at college, and they'd all gone to the beach together. Some families did that. Not mine. Our fourth friend from school days who still had a connection to Winter, Lucy, probably wouldn't be coming home at all. She'd got herself a summer internship at a law firm. I'd miss her. It would be the first summer in Winter where one of us was missing.