Dangerous Encounters

Chapter 8 Liz makes a proposal, complications loom at site.

Chapter 8 

Sunday had been good to us, the weather warm and springlike. We had roamed the valley and up into the hills. I had photographed Ruth many times, lanky in a floppy pullover, jeans and hiking boots. We had returned to the cottage tired, happy and hungry, and eaten Ruth's delicious meal, a game pie, which she had plucked out of my mind as being a favourite, but difficult for the solitary to organise. We had loved in the four poster bed, now warm after two continuous days of burning the inglenook fire. 

Now it was coming to an end. We were at breakfast on Monday morning. Ruth said with a break in her voice, "Could we have just one more day - one more night? It seems so short a honeymoon." 

"No, my sweet. I have to work." 

The back door was open to let in the fresh spring smells. The raven flapped to the door threshold. Ruth stood up and held her hand out. With a flap of its wings, noisy in the space of the small room, it came to her hand. It made a skirling call, intimate and quiet. "Now come and talk to my lover," she took my hand and moved it palm upward in front of the bird. 

He hopped onto my hand and his weight brought the grasping cool sharp feet onto my fingers. It looked at me head first one side and then the other. "Here, stroke his head," she whispered. The bird pushed his head against her index finger. I did the same as she. 

Ruth took a soldier from the boiled egg she had been eating and gave it to the bird. It accepted it and then with a great rush of wings flew arrow straight through the door into the sunlight. 

"I wouldn't have missed that for the worlds," I said. 

Sadly, we tidied up the little cottage that had been the crucible in which our love had been fired, and packed our things. I picked up the depleted packet of condoms. 

"I won't need these except for you. You keep them." 

"If you'll allow me to use the Bank Account for it I'll see if I can go back on the pill. But they sometimes warn the older woman against it." 

"That's a good idea. Whatever you feel comfortable with." 

We made the trips to the car on the precarious footpath. Then we locked the door. 

Kenny said, "Did you have a good time?" then he smiled, "Who need ask? You look like different people." 

Ruth said, "It's a lovely place to find yourself. Can we have it some more?"  

"Week ends?" 

"Yes." 

"Ms Howard that's not so easy once the season starts, I can let you have it in a fortnight. Then I keep it for people who book complete weeks, until late October." 

"Let's book that week end, Graham."

"Yes, we'd like it." 

"OK," He made a note, "Is there anything broken that I need to organise?" 

"No," I said, "but did you know some of the handrailing has gone on the path?" 

"Oh no, I must fix that right away." 

We stopped at Woolley Edge. "I don't want anything," said Ruth. 

"Neither do I." 

"Except," she trembled, "I'm dreading the separation that's only an hour or so away." 

I held her hands. "There's the telephone, and I'll write. Tell me where the nearest Post Office is and I'll send you letters Poste Restante for you to collect."