Georgia Hill - While I Was Waiting

‘You do that. I’ll knock if I need anything, but apart from that, you won’t see me.’

After that anti-climactic start, it was exactly as Gabe said. The scaffolders were a noisy, cheerfully coarse bunch, who swore freely but who were only there for a couple of hours on the first day. Rachel guessed they’d been chivvied along by Gabe and her gratitude and liking for the man increased. After the scaffolders disappeared, apart from the odd thump and the sense that there was someone else around, it was relatively quiet, even peaceful.

The days settled into a rhythm. Gabe arrived early in the morning, sometimes with Mike but more often on his own and, without ceremony, got on with the job. After waving to Rachel as she sat at her desk in the window, he disappeared around the back of the house. Unless she made an effort to do so, Rachel hardly saw him.

On lunchtime of the third day, Rachel’s curiosity got the better of her and she went to find Gabe to ask about progress.

Her beautiful red-brick cottage had been encased, almost in its entirety, in ugly scaffolding. She found Gabe perched halfway up the back of the house re-pointing the wall. She peered up, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun. He was dressed in his customary jeans and scruffy t-shirt. From her position on the ground, she couldn’t help but admire the view of his beautifully shaped rear and long, well-muscled thighs.

‘Hi,’ he said, without turning from his work. ‘Surprised the damp hasn’t penetrated that back wall more. This mortar’s shot to bits.’

‘Would you – would you like a tea, or coffee or something?’ Rachel said hesitantly. ‘I was just going to make myself one.’

At this, Gabe did turn round. He looked down at her and blew his hair out of his eyes. ‘That would be great. Could do with a break. This job gets really tedious after a while.’

‘I’ll be on the front step, then.’

‘Sweet. I’ll be there in five.’ He gave her a charming grin, which made Rachel’s heart skip to a girlish beat.

And so, a pattern for the days was set. Most lunchtimes Rachel and Gabe met on the front step of the old house, just as they had on that first evening, and sat, drinking tea. Rachel began making sandwiches too, which Gabe ate like a man starving. She thought it might be awkward, but strangely it wasn’t. It was companionable, even. He was the exact opposite of someone she expected to get along with, but even when they had nothing to say to one another, the silence was comfortable. It was all very odd.

Once or twice she’d shared an ongoing piece of art and, again, he’d shown that surprising sensitivity.

‘The views from here must be inspiring. Maybe you could do something based on a landscape,’ he suggested. It echoed an earlier idea she’d had.

‘The views are stunning and they are inspiring,’ she admitted. Then she’d turned to him and laughed. ‘They’re also really, really distracting. I had no idea watching a flock of sheep chase a farmer on his quad bike could be quite so fascinating.’

Gabe had grinned and told her it was Terry Garth. He’d shaken his head. ‘He’s completely addicted to his new toy, but claims it speeds up feeding time.’

‘When are you coming down The Plough?’ he asked one day, having demolished the doorstop cheese sandwiches Rachel had provided. ‘There’s a good crowd on a Friday night.’ He turned his face up to the sun with evident pleasure. ‘Oh boy, we’re lucky with this weather. Makes the job so much easier. We can get on far more quickly.’

Rachel could feel the heat radiate from Gabe. Could smell him; soap and something expensive. His smooth skin seemed even browner today. She looked away, anxious not to be caught staring. He disconcerted her. Something about his animal presence attracted her deeply. But it was that very quality which disturbed her too. None of the men she’d known had that almost primeval, base quality that emanated from Gabe. And her first impression had been right. He was resolutely straightforward and honest. It was very refreshing.

With difficulty, she focused on his question. Part of her knew she ought to try out the local pub; it would be a good way to get to know some of her new neighbours. ‘Oh, maybe sometime,’ she said, deliberately vague. ‘Thank you for the invitation, though.’

Gabe was not to be deterred. ‘I’m usually in there. I’ll introduce you to one or two people, if you like. Kev can be a pain, but Paul and Dawn are okay and Stan Penry’s started to come in again now. He’s a character, lovely bloke, though.’ He twisted around and pulled a newspaper out of his back pocket.

She put him off, saying she’d think about it. It wasn’t that she wanted to seem aloof, but she didn’t think she felt quite ready to go into the village local on her own, however friendly the crowd and with the promise of Gabe’s presence. Or maybe it was the possibility of Gabe’s presence that made her so wary.

Rachel risked a glance at him, as he bent over the battered copy of his tabloid. He was a revelation. His sensitivity was all-encompassing. If he sensed she was working, he left her completely alone. It still surprised her how easy it was to have him around. The solitude she usually craved when working didn’t seem as important now. In fact, she was getting more done by having him there. She found having Gabe in the background easy company and relaxing. In one way. In another, she found him very disturbing indeed. The thought made her smile.

Gabe snorted at something he was reading, threw down the paper and picked up Rachel’s copy of the Hereford Times . Turning to the back, he was instantly engrossed in the sports pages.

Without really knowing why, Rachel found herself wanting to make contact with him. Wanted him to talk to her.

‘I’ve been reading through some of the contents of that tin you found,’ she said, ‘you know, the one in the attic? Hetty, Mrs Lewis, that is, once lived in a big house in Upper Tadshell. It was called Delamere House. That’s not far from here is it?’

Gabe glanced up.

‘And she had two relatives. Well, very distant relatives. And two aunts, one called Hester and –’

‘What?’ Gabe looked at her, patently not having heard a word. ‘Sorry, just checking on how Hereford got on.’

‘Hereford?’ asked Rachel blankly.

‘United. They were away on Saturday. Won, though, three nil.’

‘Oh football.’ Football had never featured in Rachel’s world. Before now.

Gabe misunderstood her tone, thinking she was being dismissive. ‘Yes, football,’ he said, amused. Some of us lesser mortals like to watch it.’

Rachel had the feeling she was being teased.

‘Aren’t you interested? In Mrs Lewis I mean. I thought you might be, seeing as you were the one who found the tin.’ Having read the next few pages of Hetty’s journal on her long train journey to London, Rachel was bursting to discuss it with someone. Jyoti was again being peculiarly distant and Tim was in the middle of another break-up with boyfriend Justin. That only left Gabe.

‘Sorry. Just had to check up on how the boys were doing.’ Gabe folded the newspaper away, leaned back against the front door and looked at Rachel from underneath long, dark lashes. ‘I’m all yours now.’

‘Erm, I, erm –.’ There was suddenly something about him that made her lose all interest in Hetty. Her throat constricted and Rachel couldn’t have spoken had her life depended on it.

A silence built between them, unusual in that it was awkward.

‘Could look at this all day and still see something different,’ Gabe said. Then, finally taking pity on her, he looked away. He smiled and nodded at the prospect before them. ‘This view, I mean.’