Heaven and Hell for the Tobacco Girls by Lizzie Lane

Author:Lizzie Lane [Lane, Lizzie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Boldwood Books

The Duck and Pheasant had been so named before the time when what had been a village had grown into a town. A ring of grass and trees surrounded a pond where ducks and a pair of swans plied their way through reeds and bulrushes. The old inn, its thatched roof frowning over small windows and rubble stone walls, looked like an old man who’d hunched his shoulders, settled on a favourite bench and stared unblinking at the shimmering water.

Bridget’s heart hammered in her chest on seeing the sports car outside, the only vehicle parked there. Lyndon was sitting in the front seat, hand tapping impatiently on the steering wheel. She stopped and watched as he peeled back his sleeve and looked at his watch. She knew she wasn’t late and it lifted her heart to think he was desperate to see her

She smiled as she said, ‘Hello, Lyndon.’

He barely glanced up before flinging open the car door, leaping out and wrapping her in his arms.

‘Bridget.’ He swallowed and opened his mouth to speak, but settled for kissing her. In her dreams, she’d imagined this kiss, but nothing could match up to the real thing.

They stood without saying a word, holding hands, drinking each other in.

‘I want you so badly,’ he said to her. ‘I want to kiss every inch of you.’

She pulled a laughingly warning look. ‘Not out here. We might be banned from the Duck and Pheasant even before we’ve gone through the door. And I wouldn’t want that.’

His smile was wide enough to crack his face in two. ‘Neither would I. I’ll get my bag.’

There was a twinkle in the landlady’s eyes when they checked in. ‘We only got two guest rooms,’ she confided to them, her red cheeks like polished apples. ‘One at the back and one at the front. I’ve put you in the front room. It’s got a nice view of the pond. The one at the back looks out over our backyard where we store the empty barrels. You don’t want to be looking at a load of smelly barrels and bottles now do you.’ It was a statement not a question, so needed no answer. ‘Dinner at eight all right for you?’

Lyndon took the key. ‘That’s fine for me.’ He addressed Bridget. ‘How about you, darling?’

It was just past six o’clock.

‘Fine.’

‘I thought so,’ said the landlady. ‘Follow me.’

Their hands fleetingly touched as they climbed the narrow staircase until reaching an oddly shaped door set in an equally lopsided frame.

‘It’s the oldest part of the building,’ said the landlady. ‘Don’t know if there’s ghosts. There might be, but I ain’t ever seen one. Lavatory’s along the landing. Turn right.’

The room had oak beams and a low ceiling. The bed looked as though it had stood waiting at least a hundred years for them to arrive.

‘Thank you.’

‘There’s hot water in the pitcher there.’ She indicated a china ewer decorated with overblown pink roses and sat in a matching bowl.

Neither said a word until the door was shut.

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