Lizzie

"Okay. We will have dinner at the Oak - our local - because I haven't enough food for dinner together over here. You may find one or two people who'd like to meet you - old friends of Zeb's. You don't mind?"

Dan shook his head. "It sounds nice," he said. "Do lead the way!"

Lizzie took him to the living room first. "It's just too cluttered," she said. "It used to suit me well, but recently I've started to feel a little uncomfortable in here."

Dan looked around. It really was cluttered. You could hardly see any wall anywhere. The centre was alright, though, with some slightly battered easy chairs that looked very comfortable, and a nice rug.

"Oh look," Dan said. "The music cupboard." It was so dwarfed by all other furniture that he hadn't noticed it at first. "No regrets about having bought it?"

"None. It's a beautiful piece of workmanship, and it reminds me of my parents. And I had a good time coming to collect it on top of that. Come, I'll show you the study. I've been thinking of turning it into a kind of library... But it feels like a daunting task. Oh well, who knows, if it keeps on raining."

The study was exactly like it had been when Zeb died. There were his books - the ones he had used for his studies and that were probably entirely obsolete now, and his desk, and his guitar stood in a corner with three broken strings.

"Hey," Dan said. "That's the same guitar he used to play back then - and the same strap. He often used a capo... I suppose that is lying around somewhere too."

"Everything is still there - except for his clothes and toiletries. Oh, and I gave his mandolin away. A pensioner from the village had his own broken by a burglar, and he couldn't buy a new one on his pension. I hated the idea of him sitting at home mourning his instrument. He showed me a badger's sett a while ago. I did a couple of paintings on badgers afterwards."

"Oh, great! Can I see them? Or have they been sold?"

"They're here in a portfolio. I'll show you. But let me show you the spare room first."

They climbed another eight steps, and Lizzie showed him into a small, but pleasant looking bedroom, with a low, very full bookcase in the corner. "The bathroom is next door," she said. Back on the landing she pointed to a door further down. "That's my bedroom. It's another place I must see to, if only to throw out all the clothes I no longer want. Painting does seem to use up all my energy. Oh well, it does allow me to do what l like." She led the way back down the stairs.

"Would you like some lunch?"

They went back into the kitchen, and Lizzie saw to the table while Dan went to the window and looked out into the rain. "My, look at the weather," he said. "It just won't stop. Maybe we will have to go rescuing people with the aid of our umbrellas."

Lizzie grinned. "I got a Piglet toy when I was a girl. I think my mother made it herself. It's awfully worn now, but I have always kept it."

Dan smiled and nodded. "What were your parents like?"

"Oh, I don't know. Rather ineffective and sweet and always with their head in books - far more so than I. They had a lot of friends, and I think they must have been very much in love. They touched a lot, and I think they tried to show me that there was nothing wrong about that. It was a valuable lesson, really. My father worked at a library, and my mother did everything else - the garden and the pets, mainly. She had an even bigger mess than I - but life at home was always good. It did take a long time to sort out their possessions when they died. I didn't keep a lot of it, but I think it was all stuff they loved. A lot of it got bought second hand..." She thought for a moment of the days when they had lived together, when she had been a schoolgirl in pigtails that never stayed put for more than half the morning at best. "They made a lot of music together. Mother played the piano and sang and father played the violin. They gave me a lovely childhood. Would you like milk with your lunch or yoghurt?"

Dan chose milk, and they sat down to lunch. They talked about their pasts, and Dan told her about his youth, in a family where no one ever talked about, let alone showed any emotions. His parents had never touched in his present, and he couldn't remember ever having heard them express affection for each other.

"But my father was devastated when mother died. I don't think he ever got over it. They were just a little Victorian I suppose... They both were raised by rather old and very old-fashioned parents." Then he grinned. "I wonder how open I would be - I think I would be entirely different though."

He shook his head, and he sat looking at Lizzie for a while. "Yes," he said. "It may sound hard, but I hope for my father that he won't let himself suffer too long."

Then he changed the subject to music, and they sat talking about it cosily for a while.

After lunch they cleared the table together and went to the living room. Dan inspected Lizzie's record collection while she put a couple of books into the bookcase. It was exactly the sort of collection he had expected. He remembered that a lot of records had been Zeb's. He had most of them himself, too. When he turned around, Lizzie smiled at him. "Well," she said, "does it pass muster?"

Dan grinned. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to be inquisitive. You have a great collection!"

"Anything you'd like to play?"

"Oh yes." Dan took Henry the Human Fly from the shelves. "Would this be alright?"

"Please!" Lizzie motioned to the record player and Dan took the record from the sleeve.

"I remember having listened to this when Zeb had just bought it."

He let down the needle and walked to a chair.

Lizzie grinned. "I usually listen in silence - but I won't let myself be deprived of the opportunity to talk. You don't mind, do you?"

"No. Go ahead please - I am happy to listen to your voice. It's what I came for."

They spent the afternoon talking. At about six they went to the pub. It was still raining, and they were somewhat wet when they arrived, but there was a nice fire to warm yourself at. Dan collected some drinks and they sat at the fire for a while to get dry, talking and explaining things to a few regulars who came and asked. Joe and Ellen guessed who he was, and Charlie had to be told. The five of them sat talking Zeb for a while, asking Dan about the years before Zeb had come to live in the village.

When their meals came the others left them in peace for a while. "Do you think they might make a couple together?" Ellen whispered to Joe.

He raised his eyebrows. "I don't know. Maybe. Why?"

"I hope so. It would do Lizzie no end of good."

"Mmm. She is cheerful enough, don't you think?"

"Oh yes. Still..."

He grinned at her and shook his head. Women... Then he fetched a couple of drinks.

Lizzie and Dan had a nice meal together. Dan nodded appreciatively; the kitchen of the Oak was very good. They talked a little but spent most time eating.

After dinner they accepted one more drink from Joe. Charlie had gone home, and the four of them sat happily talking at the fireplace.

When they'd finished their drinks they went home.

Lizzie made them a cup of tea, and when they had finished it she said, "Are you tired? You look quite grey somehow."

"Yes. It's the strain of trying to keep my father going, I think." He sighed. "I don't feel like it much, but I think I had better call it a day."

"Right-oh! Off you go, then. No, I'll see to the cups."

"Okay then. Thank you very much for a lovely day!"

Lizzie smiled. "Thank you," she said. Then she hugged him and kissed his cheek. "Sweet dreams," she said. "See you in the morning. Any time you like to get up?"

"Eight?"

"Excellent. Night night!"

Dan went upstairs, washed his face and brushed his teeth and lay down. He thought about Lizzie, and about how different her youth must have been from his. She had made him feel very much at home; he was very glad he'd gone to see her. He wished he could just go and tell her and hug her tight. It was only a moment, though, before he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

XXI

When Dan had left, the next morning at eleven, Lizzie decided that she would go and tackle her wardrobe. The weather, if possible, was even worse, and there was no painting to be done in the murky light. She took a roll of bin liners and set to work, going about it shelf by shelf first. There were the most impossible things. Lots of tops and dresses that had gone out of fashion years if not decades ago, socks and underwear that rustled when you tried the elastic, trousers of a positively daring cut... She put the stuff that was still useful on one pile and the remainder on another. The good thing was that she ended up with lots of space on the shelves where it had been a struggle to put anything in. But it made her feel a little sad at times, too, and she eventually put a few dresses back, just for old times' sake.

It took her all of the morning and half the afternoon to get everything ship shape, and she felt very proud of herself when it was done. She'd had a quick sandwich at twelve, but now she had finished she felt really hungry and she went to the kitchen to go and cook a nice meal. When all the pans were on the boil she sat down and turned on the radio. It seemed there were a few roads that suffered from flooding due to the weather. Oh no, she thought. A few years ago there had been extensive flooding in the area, and she devoutly hoped there wouldn't be a repeat. Mmm. Would Dan be home yet? She picked up her phone and found a text message saying that he was, thanking her again for a nice stay. Good. No worries there!

Oh well, she would wait and see. So she had a nice dinner and she spent the evening listening to the music she'd bought recently. To her annoyance she came across the CDs she'd intended to give to Dan. She'd completely forgotten. Silly. Blast. On the other hand - it was a good excuse to go there again, perhaps. Or maybe he would like to come to her place once more after one of his visits to his father. She smiled a little at the thought. She really looked forward to the chance of seeing him again. When she had hugged him, it had felt good. He smelled right, too. She wished he lived in the village. Then, maybe... She sighed. Distance really was a problem.

She put the CDs on a side table and listened to the record she was playing. It was really good, she thought, well-written and well-sung. It seemed all the good music was about love and loneliness. She wondered why loneliness was on her mind so much lately. Dan's story about his father did not really help, but she'd been thinking about it for quite a bit longer. If only he were there to hold her close...

She went to bed early, feeling needy and lonely, and she had to keep herself well in hand, or she would have cried herself to sleep. The rain and the dark and the talk about old age and loneliness had been a bit too much, she thought, that and throwing away all those clothes, all with their own history and days of sunshine and laughter... She felt so shivery she got up and put on a cardigan over her pyjamas. It did the trick, eventually, and she fell asleep. She dreamt a lot, about playing in the garden between the flowers while her mother was gardening and hugging her father who had Dan's face somehow. She woke at about two and went to the bathroom for a paracetamol. She didn't dream again that night.

Somehow she felt a lot better when she woke up. She smiled at the world again, and she decided to do some more tidying up. It was really unnecessary to keep Zeb's textbooks about the place. She went through the bookcase with a critical eye, and she took out almost all the books. They didn't appeal to her at all, and she was almost certain the information in them would be completely obsolete indeed.

After the bookcase she went through the desk. There were a lot of things she wanted to keep in it, letters, and small drawings she'd made for him when they were courting, and a few of his possessions that had really meant something when he was alive. But there was a lot of junk there, too, that she simply put into the waste paper basket. It was another long day of tidying up. But somehow it didn't make her feel too upset, and she went to bed feeling rested and her old self again.

She dreamt of Dan again, but she couldn't remember what it was, and after that he didn't return in her dreams for quite some time.

She spent the next days pottering about, trying to get the place uncluttered. It was a long and satisfying job, and it kept her busy all day, while she practiced the autoharp in the evenings.

After four days it was temporarily dry outside when she woke up, and a little lighter, and the weatherman said it would probably be dry until noon. Though she couldn't paint she could at least use the dry spell to go outside and have a short walk. She had a quick breakfast and went out, with her oilskins and an umbrella in her rucksack. She walked to the edge of the wood where she'd seen the badgers and then she branched off into the fields. Rain in the woods would go on for twice as long, so the fields seemed the better idea. The path she'd taken would take her to the stepping stones across the stream and then there was a loop back to the village and the bridge near the pub - just a nice walk.

The ruts in the fields were full of water, and there were puddles in the path as well. It was slippery and the going was hard, but Lizzie enjoyed the wind on her face, and the fresh air. The path went down steadily, and she knew the stepping stones would be round the next bend. She carefully navigated the last steep part and then she saw that she had to go back. The stream was swollen, and there was no fording it - it would be very dangerous indeed. She had never seen it that full of water, and she stopped for a while to sketch it. It had a certain grim attraction alright.

She looked at the fields again when she returned. If the weather stayed this wet the path would be unnavigable before very long. She shook her head and walked back as fast as she could. Fortunately her house was rather high up, seen from the river. But for those people living close it must be really worrying.

When she had reached the village she walked down to the bridge. The river there was a lot higher than usual, too. Nothing to worry about as yet, provided the rains didn't just go on and on. She stopped on the bridge to do a little drawing, and after a few minutes she saw Charles come walking down the road to the village shop. When he saw her, he walked on to talk to her.

It seemed everybody was talking about the weather. It wasn't too bad around the village yet, but it seemed that the water was threatening a couple of houses further on downstream, and the village council was looking for shelter for the inhabitants in case things got worse.

"Oh dear," Lizzie said. "Those poor people!"

"Yes. Bloody global warming... It's all our own fault, you know."

Lizzie nodded. She knew. Charles was right, of course. She tried to cause as little of it as she could and she used the car sparingly... She didn't see what else she could do. She shook her head. "I know. But it doesn't make it any easier when your house is about to be flooded."

"No. I do hope the rains will stop but they don't think so. Oh well. I'll get myself some victuals. Will you come to the Oak one of these days?"

"Yes, I think so. There's some music on Friday, so I think I'll come and listen."

"Okay. See you then!"

Lizzie saw him walk down the road to the shop. He was a nice man, she thought. Then she finished her drawing and went home.

The weather forecast had been right; the afternoon was unbroken rain again, with a lot of wind. Lizzie put on a thick sweater and sat in the living room playing music and rereading the Millennium trilogy. It was exciting and it took her mind off the weather, and it would last her a couple of days.

It kept raining for a few more days, and then the rains stopped on Friday. The people downstream, who had indeed had to leave their houses, went back. They were lucky; the water had stopped just short of their front doors. The pub was crowded that evening, and the music was exciting and sweet - it sounded as if everyone vented their relief in the music they played.

The following weeks Lizzie spent all daylight hours in the studio, working feverishly to get the commission finished. It was a difficult one, and she wanted it to be just right, and she had to redo a lot of first drafts. But eventually she managed to finish the thing before the original deadline, to her great delight.

Kevin didn't come up with a new commission. He said there would be a couple in January, but now it wasn't the right time anyway, with Christmas coming up. No one would be in the mood. Oh well, Lizzie thought, I'd welcome any distraction. But she knew that he was right; there would be too little light most of the time.

She drove home and wrote a lot of Christmas cards that afternoon. She took them to the mailbox before dark. She wished that her parents were still alive - but not like Dan's father - or that Dan lived within easy reach. Oh well, he would not be in at Christmas anyway. No sense in inviting him over.

She had an early dinner. When she watched the news that evening she heard to her dismay that there was going to be a lot of rain again over the next week or so. And the previous rains had left the landscape sodden and the rivers full. It sounded very worrying.

XXII

Dan had just come home from a conference in Loughborough when the telephone rang. His uncle was on the other end; he was so emotional that it was almost impossible to hear what he was trying to say. When he eventually managed to make himself understood, Dan was told that his father was very poorly. He had taken to his bed, and he was in pain, and he had asked for his son to come and see him.

Dan asked if there were any immediate danger, but his uncle assured him that there wasn't. However, he said, it would certainly be advisable not to wait too long. If he could come the next day, as soon as possible? Dan said he would. He had to cancel an appointment and explain things at the faculty, but he had already told a few people about the situation, so it wouldn't take too much time. He felt happy he had only recently visited. It went to show that you never knew; he hadn't expected things to come to a head so soon. He wished, as he had so often, that he had someone to share things with; it was always a very lonely job. Lizzie's face appeared before his eyes for a fleeting moment. Yes - that would be great.

Oh well, the situation called for action. He went and packed his bag with rather more clothes than usual - one never knew after all - and found the telephone numbers he had to call the next morning. Then he went into the living room and watched the nine o'clock news. It seemed there would be another prolonged period of rain and possible floods threatening both the north of England and Scotland. Just what he needed. It never rained but it poured - the simile seemed a little too apt to his liking.

He went into the study and copied a new CD to have some music to play in the car, and he found a couple of books to read, and a collection of poetry he wanted to study for his work. Not that he expected he would get a lot of time to do so, but at least he wouldn't have to sit and twiddle his thumbs. When he had collected everything he might need and packed the lot in his bag he poured himself a stiff drink and sat down in the living room for half an hour. It might be a long time now. He always spent Christmas with his father, so if it proved false alarm, he would spend a long time in Scotland indeed. And if things went wrong... He refused to think about it. Let's cross that bridge when we get to it, he decided.