Lizzie

McKinnon came round at once. He examined the old man very carefully before he said that Dan was right. "I cannot say I'm surprised," he said. "I will go and arrange things. You had better contact the undertaker in the morning. You know one, I suppose, sir?"

Jack nodded. "We will contact Murphy's" he said. "They did a good job for my wife."

"Good. Well - nothing more we can do. I will inform the nurse. Have a good sleep - will you be alright, or should I supply some sleeping pills?"

The men shook their heads. "No thank you," Dan said. "I am more than tired. Thank you for your help!"

McKinnon shut off the drip and removed the needle before he said goodnight. When he had left, the two men sat in the silent room for a few moments longer, awaiting the arrival of the nurse, who put the body in a dignified position. Then they nodded at each other and went to bed.

The next morning there was a watery sun outside. Dan contacted Murphy's, and the undertaker arrived about an hour later. While the two men were discussing the matter with him, McKinnon arrived with the necessary medical certificate.

"You'll have to take this to a registrar to register the death," he said. "Hopefully you won't be singled out for review; that would take you some more days."

Dan nodded. "Thank you very much," he said. "I'll try and get things done. If nothing untoward happens it shouldn't take us more than a couple of days to arrange everything."

"Yes. Okay. Success!"

McKinnon left and the men arranged the funeral in accordance with the deceased's wishes. He had bought two plots for graves in the local cemetery when his wife died, so that was no problem. The body was taken to the funeral home, and they composed the text of the obituary notice, and chose which newspapers to have them printed in, as soon as the date of burial could be decided on.

Dan didn't want a religious service, as his father had not been religious at all. Instead, they would have a few speakers and some music. Not that he expected a large turn-up; there were only few friends and fewer relatives left.

Murphy stayed for about two hours. When he had left, Dan went into the study. He made an appointment with the Registrar of Births, Deaths and Marriages and found his father's address book and called all people he thought ought to be notified in person.

He went to town that afternoon. The registrar was an elderly man who appeared to have known his father. He offered Dan his condolences and after getting all the necessary information and inspecting some documents, he went to work.

Thank God, his father's case would not be reviewed. Dan returned home with a couple of documents, and he called Murphy to find a date for the burial. They decided on the Saturday to allow people who worked to come if they wanted. It was about £200 more expensive than on weekdays, but Dan really couldn't care less.

In the evening he took his uncle out for a meal. They had some nice food at a small, local restaurant and did a lot of talking. Dan highly enjoyed it. His uncle was a lot like his father in many respects.

It had been just the one pleasant day. The rain that had been absent returned with a vengeance. Dan spent the days in between on lots of hard work, visiting the bank and the family lawyer, ending subscriptions... it was a long list. Uncle Jack had gone home, and Dan spent his idle hours going through the house and deciding what to do with its contents. There were hardly any things he found worth keeping. There was a small, bronze head of an Indian with a feather headdress, and a little carved box with a wooden game his father had got for a present from an American friend of his, and there were a few nice books. He didn't like the watercolours and prints too much, and as to the furniture, it simply gave him the creeps.

On the day of the funeral the weather was especially horrible. The ceremony was alright, but the actual interment was muddy and wet and cold. Dan got soaked to his underwear, and when he came home he just couldn't stop shivering. He changed completely, found his father's old, black umbrella and went to the pub. It was warm and dry but that was all there was to be said for it. It was rigged with Formica tables and strip lights... After a few drinks he walked home.

He called his neighbour to tell him he would not be too long any more, and was there any urgent mail? No, there wasn't. There were some early Christmas cards and the usual bills. Good. After that he listened to the news, which was not so good. It was horrible, actually. Floods and lots of other water-related trouble. Scotland was bad; Lizzie's neighbourhood seemed to one of the affected areas, too.

Dan found her telephone number in his phone, and he tried to call her. No connection. Then he tried the landline, but that, too, stayed silent. He hoped fervently there wasn't anything wrong. It was a good two-hour drive... He decided he would go and see her the next day. There was nothing he could do on a Sunday anyway.

He called his uncle who was rather negative about his plan. Would he please be careful? The road conditions were horrible, they said, and one death in the family was quite enough. He assured him he would indeed be careful. There were no troubles here, in the neighbourhood, and he expected that unnavigable roads would certainly be closed.

Alright then, but could he please call when he had reached her home? Dan promised he would, if possible, explaining that one of his reasons for going was the lack of connection. He promised he would not be too long. After all, he had to see to his father's house and further possessions.

His uncle told him to be careful once again, and then he rang off. He went to bed straight away. He was tired, and he wanted to leave very early.

He lay down under his duvet, and tried not to think about the possible reasons why he could not contact Lizzie. He thought of her face, the way she had looked while she was singing, and how she'd looked when she showed him her studio. He remembered the sheer happiness he'd felt while sitting in his kitchen talking with her. She had a sweet face, she was beautiful, she was intelligent and he could relate to her... She was all a man could desire. He sighed. He hoped he would find his worries unfounded. He found it a little difficult to fall asleep, but after some twenty minutes or so he finally did.

XXIV

All that bloody rain! The river had grown so swollen that it had burst its banks in the valley below, and the people who'd been evacuated back then, had had to fly their homes once more. Moreover, it had been too murky to get any work done, and the road to town was blocked. Lizzie was really worried; the small dip halfway her road to the village was fast filling up with rainwater, too. There were no houses there; but if the rain kept on like this, she thought she might well get her feet wet on the ground floor.

And keep on it did, for days. Not continuously, but almost. She had thought that living relatively high up would mean she wouldn't have to worry but apparently she'd been wrong. The water in the road kept on rising. That Saturday evening it was still far enough off. She went to bed wishing Dan were there, so she had someone to share her worries with, and to work together with her if need be. He was usually quiet but she knew he must be dependable and comforting, just like Zeb. She always felt really happy when he was near, and she could do with a cuddle... Oh, if only those rains would stop. What if she had to leave her house, too, and celebrate Christmas in some shelter somewhere? She fell asleep keeping her fingers crossed.

When she woke up it was still dark. She heard the rain being blown against the windows, and she got up, prepared for the worst.

There was no water on the ground floor yet, thank God. She went outside in her nightgown and coat with a torch. She walked to the road. The water was higher than the day before; it had all but reached her garden wall. Lizzie surveyed the flood, and decided that she wasn't going to wait if it would enter her house it not; she would try and carry everything up the stairs, especially the contents of the studio. Water would ruin the lot, and she wasn't very confident damp conditions wouldn't damage them on the top floor - but it was the best she could think of.

She washed and dressed in a hurry, and started carrying all the things she valued most up the stairs first. When she had done the finished drawings and her drafts, she looked at her watch. My God, she thought, I will never get this done. Never. The realisation brought tears to her eyes. Then she gritted her teeth and tried to step up gear. She only kept it up for a very short while before she had to stop and sit and have a cup of coffee first. No sense in killing myself, she thought.

It restored her breath a little. Yes, it had been a good idea to take a break, however short. She was about to go back to the task of removing everything from the studio when the bell rang.

Oh no. Who on earth would come to call on her on a Sunday morning? She didn't have the time to receive visitors; she would have to turn them away and ask them to come back some other day. She went to the porch and opened the door. To her surprise and immense joy she found Dan standing in the rain under a large, old-fashioned black umbrella.

"Dan! How on earth did you get here?"

"I drove down from Scotland. I tried to call you yesterday but I couldn't get any connection. And the news was very bad, so I thought I'd better have a look. What have you been doing? You look awfully tired."

"I am trying to save the contents of my studio. Have you seen the road? Did you come from the other direction?"

"I had to - I don't have an amphibian car, you know. Yes, I have seen it. It's awful. Come on, let me lend a hand. Show me what to move and where, please!"

"You don't have to go on home?"

"I will have to go back up north sometime later. Oh, I have to call my uncle." He grinned. "He was afraid I would drown on the way."

He tried his cell phone but there was no connection. "Have you been able to use your phone?"

"No. It seems the rains have disturbed things completely."

"Damn. Oh well, can't be helped." Dan took off his coat and threw it over the back of a kitchen chair. Then he hurried into the studio.

There were five full packets of large-size sheets of drawing paper on the floor.

"Do you think you could carry those to the study?"

"I think so."

He picked up one of them, and weighed it in his arms.

"Can do."

He walked the five packets upstairs quickly. Lizzie noticed that he didn't rush; he just kept up a steady pace. Okay, she thought. So that how it is done.

He went and picked up everything that was standing on the floor, working systematically. Lizzie emptied the shelves and the tables, using a collapsible crate. She inwardly sighed with relief. It was great to have another pair of hands to help out, and Dan went about it as if he knew exactly what she wanted him to do. He also felt very comforting to have around, as if he belonged, really. She looked at him briefly now and then. She sometimes caught his eye to see him smiling at her reassuringly, and it filled her with warmth.

Working together, they cleared the studio before noon.

"Well, that's done. Shall we do the kitchen now, or can we have something to drink first?"

"I'll make us a coffee. How is the water coming on?"

Dan went outside for a moment. "It's a little higher than this morning. But it has only risen just past the garden gate. Let's hope and pray it won't get any further."

"Yes. So how's things? Are you alright?"

"I don't know, really - I'm a bit dazed. My father died a week ago, and we buried him yesterday. It was the best thing for him to happen."

Lizzie looked at him wide eyed. "Oh Dan - how awful. Did he suffer a lot?"

"No, I don't think so. He was on a morphine drip, and they let him just slip away. So I've been busy sorting out his house and his assets. Most of the contents will go to charity, if they will have them."

He sat down at the kitchen table. Lizzie finished preparing the coffee and went up to him. She put a hand on his arm, and she had to fight an impulse to ruffle his hair.

"Oughtn't you to be finishing that, then?"

He turned his head to look at her and smiled.

"It'll keep. I was afraid you might be in trouble, what with the news and the rain, and no telephone, so I felt I'd better make sure you weren't. So here I am, and a good thing too, apparently."

Lizzie let it sink in slowly. It made her blush. He worried about her - enough to come all those miles and investigate. So then he must really like her a lot, too.

"I'm very happy to have you here," she said. "Did you have anyone to help you out, this past week?"

"My uncle was there, fortunately. I am really sad for him - they were very close."

He took his mug in his hands. "Nice!" he said.

Lizzie sat down, too, sipping her coffee, and smiled at him. As so often, he found it brightened up the whole place.

"I'm happy I came," he said when he had finished his coffee. "Right-oh. Where do we take the kitchen things?"

Lizzie considered the question for a moment. "There is still some room in the study," she said. "Let's first put the heavy things there. At least the washing machine is already upstairs. Do you think we can manage the fridge and the freezer between the two of us?"

"I think so. We will have to empty them first, though. Okay?"

They nodded at each other and set to work again. Moving the two pieces was easier than Dan had expected; they really didn't weigh too much, and with Lizzie steadying them, the transport went smoothly. Once they were in position in the study Lizzie put the food back in, and Dan took the kitchen chairs up to the second landing. It was wide enough to offer room to the chairs. The gas oven was much heavier, but they managed by standing it on every step on its way up. Lizzie also helped with the table, and they had emptied the whole kitchen a little before four.

Lizzie looked around and sighed. "Well," she said, "that's done. If the water rises, it will ruin the kitchen fixtures, but that can't be helped. This way the damage won't be too vast."

Dan nodded. "No," he said. "Let's keep our fingers crossed."

Lizzie nodded. She felt relieved, and tired, and suddenly she found to her surprise that she got overcome and she couldn't keep back her tears.

Dan put his arms around her and held her while he stroked her hair.

"You did a good job," he said. "Don't worry too much!"

Lizzie sniffed. "It's not that I'm worrying... It's the strain and having managed and I'm so happy you've come to help me..." She just held on to Dan until she felt her ordinary self again.

Eventually she relinquished her hold and smiled at him.

"I really am," she said, with another sniff. "I have been thinking a lot about you."

"So have I. I told my father about you. I think he would have loved to see you. So would my uncle."

"I wish I could have seen him. Life never plays into your hands..."

Dan shook his head. "Hardly ever. But then, it gave Zeb to you."

Lizzie nodded and blew her nose. "Yes," she said. "I know. It did..."

She thought for a moment; then she went and told him. "You know, I usually paint what I see in my mind's eye, or what my subconscious shows me in my dreams. I painted your barn." She blushed fearfully, and she almost backed out of what she intended to do. But then she decided that now was the time to try. "I did so when I had just come back from my walk - the barn, and two figures in front of it. And I rather liked the painting. I showed it to Jane and she said that the one figure looked exactly like me, and I had not realised I'd painted it that way. And then she said that the other one would probably be you and I saw that it did not only have your posture as I had realised before, it really looks like you. I shied away from what it might say about my subconscious feelings. Would you like to see it?"

Dan looked at her earnestly. "Yes I would," he said. "Very much so."

"Come."

They went upstairs to the living room. Lizzie knelt down at the small cupboard she'd bought that autumn and opened the door. She took out a sheet of paper and put it down on the table. Then she blushed again. "I do hope you'll understand," she said.

Dan bent over the painting. It was a beautiful picture of his barn. He immediately recognised Lizzie in one of the figures, and he had to admit that the other one did look an awful lot like himself. He realised the full implication of the painting, and of Lizzie's showing it to him. She looked at him a little apprehensively.

He looked into her eyes and nodded and smiled. He understood it must make her feel quite vulnerable. "Beautiful! Thank you for showing me," he said. "Er - maybe you can try and decipher this." He took his notebook from his pocket and found the poem he'd written on that stifling evening he'd stayed in his dying father's house.

Lizzie took the little book with trembling fingers. The poem was a simple, straight and beautiful description of Dan's feelings for her. She read it twice. Then she put it down on the table. She put her arms round Dan's neck and found his mouth with hers. He responded exactly the way she hoped, and she just let her feelings of joy wash over her while they kissed each other, long and hard.

When they stopped kissing, Dan found Lizzie's eyes were full of tears, but she smiled at him happily. "Thank you for the poem," she said. "I can never paint it - but I will copy it out."

Dan kissed her again for an answer.

Then he stroked her hair, and said, "It was a good thing Jane told you!"

"Yes." She smiled and touched his cheek. "My," she said, "I am thirsty. Tea? It's about all I can offer you now... My watercooker will work any time."

"Yes please. Er, maybe I can take you out for a meal after that?"

"I hope so. I don't think the Oak has been affected as yet... But we will have to make a long detour to get there."

"Never mind. If that's all... I took petrol only a short while ago." He looked at her. "l'll go and have another look at the water level."

They went downstairs hand in hand, and then Lizzie busied herself with the tea.

Dan took his umbrella and went outside. He wasn't certain, but it seemed the rain was a little less bad. When he opened the garden gate and looked out into the road he saw to his delight that the water had not risen too much.

He went back inside and told Lizzie the news. "With a little luck the floors won't be damaged," he added.

"Oh, that would be fantastic. I do hope this bloody rain will stop. Come, let's have our tea upstairs."

She took the mugs along on a tray, and went to the living-room. The picture of the barn was still lying on the table with Dan's notebook, so she put the tray on the floor. She picked up the mugs and handed one to Dan. He took it and smiled at her, looking completely happy. He looked even nicer than usual, Lizzie thought.

"My love," she said.

"Your eyes light up the place." He looked at her with a happy smile. "They light up my life," he added.

Then he sighed contentedly and had his tea.

Lizzie felt so happy she could burst. It was strange, she thought, how easily that day's troubles had succeeded in showing to her what she had tried to shy away from for months, and how clearly she saw now that the fact that Dan had known Zeb didn't matter. It would not come between them. Dan was practical and committed and handsome...but sweet first and foremost.

She put down her mug and got up to hug him some. "I'm so happy," she said.

"So am I! More than happy." He kissed her hungrily.

When he had done so to his heart's content he said, "Shall we go and see if we can get some dinner?"