Melissa put a hand to her cheek and drew in a deep trembling breath. She'd called him Matt. So what? He'd persisted in calling her Lissy. Like he said, old habits died hard. But she knew it was neither the name nor the caress that had unnerved her so much. It'd been the surprisingly tender look in his eyes.
The bathroom suite was the same faded yellow she remembered from her childhood, except now the taps were solidly encrusted with lime scale and the bath ringed and pitted as a result of more than forty years of constant use and ten years without Aunt Suzie's cleaning expertise. A tattered discoloured blind hung at the frosted window, the tiled ledge filled with cans and bottles, shaving foam and aftershave. She experienced a sharp tug in the middle of her stomach. Uncle Charlie wouldn't be needing any of those things anymore.
Shoving the thought to the back of her mind she stepped up to the sink and spun on the hot tap. Then she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror above the basin and gasped. Her hair was matted flat to her scalp, her pale blue eyes a stark contrast to her mud-splattered cheeks. She plunged her sore hands beneath the stream of water, only to note with shock that the water itself was coppery brown. "Oh no," she muttered unhappily, making the connection. No electricity meant no immersion heater. No immersion heater meant no hot water.
Groaning softly, she leaned over the bath, pushed in the plug and turned on the cold tap. Then she bent to sniff at the two threadbare towels hanging from the rail. They too had once been yellow but thankfully smelt cleaner than they looked. There was a similarly coloured bathmat on the floor. Uncle Charlie had been a great believer in function over condition. It wasn't that he'd been mean. It was more that it would simply never have occurred to him to buy new soft furnishings.
With another sigh, she turned back to the bath, grimacing as she watched the water swirl into the tub. "This'll be okay," she whispered to herself encouragingly. "You can do this." But removing the dress was another matter. When dry, the fabric had shimmied across her skin. Now that it was wet it was welded to her. After several attempts she managed to peel it off, only to discover her bra was similarly saturated. Sighing, she wrapped it in one of the towels and squeezed tight, hoping it might dry enough for her to put it back on. Luckily her knickers seemed reasonably dry. Just as well, she thought ruefully. There was no way she wanted to spend time in Matt's presence without them.
Naked now and shivering, she frowned at the rising water. This would be like paddling in the sea, right? If she tentatively put in a toe, the water would feel icy. So the best thing to do would be to plunge straight in. She closed her eyes and moaned quietly. It wasn't as though she really had a choice. The mud had to be washed off. Ducking beneath the string that ran from one end of the bath to the other, serving as a makeshift clothesline, she stepped in and sat down. Then shrieked.
There was a sharp rap at the door. "You okay in there?"
She gasped, shrieked and gasped some more. "I'm--I'm f-f-fine!" she called with chattering teeth.
"You sure?" Matt sounded puzzled. "Spider in the bath or something? Want me to come and get it out?"
With a start she remembered she hadn't locked the door. "No! D-don't you dare come in!"
"All right." He was clearly amused. "Keep your hair on. Let me know when you're ready for dry clothes."
Trying to repress further exclamations, she splashed water on to her face then worked steadily downwards, whimpering as she reached her skinned and bloodied knees. The whole procedure took less than two minutes but by the time she climbed out again her skin was mottled and the water opaque with filth. Grimacing, she released the plug and wrapped herself in the second towel, rubbing vigorously in an attempt to restore her circulation. Then she swilled out the tub. "All right, I'm ready," she called tentatively, pulling the towel tightly around her. "But you'll have to close your eyes."
The door opened immediately. "I'm not looking," Matt said, eyes squeezed shut as he held out what looked suspiciously like one of Charlie's shirts and a pair of thick woolly socks.
Her heart sank. "Is that all you could find?"
Matt opened one eye and she beat a hasty retreat behind the door. "What exactly were you expecting? Come on, Charlie was a big man--the shirt will look like a dress on you. His trousers won't fit you, that's for sure."
Muttering rude words, Melissa snatched the clothes and slammed the door. She retrieved her bra from the towel, deciding with regret that it was still too damp to wear. Slinging it over the clothesline across the bath, she re-donned her knickers then slipped on the shirt. It swamped her. Charlie had indeed been a big man, as tall as Matt but probably three times as round.
She turned to peer at her reflection in the mirror and frowned. Though it fell to her knees, buttoning it right up to the collar still didn't prevent it from gaping hugely at the neck. If she leaned forward without thinking, Matt would have a wonderful view, she thought wryly. Sighing, she tugged on the socks then, still shuddering with cold, used the towel to wipe up the muddy mess on the bathroom floor.
"Do you want the good news or the bad news?" Matt's voice came again.
She dumped both towels in the bath along with her dress and opened the door a crack. "First you have to promise not to laugh."
"In that case, you can't laugh at me either. Deal?"
She opened the door to discover that Matt was wearing another of Charlie's shirts. The fabric billowed balloon-like over his trousers. "Classy," she muttered, unable to repress a smirk.
"That's me. Follower of high fashion," he said dryly, candidly appraising her appearance. "I should worry. You look like Wee Willy Winky." But then his gaze reached her bleeding knees. "Hmm. Come on." He turned and walked off down the hallway.
Clutching at the top of the shirt, she limped along behind him. "So what's the bad news?"
"Oh, you already know the bad news. We have no transport, no electricity and no telephone." Matt led the way into the kitchen and motioned to her to sit down on one of the kitchen chairs before reaching up to a cupboard above the sink. He pulled down the large yellowing Tupperware box that contained the First Aid kit and dropped it on the table.
"What's the good news?" She watched him tear off the lid and rummage inside, eventually producing an aged-looking box of plasters.
"We do have Calor Gas and matches." He motioned to the stove and for the first time she noticed a bubbling saucepan of water resting on a lit gas ring. "And I've found teabags and sugar." He opened the box of plasters and peered inside. "Do you think these things have a best before date? They've probably been in this tub since we were kids." She shrugged and he passed over the box. "Oh well. Can't see how they could do any harm. I'll make some tea."
"Thanks." Still trembling a little, her fingers numb with cold, it took several attempts to remove a plaster. "What time is it?"
"Quarter past seven. But don't worry. It'll only take me about an hour to walk down to the village."
"Wh-what?"
"One of us needs to get help, Liss."
Melissa gazed at him in horror as he brought two steaming mugs of black tea to the table. He sat down in the opposite chair and grimaced back. "Don't look at me like that. I wasn't expecting you to volunteer. You haven't even got any shoes."
"No, I know but--" She threw a desperate glance towards the window. Rain was still pelting against the glass. "It's pouring down out there!"
"I'll take Charlie's umbrella. I'll be fine."
"No, you won't." Her hands shook even more as she tried in vain to open the plaster packet. As a child she'd never liked being alone in the remote farmhouse and she had no desire to be left there now. Certainly not so soon after Charlie's death, surrounded by all of his things. "You'd have to be crazy to go out in this. It's going to take you much longer than an hour to get to Ebberlea. And--" she hesitated then added in a small voice "--it'll be dark soon."
He reached across the table and took the small packet. "I'll be back before you know it," he said calmly, unwrapping the plaster and offering it back.
"But--oh!" She tried to grab the plaster but her hand wouldn't keep steady. "Sor-sorry," she got out, her eyes filling with tears. "Can't seem to st-stop shaking!"
