WUTHERING NIGHTS by Summer Day (Twelve)

Chapter Twelve

The Cottage   

   Heath disappeared most evenings at school. Kate knew he went hunting. He’d be back for band rehearsals, he had promised her. He’d been counselled by his doctor. Kate was sure he practised being ‘safe’, which meant only drinking wild animals and never more than he needed to survive. Magenta, drunk in the interim, ensured he was not tempted by humans; nor would he be, unless his vampiricism developed fully. This was a roll of the dice, according to his specialist. They wouldn’t know if he was a full bloodsucker until he reached eighteen. In the meantime, his diet subsisted only of protein, citrus, Magenta and plasma delivered via special order from London once a week. Blood oranges were still his favourites.

    Tomorrow night, the inter-school Battle of the Bands competition was to be held as part of the Sixth Form dance.  Kate and a few others, including Annabelle Hunt, were factored into the front row as audience members or “fake fans”, as Kate joked. Annabelle had made such an effort to be friends with Kate that the girls were now talking and Annabelle had hesitantly been accepted into Kate’s circle of popular girls.

     Those girls were sitting in the front row. The band hoped they wouldn’t be sitting there long. Tonight, they wanted everyone in the room up dancing.  Heath would be lying if he said he didn’t like the fact that a lot of girls paid him attention. He was tall with dark hair and had a “mysterious” look about him. He’d heard Annabelle giggling and whispering about him to his friends once. He still disliked the Hunts but he enjoyed female attention in all its forms and it didn’t pay to display open warfare towards Annabelle’s older brother, Edmund.  He’d tried that in his first year at boarding school and all his privileges had been withdrawn. He hadn’t seen Kate in over a week.

      There was only one girl whose opinion truly mattered to him and she sat front row centre as the band played her favourite cover. Afterwards, everyone rushed off to supper but Heath and Kate had plans.

      As Heath packed away his guitar, the drummer, who fancied Kate, smiled at her.

     ‘Did you like your song, Kate? We played it especially for you…’

      Heath rolled his eyes, jealously. 

      ‘I more than enjoyed it,’ Kate replied but she was looking straight at Heath when she spoke.

     Heath had a good singing voice. He and his band were the coolest – some said most dangerous boys at school – by far. Although Kate was proud of Heath’s ability to assimilate, it had begun to annoy her to see other girls paying Heath so much attention and the last thing she wanted to do was let him know how great he was. That would create too much of an ego problem. 

      ‘I mean, it was better than okay,’ she covered.  

     ‘That was your song,’ Heath said.

       Kate couldn’t help but smile. Heath knew what she liked so well.

        Heath pretended not to care and smiled at Annabelle Hunt as she gathered her things, much to Kate’s annoyance.  Heath made sure Kate noticed how much Annabelle Hunt flirted with him. When he became bored with Annabelle’s conversation mid-sentence, Heath turned from her and walked over to demand Kate’s undivided attention.  Kate paused and glanced into Heath’s eyes. It was obvious to strangers they had a connection that went beyond words.

      When they were alone, Kate tugged at Heath’s shirt and gave him the lamb sandwich she’d made in the kitchen especially for him. They were having a roast today at the girl’s school and Kate knew it was Heath’s favourite. He thanked her, pulled off the lamb, wolfed it down then left the bread. Heath was always starving these days. It was as if none of the food he ate satisfied him.

     ‘C’mon, I also bought us tea…’ Kate had her flask and some more lamb and chicken wrapped in a satchel. Heath grimaced, but realised weak tea kept him hydrated. Kate was always trying to look after him, even though they’d be seeing each other less now that they were both studying for half-term finals.

      ‘You really did rock, Heath,’ she whispered, looking up at him when she said it.  He tried not to beam so hard.  He grew happy and less prideful under her gaze but he held back from saying what he wanted to say. Heath wanted to tell Kate Spencer how much he loved her but he couldn’t. If he told her, he felt sure that she would torture him, use it against him and tease him more than she usually did. It was in her nature to be both a chameleon and contrite. He wouldn’t say the words until he was sure she felt the same.

    They agreed to meet at the cottage to study for their exams. They enjoyed meeting up, just to read and talk like they used to when they lived in London.

    The cottage was a secret meeting place that had been used for decades by the students from both schools. Built into a stone wall that marked the outside gate of the shared sporting grounds, it could only be reached by running (or walking very quickly) far out of sight across the never ending playing fields and through a kind of dugout that led to an even more lush pasture.    

    The dwelling had been uninhabited for at least a decade. The hut had been built in the curve. High on the hill, it lay abandoned when no one had bothered to demolish it. Most of the students knew of its existence and it was the “go to” place for midnight feasts… and lover’s meetings.

    By the time Kate arrived, windswept and dishevelled, Heath had caught her up.

    The interior of the cottage had recently been renovated by teenagers. There was evidence of junk food and discarded games, posters tagged on walls, various blankets and duvets rolled into a cupboard, and a well-used fireplace. It was the perfect spot for a winter picnic.

  ‘Reminds me a little bit of Hampstead,’ Kate said, looking out the window.

  ‘Scotland reminds me of nothing in the South. It’s…lonelier…wilder,’ he said, rubbing his mouth when Kate couldn’t see. He suddenly needed his incisors filed but he wasn’t going to admit it. Only Heath could feel the sharp tips of the teeth inside his mouth, reminding him of his true nature.   Kate placed the food on the red checked table cloth over the low coffee table as Heath lit the fire. The boy hungrily demolished the roast chicken from Kate’s satchel as the girl looked on in amusement. She spread out the board game on the floor. The pair of them began playing Scrabble in their usual competitive way until Kate, bored with the game, messed up her side with the pieces tumbling across the floor amidst a cloud of laughter.

   ‘This is such a boring game,’ she said. ‘I’ve never understood why I can’t make up words… ’

    She leaned over towards him. Heath felt unexpectedly nervous, but tried to act cool.

   ‘What sort of words?’

   ‘Oh, you know. Words they don’t teach us at school…’ Kate smiled wickedly then changed the subject.

    ‘I am so bored with classes but I can’t wait to see your band perform tomorrow night. I miss Hampstead. I miss the glass house where we used to go… to hunt for food…and flowers…’

    Kate loved flowers. She’d even given Heath some edible ones once, when he was little, which he’d duly tried to eat. Kate rolled onto her back and stared up at the low beamed roof. Heath looked bashful. The fire flickered, creating artistic shadows of the pair on the inside of the cottage. 

    ‘I think we should play a different game…’  Kate said.

    Heath looked at Kate incredulously, as he turned the page of his History text. He hadn’t expected this.

    Kate reached over and stroked his hair. He could still feel the touch of her fingers, moments later. Overwhelmed, he took her hand in his and used all of his willpower to stop himself pulling her to him and fanging her. He didn’t want to mess things up with Kate before they were ready. Heath ached for her loveliness; she was part of him more than anything or anyone ever could be or would be. When he thought of his biological family, he was dismissive of them. He didn’t remember their faces. Besides, they had abandoned him when they discovered he was a bloodsucking freak; just as his friends would probably turn on him, if they knew the truth.

    He dropped his pen and changed the subject. ‘What…what are your plans for next year?’

    Kate laughed… ‘Okay, we’ll play your way. Let’s see, if I wasn’t going to be a famous painter, do you know what I’d be?’

    ‘I don’t,’ Heath replied as she plaited her hair into a braid.

    ‘Well, I love my horse so…I’d be a vet…and save the animals…’

    ‘You’d have to study hard for that,’ Heath said sarcastically, glancing back at the words on his page. 

    ‘What, don’t you think I’m capable?’

     Heath knew Kate could do anything she set her mind to, starting with gaining access to the school kitchen when he couldn’t, but it wouldn’t pay to compliment her right now. She was far more confident than he was.

     ‘It’s not that,’ he hedged. ‘I’m just not sure if you have the dedication,’ he replied, turning his head so she couldn’t see his smile.

      ‘Oh, you…’

       He reached over and caught her hand. Kate looked up at Heath with a devotion she quickly hid with words.

  ‘Let me get closer to the fire. It’s freezing in here…’ Kate said.

    Heath moved closer to her, closer to the flames which were weak, but turned and crackled forming a strong light. 

    Heath made the first move. He put his hand on Kate’s hair and she held his gaze.

    ‘Run away with me Kate.’

     Kate laughed.

    ‘When? Where to?’

    ‘When we’ve finished school, after we turn eighteen. We could go to Prague or Paris or Spain.’

    ‘What with?’     

   ‘We’ll get jobs…’

   ‘I can’t just abandon everything…my family…’

   ‘Apart from your father…they’ve abandoned us…

    Kate considered this for a moment.

    ‘I know. Harrison is…not to be trusted and mother lets him sign everything. He controls all her assets after she and father separated. She even signed half of the house into his name. Mother never did like responsibility.’ Kate reached out to Heath and he leant over and kissed her wrist, softly, again.

    Kate opened her eyes wide, suddenly seeing the future.

   ‘Yes, let’s do it. Let’s go to Spain. I’ll study art and design, though I once thought Paris might be the place for that. Never mind, I’m sure they have good design schools in Spain and you can…start a band… only we’ve no money, not a cent. It’s just a fantasy, Heath. Ten minutes in another country without a roof over our heads and we’d be fighting all the time. And…’

    ‘What?’ He wanted her to say it but she wouldn’t.

    ‘…and liking each other less…’

    ‘I could never like you less, Kate. There is no such possibility.’

    ‘Why?’

    ‘Because I love you.’

     Kate liked it when he spoke like this, but it worried her. ‘I know,’ was all she said.

     What she should have said, and what she later regretted not saying was that she also loved him. It was obvious. Her journals were testament to this. Each one covering a year in their lives together, written in schoolgirl writing, with train tickets and photographs taken on her polaroid when Heath was least expecting it, pasted into the pages. She kept the most recent one hidden under her bed.  Her favourite photograph was one she took of Heath in his navy blue school blazer standing on the playing fields with a bemused look on his face, just as he realised she was the culprit – the school photo journalist.

     Kate glanced longingly at Heath after he’d kissed her again. She looked into his perfect eyes and felt the hard cut of his arm muscles. This boy, soon to be a man, was everything to her. He was her whole life, the male version of herself. She knew to be wary, though - family neglect had taught her this; not to let him know her entire being was his to do with as he pleased. Kate sat up and glanced down at her shoe, resolving to change the subject.

     Heath loved that about her - the two versions. In this version, Kate had fresh colour rising in her cheeks. He wanted to be closer to her, to touch the vein in her wrist, her neck, to kiss her lips, but he didn’t dare move.

     ‘I think you should take your studies more seriously, never mind about me. I could never love a man, who didn’t know at least as much as me,’ she joked as she packed up the chess pieces.

    ‘Well, then, there are a great many men for you to love,’ Heath replied with a raised eyebrow.

    ‘Oh, you…’ Kate threw one of the Scrabble pieces his way.

    Heath laughed in return, loving that he could get to her so easily.

    He had applied to various universities but he wasn’t sure what he wanted. Beyond Kate’s love, nothing. He’d gone through the motions, telling no one before now that he’d considered applying to Oxford.  He’d organised teachers he knew would give him good references and because his marks were flawless, he had a reasonable chance of being accepted. He just had to pass the interviews. He’d studied every evening when he wasn’t with Kate, and when he was, he studied late into the night. He wanted to achieve more than anyone he knew. More than anything, he wanted Kate to be proud of him.

    They read some more and fell asleep beside the fire. When they woke the next morning, fully clothed, wrapped together under a pile of blankets, it was morning.

   ‘C’mon,’ Kate said, dusting off bread crumbs from her skirt, ‘we don’t want to miss chapel or they will notice and maybe stop me going to the gig tonight. Someone could report us…’

    Heath rolled his eyes. ‘You mean Hunt…’   

    ‘Really, he’s not that bad. I think he wants to be your friend. Actually I think Annabelle is quite keen on you. You better be careful, Heath. Those secretive, silent girls are the worst with their little schoolgirl crushes…’

    ‘Is that what you have on me?’

    ‘Silly, I’m not the silent, secretive type…’ Kate said.

    It wasn’t the answer Heath wanted to hear.

    ‘Well, you never had to be…’

    Heath turned with the coat and handed Kate her scarf.

    ‘How can you joke like that Kate?’

    ‘What? I’m just kidding.’

    ‘How could you think there is anyone for me apart from you?’

    ‘I…I think you like me…too much. It will distract you from getting good marks in your finals.’

    ‘Am I hearing things? Listen to yourself Kate. I don’t “like” you too much. There is no “like” here.           

    Kate looked away, aware of the depth of her feelings for the handsome boy that stood opposite her. Over the past year, he’d grown a head taller than her. She had to look up in the morning half-light to meet his eyes. Again, she looked away.

    ‘Look at me Kate.’

    ‘I know most girls think you’re hot…’

     ‘Oh, so you’re saying you don’t?’

     ‘Those girls don’t know you, like I know you…’ Kate said slowly.  Before Kate was forced to answer, the door blew open as one of the younger students arrived, out of breath. ‘Come quick,’ he said, ‘… they’re taking the register. They know someone broke into the kitchen last night and stole some chickens and the headmaster is going ballistic…’

      Kate giggled while Heath grabbed their coats as they prepared to run. It would be wiser to attend roll call, or else it would be completely obvious they’d been out all night; and then Mr Spencer would be informed, or worse. 

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Wuthering Nights (Eleven)

Chapter Eleven

Remember

    Hinton was surprised that the lights were still on in the drawing room as he entered the house. The dog had slept by the fire until everyone else had gone to sleep. Then, he’d done as usual and wandered upstairs to lie at the foot of his master’s bed.

     The boy had removed his coat; he wore the latest sneakers and low rise jeans. Hinton wandered into the kitchen to see if there was anything to eat. He hoped Greta had left something since. He was very hungry after hours of clubbing in Soho. He was often photographed there with various girlfriends, but lately, his shallow existence had begun to bother him. Perhaps he was more like his adopted father than he thought. The family photographs that filled the drawing room told barely half the story of its dysfunction.

     Hinton shook his head at the pictures on the wall as he climbed the stairs. It was funny to him that Heath could give himself airs and graces but no one knew where he came from either. Heath could use the title bestowed upon him for “services to the economy” but that didn’t make him a Lord, not in Hinton’s eyes. He couldn’t have cared less about titles but he thought it almost funny that he had to practically ask permission to live in his own house when his sister had more rights to it than Heath (who only owned the house because of a swindle…) but that was another story.  

    The boy was aware there were two sides to the family history. In the first version, Heath had “saved” him as a child from a vicious beating by his drunkard brother-in-law, Harrison. The other was contained in an apologetic note from Harrison years later. Truth lay somewhere in between. One thing Hinton knew for sure; Heath cheated Harrison out of his own home during a game of high-stakes poker.

    There are always more sides to a story but this was the particular side that Hinton chose to believe. Before the bet, papers had been signed. Heath, the foundling child, had risen to become the rightful owner of Hareton Hall. Hinton grimaced in the mirror as he cleaned his teeth and splashed his face. His image was hazy with condensation. He rubbed the mirror with a towel and wiped his face dry. Hinton turned off the light and walked quietly to his room. Heath’s light was on. As usual Hinton didn’t bother to say goodnight. Instead, he flopped on his own bed fully clothed.

    Heath wasn’t so bad. He’d been more of a father than Harrison and treated him more like a biological son than the father he’d never met. Besides, unless he won the annual Art Prize at his college, he had nowhere else to go.    

   Hinton had flicked on the television news in his bedroom and was chugging orange juice and eating what was left of some roasted chicken, when he heard a piercing screech that made him walk into the hallway.

    Doors flung open and Heath’s dog bounded out of the main bedroom towards a room with blazing light under the door; a room that had never been used since his teenage aunt had inhabited it more than twenty years ago.

    A dark-haired girl flung open the door and stood on the landing, looking pale and frightened in the half light. Hinton Spencer froze on the spot.

   ‘Who are you?’

   ‘I’m… I’m Katarina Hunt.  You must be…’

   ‘Hinton, your…cousin by marriage, for all intents and purposes.  I…I was adopted. Are you okay?’

     ‘I don’t know… I think I will be. Someone tried to get into my room…’

      The boy, mesmerized by her white skin and red lips, stared at her longer than was necessary, then apologized, adding, ‘sorry…it’s just that you are identical to my…adopted Aunt…’ He gestured to Kate’s picture on the wall.

     ‘May I?’ Hinton said.

     ‘Yes…come in, please…’ Kate said with desperation in her voice. Hinton checked the cupboards and behind the curtains, even under the bed.

     ‘There’s nothing in here…’

      A slight breeze wafted through the room, seemingly from nowhere.

     ‘I…I  met…your Uncle, um Heath and I wanted to come back to see some old photos and the house my mother grew up in. Then the storm set in so I asked if I could stay the night and…I don’t think Heath wanted me to stay and… someone tried to get into my room.”

    Hinton looked around.

    ‘The door was shut when I came up.’

    Almost speechless, Katarina whispered, ‘not through the door, through the window.’

     Hinton wandered past the bed and towards the upstairs bay window. It was unlocked and unopened. He pulled it up. They were on the upper floor. Below, lay a stone pathway.  The flower beds were a metre away from the walls and the trees even farther. It would not have been possible for anyone to climb up.

    ‘There is no one there now,’ Hinton said. ‘Are you sure you didn’t have too much to drink?’

    ‘Are you serious? I know what I saw.’

     Outside, the wind started to pelt down onto the trees. In the distance, an icy storm began to howl again.

     ‘Tell you what,’ Hinton said, smiling, ‘why don’t you come into my room… I’ll take the floor, of course, and you’ll be safe until morning when I drive you home.’

    Katarina looked at him hesitantly. This wasn’t the cousin she was supposed to meet, though she’d heard about him often enough at Art College. Hinton was known as a real ladies’ man, a guy who failed his A-levels and only got into college because of the brilliance of his drawings and a scholarship. Everyone knew his family were loaded. Hinton was a year ahead of her, so they’d seen each other in the halls but never spoken. He’d dated more than his share of girls at the college, and dumped them just as quickly. 

    Katarina reluctantly dragged her checked blanket off the bed and pulled on her jeans over her underwear as Hinton pretended to look away.

   ‘C’mon, then,’ Katarina said, as the storm raged outside.

    Hinton couldn’t believe his luck. He started walking towards his room when he realised the girl had taken a wrong turn.

   ‘I’m going to sleep in the drawing room,’ Katarina said. ‘Perhaps, you could come with me?’ She was still pretty scared after the earlier incident, though she’d never admit it and Hinton had all but convinced her she was dreaming.

   “Mmm… give up my bed for a hard couch?” For a minute she thought he was going to refuse.

    ‘Why not?’ he said with his most affable smile. ‘We can pretend we’re on a camping holiday.’  Although her likeness to her mother threw him momentarily, Hinton was beginning to like this new cousin.

    Heath was able to sleep through practically anything but lately he’d been woken up at all hours. He’d drunk three glasses of brandy before bed and fallen into an almost trancelike state reading the stock reports and going through some important files in relation to an upcoming merger. He’d been out hunting squirrels and rabbits again. He’d swiftly scaled the outside wall so no one would notice him coming back or leaving. Disgusted, he wiped the blood from his mouth, rinsed and brushed his teeth before bed. 

     Though he dimly heard the sound of a woman’s scream it faded just as quickly and the only change in his vast, kingly bedroom was the blurry sight of his dog’s ears standing up. He crawled under his duvet. Heath slept a few hours every night. After his maturity, at twenty-one, he hadn’t slept at all. But recently, he’d started falling into a deep slumber in the early hours of the morning. He reached over for his newly prescribed elixir. There were many underground markets now and different products for both vampires and hybrids that hadn’t been available to Heath in his youth. After he chugged some Magenta (a new elixir), he fell back into a deep sleep. The dog whimpered and snuggled at his feet like she always did when he woke.

     In the dark he heard a woman’s voice, clear as glass.

    “Heath… Heath…” the girl whispered to him. Then, her hand reached over and shook him awake.

     Dark hair fanned across his ear, irritating him and interrupting his dream, which was more than a dream. Heath opened his eyes and saw the perfect brown eyes of another and heard Kate’s pleading voice as he reached out to touch her cheek.

    ‘Heath,’ the girl said. ‘Forgive me for what I did. I’ve been away for eighteen years. Please come back to me, I have missed you. It’s so cold out here…come back to me…come back…Let me in. I’ve been in the in-between for so long…’

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WUTHERING NIGHTS (TEN)

Chapter Ten

Hinton

     ‘It’s late… ’ Heath said, changing the subject as Katarina took another sip of tea.

     It was past midnight and the storm hadn’t subsided.

     ‘Do you mind if I stay the night?’

      Heath was mildly surprised but glad he hadn’t had to make the suggestion.

     ‘Of course not, I don’t know when or even if the boys will be home, but there are six guest rooms and Greta should be in at eight in the morning. Take your pick. I’m just going to stay here by the fire, go through a few papers. I have a business meeting in the City tomorrow. Even though it’s Saturday, some of the foreign markets don’t sleep…’

     ‘Mmm…’ Katarina said. Normally she would have felt odd staying in a stranger’s house. Before it was her uncle’s it had, after all, been her mother’s. Kat was surprised Heath had become so traditional. He’d once dreamed of being a rock star according to a letter her mother had written (the only one that she had been allowed to read and keep).   

    Katarina gazed at her mother’s portrait in the hallway. How was it possible to look so similar to a person you didn’t know?     

   ‘Thank you. I just texted my father and he thinks I’m staying with my friend - the girl you met in the pub.’

   ‘Blonde one, long hair?’

   ‘Yes, that one,’ Kate regularly excused Stacey’s flirtatious behaviour.

    Heath nodded, making himself seem more amiable than he was. He tried to imagine he hadn’t dreamed of sinking his teeth into the blonde girl’s neck and draining her until she shuddered.

   ‘I was wondering if I could sleep in my mother’s old room?’

    Heath hesitated, but he knew refusal would put her off guard.

   ‘Well…um, I don’t think Greta has the bed made up…’

    ‘Which one is it?’

    ‘First right, top of the stairs, but…’ He could feel his muscles tightening; he needed his medication and perhaps some protein from the larder…

     ‘That’s okay; I’ll just take this…’ Katarina gestured to the checked mohair blanket that had been wrapped around her. Before Heath could utter another word, she said good night and was bounding half way up the creaking staircase, two steps at a time, revealing her youth.

    It would be a long night, Heath thought, as he finished his pint of Magenta and took some extra capsules. The storm water pelted down on the sill in the drawing room as the lights suddenly flashed. The dog jumped up and howled. His ears were alert to the unfamiliar sound of music playing from Kate’s old bedroom.

     ‘Settle,’ Heath warned.

      The dog nuzzled his head under his paws and softly growled instead.  He sensed a person approaching.

      Outside, Hinton, Heath’s adopted son, walked alone towards the house. He was grown now, hunched over his plastic-wrapped package. It was his latest completed canvas, carefully covered. Hinton had lived at Hareton Hall since his sister, Frances, had arrived with him in tow eighteen years ago. Now he had no family but Heath and Linus. The boy wore a blue scarf, brown coat and ski hat pulled down over his ears. He’d been in central London finishing his Art History class and then he’d stayed on to assist the tutor during a photography lesson. Hinton was one of the best students at Art College and made extra cash tutoring. The class had been developing film (in a dark room during their lesson in pre-digital camera work) and some students had then decided to go into the West End for drinks. Before he knew, it was almost daybreak.

    The boy hated going home. His uncle was legally his adopted father but Hinton always called him Heath. Before Hinton went off to class, Heath had been in a surlier mood than usual and was always on at him about “making something of his life” and going to work in the City at the family firm. Hinton couldn’t believe he expected so much of him when he expected absolutely nothing of his own son. Linus, who was blonde like his mother, did little else except socialize and run dance parties in abandoned fields.

   Heath and Hinton had countless arguments about Hinton’s “lack of direction.” Hinton knew Heath liked to keep his family close by and didn’t want either of his sons to leave home before they had finished studying. He was a difficult and unsociable parent but he was the only parent Hinton had since his own had died shortly after his birth. Franny had raised him until her desire to flee The Hall after Harrison’s death overcame her. Hinton was in school then and The Hall became his holiday home. Greta, who had children of her own to care for, only came in three days a week now.

   Heath rarely trusted new people enough to actually employ them so when staff left, they were not replaced. Over the years only Greta remained. Hinton couldn’t really believe how he’d been trapped into his adopted father’s lair, especially since Heath had never actually been demonstrative towards him during his childhood. But then, he’d never shown much love to his own son, either. Slowly, Hareton Hall had become his home. And it was all because of her, Hinton thought. As he neared the house, the first picture to greet him in the hallway would be Kate Spencer’s.

     Hinton was sceptical about love partly because of the rumours that connected her to his adopted father. Besides, Hinton was nineteen and had a reputation to uphold. He enjoyed “playing the field” as Heath used to say in the old days. Since Art College had more female students than males, the odds were definitely in his favour. Even so, Hinton couldn’t wait to get out of Hampstead for good. As he walked up the drive, along the old stone road, shivering in the early hours of the morning, he considered the merits of leaving London. The borough was freezing and the cab from the station would only take him so far along the icy road now that the storm was subsiding. He often took the bus. There was nowhere to park in central London anyway and he hated asking Heath for money.

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Hi Lovely Readers, I'm on goodreads now (finally!); it is a lot of fun choosing novels I've read to highlight and recommend. I shall only recommend what I like and what inspires me! I'm just getting my profile together but if anyone would like to join me as a friend that would be fantasmagorical. I'm so excited for the Oscars on Sunday. I have a little party and try to choose my fave dresses and see if my picks win. This year it is so hard to choose winners, there have been many great films made (I loved Argo, Django Unchained and Beasts of the Southern wild was a surprise and a revelation). I'd love to hear the favorites of other readers & film buffs so drop me a line if that's possible. I know, this blog appears to have no comment spaces but I'm working on it (I need a tech expert!) At the moment I am thrilled people are reading Wuthering Nights. I have been uploading a chapter every few days. Wuthering Nights is a very gothic, vampiric YA but I think you'll enjoy the epic, bittersweet English romance that weaves through it... and see some similarities between the storyline in my gothic intergenerational tale and the classic Wuthering Heights on which it is based. Have a great weekend & thanks so much to the wonderful readers who have messaged me! It's awesome to hear from you. I've been very busy working on 'Popular' - which is a bit like a companion novel to Pride & Princesses because Phoebe narrates the prologue etc. I can't wait for you all to read it!

WUTHERING NIGHTS (NINE)

Chapter Nine

Sixteen

     Kate had gone to buy the dress on one of their rare Saturday mornings in Edinburgh. They were sixteen and Kate was determined to drag Heath into town with her to pick up the dress. He pretended not to care because he hated shopping but secretly enjoyed having Kate as his exclusive companion during their journey. He’d grown older and stronger in their years at boarding school. He was managing his condition, and no one except Kate had ever guessed.

     The boy enjoyed any excuse for freedom outside the school grounds. He didn’t see Kate at all during school hours. Although he’d hated being sent away at first, he found the regimented atmosphere of sports and lessons suited him more than he ever imagined it would. Being able to climb higher, jump faster, bat harder and kick longer in games gave him an edge and made him popular with other boys, but it wasn’t them he wanted to impress most. 

    Heath pretended it was an imposition as the note was delivered to his class. He and Kate arranged to meet, catch the bus and have lunch in an old-fashioned tea room (Heath would have preferred lunch at the pub, obviously, but this compromise meant he’d just have to pick the meat off the sandwiches). Besides, to impress Kate, he wanted to go along with her wishes.

   Edinburgh on Saturday morning in April was a jostling, architecturally spectacular city. The light was low, like London but the open wind made it pleasantly colder. Heath wished he could have driven the car he’d been saving to buy from the “business” he ran after lights out. All of the boys from his boarding house were involved in a betting game related to the school fixtures. Heath would have been suspended, or worse, if it was discovered they were using real money to bet. The game had been running for more than a year and Heath, as bookmaker, was making a handsome profit. With his winnings, Heath and Kate could have taken a car if he’d been allowed to drive but the school (stupid school that it was in relation to rules) forbade it.

    Heath would have ignored the rule, like most of the other rules at the school, if it hadn’t been so difficult to break without being noticed. He was careful not to draw too much attention to himself. Being taller, faster, smarter and better looking (according to Kate) than other boys, made this difficult. Because boys placed less value on looks and more on accomplishment, they didn’t dislike him as much as they would have if they’d all been girls and one outshone the others. Really, his mates looked up to him in a way he was sure they wouldn’t, if they knew the truth. He kept his medication hidden. He kept his drinking supplies (type O in secluded plastic packages from the blood bank) in a locked, private fridge that (as house captain) he had exclusive access to. The school nurse was told as little as possible. She thought Heath had a rare condition and relayed instructions from his doctor without telling anyone or asking too many questions.

     Edinburgh wasn’t home to him but he had grown fond of the city. He thought one day he and Kate might live there or maybe New York or London if she had a preference. Anywhere dark and cold but populated would be good. They both liked entertainment and crowds they could blend in to. He glanced at Kate sitting beside him on the bus. Neither of them had their head phones on, preferring each other’s silences to music. He looked at her profile, her perfect features and warm smile, her fragile collarbones...leading to her neck.

    He tried to stop the thought. Yes, her smile was beautiful, though he’d never told Kate this but it was her body and soul he wanted to possess, just as she possessed his, in theory. The warmth of her skin, her blood - intangible and unknown - was a perfect mystery to him. He tried to avoid staring longingly at the tiny rippled vein above her shirt collar. Heath inched his hand across without looking at her. When she laced her warm fingers around his gloved ones, as they approached the main cobbled street, the venom in his veins pulsed.

     Kate always asked after him in a whisper. How was he feeling? Not too weak or strong? Not tired or sleepy? Weird? (Always weird!) Did he need her to go with him to see a specialist? No.

    Heath insisted he was as normal as possible. He wanted no fuss. They were discovering new treatments constantly and he was perfectly fine; he’d be okay…just like her. Only, he knew he was nothing like her. Not really - apart from their obvious physical resemblance which, creepily, made others assume a biological connection that didn’t exist.

    Kate smiled. She loved the fact that, lately, her attention seemed to make Heath nervous. It was strange and unexpected and thrilling; he’d agreed to come with her to pick up her dress. They came into town only when they got a leave pass, and she knew Heath disliked shops. There was no way he’d do this for just anyone, least of all Annabelle Hunt.  To say Kate wasn’t really fond of Annabelle was an understatement.  Kate did not place huge value on female friendship and Annabelle had a job ahead of her trying to befriend Kate. Kate often outshone other girls her age and had been brought up around boys. Besides, Kate was still getting over the fact that the Hunts had been sent to the same boarding school. In any case, Kate felt she had little in common with other teenage girls. Many had tried to befriend her, briefly, only for Kate to discover their real desire was to become close to Heath.

    It had taken Kate ages to get used to seeing the Hunts every day at school. She suspected it was harder for Heath who understandably harboured a grudge against them.  Kate knew if they ever found out who… or what Heath really was, they’d be shocked. They might even shun him. Kate didn’t want Heath to have to go through that. She didn’t want to give the other girls and boys a chance to reject him. He was hers, Kate thought possessively as she linked her arm through his.

    One day he would be fierce and fully grown. By then, there might not be laws discriminating against vampires. One day, Heath might be able to be honest about who he really was. But until then, it would be easier to stay in the shadows. Kate often read marginalized news items with titles like, Blood Stocks Low, and stories about the “threats on the London tube,” and the “new hybrid species of humans” with “unidentifiable blood types”, rumoured to exist. No one had ever come out as a hybrid…or a vampire, for fear of being ostracised.

    The pair rounded the corner from the main street to the bus stop.

    ‘C’mon,’ Heath said, pulling Kate’s hand. ‘Let’s get off here and walk the rest of the way.’

    ‘Okay,’ Kate replied. She wondered if he ever noticed how adoring she was in his company. Kate certainly hoped not. They had never kissed. Heath was worried it might get out of hand and he’d fang her before he controlled himself. He was not yet fully grown and might be so out of control he couldn’t resist and Kate could end up missing a chunk out of her neck or worse.

     Kate was secretive about her feelings for him or as secretive as she could be. How could he not notice that she worshipped every step he took, to a degree that both excited and scared her? She was glad to be wearing the jeans and new jumper she’d ordered from a London catalogue. She was dressed fashionably but Heath barely looked. He was too busy hungrily glancing into the eyes of strangers.

     Together, they reached the shops in double quick time. These days, Heath seemed to almost merge through crowds. He could look into her eyes, and she would know what he wanted before he’d even said it. They were becoming twin souls.

     ‘This is good,’ Heath said. ‘The people traffic isn’t too dense. We can get this over with and then have some lunch before they call out the search and rescue dogs for us.’

     Heath was always hungry.

     ‘I thought you got…permission to come,’ Kate said.

     ‘No…ah, not exactly,’ Heath said. He’d handed in an unfinished assignment and had been asked to stay back on Saturday and complete it. Heath liked to bend the rules and had climbed out the window. Kate shrugged, knowing the teachers liked him too much for him to ever get into serious trouble. She was secretly thrilled he’d risked a further detention for her.

    Together, they rounded the corner of a laneway and walked past a fish and chip shop that sold deep fried fish, chicken and… chocolate bars?

    ‘I’ve always wanted to try one of those,’ Kate said as she walked into the boutique next door.

    ‘Your every wish must be granted…wait there,’ he said.

     Kate loved it when Heath said things like that, flattered her and made a joke of her vanity. He ran into the shop and ordered two battered treats; he returned minutes later as Kate wrapped tightly in her long coat, hovered outside the shop. Heath held two wrapped packages. He gave Kate the first one; a battered chocolate bar with soft caramel oozing in the centre, whilst he chomped on the other - deep fried chicken. Kate’s coat bag was draped carefully over her arm as they sat in the bus shelter and ate hungrily. 

   ‘Mmm… yummy,’ Kate said.

   ‘Like I said, your every wish is my command.’ 

   ‘Nothing but the best for me, hey Heath…’ Kate joked.

   ‘I thought that was what you wanted…’ the boy said, suddenly worried he had misread her.

   ‘Of course, this is one of the highlights of my sixteen years…’

   ‘Mine too…’ Heath said, smiling. Heath had the nicest smile Kate had ever seen, the thickest brown hair and the kindest eyes. His teeth were perfect, (although she missed his little fangs, retracted so long she hadn’t seen them in years). Kate looked away, embarrassed to be caught staring at his mouth.

     Moments later, Kate screamed as a bus sped by and the water in the gutter splashed them. In seconds, water pools swirled around their feet and the edges of their jeans were soaked in muddy rain.

   ‘Oh well,’ Kate said, ‘I suppose they can be dry cleaned…’

    Heath looked at her, the warmth of his smile suddenly making even the cold weather feel less inclement. He moved closer. Kate could nearly feel his breath. The boy opened up his coat, snug and larger than hers and enveloped her in its dry warmth. Rain tumbled down from the sky. Heath’s body temperature these days was not cold but he always seemed to need an extra jumper.    

    ‘This is Edinburgh for you,’ Heath said. ‘Quick…’

    They moved from the bus stop, which was largely uncovered, to the shelter of the shop front. In the fading afternoon sun, Kate leaned in and kissed Heath, softly on the mouth. Heath was surprised and soon they were covering each other in sweet, warm kisses.

    At first, Heath was reluctant. After Kate kissed him he leaned back hesitantly. Heath managed to kiss Kate again without wanting to drain the blood from her neck and felt only mild discomfort in his veins.

    The discomfort soon turned to bliss. Being around her for so many years made control possible…just; he’d taken his medication while he waited for her. This “control” was a revelation to him. They kissed again. Heath suddenly pushed her away, feeling the tiny pang of his extending incisors.

    ‘I’m…sorry,’ Kate said.

     ‘It’s…it’s not your fault. I’m just…’

     ‘I know,’ Kate whispered, turning his face to hers.     

     The boy shyly reached his gloved hands under her coat. Heath pulled Kate closer to him - so close she felt, for a moment, unable to breath. The depth of their affection scared her. She lowered her arms into him, stayed locked in his embrace and just as quickly pushed him away.

    ‘I…I didn’t expect us to be so…’

   ‘What?’ Heath said, unsurprised by the extraordinary feelings he felt. Alarmed she might be rejecting him, he suddenly felt his incisors extending again and turned his face away, ashamed.

    ‘Look at me,’ Kate said. He retracted his fangs fully in that moment before doing so, proving to himself that control was completely possible.  

   ‘I don’t want us to have any secrets. I was going to say…good. Together we are so…’

   ‘Bad?’ he smiled. Heath leaned in towards her as they waited for the downpour to stop. Wrapped in each other’s arms, they were glad to miss the first bus back to school.

Amazon Linkhttp://www.amazon.com/dp/B0087EUMD6

WUTHERING NIGHTS (EIGHT)

Chapter Eight

Winter Nights

      Finally, Heath shone the torch on the dusty old shoe box he was looking for.

     ‘This should satisfy her imagination,’ he thought.

    Inside lay a pile of photographs, taken pre-digitally, tied in a bundle with a red ribbon. The photographs were of the Spencers, as children, at the local primary school and playing together on Hampstead Heath. There were more taken at boarding school in Scotland. They had not been looked at or moved for almost twenty years and the top of the box was thick with dust, but other than that, the photographs were in remarkably good condition.

     Heath rubbed his arms. He could anticipate need now, the need for his medication, the need for blood. Heath could feel the surge of want and desire in his venom. The tightness in his calves and wrists would move through his body as his strength seemed to decrease physically. He’d neglected his pint of blood this evening, which he always drank before eight pm, but then he’d never had visitors to distract him. He looked at the photograph in his hand. 

     ‘Your beautiful face,’ Heath whispered, fingers tracing the paper outline of her jaw as he held the edge of the torch in his mouth He dropped it when he heard the dog bark and the girl cry out. He rushed down the stairs to the drawing room.

    Rain streamed in through the broken window creating a fast-growing puddle of water in the drawing room. He walked over to block the window with a chest of drawers as the girl shrank into the corner of the wall…

    ‘I… I went to close the shutter and someone tried to grab my hand.’

    Heath paused.

    ‘You must have imagined it Katarina. It was the wind and the rain. The winds are strong; it’s so isolated out here. A noise sounds louder than it really is. Shadows seem like people. Now, calm yourself. Here, take a seat and have a sip of your drink. I’ll make some tea.

    Katarina sat on the couch, shocked and shaken.

   ‘How did you do that? Move the chest so easily? Pull down the window as if it was as light as a feather?’

    Heath finished his drink and paused.

    ‘It’s not as heavy as it looks‘

    The answer seemed to satisfy Katarina who continued with her description...

   ‘The fingers, they were so cold…her skin was…white. She wore a nightgown…’

   ‘Honestly Katarina, you sound like you’ve read too many horror stories…’

   ‘Suddenly, I feel like I’m living one…’

   ‘Only suddenly?’ Heath said sarcastically. ‘You wouldn’t be the first to say that. I’m thinking of selling it…. But nevertheless, it’s not safe to leave now.’

   ‘It’s not safe to stay…’

   ‘Nonsense…mind plays tricks in here. I’ll take you home the minute the storm finishes or morning comes…whichever arrives first.’

    Katarina sighed as Heath smiled and helped her to her feet. Her father had clearly exaggerated. No stranger could have been more welcoming.

    Heath smiled again as he settled a mohair rug around the girl. Katarina accidentally touched his hand and was shocked. His palm was as cold as ice. He withdrew his hand quickly and rubbed his fingers together.

     ‘Thank you,’ Katarina said, pretending not to notice. Little did she know what an effort it was to play nice. Heath had managed to take a few more sips of blood in his bedroom before going to find the photos and was feeling somewhat revived. He had no attraction to this girl’s blood. In any case, it was strange. He hadn’t even thought of drinking her, especially as he was hungry. He’d trained himself to withhold when it came to people he liked or met as friends. Perhaps this came from being “mixed-race”. Heath’s specialist had once considered him that rarest of things; a vampire-human hybrid. Now, he felt more vampire than hybrid.

    ‘I aim to please,’ he said cheerily, aware how bland he sounded. He handed her the photograph album as he spoke. ‘We open the grounds to visitors in the summer now that…my wife has left and the children have grown up. I usually move to the Southern Hemisphere and enjoy the winter in New Zealand (Heath wanted to add, ‘It’s cold there when it’s hot here and there’s an endless supply of animal protein and blood and no one asks any questions.’) Instead, he used the open house story as an excuse, adding, ‘I was…opposed to it at first, but the visitors bring in extra revenue and I don’t have to put up with them… and, it all goes to a good cause - my charity for abandoned children…’

    Her uncle sat opposite her now, sipping his brandy as he discussed the plight of orphans. 

    How could a man who was involved in charitable causes be as bad as her father had said?

    The phone rang. Heath picked up the receiver. He spoke curtly as Katarina poured over the photographs on her lap.

   ‘That was Linus,’ Heath added, after he hung up. ‘He’s been caught up in the West End and Hinton is working late at the studio. He goes to evening classes sometimes. I just got a text. They don’t speak to me usually. Apparently, I spent too much of my energy on work when they were growing up and now they don’t want to know me.’ Heath rationalized this partial lie as easier than the truth.

     Katarina looked intently at the photographs of two children dressed up formally for a family function in the grounds of Hareton Hall. They looked like twins apart from the fact that one was a little taller than the other.

    ‘That’s us, when I first came to live with the Spencers,’ Heath said.

    ‘You both look…so sweet,’ Katarina said. ‘I was wondering…why didn’t my father like you?’

    Heath paused, wondering how much to tell the girl.

   ‘He didn’t like me because he thought he was better than me…it’s as simple as that.’

    The girl shook her head incredulously. ‘Oh…but my father would never…’

   ‘It…was different then. Everything was different…’  

    Heath smiled. Katarina noticed his perfect, white teeth.

   ‘It’s late, we can continue our…discussion at a later date,’ Heath added, rising from his chair.

   It bothered him slightly to have her in the house all night, not because he cared what anyone would think but… well, for reasons which had already become obvious. The house itself…was unreliable, strange… creepy. His desires were manageable. He was determined she would not discover his secret but the girl had made an accurate assessment of hidden forces that swirled through the hall like...ghosts.

    ‘When was this taken?’ Katarina asked as Heath stood up.

    The girl held the photograph of two children, the boy with an untucked shirt, messy hair and wayward striped tie, and the girl, standing up straight with knee high white socks and braids. The boater hat sat atop her perfectly styled hair.

    Heath looked at the photo dismissively.

   ‘First day of boarding school, Greta took us to the train. We each had trunks with our names engraved on them in gold.’ Heath smiled at the memory.

    ‘Really…I didn’t know you and mother went to school together…’

    ‘We didn’t…not really. There was a boys’ school and a girls’ school. They shared the same playing fields.’

    ‘Did you meet up in secret then?’

    He suddenly tired of Katarina’s constant questions and wanted someone else to distract her. He didn’t expect her to be so smart, or to like her, even a little. Perhaps she had more of her mother in her than her father…

    ‘Sometimes,’ he said warily, ‘Kate…your mother…came to my football games…’

     The storm howled outside as if to prove a point. Heath walked heavily over to the bay windows and checked the locks from the inside to prevent the incessant rattle which shook the room in the dark. Usually, it drizzled here but tonight was different. Tonight reminded him of Scotland and the stormy night his band played in the school hall for the first time.  

    ‘I like this photograph,’ Katarina said. ‘I’ve never seen it before.  Where did she get the outfit?’

   Kate stood on the stairs of a ballroom in a beautiful, low-cut, pink satin drop-waisted dress wearing high heels, tassels on the knee length hem and a sequinned choker around her head.  ‘It was the school formal, I suppose they call it a “prom” on those American TV shows…’ he said dismissively. ‘The theme of the occasion was 1920s,’ he warmed to the memory, ‘and so…we…the band I was in…tried playing jazz, dressed as gangsters… We thought we were so cool… Your mother…Kate, was determined to be the centre of attention that night…’ Heath looked at the photograph and smiled.

    As if reading his thoughts, Katarina said, ‘ ...Wearing that dress, I bet she succeeded.’

Wuthering Nights link: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0087EUMD6