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Sunday was done – for our first day, we did all our solo shots. Tomorrow, we were scheduled to do our joint shots. The director said we did well and at 4.30pm he called it a day. I had help removing the dress but I left the make-up on … who wouldn’t when you’ve had professional make-up done?
We all went for a drink in the village at one of the local pubs. I was amazed Heath came for drinks, he usually hated that social element but he got over it and came along; he knew a couple of the local guys in the pub and invited them to join us. I was keen for him to leave first and he did after Isabella rang him – I don’t know why she didn’t come to the pub; she loved an audience and being admired. I don’t know if she came to his shoot today because I hadn’t seen much of him all day except occasionally from a distance. Anyway, after an hour of socialising, he excused himself and I stayed longer so it didn’t look like I was sneaking out to catch up with him – the things we do.
I remained another 20 minutes or so and then rose to say my goodbyes. I wanted to walk home to Wuthering Heights while there was still about forty-five minutes of light left. The moors would be beautiful in the dusk light and I could go through the day in my head and release it all on my walk. A couple of the crew also got up to return to their accommodation. Will, our director, told us that once he had found somewhere to go for a group dinner, he would text us if we wanted to join in – plan on a 7.30pm meet. I thanked everyone and vowed to see them at dinner or in the morning bright and early.
I was right; the smell of the earth and green was calming and the dusk was crisp with soft light. I felt exhausted … the strain of being in my old territory with Heath so nearby, being on guard with him. I increased my pace for the exercise. I was wearing jeans and a pullover and had a small backpack on, so I broke into a jog now and then. I was home in good time and ran up the stairs to my townhome at Wuthering Heights.
Heath was sitting on the top stair, waiting for me.
I came to a sudden halt. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move.
‘Hi Cathy,’ he said like it was the most natural thing in the world for us to run into each other.
‘Heath!’ His presence unsettled me. I felt my heartbeat racing.
I didn’t want to invite him in but I didn’t have to, technically it was our place. He rose, moved aside and took a deep breath.
‘Did you forget something?’ I asked, fishing around in my backpack for my keys.
‘No, I have my key. I was waiting for you,’ he said, softly. ‘I didn’t want to wait inside in case I startled you, or you didn’t come home and stayed on drinking. I thought I’d give you forty minutes or so before I headed off.’
I moved pasthim and unlocked the door. I was conscious of him beside me, the energy coming off him. He looked so brooding and commanding and I couldn’t believe the pull I felt toward him. The entranceway wasn’t big enough for both of us and I blocked the doorway. I turned to face him.
‘Cathy, I live here too, I don’t need to be invited in,’ he said.
‘Oh, that’s right, this is your family home too, from when we were family,’ I said, smartly. I hated myself sometimes. I stood aside and we both entered, staying put not far inside the doorway.
He grabbed my hand. ‘Cathy, don’t do this.’
‘Do what?’ I asked, conscious of his skin on mine.
‘Don’t end us,’ he said the words slowly.
I looked at his hand holding mine, it seemed such a foreign thing now. Isabella’s words to Edgar returned to haunt me:“When we’re together, he is so ardent … he does it as if he wants me –slow, attentive, passionate.”
I tried to pull my hand away but he wouldn’t release me. I glared at him. His eyes were dark and deep and he was here, the Heath I’ve always known. I tried to find my voice but I was reeling. I succeeded in snatching my hand away from him; he had no right to touch me anymore.
‘I don’t think this is a good idea … you coming in, us both being here. Don’t you need to get back to Isabella?’ I asked.
‘Yes. I have to talk with you first. Just a few minutes … for a lifetime of memories.’
His words brought tears to my eyes. I blinked them back and straightened.
‘Don’t dream it’s over, Cathy,’ he said in a low whisper. I stepped away, closing the door completely and he followed me into the living area. I put my backpack down on the couch and turned to face him.
‘Don’t marry him,’ he said. ‘Don’t marry, Edgar.’
‘Heath,’ I said his name in a rush. ‘You’re marrying Isabella.’
I leant against the back of the couch. He remained nearer to the door. His phone rang, and he grabbed it and looked at the screen. He swore under his breath, held his hand up to me imploring for one minute and quickly answered.
‘I’m on my way. I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.’ He listened for a few moments and then said goodbye and hung up.
‘It’s us, Cathy, and they are the Lintons. What are we doing?’
I couldn’t help but smile, I guess our situation was a bit ‘out there’ considering what we used to think about the strange, pale kids across the moors.
‘Bit late now isn’t it?’ I asked. ‘This ship has sailed … your ship has sailed.’
