Haunted by Love

"You have no idea. He's really stressed with this whole Christmas Special thing and we were sort of thinking your story might be the one but it was always going to be a tight deadline. There was the possibility of booking a location crew but we needed to decide by last Wednesday but we didn't because we hadn't heard from you..."

"I'm sorry. I was still trying to get information and, well... sorry."

"Bethany, look, Rick's not being very fair on you, I know, but Colin and Tina aren't helping. What have you done to upset Tina? She's really been doing you down at every opportunity."

"I think it's because I slept with Rick, as I guess you know. She seems to think I did it to further my career but that wasn't my intent. It was after you said about being friendlier and it just sort of happened."

"Yeah, I sort of gathered you two had, er, got together. But Bethany, I just felt that you weren't happy being involved with the show and didn't get on with the rest of the team. Your suggestion about Purdew Manor was good but you know what it's like at creative meetings: you need allies to get a proposal accepted. I was trying just to encourage you to be more of a team player, to make some friends; hell, just to not look so bloody fed up all the time!" He sighs. "I didn't mean you should sleep with Rick."

"Sorry, but I didn't plan it that way either." I'm not sure what else to say, but find myself adding, "After I got the chance with the story I guess I felt I owed Rick..." I feel my cheeks flush, more because Ruth hears my confession than Marcus does. She, however, simply takes my hand and squeezes gently, a gesture of care and support.

"I understand," Marcus says sympathetically.

"Marcus, can I tell you something just between the two of us?

"Sure," he replies, a note of intrigue in his voice.

"The thing is... I've met someone, down here."

"Oh... well, that helps explain the silence from you, what with Rick and all. And you really like this chap, I assume?"

"Um, it's not a chap." If Marcus weren't gay, I don't think I could have admitted that. "Her name's Ruth and she's here now."

"Hmm, well that was unexpected." I hear him take a deep breath. "Bethany, have you got a story with Purdew Manor or not?"

"Um, sort of... I'm sure I know what happened but I don't know if I can, you know, prove it. There is some information but not as much as you'd hope for."

"Well, why don't you send me what you've got? That was meant to be the point of you staying in contact, so you didn't have to feel it was all up to you."

"Okay, I'll see what I can do. I've no Internet access here."

"I thought the hotel had Wi-Fi?" he asks suspiciously.

"It does but I'm staying with Ruth," I admit.

"O-kay; well that sounds pretty serious. Try and send me something, Bethany, please. I'm sure this disciplinary stuff can be dealt with but you need to help yourself here. Understand?"

"Yes, I do. Thanks, Marcus, you've been really good to talk to. Bye for now."

"Goodbye Bethany. Glad you're okay." He rings off and I'm left looking at Ruth.

"What are you going to do, darling?" she asks. "Are you going to send them your notes?" I feel so torn.

"I hate the way this is going but..." I try to get my thoughts and feelings in order. "I thought I wanted this so much, this chance to become a writer on the show," I tell her. "When I was given the opportunity I was so pleased, even though I was ashamed of sleeping with Rick to get it. And then I met you... and we were haunted and I fell in love with you."

"Beth, what do you want? Never mind what happened or might happen with the disciplinary; what do you want, for yourself?" My head may be unsure but my heart is screaming the answer.

"I want to be here, with you. I don't want to go back to London and leave you. I hate even more that I'll have to go there cap in hand, begging forgiveness. I'll be back to the same crappy work because there's no way now that I'll be given any part in writing this story; they'll just take all the notes and research and hand them to Gavin or fucking Tina." Tears of hurt and frustration fill my eyes at the unfairness of it all. "I'm so tempted just say to hell with them all and send my resignation," I sob.

"Well, why don't you?" Ruth asks quietly.

"But... what would I do?"

"Stay here and live with me of course. Beth, my darling, I've dreaded the thought of you going back to London, that your career would take over and we... we'd drift apart. I never want that." Her words resonate so strongly with my own feelings but I'm so emotional.

"We only met a week ago, Ruth. How can we know? Life isn't that simple..."

"Our ancestors met and fell in love a century and a half ago and, maybe because of that we were meant to meet and fall in love and live together as they never had the chance to."

"Oh Ruth, I so want that to be true but I just don't know; what would I do for work and money?" She looks at me with such kindness and affection in her beautiful golden-brown eyes.

"We can live simply here, grow some of our own food, keep the goats and a few chickens. We could even get solar panels or a wind turbine so we make our own electricity. We'd manage..." Her hand caresses my cheek and a smile appears on her face. "You said your ambition was to be a writer? Well, who said the notes have to become a brief episode of a crappy TV show. Have the courage to follow a dream, Beth."

"Like you had, moving here... Ruth, my love," I take a deep breath. "Somehow, I've always felt at home here so... yes, I'd love to make this my home for real." She gives a whoop and hugs me.

"Come on then," she says when we eventually let each other go, and she takes my hand. "We need to have breakfast and then go to Bodmin to buy a fridge and freezer and other things for our home."

After breakfast, for which I can still only stomach toast, we spend several hours touring shops. I don't know if Ruth intended it but it feels like we're making a home together, something that thrills my heart. If only I knew how to sort the work stuff out.

We grab a sandwich for lunch before heading home with curtains for the bedroom, a couple of lamps, a new duvet, pillows and bedding, a coffee maker (bought only because I said how much I'd always wanted to get one I suspect) and, finally, a combined fridge-freezer that will be delivered next Tuesday.

Back home -- I can't help feeling it's that -- we move the mattress upstairs from the kitchen and cover it with a dust sheet. As Ruth points out, it's better not trying to bring the mattress in when there's wet paint on the walls. The walls get painted but by then the light is fading in the room.

We shower together, carefully washing paint splashes from hair and skin, caressing and touching as if we can never experience enough of each other. Afterwards, we go down and cook. Well, Ruth cooks but I do bits under her careful direction; I can now chop an onion with more confidence and know the process to make Shepherd's Pie.

As we cuddle in bed in the bedroom for the first time, enjoying the fresh, crisp feel of the new bedding. Ruth reminds me that this was the room from where she heard the footsteps. "I don't think you'll be disturbed tonight," I assure her, "unless I wake up feeling randy!"

"Ooo, promises, promises!" she laughs but then becomes more serious. "How are you feeling?"

"Well, I'm tired but not sick or anything, though my boobs are still tender. I'm also very in love with you... but I'm still nervous about the future. I just wish there was something, some sign, some way of knowing..."

"Knowing what?"

"Of knowing that what we feel will last, I suppose."

"Beth, there are no guarantees, only our love and commitment, renewed day after day. We take what life gives, the good things and the bad, and together we enjoy or overcome them."

"You make it sound so easy."

"The principles might be but living them? No, it's not always. Look at Arabella and Rosalind; despite all the problems they had, they still chose each other."

"I know..." I yawn. "I love you so much." I close my eyes and snuggle into her. The smell of her skin and the feel of her arms around me make me feel so safe, so cherished...

I wake and Ruth is still holding me. Outside, through the still curtain-less window, I can see the first light of day is bleeding into the sky. I feel so contented and safe, and it is so peaceful: all I can hear is the soft sound of Ruth's breathing and the occasional bird outside. I made the right decision yesterday because how can I ever think of leaving this woman? I hear her stir behind me. I turn to face my lovely Ruth and hug her tight.

"My darling, gorgeous woman; I don't know how to express all I feel for you, to show you how deeply and completely I love you," I tell her.

"The way I will with you: day by day, making a life together." Her voice is thick with emotion.

"I want that too, Ruth darling. I want to wake like this every morning." I smile but my stomach gripes. What I do not want is the same queasy feeling I woke with yesterday and I let out a slight moan.

"What's up love?" Ruth asks in concern.

"It's just my tummy playing up again." She looks at me, biting her lip and thinking.

"Beth, I just need to ask this: when was your last period?"

"What? Well about four weeks ago, it must be. I, let me think; I'd just come on when Marcus spoke to me about being a team player so... oh... crap. It was six weeks ago. You don't think..?"

"Did you use contraception, when you, er, slept with Rick?"

"Well, I take the pill. I missed a few days at the start of last month but I'd been taking them when we actually, you know, did it. I can't be pregnant!"

"I think there's a possibility."

"But it's never mattered in the past when I've missed the odd day," I protest. Remembering to take the damn pills has always been a challenge.

"Maybe in the past your body knew the time wasn't right," she says gnomically. "I did wonder yesterday: queasiness, swollen tits, sensitive nipples... I lived with my cousin and her husband for a couple of years after I finished at university and we're quite close: she liked telling me of all the symptoms she had during her pregnancies."

"How many?" I can't help asking.

"Three, so far, and three gorgeous babies as a result," she smiles. "I, um, I bought a pregnancy testing kit yesterday."

"What? When?"

"While you were off finding the loo, at the shopping centre. You don't mind, do you?" Do I? What if I am?

"No, I guess it's better to know. Ruth, what if I'm pregnant? What will that do to us?"

"I'll still love you, Beth, every bit as much... and not just you, if that's what you want." She adds the last bit a little shyly and I have to think a moment to realize she means the baby, if I choose to keep it.

Ten minutes later we're sat side by side on the bed and I'm a little shell-shocked. In the en-suite bathroom a few minutes ago I'd peed on the end of the tester as per instructions and wiped myself after finishing. I hadn't even made it back to the bed before there was a deep pink line. "Fucking hell!" I gasped, as much at the suddenness as the actual result, which I held out to Ruth to see and to check I wasn't misreading it. I'm startled by the huge smile on her face and I look at her in amazement. "You're really happy about this, aren't you?"

"Sorry, Beth my darling," she says. She might be trying to stop herself grinning but if she is then it's not working. "I suppose I've had a bit of time to think about it but, yes, I think it's wonderful."

"Ruth... the idea... me... a mum?" The image of me holding a baby, a tiny person, is startling and yet, terrifying as the idea is, I can't say that there isn't part of me that gives a little skip of excitement at the prospect.

"Does thinking of us as parents make the idea any better?" she asks quietly. I remember again the vision of the woman approaching the cottage with a child in hand. That was Rosalind but it could be me too in future, walking with my, no, our child. I suddenly see what Ruth means about being part of something that leads us to where we ought to be. Maybe Ruth is right and that now the time is right.

"So... Mummy Ruth and Mummy Beth?" I try to say it as a joke but the emotion of it hits me and my eyes well with tears.

"Beth, it has to be your decision in the end but, yes, I would love us to be Mums to our little..." she puts her hand on my tummy and closes her eyes. "Our little girl."

"Are you just messing around or are you being witchy again?"

"It's just the feeling I got; I could be wrong and a little boy would be just as lovely." She strokes my tummy affectionately.

I let out a long breath. "You will still love me when I grow to the size of a whale, won't you?"

"Of course I will. Anyway, I happen to think there is something magical and beautiful about a pregnant woman and if that woman is you, well, you'll be stunning."

"Thank you." I edge down and snuggle into her boobs and she hugs me. I need to be held right now and she seems to know that instinctively. "Ruth love, when I come to tell Mum that she has a pregnant, lesbian and possibly unemployed daughter, you will be there with me, won't you?"

"Absolutely, my darling; I'll always be with you, I promise. I don't suppose the prospect of a baby makes deciding what you're going to do about your job any easier, does it?"

"I'm going to sleep on it... Oh, sod it, who am I kidding? I know what I want; I'm just putting off contacting Marcus." I feel her arms tighten protectively around me. "Here, can you pass me my phone?" I ask as I sit up. She hands it to me and I don't know if I'm pleased or disappointed to see three bars on the signal indicator; the phone is not going to prevent me from making this call. "I thought you said the phone signal comes and goes from here all the time," I say as I scroll through the contacts list.

"It always has done so you could just be being lucky today," she suggests as she looks at the phone's display. "That's a proper good signal too; maybe the phone company have sorted something out or maybe," she gives a little chuckle, "maybe there's something about ghosts that interferes with phone signals and now that Rosalind and Arabella have gone..." I'm not sure if she's joking but I do wonder if she might be right.

"Hmm, that would explain some of what happened on the Moor that first night," I muse before reluctantly dragging myself back to the task at hand and continue through the list of contacts to find Marcus.

"Hello, Bethany. How are you today?" he answers almost instantly and I put the phone on loudspeaker so Ruth can hear too.

"Hi Marcus," I reply but then don't know what to say next.

"You haven't emailed me anything have you, Bethany." It's a statement, not a question.

"No," I concede. "Look, Marcus, I don't think I can face coming back, not to Rick and Tina and certainly not to a disciplinary meeting."

"So you're going to let them walk all over you?" he asks disappointedly. "I thought you had more fire in you. You told me yesterday that you'd found information about the haunting, so you weren't sitting around doing nothing last week..." He goes quiet and I'm at a loss at what to say. Somehow, I can't quite manage the 'take your job and shove it' bravado I had when talking to Ruth yesterday. "Okay, Bethany, tell me honestly: have you the details and information from the week of research you did?"

"Yes!" I reply, slightly affronted at the suggestion that I might have been lying, before I realise that it's not such an outrageous question in the circumstances. "Yes, I do," I say more quietly. "I have photos of portraits of Sir and Lady Blyth as well as an old floor plan of Purdew Hall before it became a hotel. I spent a long time at the library and found a book with an account of what happened, newspaper reports of the couple's marriage, the birth and death of their son, William... actually, I'm not sure about his birth but the Records Office will have that anyway. I also found reports of the disappearances and then, later, the sale of Purdew Hall. The library has a load of police records, all uncatalogued of course, from the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries and I found the police reports of the events. I have copies," I conclude, a little breathlessly.

"You did all of that in a week? And found time not only to eat and sleep but to fall in love too!" he replies in a tone of amazement; I decide not to mention that it was actually only three days. "Okay, next question: do you really not want to come back to work here?" I hesitate, taking time to think carefully. I am very aware of Ruth's gaze and, though it's just my imagination, the little life germinating deep inside me.

"No, not really... not at all, actually; this is where I belong now, here with Ruth."

"Hmm, I rather thought that's what you'd say." He is silent again. "Rick isn't being fair on you, Bethany, we both know that but, well, you're not the first whose manager has been a complete shit to them and you sure as hell won't be the last. He's just trying to bully you into leaving the show."

"Well yes, obviously, but what can he do about it?" Ruth whispers, though not quietly enough.

"Is that Ruth?" he asks and she says hello. "Hello, Ruth. What can I do? In normal circumstances, not a lot; however, Bethany has an ace up her sleeve."

"Marcus, what are you talking about?" I ask.

"The point is, Bethany, that you actually want to go; meanwhile, Rick thinks he can bully you because he's assuming you want to stay. So here's my suggestion: Bethany, send Rick an explanation of the research you've done, don't worry too much about the precise details of what you actually found at this stage, just concentrate on the hours of work you put in, much as you just told me. At the same time, make sure you complain about how unfair the whole disciplinary thing is. I wouldn't mention Ruth if I were you, not at this stage, but copy me in on the email."

"Okay, I can do that, but how will that help?" I ask.

"Well, I'll then to do my best to convince Rick and, more importantly, HR that a better option for them might be for me to try and persuade you to accept an offer of severance and leave without making a fuss. Rick thinks he's top dog but I've been with the BBC a long time: I know how things tend to work and who to talk to. I don't suppose they'd pay any more than they're obliged to for redundancy, but it's better than nothing.

"Marcus, that would be ideal!" I tell him.

"You'd probably have to sign to say you accept the severance and that you waive any rights to sue or anything, and Rick will probably want a guarantee you won't try talking to the media about your, um, relationship with him."

"That wouldn't be a problem," I assure him, "it's not like it's something I want others to know about, especially now. Do you think they'd do that?"

"Well, no guarantees but I think it's quite likely," he replies.

"Oh, I do hope so. I will send that email; today, I promise," I assure him. "Thank you so, so much."

"Yes, thanks, Marcus," Ruth adds.

"No, I need to do this; the truth is still I feel guilty that what I said made you think you had to say yes to Rick."

"No, Marcus, don't feel guilty," I tell him, "because without that I wouldn't have had the chance to come down here to do the research and wouldn't have met Ruth."

"The love of your life," he says, humour in his voice.

"Yes, I think she is," I reply earnestly.

"In that case, I shall do my very best to sort this out. Bye for now, Bethany, and you too Ruth." Ruth and I say goodbye to him and I put the phone down before we hug each other tightly. I cannot resist taking her boob in my hand to squeeze it gently as my thumb rubs her nipple, making it swell and harden.