Whenever she saw him, Brenda wondered how her husband's grandfather had done so well for himself, had made his money in running a business from the earliest days of its start-up and then selling out at the top of the market.
He had no money worries and yet Derek Hargreaves lived frugally and alone in his modest house that was impeccably furnished and kept spotlessly clean, But his wild appearance made anyone who first met him think that he was a beatnik, or a Hells Angel, dressed as he so often was in a biker's jacket, jeans and his long legs ending in a pair of clumpy boots.
He possessed a mane of long black hair that showed more than the earliest signs of going grey and it seemed never to be combed out. He just brushed it back from his bearded and lined face, only for it to fall back again in a rebellious mop.
She could not help but love his wild spirit and the time he had for her; times that had become longer in the months that had followed a grandmother's early death. Gran had never hidden from the family the trouble she often had in living with 'that man', his drinking, and suspected womanising. But that was all it was, suspicions of him straying and that she never paid any attention to whenever she heard a critical word said about him.
She kept house for him, three days a week, or as and when her zero-hours contract work allowed, Derek saying that he was glad that she did the washing and ironing of 'my 'main stuff'. He would deal with his 'smalls' as he referred to his underpants and handkerchiefs, the latter usually a brightly coloured bandana of some kind with patterns dyed into the cloth.
"You're a good-looking lass, luv," he would often say in a deep voice accented with its heavy Lancashire burr, a voice that held affection for her, nevertheless. "Your man's looking after you, I hope, and he must make you happy or I'll clip his ears."
She had laughed the last time he had asked it of her so directly. "Don't worry about that or me. I can look after myself, Gramps."
"I wish you'd call me Derek. We've known each other too long to hang onto those old ways of it. And now that Gran's gone you can call me that."
"Do you miss her?" she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
"Aye, sometimes, but you know as well as anyone that we didn't always get on." He shifted in his comfortable armchair and rested his head against one of the wings. "I'll not keep you talking, or it'll mean you won't get the chores done. I do appreciate what you do for me, lass."
"Done with love, you know that," she smiled and leaned in to kiss his forehead, feeling the brush of his hand to the skin of her arm for an instant. The man with his rough appearance had his tender side. "Have a snooze and dream of whatever you dream about."
"You wouldn't want to know, lass," he winked.
Only she did know and had done so at times when Derek thought she was not aware of his look upon her. Nor would he know the unsettling effect that such a look would have upon her. He was something of a brute, often wild-eyed and brusque, his good looks fading, but he was undoubtedly a passionate and caring man...on his terms.
The man seated in his chair and seeming to doze had provoked many a dissolute thought in her. Her husband, Jon, was the son of four children fathered by the man she would often gaze at as he worked in his small garden, or when he was seen pottering about in the greenhouse and bringing on the many flowers that he filled the hanging baskets with. They always made such a colourful display, in summer, when he hung them on their hooks at the front and back of the house.
Here was a man, still agile despite the passing of the years, with whom she had argued and had said that her unproductive times with Jon should not be of too great a concern to him. Time was still on her side, just.
"Just ask and I'll have a word with him, Jon's my grandson, after all."
"Yes, so why don't things happen for me as they did for you and Lily?"
"I don't know lass, except that we had the kids when we were young and had little money, and still wanted to have them."
"Yeah, it took two to click, didn't it?"
"Yes, lass, it did...four times no less. Talk to me whenever you want to. I'm not a man who goes around blabbing about family stuff to anyone else, especially outside of it. I never have been."
It was then that she had taken to wondering what secret she, and Derek, might get to keeping.
♥
The doorbell chimed twice, their agreed signal that she had arrived, reaching him. Brenda had, long ago, been given the house keys.
"Sorry I'm late!" she called out to him and she met Derek's unmistakably admiring look upon her. "I got offered some work so I took it. I hope that I didn't wake you."
"No, I was just relaxing out here and enjoying the weather."
The early afternoon sun was warm and she gazed for an instant at the man with his stubble beard stark on his face. He must do this whenever the chance arose because she did not see any paler skin on his arms or hairy chest that was now exposed to her gaze, his short-sleeved shirt unbuttoned and baggy-legged shorts tight on his crotch.
She felt a shiver of uncommon longing aroused by the sight of his slender body, the whiteness of the hair on his chest, and the wildness of the man's appearance before her. She was glad that her sunglasses hid her wondering look from him.
It was becoming easier to relax in Derek's company as troubles elsewhere began to take a toll on her mood.
"Don't fret, lass, I've kept meself busy with things about the house and the greenhouse. Now, I'm having a cup of tea." Derek gazed up at her as he sat on a sun-lounger, but the leg support had been taken off and propped against a wall. "Get yourself a drink and sit out here with me. I haven't seen you for a few days."
"It matters does it?" she asked, her tone brittle.
"Yes, it does," he answered calmly. "What's up, or has the job put you in a mood?"
She sighed at his 'no-nonsense' ways with her. "Sorry, but it's Jon again..."
"Jon again about the same thing we spoke about a few weeks ago?"
"Yeah, that again." Derek followed her into the house and watched as Brenda poured out some lemonade from the bottle kept in the fridge, adding a slice of lemon that she cut from a fresh one that he had left in the fruit dish. "Sorry, I should have asked you first."
"Don't be silly, this place is as much your home as anywhere else," he assured her as he stood by Brenda's side and delighted in her sleeveless blouse that was worn with a swirly skirt. The young woman loved her bracelets and he watched in fascination as she brushed back her hair, the bracelets jangling as they slid down over her slender wrists. "If this goes on for much longer I'll have to step in and help you out."
"No, just you stay out of it!" she snapped and took a long sip of her drink. "I'll get on with things. Just go outside, Derek, and enjoy the weather. I'll be as quick as I can."
