Wishing Water by Freda Lightfoot Page A

felt cool and sheltered, whorls of yellow lichen rough and scratchy on their bare arms. They watched an Orange Tipped butterfly light on a bloom of lady’s smock and laughed in delight as a tree pipit descended like a spinning top in a graceful spiral of song.
    ‘Not used to walking?’ Derry teased as he saw her catching her breath, and Lissa was infuriated with herself for giving him another opportunity to show off.
    ‘Hardly, I grew up on the fells.’ she said scornfully. Her annoyance was made worse by the fact she could feel her cheeks growing warm under his amused gaze. Turning quickly to Jan, she offered more sandwiches, a piece of cake, a sip of water.
    Derry made a sound very like soft laughter. ‘We won’t go as far as Bowfell today. I don’t think Lissa is quite up to it.’
    Flushing a deep red Lissa longed to deny it but dare not, for she was indeed tired. It had been a hard week in the shop. Jan settled the matter.
    ‘Thank heaven for that. My legs are like jelly already.’
    Proving her worth on a high mountain peak must wait for another day. They set out from Stool End to walk up the broad smooth incline, and after a while Derry made sure Jan was striding ahead, as she so loved to do, so he had Lissa all to himself.
    ‘You don’t say much, do you? Are you always so touchy?’ he asked. ‘Or have I done something to offend?’ His voice sounded so genuinely concerned that she was quite taken by surprise. He thought her standoffish, a bit uppity, when all the time she was simply - simply what? Nervous of possible rejection? Something of the sort. She didn’t like to think too deeply about it. Lissa only knew that she felt better, safer, when there was a certain distance between herself and others.
    ‘I don’t know what you mean.’  
    ‘Is it because you think I’m a Ted? It’s only a style, you know, not a way of life. I don’t beat old ladies over the head with my comb.’ Despite herself, Lissa giggled and he gave her an answering grin, lopsided and so full of impish good humour that she very nearly laughed out loud. Derry Colwith might be a bit too full of himself, but he surely wouldn’t hurt or offend anyone.
    Then he spoiled it all by starting to tell her about the climbs he’d done and how difficult they were.
    ‘And you, being Mr Wonderful, managed them with no difficulty whatsoever,’ she said dryly.
    He blinked innocently at her. ‘How did you guess?’  
    ‘Pity you didn’t land on your head. Might have knocked some sense into you.’ She flounced away, walking so fast he had to run to catch up. He said nothing for a while and  
    for some reason, perhaps to fill the silence, Lissa found herself talking about Broombank and the sheep, Nick and Daniel, and how they had played in the beck as children. Derry listened, asking questions from time to time as if he were really interested. Perhaps he wasn’t so bad after all.
    Once, he took hold of her hand as she stumbled and a series of tiny shocks ran right through her. Instinctively she lifted her face up to his, violet eyes coaxing and teasing. His stunned expression warned her that she trod on dangerous ground and quickly loosed his hand. But she regretted its loss.
    ‘I think we’d better hurry and catch up with Jan,’ she said, increasing her pace. ‘What a speed she walks at.’  
    ‘Jan loves walking, as I do. We spend days out on the mountains in the summer.’ He was staring down at his boots, as if something was troubling him.
    ‘Oh, so did I once,’ Lissa agreed.
    ‘Once? Why not now?’  
    She hesitated, feeling she’d blundered. ‘I mean when I was at home.’  
    ‘You’ll soon get to know and love it here too,’ he said sympathetically and she felt emotion suddenly block her throat. She couldn’t deal with sympathy.
    ‘I’m not really homesick. Well, sometimes, but it passes.’  
    ‘You are going to stay? You won’t go home yet, will you?’ he asked, sounding suddenly so anxious she glanced