Wishing Water by Freda Lightfoot Page B

up at him in surprise. As their eyes met Lissa felt something warm unfold inside. He seemed to be passing some sort of message to her and her cheeks flooded with heat. Embarrassed, she quickly turned her attention back to setting her feet carefully on the stony path, and for the next several minutes ignored him completely, just to prove to herself that she could.
    At the summit they sat on the wiry grass to catch their breath and admire the panorama of mountains. Lingmoor and Wrynose Fell, Tilberthwaite beyond, and Bowfell Links above, achingly green beneath a clear blue sky.
    ‘Isn’t it grand?’ Jan said, and Lissa, hugging her knees and drinking it all in, had to agree.
    ‘You’ll come on another walk some time?’ Derry asked, sounding so hopeful she simply couldn’t find it in her heart to say no. He rewarded her with a wide beaming smile.
    ‘Great. I knew we’d get on. Knew it the first moment I saw you looking in the shop window.’  
    ‘Hark at him?’ Jan laughed, getting up and dusting down her jeans which were bright green and cropped just below her knee. ‘Right, last one down pays for tea.’  
    ‘Oh, no,’ Lissa mourned, all pride gone. ‘I can’t rush, really. I’m shattered.’  
    ‘There’re some clouds gathering,’ Derry said. ‘Time to make tracks.’  
     
    Jan won, of course. She looked like a tiny fairy perched on a stone by the lane. But Derry held his pace to match Lissa’s, for which she was truly grateful. She never enjoyed going downhill.
    ‘Don’t you think we get on OK? I can see you’re not really stuck up. You’re just shy. I know you like me, so stop pretending you don’t.’  
    Lissa might have thumped him for this patronising remark but he’d taken her hand again, as if to prove the sincerity of his words and she quite liked the feel of it. He held it tenderly, tracing each of her fingertips with his own. ‘Such lovely pearly nails. I certainly like you, Lissa. I like you very much.’  
    Lissa expelled her breath on a tiny sigh and then his lips were on hers, warm against the cool mountain breeze, tender and deliciously soft. She leaned against him, startled by the pleasing sensations swirling through her.
    Somewhere high above a lark sang and her heart lifted with each climbing note.
    When the kiss ended he squeezed her fingers, very gently, and smiled at her with that lovely secret message again passing between them, his brown eyes seeming to dance over her face. She wished, with a piercing sweetness, that he would kiss her again and swayed gently towards him, her head giddy with longing, then quickly pulled back, shocked by her own wantonness.
    And when he held on to her hand for the rest of the way down the steep mountain track, Lissa did not pull away.
    Afterwards they ate scones and jam and drank tea at the Old Dungeon Ghyll Hotel, which Lissa poured from a silver pot. It was the perfect end to a perfect day.
     
    Summer passed in the blissful pursuit of uncomplicated happiness. It seemed to be filled with raspberries and ice cream, happy laughter and daring pursuits.
    They often took one of the many footpaths or trails that traversed the heights around Carreckwater, Ambleside and Rydal. From those windy tops the visitors looked liked ants, riding the toy steamer up and down the lake.
    Derry’s friends would often come along too, bringing their girlfriends to form a happy, relaxed group. They would spend whatever spare time they had either on the lake messing about in boats and dinghies, or high on the fells. Loughrigg was a favourite walk. Or they would explore the eastern sides of the lake, even so far as Jenkyn’s Crag, from where they had a wonderful view of the whole Windermere valley. Once they climbed right to the summit of Wansfell Pike, relishing the sparkle of clear fresh air after the dusty days confined to shop and office.
    Derry made no move to repeat that magical kiss, which proved how little it had meant to him. Lissa took care to