Page 61 of Crazy in Love at the Lonely Hearts Bookshop
Nina’s heart was pounding because she knew they were now deep into Brontë country before she even saw the first sign to Haworth, the village where the Brontës had lived for most of their lives, but she didn’t want to ruin Noah’s surprise. The lovely, kind surprise he’d devised as he spent his days trapped in a packaging plant on an industrial estate on the outskirts of Glasgow and thought about her, about where she might like to go for their third date.
‘Are we … We are, aren’t we?’ Nina blurted out because they were now driving through Haworth and she had to twist around in her seat to take it all in. ‘Oh, Noah, I can’t believe we’re here! You … you …’
‘You what?’ Noah asked but Nina shook her head, words beyond her, which was a first. Instead she put her hand over Noah’s hand, which was resting lightly on the gearshift, and tried to convey her gratitude, that giddiness he made her feel, through her fingertips.
Haworth was as charming a village as she’d ever seen. Maybe not as chocolate-box pretty as its Devonian or Cornish counterparts: its little shops were hewn from rugged, weatherbeaten stone, its church imposing. All the more so for it being a grey, damp March day, not quite raining, but not quitenotraining.
‘Mizzle,’ Noah said, as he switched on the windscreen wipers. ‘A misty drizzle or a drizzly mist, one of the two.’
Nina stared out of the window at an old-fashioned apothecary shop that reminded her of the one across the mews that had been boarded up and closed for decades.
As they followed the signs to the Parsonage, the village seemed strangely familiar. ‘I feel like I’ve been here before,’ she remarked, peering out at a small row of shops. ‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised to see Emily, Charlotte and Anne suddenly materialise in front of me.’
‘Anne? I didn’t know there was a third Brontë sister,’ Noah said, as he pulled into a car park.
‘She wroteThe Tenant Of Wildfell Hall.’ Nina rolled her eyes. ‘I struggled to finish it though and I didn’t even attemptAgnes Grey, her other book. Beyond my GCSE English, I’m afraid,’ she added in what she hoped was a breezy manner. Noah could probably polish offThe Tenant Of Wildfell Hallin a couple of hours and then give a presentation on it, complete with graphics and charts and gifs.
‘Oh, please. You’ve readmore books than almost anyone I know,’ Noah said, switching off the engine. ‘Apart from Posy and I think her love of books is verging on pathology.’
It was very disloyal to let Noah speak about her dear friend and employer in that way except … ‘Posy reads so fast that her eyes do this rapid flicker thing from side to side and Verity and I worry that she’s going to have a stroke,’ Nina shared with a grin and then because they were no longer in a moving vehicle and she’d regained the power of speech, she took Noah’s hand again.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Thank you so much for bringing me here.’ Holding Noah’s hand, her fingers entwined with his, felt quite different to touching his hand when they were in motion. As if now, the hand-holding could be a prelude to … well, anything. ‘I’ve always dreamed of coming here. Not just because it’s whereWuthering Heightsis set but because I wanted to get inside Emily Brontë’s head for a little while; see what she saw, that kind of thing. It sounds silly, doesn’t it?’
Nina ducked her head and she would have tugged her hand free too but Noah wouldn’t let her. ‘It doesn’t sound silly,’ he said. He gestured out of the misty windscreen with his free hand. ‘Well, now that we’ve seen it, shall we head back to London in time to beat the rush hour?’
Nina’s mouth hung open for just one very unflattering second before she did succeed in tugging her hand free so she could lightly smack Noah on the shoulder. ‘Say that you’re joking.’
He pretended to cower away from her. ‘I’m joking. We’re actually due at the Parsonage at four. It’s not even half past one now. Is it too drizzly for you to want to walk on the moors?’
If they were in London, Nina would have insisted on arming herself with her huge, flamingo-printed golf umbrella in case a drop of rain went anywhere near her. But she’d wanted to come to Haworth for ten years and she wasn’t going to let a little rain get in her way.
‘I’m pretty sure I won’t melt,’ she said stoutly. ‘I have sensible walking shoes, a thick coat and a burning desire to see the Brontë Waterfalls.’
‘I have fled my country and gone to the heather.’
‘You know,’ said Noah reflectively two minutes into their walk. ‘I’m not sure that motorcycle boots and a leopard-print fun fur constitute sensible walking shoes and a thick coat.’
‘They do in my world,’ Nina said, panting slightly. Her boots were fine for the job in hand. Her coat, not so much.
Noah, of course, was wearing a navy windcheater cum anorak-type affair (Nina didn’t know what the technical name for it was), which was no doubt made of some space-age, weather-proof, anti-sweat wicking. He had also not been idle during his downtime in Glasgow.
Armed with his trusty iPad, which was also clad in a weather-proof case, Noah was the font of all things Brontë. As they walked back along Main Street, it was to a running commentary.
‘And that gift shop used to be the post office, which was where the Brontës mailed off their manuscripts,’ he said. Then, as they walked a narrow path through the old churchyard, Noah made Nina stop at ‘the iron kissing gate’. Her heart began to beat faster than was strictly necessary. How romantic, she thought, and she raised her face, pursed her lips ever so slightly in anticipation of a …
‘And the oldest part of the church dates back to the fifteenth century.’
… a lecture on how many times the church had been knocked down and rebuilt and could Nina spot the Ordnance Survey mark on the south-west corner of the church tower to mark the fact that they were seven hundred and ninety-six feet above sea level?
When they came to a rustic wooden sign informing them that they had two and a half miles to go until they reached the waterfall, Nina thought that she might cry. Not just because she didn’t think she’d ever walked two and a half miles in her life, but the anticipation of Noah commenting on every fence-post and large rock they passed was too awful to contemplate.
‘So, Penistone Hill, don’t worry, it’s quite a gentle incline, means we’re now in an official country park and this area used to be a quarry.’
It looked quarryish. There were big lumps of rock scattered about as Noah walked and Nina trudged along. They crossed over a main road, not a car in sight unfortunately because Nina wouldn’t have thought twice about flagging one down and demanding that the driver take her back to civilisation. Noah was banging on about the reservoir they could see in the distance and that there should be a cattle grid coming up.
‘And now we’re on open moorland,’ Noah said, squinting down at his iPad and trying to wipe the screen as the drizzle was starting to upgrade to proper rain. ‘This is an area of special scientific interest, especially if you’re a birdwatcher …’
‘Stop! Just stop!’ Nina demanded, holding out her hands like she was trying to beat back a flock of scientifically interesting birds. ‘Please …’
