It was the talk of the village for weeks. But talk was all it was; no-one knew why he’d gone and if he would come back. And they spoke about her, the redheaded woman some saw briefly but who now was gone. His house stood locked firm against the world.

But this was spring, and the man standing at a door in Lower Winden knocked gently. He was anxious that someone was at home.

 

‘I have a need,’ he blurted as the door opened. He stood uncomfortably, his tall frame too big for the doorway and his body trembling with the fear of rejection. As he was tall, she was short. She tilted her head back to look up at him.

‘How bad is that need?’ She smiled.

He nodded. ‘Worse than last time.’ He mumbled as he looked at the ground.

‘You’d better come in then.’

 

He stooped and stepped into the hallway of the woman’s home. He took up a lot of room in the small space. She beckoned for him to follow her into the living room.

‘Would you like a drink?’

‘Yes, please.’ He looked awkward among the delicate furnishings. His dark, brooding features looked out of place. The house had a distinctly light feel to it – people often remarked how much it cheered them to visit. There were always vases of flowers, colourful pictures adorned the walls, and the curtains and fabrics reflected the sunlight and warmth. He heard movement above him.

‘Beer?’

 

‘That would be good, thank you.’ He glanced upwards at the ceiling.

‘I’ll get it,’ said Lizzie and ‘and let her know we have company.’

She left the room and quickly returned with a glass brimming with beer. ‘We’ll need a few minutes to prepare.’

He nodded. ‘OK.’ He was sullen, and it was obvious to Lizzie that his spirits needed lifting. He clasped the large glass. It was small in his hand.

‘Sit down, Ellis, and make yourself comfortable.’

He looked around and chose the largest chair, lowering himself slowly into it.

Lizzie turned and left the room, headed for the stairs at the back of the house. He heard her go up as he sipped his beer. Then he could hear muffled whisperings above him and the opening and closing of doors. It seemed an eternity before Lizzie came back into the room where he sat. Another woman followed her in and then stood next to her. He gasped. The women smiled and moved towards him.

‘

I hope we were worth the wait?’ It was Lizzie who spoke first.

Each wore a veil. Lizzie wore white, the other woman wore black. They wore dresses to match their veils; Lizzie in white, the other in black. The young man drew breath again. Each woman was, as he would put it later in explanation, no longer in their prime, but they took his breath away. He wondered, he said, how two such beautiful creatures could find him acceptable company in the way they did.

 

The woman in black stepped forward. ‘Have they been on at you again, Ellis?’

He nodded.

‘They’re small minded and cruel.’ She reached up and touched a large scar on his face. ‘You can forget it all tonight.’

She ran her hands over his gigantic frame. ‘And have they called you rude and cruel names again?’

He nodded again. ‘They always do,’ he murmured.

Her hand stopped moving and held one part of him tight. He instantly breathed in before letting out a deep gasp. She shuddered before letting go. She took his hand and led him towards the stairs. Lizzie followed.

 

Much later that night, the man slept contently in their bed. His enormous frame dominated the space, with a petite woman nestled closed to him on either side, almost clinging to him as they would a steep hill or cliff.

In the morning, he shuffled his frame down to the foot of the bed so he could climb out without disturbing them. He quietly dressed and left - but not before leaving a pile of money on the table downstairs.

 

As soon as the two women heard the front door close, they swung their legs out of bed and rushed – naked - downstairs. They stood looking at the money on the table.

‘Oh, my dear, my dear,’ Lizzie gushed. ‘Just look at all that money. He must have enjoyed himself so much to leave all that.’

The other woman nodded. ‘Yes, yes. I’m so pleased he did.’

‘It’s more than last time.’ Lizzie held the money close to her bare chest. ‘We must be helping a lot for them to be so generous.’

 

The other woman beamed and then reach up to the top shelf of the dresser and pulled down a large documents tin. They carefully added the money to the neat pile of notes already inside. One day, they would count it.

They went back upstairs where each helped the other bathe before they dressed themselves. Then, back downstairs again, Lizzie sat at the kitchen table, while her companion, Lydia, busied herself preparing breakfast.

 

‘You know Lydia,’ said Lizzie, ‘I sometimes feel we could do more for lonely people, more that helps them and encourages them.’

‘You do, dear?’

‘Yes, I do,’ she said as Lydia put plates of toast and a pot of tea on the table. ‘Shall we discuss it after we visit Mr Box?’

Lydia nodded. ‘Yes, I think we should.’

After breakfast, Lydia quickly prepared some food and filled her shopping bag. Then they walked the mile or so to Mr Box’s house outside Lower Winden. It was a bright but cold day; early spring still resisted by the outgoing chill of winter.

​

Lizzie and Lydia were much talked about in Lower Winden, for several reasons. The people of Lower Winden, like the people at the top of the ridge, were not shy about expressing an opinion. Anything they did attracted a comment, and not always a complimentary one at that. So, as usual, their walk through the village and along the bridle road that meandered across the fields attracted glances of disapproval and caused tongues to wag.

​

Lizzie and Lydia always ignored the glances and never heard the tongues. If they had heard the tongues, they would know that some in the village believed they were lovers, others that they were murderers, responsible for a suspicious death in the village. Others believed they worshipped evil spirits and were some sort of satanists. They told everyone to keep their children away from Lizzie and Lydia. A few thought they were simply prostitutes who only dressed when they came outdoors. If you look through their windows, you can see them cavorting in the nude, they said. A handful of people thought they may be all these things, but harmless enough.

 

Despite the comments and glances, Lizzie and Lydia reached Mr Box’s tired looking Victorian cottage unscathed and in good time, just as the sun was at its highest. They didn’t knock. Lydia took a key from her pocket and unlocked the door. They went straight in and called out, ‘We’re here, Mr Box - it’s only us.’

Lydia disappeared into the kitchen while Lizzie climbed the stairs. When she reached the small landing, Lizzie knocked on one of the two doors. Then she slowly opened the door and stepped inside. ‘Good morning, Mr Box. How are you today?’

 

Sitting up in bed was a middle-aged man with a tired, grey expression. It was the look of a weary man, one who has faced exhausting adversity and come through – just. The room was dimly lit and the atmosphere more than a little stale.

 

The sight of Lizzie cheered him. ‘Oh, hello, Lizzie. Hello.’

She moved further into the room. ‘Has anyone else been recently?’ She pulled the curtains open wide.

He nodded slowly. ‘The doctor came yesterday and then the nurse. Then the vicar. It’ll be the bloody undertaker next.’

 

‘No more talk like that,’ said Lizzie. ‘For goodness’ sake, we’re the same age!’ She sat on the edge of the bed. ‘And did any of them upset you this time, warn you again?’

He nodded. ‘Oh yes, they told me the usual, that no good will come of having either of you in the house.’

Lizzie clasped her hands on her knee. ‘If only people realised…’ her voice tailed off.

 

‘Anyway, you’ll feel better soon, and we can get you out and about once the weather warms up.’

He smiled weakly. ‘Yes, boss.’

Lizzie stood up and busied herself tidying the room and the bed. Suddenly she asked him, ‘Are you up to date with your tablets? Taken them all so far today?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, boss.’

‘Did the doctor leave any prescriptions we need to get for you?’

He shook his head. ‘No, boss.’

Lydia appeared with a tray.

 

‘Hello Mr Box. Here’s a little something to cheer you up and keep up your strength.’

His face brightened. ‘You or the food?’ he asked as she put down the tray in front of him.

‘It can be both if you like,’ said Lydia. Lizzie stood next to her and linked her arm. ‘We’re going to tidy around downstairs and then see about washing and changing you, Mr Box. Is that OK?’

 

Mr Box was nibbling on some cold meat Lydia had served with a salad. ‘Sounds uplifting,’ he whispered.

The two women left him to eat and disappeared downstairs. After twenty minutes, they returned upstairs. Mr Box had finished his lunch.

‘Well done Mr Box,’ announced Lydia.

‘It was very nice. Thank you.’ The man smiled warmly at them both.

 

The two women stood on either side of the bed. They pulled back the bedclothes and Mr Box swung his legs over the edge, facing Lizzie. She helped him stand. ‘You’re getting stronger,’ she declared. ‘Come on, walk steadily, not too fast.’

 

Mr Box walked gingerly to the bathroom, leaning on Lizzie and guided by Lydia. Once there, Lydia pulled back the cubicle door and turned on the shower. They both helped him remove his pyjamas and then step under the warm water. He looked appealingly at them.

 

‘It’s my turn this week, Mr Box. Lizzie’s going to change your bed and clean the bedroom quickly.’

Lizzie pulled the bathroom door shut as she left. It didn’t take her long to change the bed, dust, and vacuum the room. Neither did it take Lydia long to wash Mr Box and then shave him, before helping him out of the shower and drying him.

 

He was soon back in his room, wearing clean pyjamas and sitting back on the bed.

Lydia glanced at Lizzie. ‘Mr Box would like me to spend a few more minutes with him, Lizzie.’

‘I’ll be downstairs Lydia,’ said Lizzie.

‘Mr Box says it’s in the usual place.’

‘OK.’ She looked across at the man. ‘I’ll see you in a couple of days, Mr Box.’

He smiled. ‘Thank you, Lizzie.’

 

Lydia and Lizzie moved to the doorway. Lizzie leaned towards Lydia and whispered, ‘You know what we were talking about the other day, after our last visit? Well, it might be time, Lydia.’

‘It might indeed, dear.’ Lydia whispered back.

 

Lydia closed the bedroom door as Lizzie crossed the landing to the bathroom, where she opened the airing cupboard door. A quick search revealed a small envelope under a pile of towels. She slipped the envelope into her pocket.

 

It was 10 minutes later when Lydia left the bedroom and hurried downstairs. Lizzie had finished her search of the house.

 

Neither woman spoke as they stepped out into the afternoon sunshine. Lydia locked the door, and they walked, in silence, back to the village.