stroking her arm with a gentle touch.
“You didn’t, really I’m okay,” Matilda assured again.
Despite the sudden wave of sadness, the way he looked at her caused her heart to flutter, and she lowered her eyes embarrassed and continued to walk.
“Good boy,” she said as Parker dropped the stick by her feet. She picked it up and threw it again.
Mike looked on after her, kicking himself for being such an idiot. Having recently lost his own parents, he of all people should have known better. Especially with the horrific way they had died, he hated to think he had just reminded her of it. He watched her as she bent down and picked up the stick Parker had dropped by her feet. Her long, dark hair was wavy and it lifted gently in the breeze.
Mike laughed as she cursed Parker for shaking mud all over her. Matilda glanced over her shoulder at his laughter, and Mike’s heart did a little skip as her green eyes caught his. He smiled at her.
She was unlike any of the girls he had attempted to date; he said attempted as all his dates had turned out to be complete disasters. Since he met Matilda three years ago, there was not one date that had gone further than dinner. He always managed to blow it one way or another. His consent chatting about Matilda and the renovation plans for this Hall probably didn’t help, but he couldn’t help himself. Matilda was all he could think about, Tilly, Tilly, Tilly, what was it about her that controlled him so and made him incapable of loving anyone else?
“Well there it is,” she said, gesturing with her hand to the dilapidated looking wood store.
He shook himself from his daydream and looked. Ivy and brambles covered and almost camouflaged it from their vision. He could just distinguish the dirty glass windows and the ramshackle door.
“Okay, let’s take a look,” he said. They approached the door, and began tearing away at the ivy, and pulling back the brambles.
“Ouch, shit,” Matilda, cursed, immediately pulling her thumb to her mouth.
“What have you done?” he asked, anxiously.
“It’s a bloody thorn,” she groaned, sucking at her thumb.
“Let me see,” he requested, and he held out his hand expectantly. She hesitated.
“Show,” he said, with a grin. Matilda huffed giving him her thumb.
“Hmm, that’s a huge one. Let me see if I can get it out,” he offered.
“No, it’s okay,” she said, attempting to reclaim her thumb.
“Hold still, I can feel the end; I can get it,” he said, gripping her hand tighter.
“Ouch,” she complained, as he picked at the thorn.
“I’ve got it, stay still, Matilda,” he complained at her fidgeting. “There, here it comes,” he declared euphorically, and he held it between his finger and thumb to show her.
“Thanks,” she said gratefully putting the tip of her bleeding thumb back into her mouth. He flicked it away.
“You’d better put some TCP or something on it when we get back inside. Do you have a first aid kit?”
Matilda shook her head.
“No, but I have an alternative.”
“What?” he asked.
“Thyme,” she replied.
“What the herb?”
“Yes, I have some in my medibox. I can make something herbal up, and I’ll be fine, thank you.”
He gave a shrug turning his attention back to the door. Heaving it a few times, it eventually gave and opened.
“Yuk, I bet it’s full of spiders,” she groaned peering into the dark, wood store.
“Probably,” he agreed stepping inside. “However, it looks like you’re in luck as it’s completely dry in here. The wood will be fine to use. Hey, there’s a wheel barrow over there,” he said, walking to it.
Matilda actually thought she ought to give him a hand, so entering the dark and braving the ominous spiders she helped him throw some logs in the barrow.
“Matilda,” he said, unexpectedly.
“What?” she asked brushing the sawdust off her hands and glancing to him.
“Spider,” he yelled,
“You didn’t, really I’m okay,” Matilda assured again.
Despite the sudden wave of sadness, the way he looked at her caused her heart to flutter, and she lowered her eyes embarrassed and continued to walk.
“Good boy,” she said as Parker dropped the stick by her feet. She picked it up and threw it again.
Mike looked on after her, kicking himself for being such an idiot. Having recently lost his own parents, he of all people should have known better. Especially with the horrific way they had died, he hated to think he had just reminded her of it. He watched her as she bent down and picked up the stick Parker had dropped by her feet. Her long, dark hair was wavy and it lifted gently in the breeze.
Mike laughed as she cursed Parker for shaking mud all over her. Matilda glanced over her shoulder at his laughter, and Mike’s heart did a little skip as her green eyes caught his. He smiled at her.
She was unlike any of the girls he had attempted to date; he said attempted as all his dates had turned out to be complete disasters. Since he met Matilda three years ago, there was not one date that had gone further than dinner. He always managed to blow it one way or another. His consent chatting about Matilda and the renovation plans for this Hall probably didn’t help, but he couldn’t help himself. Matilda was all he could think about, Tilly, Tilly, Tilly, what was it about her that controlled him so and made him incapable of loving anyone else?
“Well there it is,” she said, gesturing with her hand to the dilapidated looking wood store.
He shook himself from his daydream and looked. Ivy and brambles covered and almost camouflaged it from their vision. He could just distinguish the dirty glass windows and the ramshackle door.
“Okay, let’s take a look,” he said. They approached the door, and began tearing away at the ivy, and pulling back the brambles.
“Ouch, shit,” Matilda, cursed, immediately pulling her thumb to her mouth.
“What have you done?” he asked, anxiously.
“It’s a bloody thorn,” she groaned, sucking at her thumb.
“Let me see,” he requested, and he held out his hand expectantly. She hesitated.
“Show,” he said, with a grin. Matilda huffed giving him her thumb.
“Hmm, that’s a huge one. Let me see if I can get it out,” he offered.
“No, it’s okay,” she said, attempting to reclaim her thumb.
“Hold still, I can feel the end; I can get it,” he said, gripping her hand tighter.
“Ouch,” she complained, as he picked at the thorn.
“I’ve got it, stay still, Matilda,” he complained at her fidgeting. “There, here it comes,” he declared euphorically, and he held it between his finger and thumb to show her.
“Thanks,” she said gratefully putting the tip of her bleeding thumb back into her mouth. He flicked it away.
“You’d better put some TCP or something on it when we get back inside. Do you have a first aid kit?”
Matilda shook her head.
“No, but I have an alternative.”
“What?” he asked.
“Thyme,” she replied.
“What the herb?”
“Yes, I have some in my medibox. I can make something herbal up, and I’ll be fine, thank you.”
He gave a shrug turning his attention back to the door. Heaving it a few times, it eventually gave and opened.
“Yuk, I bet it’s full of spiders,” she groaned peering into the dark, wood store.
“Probably,” he agreed stepping inside. “However, it looks like you’re in luck as it’s completely dry in here. The wood will be fine to use. Hey, there’s a wheel barrow over there,” he said, walking to it.
Matilda actually thought she ought to give him a hand, so entering the dark and braving the ominous spiders she helped him throw some logs in the barrow.
“Matilda,” he said, unexpectedly.
“What?” she asked brushing the sawdust off her hands and glancing to him.
“Spider,” he yelled,
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