The House On The Cliff

Then - Hannah

Hannah pressed her forehead against the glass of the French doors, watching a bee flit around the hydrangeas. The sun was rising over the sea, white seagulls like flying dots against the pink skyline.

She couldn't sleep. She had lain awake since the early hours, watching the sky transform from black, to deep velvety blue to orange and pinks.

She had made her way silently downstairs, wrapped in a waffle dressing gown, at about six a.m, poured herself a coffee and come to rest in this exact position, by the glass of the doors, watching the sun ease its' way above the cliff.

Why couldn't she had loved somebody else? She knew what Beryl was like, they had been friends since they were five.

She took a sip of the coffee, grimacing at the cold liquid passed her lips, and turned to throw the rest away.

"Hi" Harry said awkwardly, pushing a hand through sleep-ruffled hair, eyes still drowsy and a half-smile on his face.

She wondered how long he had been standing there for, watching her. He had started a little when she had turned, as if she had caught him unawares. She shook herself; this was her best friend.

"Morning' she crossed to the sink, pouring the rest of the drink down it and held up her mug, 'coffee?"

Harry nodded, leaning against the wooden counter top, "You ok?"

Hannah raised a brow at him, forcing herself to smile, "Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

He stared at her for a long moment, and she busied herself with the coffee beans.

"So' Hannah poured the hot black liquid into a mug and handed it to him, 'why are you up so early?"

He shrugged and took a sip, wincing as it scalded his mouth, "Just couldn't sleep."

Hannah nodded, "Me either."

They were both leaning on the surface of the counter now, and Hannah felt Harry watching her again, could feel the heat of his stare, and wondered why she was suddenly feeling like this, so uncomfortable.

She leaned back a little, looking up at him, face questioning, and something flickered on his, though she couldn't put her finger upon what it was.

"Why don't we make a pact" He said suddenly, grinning.

Hannah narrowed her eyes at him, "What kind of pact?"

"If we're not married by the time that we're thirty, we should marry each other."

Hannah looked at him, at the excitement shining in his eyes, the dimples when he grinned. She suddenly felt the sense that she was possessed by him, that he felt that she belonged to him.

She swallowed and mentally scalded herself; Harry was her best friend, he had always looked after her. Why should she suddenly feel like this now? Any-way, thirty years old was a long way off, she was sure that she would be happy and in a relationship by then.

"Deal".

*