Heathcliff was at the door then, being shown in by Nelly. The change in him made Edgar’s eyes almost pop out of his head. Heathcliff was no gipsy ploughboy but a man as well dressed, as well groomed as Edgar was. He stood a whole head taller, with shoulders twice as wide. Heathcliff had become a gentleman and beside him Edgar looked like a schoolboy. I took pity on my husband then. The poor darling looked so miserable and I hated to see him unhappy. I was so full of joy I wanted Edgar to share in it. I ran across the room, took Heathcliff’s arm in mine and led him over to Edgar. I made them shake hands like civilised human beings.

There was a silence which Edgar at last broke, saying stiffly, “Sit down, sir. My wife wishes me to welcome you and I, of course, am glad when anything pleases her.”

“I too,” said Heathcliff. “Especially if it’s anything in which I have a part. I shall stay an hour or two most willingly.”

Gone was the sullen, silent brute of a boy who could not string a sentence together unless it was to curse my brother. Heathcliff took a seat opposite me and Edgar made a brave effort at conversation. He spoke of politics and world affairs. He mentioned books he’d read. He quoted poetry. If Edgar hoped to expose Heathcliff’s lack of education, he was sorely disappointed. Heathcliff did not say what he had been doing with himself and how he’d earned such money to effect his transformation. Yet it was evident that Heathcliff knew more, was better read and was more widely travelled than my husband. The men talked on, but I recall little of it. I cared nothing for the affairs of men or Heathcliff’s past. All that mattered was he was here, now, in front of me. My eyes were drinking Heathcliff in after three years of drought. I sucked in every last detail. The way his hair curled at the nape of his neck. His hands – soft, clean, the nails trimmed, but with a callous that was evidence of hard work. There was a scar across his cheek that had not been there before.

As they spoke, Heathcliff’s eyes were lowered to the floor, glancing my way just once or twice. Then, as Heathcliff began to relax, he looked at me more often. And then he stopped talking altogether and gazed. I saw every morsel of my delight shining back at me in his beautiful crow black eyes.

Heathcliff and I sat in silence for a long time, simply smiling at one another. I’ve no idea what Edgar did – for us he no longer existed. At last I could stay still no more. I stepped across the rug, kneeled at Heathcliff’s feet and grasped his hands.

“I shall think this a dream tomorrow,” I said. “I shan’t be able to believe that I’ve seen you and touched you and spoken to you once more. And yet, cruel Heathcliff, you don’t deserve this welcome. To be absent and silent for three years! Three years, and you never thought of me?”