Restoring Grace (10 page)

‘
Couldn't you? Not ever?'

‘
Well, possibly
sometime in the future, but not now. It's
far too soon after Edward.'

‘
It's
probably a bit soon after Rick, but I haven't time
to wait!' Ellie
explained. 'If I'm going to have a love life again, it's got to be soon and
short, because let's face it,
no man is going
to want me when I'm the size of a
house.'

‘
What about
after the baby is born? When is it due, by
the way?'

‘
I'm not quite sure, early autumn, maybe.’

Ellie seemed embarrassed by her vagueness, so Grace
didn't press her.

‘
You could
have an affaire when you've got a baby. Lots
of people do.’

Ellie nodded.
'Eventually, possibly, but no man is going
to take
on a woman who's breastfeeding another man's child.’

Grace took
the point. 'You could bottle-feed.'

‘No, no. I'm
just going to have a quick fling and then give up men until the baby's older.'

‘
You don't think you'll get hurt?'

‘
Well, I
might, but if I know from the beginning it's
only temporary, and so does
he, I can't see any harm in it.' Ellie regarded Grace, who was being
maddeningly inscrutable. 'I haven't shocked you, have I? You won't
think I'm a slut? I'm not, really. I just want a
bit of fun,
a bit of glamour and
cherishing. With me and Rick, I did all the cherishing. I'd like a little of it
in return before it's
too late.'

‘No. No, of course I'm not shocked. It wouldn't
do for
me, but I perfectly understand how you
feel.' Grace
looked at her watch. 'I
tell you what, let's whizz into town
and get what we need to redecorate.
We can sort the
mattress out later, and if
we go now we should just make
it
before everything shuts. I've got to go anyway, to
deliver my article about the wine tasting to the
secretarial
place. I told you I write them by hand?'

‘If you have, I'd forgotten, but you should certainly
do
something about that. How can you make
money writing
articles if you haven't even got a typewriter, let alone a
computer?'

‘I'm managing all right now, but you're right.
I will try and get a second-hand computer organised sometime. If only I knew
something about them.’

Ellie looked stern. 'I'll
put "typewriter" on our shop
ping
list.'

‘Good idea. You make one while I just make sure
my handwriting's legible.’

*

'Excuse me,'
Ellie asked the man in the junk shop, who had been a bit taken aback by Grace
and Ellie's appear
ance just as he was about
to go home for the day. 'Is the
paint in those tins likely to be
usable?'

‘Oh yes, and
at fifty pence a can, you can't go wrong.'
Once
he had realised they were serious buyers, he viewed
them much more
favourably.

‘
Not if you can't get
it out of the can,' said Ellie sharply,
'but we'll take it. If it's all
dried up, we'll demand our money back.'

‘Don't you want to see what colour it is?'
asked Grace.

‘
No. It's a
soft grey, you can see from where it's dripped
over the edges of the tin. If it's nice we could do more
than just my room with it. But we'd better get
some white
emulsion as well. You don't happen to have . . . ?'

‘No,' said the man. 'Hardware, over the road.’

Ellie turned to Grace.
'Can you go and get that? A nice
big tin? I'll carry on here.’

Grace wasn't long on her
errand but when she returned
she was
impressed by the accumulation of furniture and bric-à-brac that Ellie had
assembled in her absence. 'Are
you sure we can afford all that?'

‘
Oh yes.
He's doing us a deal. But there's just one more
thing.' Ellie hunted out the proprietor who had retreated
to his
cubby hole at the back of the shop. 'You don't happen to have a typewriter for
sale, do you? Anything would do.’

He shook his head. 'I'm afraid I haven't.
There's really
no call for typewriters these
days. Everyone's got
computers.'

‘
Except me,' said Grace. 'Come on, let's go
home.’

*

'I'm sure you shouldn't be
painting when you're preg
nant,' said Grace to Ellie the next
day. 'Especially not standing on a chair.'

‘
I'm having a baby. It's a perfectly normal
condition. If I didn't stand on the chair I wouldn't be able to reach.’

‘But that
paint may be toxic!'

‘Possibly,
but it was very cheap, and I quite like the colour, don't you?’

The paint
wasn't quite the same as it had been on the
side
of the tin, it was a little darker and not quite so soft.
'Sort of. It's
quite dark.'

‘It'll dry
lighter.'

‘I should be
doing it really.'

‘
I thought you and Edward always got people in to do
painting.'

‘
He did, but
I'd like to give it a try. I've missed out on
a lot of perfectly normal
activities, getting married so young.'

‘
Like going clubbing?'

‘Definitely.'

‘We should
go. It would be fun.'

‘
I think on balance I'd prefer painting. Can I have a go
now?’

When they had changed places, and Grace,
wearing a pair of Edward's old chinos belted in tightly, with one of his shirts
over the top, had got the hang of wiping the brush on the side of the tin,
Ellie said, 'It's like
Changing
Rooms
on telly, isn't it?'

‘
What?'

‘
You know, when two couples swap keys and do up a room in
each other's houses, helped by a designer and Handy Andy. Haven't you ever
watched it?'

‘
No. Edward didn't like television much.’

Ellie opened her mouth to
say that she thought Edward
sounded really boring, but managed
to shut it in time.
'Have you got any more
furniture hidden away anywhere
we
could adapt? Or am I getting my programmes
muddled up? As a student, you
get to watch a lot of daytime telly,' she explained.

‘I don't think there's anything anywhere. Not
in the house, anyway. But we got quite a good haul yesterday. That little
bookshelf, the nest of tables—'

‘
I'm going to
sand those down and varnish them,
possibly paint one. I thought I might
nail some of those wine boxes together and make a little chest of drawers,
with cardboard boxes for the drawers,' Ellie
added. 'I
made a really
good occasional table out of a nappy box once. Where do you write your
articles, by the way?’

Ellie had the look of a
woman prepared to make a desk with drop-down lid, drawers and secret
compartment out
of Grace's tea chests,
and Grace put up her hands defen
sively. 'Oh,
I've got a little table which works fine. Doesn't
need anything doing to it! You don't need to turn it into
a
wardrobe or a three-piece suite, really.’

Ellie laughed. 'I'm not
making you worried, am I,
Grace? I'm so
sorry! You must tell me to stop if I'm doing
anything you don't like. I know I do get over-excited
about
things.’

Grace chuckled - Ellie
was a bit like a Labrador puppy,
sometimes. 'If
you really want to go to town, you can
think of something nice to do with the bathroom. Edward
liked
that Spartan look, but without all his leather and
silver bits and pieces, it just looks gloomy. I think I'd like
something
more feminine.’

Ellie followed Grace, carrying
her paint and her brush,
managing not to ask Grace why, if it
was her house, she
didn't get to choose what
sort of bathroom they had, or
at least have a bit more input.

‘
I think it
needs a mural,' she said, after some thought.
'Something appropriate - like a Roman bathhouse scene.'

‘
But we've only got grey paint,' said
Grace, not quite able to hide her relief.

‘
That's OK. I've got my oils with me, and the white
emulsion. Although maybe a painting of the sea at
dawn
would be best. It could be very
romantic, with a boat, the
sea and sky almost the same colour—'

‘
Exactly the same colour,
seeing as they'll both be
grey . .

‘It only
needs a little touch of something on the waves - ooh! I've just remembered,
I've got my silver and pens gold with me. Perfect.'

‘Mm.' Grace
tried not to wince.

‘
We could have a
trompe-l'ceil
window frame.
It could
be really romantic.'

‘I'm off
romance,' said Grace. 'It's official. I'm a jaded ex-wife, remember?'

‘
I promise I'll paint
over it if you don't like it,' went
on Ellie, completely ignoring Grace.

‘
Oh all
right! Do your worst. But stop soon, I'm
starving.' As she said the words she remembered the man
at the
wine tasting, Cormack Flynn, or something, and telling him she never got
hungry. How odd that she was
ravenous now.
Perhaps it was something to do with being
busy - and Ellie's presence had certainly cheered her up.
But why did he pop into her mind just then, when
usually
her mind was full of Edward? In the end, however, it wasn't
until half past nine that
night, when they
were both exhausted but the decorating
was starting to look as if the
end might be in sight, that
they finally
collapsed in the kitchen. Grace got out one
of the left-over bottles of
wine. 'Is alcohol forbidden for pregnant women?’

Ellie turned round from the stove, where she
was making scrambled eggs. 'I think a little is OK, but to be honest, I've gone
off it.'

‘
But you don't mind . .

‘
Good God, no! I think you need a drink, something to help
you relax. Do you want Marmite on your buttered toast? And do you like the eggs
actually on the toast, or just beside it?'

‘I don't really mind. I didn't realise it could
be so technical. Edward didn't eat scrambled eggs.'