Beneath the Shadows (12 page)

‘What an incredible afternoon,' Annabel said, coming into the lounge and flinging herself onto a chair. She ran her fingers through her damp hair. ‘It's snowing,' she explained as she noticed Grace glaring at her. ‘Ben says it's meant to get bad after Christmas – we might be stranded,' she added, sounding absolutely fine about that.

Grace could barely resist the urge to run over and pull her sister's hair, as she would have done when they were younger. In the past three days, she had barely seen Annabel. While Grace had put on old clothes and begun sorting through the cupboards and drawers, listening to endless crappy Christmas music blaring from the radio and wishing away the time, Annabel had been out every day. First of all she'd gone to Leeds to ‘finish my Christmas shopping', returning with copious Harvey Nichols bags in the boot of her car. Next, Ben had fulfilled his promise and taken her
roving over the moors; then yesterday evening Annabel had announced that they were going out again. Grace was still feeling slightly disgruntled that neither of them had thought to invite her and Millie.

Annabel began to waffle on about their visit to Whitby, saying she was still full of their famous fish and chips, and describing a severed hand that Ben had shown her in the local museum. ‘It's called the Hand of Glory,' she said, ‘though it's more gory than glory. It's an actual hand that's been pickled to preserve it – and there are all sorts of legends around it to do with paralysing people or sending them to sleep. It's pretty grim.'

Grace decided never to go near that museum if she could help it, while Annabel continued talking. ‘This place is fascinating, you know. All over the moors there are these tall stone crosses with different names, like Fat Betty and Old Ralph. I thought they were gravestones at first, but apparently there are different reasons for them – memorials, religious crosses and way markers – in many cases I don't think it's even known for certain. And we went to this little pub in the middle of nowhere with a “ghost chair” in the corner – it's cursed, supposedly, so that anyone who sits in it will die soon afterwards.'

‘For God's sake …' Grace said, not wanting to hear any more.

‘I know, it's brilliant!' Annabel cried, misreading Grace's mood completely. ‘And then, to top everything off, it began to snow when we were coming home, and it's taken us ages to get back. The snow is incredible in the dark, you can't see anything, it's like jumping into the white noise on the TV. I
don't even know how Ben managed to stay on the road, it's utterly disorientating. He was telling me about one of the locals who got caught in a blizzard and tried to walk home, and got lost. He collapsed and died in the snow, and when they found him he was only a few metres from his front door. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't just seen what it's like with my own eyes.' She leapt up. ‘We're really cut off, aren't we,' she said, with a visible shiver. ‘Have we got everything we need?'

Grace went over to the window and peered outside. The porch light cast a short dome of illumination over the garden, which was white with the snow that fell thickly. Beyond that, there was nothing to see except blackness. She pictured Millie upstairs. What had she brought her to?

A flash of movement caught her eye. Something was out there. She squinted, looking harder, but now she couldn't see anything. Perhaps the ceaseless fall of the snow was playing tricks on her vision.

But then a figure came into view just beyond the low garden wall. A man wearing a padded jacket and gloves, his head down, a thick scarf around his neck. He pushed at the gate a few times as though the latch was stuck, but finally freed it. As he hurried down the path, he lifted his head, causing Grace to cry out in amazement.

She rushed into the hallway and flung open the door. ‘James! What the hell are you doing here?' She threw herself into his embrace, feeling absolutely safe as he wrapped his strong arms around her.

‘What a welcome!' James stepped back, his face glowing.

Grace heard Annabel behind her. ‘Well, well, well …
look what the cat dragged in.' When she looked around, Annabel was smiling.

‘Happy Christmas, Grace!' James said.

‘Did you know about this?' Grace demanded, grinning at Annabel.

‘She invited me,' James confirmed, as Grace looked from one to the other.

‘I don't believe it.' Grace hugged James again. While she kept telling herself that things would work out, with James here she felt more confident about being right.

Grace and James had been best mates since university, and beyond, until James had headed off to Switzerland to work in a bank. His departure had been hasty. She vividly recalled the night James had introduced her to Adam in a bar as a friend of a friend. The way he'd watched them as they'd hit it off.
Now
she could see his face dropping.
Now
she could see the tension in his arm as he repeatedly lifted his pint to his mouth. Back then, she had completely missed it – right up until the time, a year later, that she and Adam had held their engagement party and James had got horribly drunk, stormed out and thrown up on the pavement. That night, he had told her that he loved her, and that he had been waiting patiently in the background for Grace to figure out that she loved him too.

It was as though she had never known her best friend. She realised he'd never had a girlfriend that she could remember, only a few one-night stands. Why hadn't he said something much, much earlier? she admonished him. He'd been too scared of rejection, he'd admitted. Instead he'd hoped to see something in her face one day that meant she had discovered
her own feelings for him. After that, he'd buried his face in his hands.

Once James was in Switzerland they had never spoken about it again. Neither of them wanted to risk saying or doing anything that might finally sever their bond.

Nevertheless, it was all history as far as Grace was concerned. James had come to France in the aftermath of Adam's disappearance. He had held her tightly while she sobbed herself to sleep. Taken her out to try and distract her. And shown her a picture of his new Swiss girlfriend – ‘taken from a magazine,' Annabel suggested slyly behind his back. However, later on they had visited Grace, and James had looked very proud as he'd put his arm around Natasha and introduced them.

‘I'm surprised you made it through the snow,' Annabel was saying to James, as Grace tuned back in to the conversation.

‘You're telling me!' James said as he took off his coat and shoes. ‘Where the hell is this, Grace? The drive here has been crazy – I've hardly been able to see more than ten metres. I've practically been hallucinating – I was half-expecting to come across Santa's cottage and find him tending his reindeers and filling up his sleigh …'

They all went back through to the lounge. After they had plied James with wine and he'd warmed up a bit, he explained, ‘I called your mum and dad, as I actually fancied a beautiful French Christmas, and that's when they told me you'd locked yourself away in the wilderness up here with nothing but a toddler and a list of things to do for company – oh, and a minx of a sister …' he added, looking across at Annabel.

Annabel pretended to punch his arm. ‘Bet they didn't tell you she's got a hottie helping her with the cottage.'

‘Which is probably the only reason Annabel's actually staying here,' Grace put in, ‘since
I
have been working my butt off, and Annabel is actually a one-woman tour group, distracting my
employee
and roaming the moors with him under the pretext of researching an article that I've seen no sign of her writing.'

‘Now, now, ladies,' James said, settling back on the sofa with his wine, ‘I can see I arrived just in time to stop you two from pulling each other's hair out.'

‘How's Natasha?' Annabel asked.

James's face fell. ‘It's over.' Resignation propped up his smile as he added, ‘Drifted apart.'

Grace moved towards him, but he held a hand up. ‘No sympathy needed. I knew she wasn't “the one”.' He leaned back. ‘So, what's the plan for Christmas then? Aside from Millie getting her Santa stash' – his smile was genuine now – ‘I can't wait to see her.' He reached for Grace's hand and gave it a squeeze.

Unaccountably, Grace felt herself begin to well up. ‘You'll be amazed. She's changed so much.'

‘She tries to bite you now if you annoy her, so watch out,' Annabel added.

‘Really?' James looked at Grace in amusement.

‘It's a recent phase, sadly. Anyway, how long are you planning to stay?'

‘Just a few days. My boss wants me back straight after New Year.'

‘That's great. But you do know I haven't got a spare
room?' Grace glanced worriedly about the place. ‘We're a bit cramped here.'

James patted the sofa. ‘Seems comfy enough. Unless this is your domain, Bel?'

Grace snorted. ‘Not likely. She's practically pushed me out of my own bed, the amount of space she takes up.'

‘Yeah, yeah,' Annabel said. ‘Who's for more wine?' She got up and plucked the bottle from the side, refilling their glasses without waiting for a response. ‘Now you're here, perhaps we can get you into tomorrow's excitement,' she told James.

‘And what might that be?'

‘A ball!' Annabel squeaked with delight.

‘Where?' James queried, the corner of his mouth turning up. ‘The local cow shed? And with who? There's no one here, guys, just miles of empty space. Is it just us and a herd of sheep ready to party?'

‘There's a local hall,' Annabel replied knowingly. Grace sat back and listened, sipping her drink, well aware that she was unlikely to get a word in. ‘A very posh hall, by all accounts. And the local riffraff have a Christmas Eve ball – it's a tradition that started a decade ago, and everyone loved it so much that they've done it every year since. A rich aristocrat owns the place, and lets them use it. They raise quite a bit for charity.'

‘How long have you lived here, Annabel?' James said, a twinkle in his eye as he looked at Grace. ‘You really are in the right profession, aren't you. Is there anything you don't know after you've been somewhere for five minutes?'

Grace laughed, while Annabel feigned indignance.
‘Well, it's a ticketed event, so I don't know if we'll get you in.'

‘Ignore her,' Grace chuckled. ‘We'll get you a ticket. I'll call Meredith in the morning.'

‘But I haven't got a suit, let alone a tux …' James said. ‘Presuming I can come, of course,' he added sarcastically to Annabel.

‘There's probably a shop in the next town.' Annabel looked thoughtful. ‘We'll check it out tomorrow when we go and get the supplies for Christmas dinner.'

‘What would I do without you, Bel?' James replied, raising an eyebrow at Grace, before he settled back onto the sofa and closed his eyes.

Grace smiled as she watched him, thinking that it had made her Christmas simply to have him here.

 

As Grace made her way downstairs with Millie the next morning, she expected to find James still asleep. However, he was up and fully dressed, seated at the small dining table with a coffee, looking over some papers.

‘Hi,' he said on seeing her. And then, ‘Hello Millie. Wow, you've grown so much!'

Millie whipped around and hid her face in her mother's neck.

‘She's always a bit shy,' Grace explained apologetically.

‘Understood. Not to worry,' James replied. ‘Actually, I've got a present for her.' He went across and pulled a large brown teddy out of his bag, jiggling it around, trying to coax Millie to play, but she gripped on to Grace even more tightly.
Grace took the teddy and attempted to give it to Millie, but the little girl snatched it and threw it on the floor.

Grace was embarrassed. ‘She takes time to respond to new people and new toys,' she reassured James, noticing that he was crestfallen despite his efforts to hide it. ‘Ask Annabel, she's had the same treatment.' Yet she couldn't help but remember Millie holding her arms out to Ben, and kneeling by his side.

James sat down again, and Grace strapped her daughter into her high chair, then went to put Millie's morning milk into the microwave. Once it was ready she shook the drink before giving it to the child, who used it as a security barrier from which she could inspect James further.

‘My god she's like you,' James said.

‘Really?' Grace smiled. ‘In what way?'

‘Well, big eyes and long legs for a start,' he replied immediately.

Grace laughed. ‘Most people tend to see Adam in her, since she's got his colouring and his curly hair.'

‘Yes, well, perhaps it's more indefinable than hair colour, but I definitely recognise something in those baby blues peeping at me.' He stuck his tongue out playfully at Millie, but she looked worriedly at Grace.

Grace moved over and stroked her hair. ‘Well, you're probably the only person who sees it.'

‘Perhaps it's because I know you a lot better than most,' James replied.

Millie broke the charged silence that followed by dropping her cup on the floor, and they both laughed. ‘I'll get it,' James said. And when he bobbed his head up above the table again, things were back to normal.

‘Shall I make you scrambled eggs for breakfast?' Grace asked as she flicked the kettle on.

‘That would be great, I'll help you in a sec.' He glanced once more at the papers in front of him. ‘I hope you don't mind – these were lying here, so I was taking a look at your plans.'

‘Of course I don't mind.' Grace sat down opposite him. ‘So, what do you think?'

‘It's a really good idea. But it could be a lot of work. Are you all right out here, really? Because this might take quite a while.'