Butterfly (5 page)

‘Do you want a coffee?’ Lisa
asks, because I seem to have lost my voice all of a sudden.

‘Actually, do you have any Earl
Grey tea?’

‘Yes.’ I hastily grab a mug and
a teabag and turn to the machines to pour in hot water. As I place
it on the counter, Ben reaches to take it, and his fingers graze
over mine. I snatch my hand back as if his touch has burned me.

Our eyes meet, and his
widen.

To hide the awkwardness of the
moment, I blurt out, ‘How about a cookie? Or a muffin?’ I can have
a conversation about cakes, but I don’t know how to make normal
small talk anymore.

He bends down to look in the
counter at the food display and takes his time choosing something.
‘What would you recommend?’ He looks straight at me.

‘Everything’s good. Grace’s
cakes are amazing,’ Lisa says.

‘I’ll take a cinnamon bun, then,
please.’ He looks back at the sign Lisa put on the door. The one
I’ve forgotten to remove. ‘I see you’re looking for some help. I
can help you out, if you like. Just until I find something more
permanent.’

‘Er…’ Again, I don’t know what
to say, but a loud gushing noise coming from the kitchen saves me
from answering. I know the bloody pipe’s gone and burst before I
even look in there. ‘Oh, God! Lisa don’t go in the kitchen, you
might slip.’ I run in.

The pipe under the sink has
finally quit its hold on life. Water floods the floor, spraying out
at all angles. It reminds me of a Laurel and Hardy movie, which for
some bizarre reason makes me laugh. Maybe I’m hysterical. I’m
finally losing it and cracking up.

I rush over to the sink and bend
down, turning off the stopcock underneath as water drenches me. I
sense Ben is close behind me, and I shoot up, banging into his hard
chest with the back of my head. Panic instantly sets in, and in my
haste to get away, I slip and fall onto the floor, landing on my
back.

‘Christ, are you OK?’ He leans
over me, holding out his hand to help me up.

I flinch, sliding on the floor
as I scrabble to get out of his reach on my hands and heels. I
scrunch up in the corner of the kitchen, knees bent, staring at him
with wide eyes. My heart bangs, and my breath comes out in short
pants. I’m shaking hard.

He’s too close.

Too big.

Too strong.

He takes a step back and holds
his hands up in front of me, palms showing. ‘Hey, it’s all right.’
He gives me a guarded smile. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare
you.’

I gulp for breath, struggling to
inhale enough oxygen. My pulse hammers silently.

‘You’re OK.’ He takes another
step back. ‘Just breathe slowly.’ His eyes are locked on mine, and
he nods his head slightly. ‘Breathe with me. In, out. In, out. Can
you do that for me?’ He takes a deep breath in. Then exhales.
‘Grace, breathe. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe.’

Somehow, his words register in
my subconscious, reassuring me, and I copy him.

In. Out. Slowly. In. Out. In.
Out.

Eventually, my breath evens out,
and the panic subsides. My chest is lighter. The shaking stops. I’m
soaking wet and embarrassed as hell that he’s witnessed that. Tears
prick at my eyes, and I just want to die on the spot. I don’t want
to be this girl.

His hands fall to his sides, and
I drop my gaze to the floor.

‘Are you all right?’ he
says.

Do I look all right?
I
want to scream, but it’s not his fault. It’s mine. It’s all my
fucking fault.

‘Grace?’ He bends down so he’s
resting on his haunches at my eye level. ‘Are you all right?’ He
speaks slowly, purposefully.

I nod, but I can’t answer
because there’s a sob lodged deep in my throat.

‘You’re soaked,’ he says softly.
‘Why don’t you go and get changed, and I can clean up here. Do you
have any towels?’

I get to my feet, using the
worktop to support myself so I don’t fall over again. I point to a
cupboard in the corner.

He opens it, pulling out thick
tea towels.

‘I…I’m sorry,’ I stammer, edging
round the worktop.

He steps back to let me pass
through the doorway and out into the shop.

‘What happened?’ Lisa’s jaw
drops when she sees the state I’m in.

‘Pipe burst,’ is all I can
manage. ‘Back soon.’ I flee through the front door, dripping water
on the floor.

I rush around the back of the
building and up the stairs to my flat. Locking the doors, I go
through my routine, but my fingers are shaking so hard I mess it up
and have to start again. From the top all the way to the bottom, I
check fifteen times.

When I’m finally satisfied, I
strip off my clothes and grab a towel from the bathroom to dry my
hair. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Black eyeliner and
mascara is streaked down my face. I look like a clown. A freakish
clown.

And that’s exactly what I
am.

A freak.

8

BEN

Whoever did that to her, I want
to kill him. I want him to know the same kind of pain she’s going
through. What Mia went through. He doesn’t deserve to walk the
earth. He’s an animal.

I’m so angry I can’t think
straight, but anger doesn’t solve anything. It only destroys you in
the end. Anger’s what got me into this crap in the first place, so
I do what I told Grace to do and take deep breaths, because if I
don’t follow my own advice, then I’m a hypocrite.

I rub a hand over the back of my
neck and let out a laugh, but there’s no humour in it.

A hypocrite.

Yeah, that’s exactly what I
am.

Lisa appears in the doorway, her
forehead crinkled with concern. ‘Is everything OK? Grace was pretty
soaked.’

I drop my hand and turn around,
reading her face for a second. It tells me she doesn’t know about
the panic attacks. Maybe Grace has kept it well hidden from
her.

‘Yeah. It’s just a bit of a
mess.’ I bend down and examine the pipes underneath the sink.
‘Should be easy to fix, though.’

Lisa leans on the doorway. She’s
studying me, too. ‘She was trying to get a plumber out with no
luck. The thing is, we obviously need water for the coffee and
stuff.’

‘I can clean up and then get
some supplies and tools. I don’t think it will take long to get it
sorted out.’

‘Wow, that’s great!’ She beams
at me and glances back over her shoulder as the door opens.
‘Another customer.’ She walks off and leaves me to it.

I mop up the walls and the floor
methodically, and when the kitchen is clean and dry, I make a note
of the pipe work, washers, and connectors I need and go back to
Lisa at the counter. ‘So, I’m going to get some supplies. I’ll be
back in a bit.’

‘Brilliant. Thanks a lot.’ She
wipes her hands on a tea towel and slings it over her shoulder.

I walk to the DIY centre and
think about what I just witnessed. Grace doesn’t deserve this. No
one does. Seeing her as a crumpled heap on the floor, broken,
defeated, scared to death; I just have this urge to protect her. To
help her get past this. And if I’ve learnt anything in the last
five years, I know she can find a way to heal.

I want to be the one to help her
do it.

9

GRACE

I feel as if I’m about to
collapse. As if my bones have turned to sand and I’m going to
disintegrate from the inside out. I steady myself on the sink in
front of the mirror as I finish reapplying my mask. I’m delaying
going back to the shop in the hope he’s already left. I don’t want
to see him again. Not after he witnessed me like that. He’ll think
I’m absolutely mental.

My hand shakes as I apply my
mascara, and I get a big blob of it on my eyelid.

‘Fuck!’ I scream at the mirror.
‘You useless bitch!’ My voice is raw and scratchy, and the tears
come again.

Not again. Do not cry!

I dig my nails into my palms
until they hurt. The pain distracts me long enough to stop the
tears from falling, and I rub the makeup off my face roughly and
start all over again.

It’s probably an hour later when
I get out of the flat. What kind of a boss am I, leaving Lisa in
the lurch for so long? But I can’t help it. I can’t fall apart at
work. I’ve managed to avoid her seeing me in the full throes of a
panic attack so far. She only knew me after it happened. I’ve never
told her, and I don’t want her to ask questions. So I need to be
calm and composed as I go back in.

Walking round the side of the
building to the shop, I clench and unclench my fists. As I push
open the door, I conjure up my brightest smile.

‘Hi,’ I say to Lisa.

‘Well, you look better than you
did when you left. You were a drowned rat.’ She laughs.

I laugh, too, because it’s
probably what she expects. The fake laughter—yeah, I can do that,
too. ‘I know. Can you believe it?’ I glance around, looking for
Ben. ‘Er…has he gone?’

‘Yes.’

Thank God for that.

I walk to the kitchen to survey
the damage and find it’s spotless.

Lisa follows close behind me.
‘He’s coming back, though.’

‘What?’ My voice screeches in my
ears.

Her eyes widen a fraction at the
noise. An elderly woman in the corner sipping hot chocolate and
doing a crossword glances in our direction.

‘What’s up?’ Lisa frowns.

‘Oh, um, nothing. It’s just that
I feel a bit embarrassed for leaving him to clear up.’ The lie
rolls off my tongue easily. I’m getting used to lying. ‘Why’s he
coming back?’

‘He’s gone to get some stuff to
fix the pipe with. You
have
to get him to work here. I know
you said he was hot, but he’s
seriously
hot.’

‘I didn’t say he was hot. You
did,’ I point out, but it falls on deaf ears.

‘Did you check out those
muscles? And the bed head? Nice eyes, too.’ Her eyebrows waggle
suggestively.

I try to think of something to
say, but I can’t because she’s right. He is gorgeous. But I’m not
interested in that. I never will be interested in a man like
that.

Not now.

She takes my silence for
agreement and carries on. ‘He’s pretty handy, too, so he can fix
things if stuff goes wrong. And you need the help.’ She elbows me
with excitement then glances at her watch. ‘Sorry to gossip and
run, but I need to leave now if I’m going to make my scan
appointment. Is that OK?’

I slap a hand to my forehead.
‘Crap, I’m so sorry, I completely forgot.’ I make ushering
movements to her. ‘Go. I’ll be fine.’

She takes off her apron and
hands it to me. ‘OK, I’ll see you tomorrow, then. And give him the
job.’ She pokes my arm.

I stick my tongue out and walk
behind the counter to tidy up what’s left of the cake display,
trying to get my mind off having to see him again. I think about
his gaze on mine as he told me to breathe. I think about how
soothing his voice was. And for some strange reason, it makes me
feel calmer again.

I’m serving two young mums with
coffee when he returns. I know it’s him before I even look over,
because there seems to be a big presence filling the empty space.
When I finish up, I look over at him, and his dark eyes are on
me.

He looks thoughtful. Probably
thinking what a weirdo I am.

‘Hi.’ He smiles. It’s warm and
friendly. Not a trace of disgust, which puzzles me.

I fake a smile and nod to the
supplies he’s holding. ‘You didn’t have to do that. You should
probably be resting anyway, after your accident.’

‘It’s no problem.’ He shrugs.
‘It won’t take me long to fix.’

I don’t realize I haven’t
spoken, and I’m still staring until he carries on talking.

‘Shall I go in and make a start,
then?’

‘Huh? Oh…yes. Thanks.’

‘OK, then.’ And he heads into
the kitchen.

After a few minutes, I pace up
and down behind the counter, rubbing my sweaty palms down my apron.
I need to apologize for what he saw, and I mentally rehearse what
to say. I mean, what
do
you say to someone when they’ve seen
you looking like a freak?

I head towards the kitchen.
Stop. Go back to the counter and resume pacing. Luckily, the two
mums are engrossed in a lively conversation about baby puke and
nappies and don’t notice my strange behaviour, and no one else is
in the shop.

Eventually, I muster up the
courage to walk to the doorway. He’s bent under the sink. His
T-shirt stretches taut over the muscles on his back, and I wonder
why I’m even noticing that. It should make me scared to be in this
confined space with him, as it did before, but I’m not. It should
make me want to run out the door and never come back, but
strangely, it doesn’t.

‘Look…’ I start, and bite my
lip.

His head turns, but he doesn’t
get up. ‘Oh, hey. I didn’t know you were there.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I blurt out before
I can change my mind. ‘About what happened earlier, I’m sorry.’

He drops his spanner to the
floor and sits on the tiles. He doesn’t say anything for a second.
Just regards me with kindness in his eyes.

I bite my lip again.

‘You have nothing to be sorry
about,’ he says. ‘You had a panic attack, that’s all.’ It’s as if
his look lasts an eternity, but it’s probably only a few seconds
before I tear my gaze away from his.

‘You know, deep breathing really
helps when you have one. Just try to concentrate on slow, deep
breaths, or maybe start counting slowly in time with the breath. I
know it’s hard to do at first, but it works.’

I lean my head on the doorway.
‘Yeah. It’s not always easy to remember that when you’re in the
middle of one.’

‘It also helps to focus on one
particular thing to ground yourself.’

‘Ground myself?’

He stands up and leans against
the worktop. ‘Yeah. Try and find an object or something to
concentrate on while you’re having a panic attack that lets you
know you’re safe.’