Restoring Grace (11 page)

‘Grace, why
are you crying down here in the dark?' For a couple of moments, Grace tried to
bluff her way out of it. 'I'm not crying . .

‘
Yes, you are. If you're not, what else could you
possibly
be doing? I'll put the light on.'

‘No! Please
don't. I'll get a candle.’

Once the
candle was lit, Ellie realised that Grace had
her
duvet with her, which was why she'd looked such an
odd shape.

‘
What's going on, Grace? What are you doing here?’

‘
I could ask you
the same question! Oh, I didn't wake you, did I?'

‘
No. I was hungry and I came down for a biscuit.
What's
your excuse? It's freezing down here.'

‘I know.
That's why I brought my duvet.'

‘But why are
you here?' Ellie wondered when persistence became plain rudeness.

Grace
sniffed again and found a tissue up her sleeve.

‘
I woke in the night and - and I felt like crying,
so I came
down here, so as not to wake you.'

‘
Oh, love!' Ellie came over to Grace's side of the table
and sat down next to her, so she could put her arm
round
her - and also sneak a bit of duvet, for warmth. 'Is it Edward?’

Grace
nodded.

‘Do you want
to talk about it? It might help.'

‘I don't
know! There's been no one - I'm not in the habit—'

‘Can't you
talk to your sister about it?’

Grace shook
her head. 'No! I pretend I'm perfectly all right in front of her.'

‘Wouldn't
she be sympathetic? After all, we've all been dumped.'

‘
Not Allegra. Besides, the words "I told you so"
were
practically written for her. She's been
"telling me so"
about Edward ever since he first took me out.'

‘
Tell me then. I'm sure it's good for you. Sort
of . . . what is the word?'

‘Cathartic?
You may be right.'

‘So give!'

‘
There's nothing that
you don't know, it's just it's been
nearly two years and I'm so bored of
being so unhappy! When will I get over him?'

‘
Well, does it go in phases, or is it constant?'

‘
Fits and starts, really. I seem to be getting on quite
well, don't think about him for quite long
periods of time
and then,
woomph,
something reminds me of him and it
all comes flooding back and it's worse than ever. It's
almost better if I do think about him all the time, then at
least
it doesn't take me by surprise.'

‘
Have you cried every night since he's been
gone?’

‘Oh no.
Quite often I sleep straight through.'

‘So what
happened this time?'

‘
T
don't know really. I think it's
something to do with having had such a good time with you. Maybe I have to come
down as much as I went up.'

‘That seems
very unfair.'

‘
Nothing's fair, Ellie. We all know that.'

‘
So do you
think my being here will make things
worse
for you? If so, I could easily find somewhere else
to live.'

‘
No! Please
don't do that! It's been such fun, and I
even think I'll get to like the
mural in time. I just think
having good times
sort of points up how bleak I feel
inside.'

‘You won't be bleak inside for ever,' said
Ellie, wondering what on earth she could say to make Grace less desolate.

‘
I have to
believe that. I do believe it, because as I said,
sometimes - a lot of the time - I'm fine. Then I go
back
to being heartbroken. I'm a recidivist.'

‘Ooh, what's one of them?’

Grace had to smile at
Ellie's attempt to make her laugh.
'It's someone who constantly
reoffends. I keep getting
heartbroken all
over again, when I should have been over
it ages ago.'

‘
I don't
suppose you do it on purpose, but I do think
a distraction would be a good idea. Are you sure we can't
go on
the pull together?'

‘What?'

‘Go out to pick up men. It would be fun,
really—'

‘No,' said Grace firmly. 'I am in no state -
never have been actually - to go out and pick up men. And I don't
expect you are either, seeing as you don't drink,
and even
I know that to "go on
the pull" you have to be completely
rat-arsed.'

‘
Ooh! Not quite as out of it all as you like to
pretend. You know some of the language.'

‘Only a
smattering and I'll never be fluent,' said Grace firmly. 'But you have cheered
me up, Ellie. Really.'

‘
Let me cheer us both up. I'll make you some hot chocolate
and toast. Would you like that?'

‘Yes, I think I would.' She watched as Ellie
rummaged
in a cupboard for a saucepan.
'You're mothering me, Ellie.’

Ellie looked up
apologetically, pan in hand. 'I know.
It's an
awful habit of mine.'

‘No, it's a good habit. Convenient, if you're
going to actually be a mother.’

Ellie
chuckled. 'God, I suppose I am.’

*

Both girls woke up late the following morning.
Grace's
eyes were distinctly puffy and
Ellie's back was aching;
the blow-up
mattress was designed for women who
didn't
have curves. They were sitting at the kitchen table
eating a late
breakfast when the doorbell jangled.

‘Oh God, who can that be?' muttered Grace,
jumping to her feet and scraping her hair back from her face.

‘
You're not expecting anyone, are you?'

‘No!' The
bell jangled again. 'I'd better go and answer
i
t.’

Oh the doorstep was a man whom Grace recognised
perfectly well, although she still felt muddled about his name and unsettled at
seeing him again. It was the Spy.

‘Hello,' he said. 'I was here other night. For
the wine tasting?'

‘Oh yes. Did you leave your coat or something?'
She
blushed as she remembered he had not
removed his coat.
She'd always been
led to believe that Irishmen didn't feel
the cold. Obviously just another myth, like them all being
charming.

‘
No. I just
wondered . . . it may not be appropriate, but
I'm getting rid of an old
Rayburn and I wondered if it might be of use to you.'

‘Why would it be?' asked Grace, wondering why
this man kept offering her things she didn't want. What was
a
Ra
^y
burn when it was at
home?

‘
It's a
solid-fuel range,' he explained. 'It would heat your
kitchen, provide
hot water, possibly run a few radiators. I'm offering it to you. For nothing,'
he added.

‘
Oh, I
don't think . . .' she began, embarrassed, wishing
he wouldn't look at
her with that sort of intenseness. Ellie, who'd followed Grace to the door in
case the mystery caller was a mad axe-murderer, realised Grace was going to
send away an offer of warmth without even considering it. 'You definitely want
it, Grace. Rayburns are great. My granny has one.'

‘Oh. Well, perhaps you'd better come in.' Grace
was
aware she was being less than gracious
and tried to smile.
She never had been much good with men, her early
marriage to Edward meant she'd never got any practice
dealing with them, and this man in particular seemed to
throw
her off balance. She hoped Ellie, with her bouncy-
puppy charm, would do the nodding and smiling for her.
She stood
back so the man - she wrestled for a moment with the order of his names - could
get into the hall but then didn't know where to go.

‘Perhaps we should all go to the kitchen?'
suggested Ellie. 'Then we can see if there's room for a Rayburn.’

‘Good idea,' said the man. 'I can have a look
at the chimney.'

‘I don't think there is a chimney,' said Grace,
almost
hoping there wasn't. She hadn't had
much sleep and was
aware that her eyes
were very puffy and swollen. The
Spy
was too big and bulky and male: she didn't want
him in her house when
she was looking so awful. She hadn't quite forgiven him for asking her out like
that. It had been so unsettling.

‘Of course there's a chimney!' said the Spy
irritably. 'They wouldn't have taken it out!'

‘
That's
good,' said Ellie, wondering why Grace was
being so offhand in the face
of this very generous offer. Grace led the way to the kitchen.

‘
It is a
lovely house,' said the man. 'If a little fridge-
like.'

‘
It's February,' snapped Grace. 'It's bound to
be cold.'

‘
There's a draught
through this house that would clean
corn, and it's nothing to do with
February,' he said. 'A Rayburn would help.'

‘Well, there may not be a suitable chimney.'
She was still sounding ungracious but couldn't help herself. A
solid-fuel stove would involve workmen. She'd felt
invaded
enough with builders in her attic, and now that they'd gone, she was reluctant
to have strangers in her
kitchen, which,
although cold and uncomfortable, had felt
like the heart of the house
since Edward had left.

To Grace's slight
annoyance the site of the house's orig
inal
range was obvious. She just hadn't really noticed it because it was behind the
cooker and someone had put some pale green tiles over the brickwork. She'd
thought it was just part of the wall.

‘Perfect for a solid-fuel stove,' said the man.
'Do you mind if I pull out the electric cooker and have a look?’

Grace shrugged, and Ellie said, 'No, not at
all. Shall I put the kettle on?'

‘That would be nice,' said the man, looking at
Grace. She was aware she should have introduced him by now, but still hadn't
decided which name came first. Why
couldn't
he have a proper first name, like a normal
person? She had a fifty-fifty
chance of getting it right. 'This is - Cormack Flynn.'

‘
Flynn Cormack,' he said.

‘
Flynn Cormack,' went
on Grace, trying not to care that
she'd got it wrong. 'This is Ellie
Summers.'

‘
It's really
kind of you to offer us - er, to offer Grace -
a Rayburn,' said Ellie.
'How much will it cost?'

‘It's a present,' said Flynn. 'I'm replacing
it. It's going spare.'

‘
Fantastic! That's so
kind!' Ellie, delighted at the thought
of a
permanent heat source after a couple of days freezing
to
death, moved forward, as if to hug this stranger, but
then held herself back. He would have been unnerved by
a
spontaneous hug, she could tell.

‘
So, if
it's so fantastic, why don't you want it any more?'
asked Grace who, in
spite of trying quite hard, couldn't make herself behave in a normal way.

‘Because I'm installing a gas-fired one,' he
explained.
'But I imagine you have a good
supply of wood, what
with owning the spinney.'

‘
How do you
know I own the spinney?' demanded
Grace.

‘
It's in the
curtilage of the property,' said Flynn,
bringing his eyebrows together.
'Everyone locally knows that—'

‘Shall I make some tea?' interrupted Ellie,
afraid that Grace was not only going to look this gift horse in the mouth but
send him away with a flea in his ear.

‘It would probably be very expensive to put
in,' said Grace cautiously.

‘
I'll do it
for you,' Flynn replied. 'All you need to do
is buy a few metres of
copper piping and possibly a new hot-water cylinder.'