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Authors: Katie Fforde

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Restoring Grace (63 page)

BOOK: Restoring Grace
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‘Flynn, why do you have these things in your
bath- room? Is there something you haven't told me?'

‘Well, yes. I bought them specially, in the
hope I might lure you in here someday soon. So which do you want?’

‘Bubbles, please.'


OK.' He
poured in a generous amount and then dipped his hand into the bath and agitated
the water. 'Is that too
hot for you?’

She sighed and allowed him
to hand her into the bath.
'That's lovely. Don't you think you
should give me some privacy?'

‘No, actually. I think I should get you
something to drink.’

She slid down into the water and felt its
blissful water work its magic on her chilly limbs. 'A drink would be too
decadent. It's only about ten.'

‘Eleven actually. Darling, I'm just going to
pop downstairs and make a phone call, put my life on hold. I'll be right back.'

‘OK.' She slid further down the bath, revelling
in the
wonderful heat of the water, aware
that it was much
bigger than the bath in the spare room. She closed her
eyes, thinking that she mustn't be tempted to doze off.
The last few days had been quite stressful and she hadn't
been
sleeping all that well.


Hey, don't
go to sleep.' She opened her eyes again and
saw Flynn, naked, holding a
bottle and two glasses.

‘What's all this?' She tried to sit up and
protest, but couldn't quite manage it. He had joined her in the bath
and handed her a glass of champagne before she'd
thought out what to say. By then, there seemed no
point
in protesting. She took a sip. 'Oh, that's quite nice.'

‘It ought to be. It was very expensive.'

‘Doesn't mean a thing,' she said. 'What are we
celebrating?'

‘Oh, I don't know. What would you like to
celebrate?’

‘Well, my kitchen ceiling is on the floor,
making my house unlivable in—'

‘I'll drink to that!'


That's not
fair. It's my kitchen. I'll have to redecorate it.’


I'll
drink to that, too.'

‘And my house! I can't stay in it!'

‘No. You'll have to go on staying with me. Have
some more champagne.’

She took another sip. 'Are
you trying to get me drunk?’


Not
drunk, just relaxed.'

‘I am relaxed.'

‘Good.' He took her glass away and put the
bottle and both glasses out of the way. 'Then close your eyes.’

Up to her neck in warm water, Grace shut her
eyes as bidden. She knew she couldn't slip under the water now Flynn was there
to prevent it and it was nice, feeling his warm limbs entangled with hers.
Nice, and quite sexy.

Flynn took hold of one of Grace's feet. 'Hey!
What are you doing? That tickles!'

‘I'm kissing your toes,' he said, and then
kissed each one. 'It's the only part of you I can reach just now.'


Oh,' she
said. 'No one's ever kissed my toes before.
Oh,' she said again as he took one into his mouth. 'That's
very—
Oh, my goodness . . .'


I think we'd
better get out,' he said a few moments
later. 'I'd hate to drown you.’

It was an easy transition
as the floor was thickly
carpeted and
there were lots of very large towels to hand
so it wasn't too hard. Flynn was, Grace decided when her
brain
was connected again, a very imaginative lover.

The champagne was less cold now, but still
delicious. 'Did you plan this?' asked Grace.


Plan what?
Making love to you on my bathroom floor? Plan is putting it a bit strong, but
fantasise, definitely.'
She giggled. 'Strange!'

‘Not at all. I've thought about making love to
you in
every room in this house. Except the
larder. Oh, and the
downstairs cloakroom.'

‘Honestly! Do you think about nothing else?'


Only
enough to get by. I'm very much in love with you.’

Grace pulled a corner of
towel over her and buried her
face in her
champagne for a moment. 'It's probably just
a sexual
attraction.'

‘Don't knock it! Besides, it isn't.'

‘What?'

‘Just a sexual attraction. I fell in love with
you when making love to you was about as likely and as comfortable as making
love to a thorn bush.'

‘I wasn't that prickly, surely.'

‘No, but you had a protective hedge about you
which
would have defied leprechauns. Invisible to everyone but
me, naturally.'

‘Naturally.'


So . . .' He paused. 'I
know I'm risking getting an
answer I don't like, but . . . how do you
feel about me?’

She closed her eyes and thought about it. She
wanted to tell him exactly, and accurately, how she felt. It had taken her some
time to work out in her head. She didn't want to make a mistake translating it
into words. 'It's hard to say, and I'm not always very good at expressing
myself, but when I was all soaking wet and miserable in
the kitchen, I wanted to come home. Then I thought: But
this is
my home. And although it is, definitely, I realised that what I meant was, home
is where you are.'


Oh. Right. I
think that qualifies as a satisfactory
answer.' They didn't speak again
for some time.

‘So if you think I should sell Luckenham
House,' she
said later, when she'd sat up
and finished her champagne,
'I will.’

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and
made himself more comfortable on the muddle of towels. 'No. No, I'd never ask
you to do that. It's a lovely house and it's yours. You - we - should live
there.'

‘But you want to live here! It's so much more
comfortable here.’

He nodded. 'Yes it is, but we don't want to
keep up
separate establishments do we? I
know it's an idea which
works for
lots of people, but I don't think we need a seven-
bedroom mansion each.' He became thoughtful.
'Although that would be fourteen locations for making love. At least.’

Grace ignored this frivolity. 'But you've put
your heart
and soul into this house. I
remember you saying how all
the other houses were for other people, and
you made compromises over materials, and that for this one, you had the best of
everything.'


I've put my heart and soul somewhere else now.'

'What do you
mean?'


You know what I mean. Or you should. They're with
you. Where you want to be, where you are, is where
I
want to be. Besides,' he went on briskly, 'Luckenham House is
beautiful, well worth doing up.'

‘I know, I just don't know if I'll have the
money.'

‘If I sell this house we'll have shed loads of
the stuff.’

Grace shook her head. 'No.
I'll sell it, if you want me
to, but if I'm
going to do it up, I'll pay for it myself. Or
not do it up.' She raised herself on her elbow and studied him
earnestly. 'Does that seem mean? Or silly?' He didn't
reply, and she felt obliged to explain. 'I've fought very
hard to
be independent and while I love you and trust you totally, for me, I have to
keep something. If you paid to have Luckenham House done up, I know it would be
beautiful, but it wouldn't be all mine. And
while I'll want your advice every step of the way, colour schemes, every
thing
. . .' she indicated the opulent, comfortable bath
room where they were having this intimate conversation.
'Although I did think that no one had carpet in
their bath
rooms any more and had tiles instead.'

‘It rather depends on what you want to do in
your bathroom,' he said soberly.

Grace giggled but wouldn't
be distracted. 'I just need
to pay for my house to be done up. I
hope you understand, and don't think I'm being prickly.’

He sighed. 'No. I do
understand. I just hope those
bloody panels
turn out to be worth something. Come on,
let's
get up.'

‘We should. I've got to organise a plumber.'

‘So you have.' But he led her into the bedroom,
and
they didn't get round to organising a
plumber until it was
nearly time to collect Demi from the bus.

*

While Grace and Flynn were otherwise occupied, Ellie
was shown into a room containing a
low examination table and a lot of equipment she preferred not to see. 'Here
goes,' she said.

‘And I'm
right behind you,' said Ran.


Just hop on to the table. It's not high,' said the
woman.
'I'm Suzanne, by the way.’

Ellie smiled, trying to
look relaxed, still so desperate
to pee she was aching all over her
lower body.

‘Now, just pull up your jumper and pull your
trousers
down under your bump.' Ellie's eyes
met Ran's. He
smiled reassuringly. She gave a little sigh. She wouldn't
have guessed that Ran had 'reassuring' in his repertoire of smiles, but he did
it very well.

Suzanne spread jelly over Ellie's stomach.


Oh, it's warm.
I was expecting it to be cold,' said Ellie.

‘Not these days,' said
Suzanne. 'Now, I'm going to pass
this instrument
backwards and forwards over your
tummy, and you
can see what your baby's up to on those
screens.’

Ellie looked and tried to make out a baby from
the wavy, black and white picture which looked like a very badly tuned
television. Suzanne moved her instrument forwards and backwards, until suddenly
she stopped.

‘Hang on,' she said, after peering into the
screen for a few seconds. 'I'm just going to get someone else.’

Sweat immediately broke out all over Ellie's
body. She
suddenly felt so frightened she
couldn't move or speak
as she
registered the implications of what the nurse had just said: her baby, which
until recently had only been a
reason for a lot of strange symptoms,
might have something wrong with it. Why else would she need a second opinion?
This was supposed to be a straightforward
check-up
but now . . . Ellie fought to stay calm. She had
felt the baby move a
couple of times since the first time,
and it
was just beginning to feel it was real. What if . . . ? She raised her eyes and
caught Ran looking down at her.
He took hold of her hand and squeezed
it. Ellie closed
her eyes and started
breathing deeply, repeating silently,
like a mantra, 'It'll be fine,
it'll be fine.’

Ran didn't speak either. He just held her hand,
very tightly, so tightly it hurt. Ellie opened her eyes to remonstrate but saw
that he'd gone deathly pale. He must be
squeamish
about hospitals, she thought, which makes it extra kind of him to come with me.
Having Ran's support
didn't stop her anxiety for the baby, but it moved
her, hugely.

Suzanne came back with an older woman. 'Now,
let's see what's going on here!' she said briskly, and took Suzanne's seat, and
her instrument.


No, no. It's
all fine.' Ellie relaxed, and only then
realised quite how scared she had been. 'It's just a shadow.
There's nothing wrong with the baby's heart,' the
woman
said. 'In fact there's nothing wrong with any of him.'

‘Is it a boy?' asked Ellie, eager to know.


Oh, sorry.
No. I mean, I don't know. I just said 'he' for
convenience; you can't
tell reliably at this stage. You'll
have to
wait a bit longer for that information, I'm afraid.'
She smiled at Ran.
'Don't buy the train set just yet.'

BOOK: Restoring Grace
6.76Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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