When Grace Went Away Page 11

  ‘She’s in London, working, and she left me her car to use. I didn’t steal it,’ I prattled. ‘I’ve been driving since I was sixteen and I’ve never been picked up for speeding before, or anything else.’ Why couldn’t I just shut up?

  She stared at me. I blinked, my gaze straight ahead.

  ‘Are you in town for long?’ she said, tapping her other palm with my licence.

  ‘Not long. I’ve come to visit my son’s grave,’ I said. I had to bite my bottom lip to stop it trembling, because I didn’t know that was the real reason I’d come, and all of a sudden it was crystal clear. Something had changed. I might have memories but I desperately wanted to touch my son’s final resting place again.

  ‘You know you’re going in the wrong direction for the cemetery?’ she said.

  And I started nodding again. ‘I know. But I haven’t been back here in a long time, and I sort of—’

  ‘Panicked?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose I did.’

  Neither of us spoke for what seemed like an eternity. Then she handed me back the licence. ‘You drive carefully, Mrs Fairley, and stick to the speed limit from now on. Enjoy your visit.’

  I glanced in the rear-view mirror to see her climb into the police car, her eyes covered by mirrored sunglasses. She stayed put, head down and occupied until I indicated and slowly eased out onto the road. I had the strangest feeling she’d wanted to say more to me but had held back. I was light-headed with relief not to have a received a hefty fine and demerit points.

  When I couldn’t see the police car in the rear-view mirror anymore, I pulled over to the side of the road and stopped. I needed to regroup before doing a U-turn and driving sedately through town and on to the cemetery.

  By mid-afternoon I’d visited Luke’s grave. Having thought I’d have to pull weeds and tidy up, I was taken aback to find the gravesite spotless with a cheerful bunch of fresh daisies adorning the glossy granite slab. Grace was right: someone was taking good care of Luke’s grave. I had a moment’s remorse because it wasn’t me, and I was his mother.

  It was while I’d been sitting at the cemetery with Luke that I decided to go back to Adelaide. It had been foolish to come to Miners Ridge in the first place. I could be back to the unit just after dark.

  If I’d had more courage I would have waited to drive past the primary school when the kids were leaving in the hope of glimpsing Amelia and Liam. But my brush with the law had unsettled me, and any courage I might have had had dissipated. If the police officer recognised Grace’s car then someone else was bound to as well.

  On the way out of town I stopped at the bakery for a takeaway coffee. Caffeine would help keep me focussed for the three-hour drive. Sitting in the car for a few minutes I observed the comings and goings until I was sure there was no one about who might recognise me. Why it mattered I don’t know, only that it did.

  I darted into the bakery, grateful the girl behind the counter was a teenager and too young to remember me.

  ‘A medium flat white, two sugars, to take away,’ I said nervously, spinning around when the front door opened and a pretty young girl with honey-coloured curls entered.

  She was about nine or ten, wearing jeans, sneakers and a pink hoodie with a sparkly star adorning the front. She went to the bread stand, where a solitary loaf of sliced multigrain sat on the top rack, just out of reach. I went over and passed it to her.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘Grannie wanted white but this’ll have to do.’ She smiled and when our eyes met I felt the room tilt, the blood draining from my brain. It could have been Luke looking up at me.

  Fanciful, I thought, steadying myself on the bread rack. Luke was all I’d been thinking about for the last couple of hours. No wonder the first person I saw with eyes as blue as his would remind me of him.

  I tightened my grip on the bread rack, setting it wobbling. Uncertain, the girl clutched the loaf of bread to her chest. I forced a reassuring smile.

  ‘Coffee’s ready,’ the teenager said, plonking the takeaway cup on the counter. ‘That’ll be four dollars and fifty cents.’

  ‘Keep the change,’ I said, passing her a five-dollar note. I grabbed the coffee and bolted for the door.

  I felt the young girl’s eyes follow me out. She was probably thinking I was a crazy old woman.

  By the time I made it back to the car, my heart was racing and my breath was coming short and sharp. I stowed the coffee in the cup holder and started the engine, turning on the air conditioner and aiming the cool air at my face.

  The girl stepped out of the bakery, swinging the loaf of bread. She didn’t even look in my direction before ambling off down the footpath. My heart rate slowed. Ridiculous, I know.

  I drove home on autopilot, exhausted but more alive than I’d felt since Mum had died. I’d stepped out of my comfort zone and lived to tell the story. I fell into bed without eating or showering, and didn’t wake for seven hours.

  16

  Grace

  ‘Grace, have you got a minute?’

  Grace shifted her attention from the computer screen to her office doorway. What was one more interruption? ‘Of course, Lucy. Come on in.’

  Lucy Trudeau was a tall, willowy blonde. She was a fellow senior financial analyst and one of the few other women in the office, besides the admin and reception staff. Her office was next to Grace’s.

  Lucy was diligent and committed, but for some reason Grace hadn’t warmed to her. They acknowledged each other when they met in the corridor or the lunch room, but that was it. Something about Lucy’s cool reserve put Grace’s teeth on edge—that and her toffy accent.

  ‘What can I do for you, Lucy?’

  Lucy leaned an elegant shoulder against the doorjamb, sipping from a bone china cup, and Grace felt as if the younger woman was looking down her nose at her. Grace stood, on the pretence of returning a folder to the shelf.

  ‘Being Friday, a few of us are going out for drinks tonight, and we wondered if you’d like to come along.’

  Grace paused, meeting Lucy’s clear grey gaze. ‘Thanks, that’s kind of you to ask,’ she said.

  Lucy gave a flick of her wrist. ‘Why don’t you bring Grant Hughes along? You two seem pretty—close?’ she said, with a lift of her finely plucked eyebrows.

  ‘We’re friends, if that’s what you mean.’

  Lucy’s gaze swept over Grace from head to foot. ‘Yeah, I suppose that’s what I mean.’

  Grace kept her smile in place. ‘We go way back.’

  ‘So I’ve heard,’ she said, pushing off from the doorjamb. ‘We’re meeting in the foyer and cabbing it. I’ll see you and Grant, at eight.’

  Wiggling her fingers in the parody of a wave, Lucy sashayed off, leaving Grace without a doubt that if she didn’t have Grant in tow, she needn’t bother showing up at all.

  Grace squeezed her eyes shut and counted to ten. She flicked Grant a message, crossing her fingers that he’d not be interested, or available, and she could slough off Lucy’s invitation. No such luck. His answer pinged back in record time.

  Sounds like fun. I’ll pick you up on the way through.

  Gritting her teeth, Grace groaned, then went back to work. Eight o’clock was three hours away and she had a mountain of earnings reports to go through before then.

  At ten to eight Grace shut down the two computer screens, stretched and rubbed her eyes. She made a quick trip to the bathroom to brush her hair and reapply lipstick, pulling a face at her reflection when she saw the perpetual bags under her eyes.

  A recommended hairdresser hadn’t been able to fit her in until the following week. Her eyebrows needed waxing and it was aeons since she’d had a facial. Spritzing on her favourite perfume, Grace practised a smile and wished she was on her way home to bed.

  Three hours and three glasses of wine later, Grace’s head was thumping to the deafening music. The bar was packed. Talking was impossible, Grace had to shout, and Grant wasn’t falling down drunk yet, but it was only a matter of time. Luc
y had latched onto him like a limpet, and Grace wasn’t sure who was holding up who.

  The other four from the bank were from human resources and administration. Grace had met them all already and to be fair, they had included her. But they obviously knew each other well and it wasn’t long before Grace felt like the odd one out, which of course she was—and by the occasional sly looks Lucy cast her way, that had been the intention all along.

  Eventually catching Grant’s eye, Grace mouthed, ‘I’m going home.’ He shrugged, a blearily helpless expression on his face. If Lucy got any closer she’d be in his pocket, or some place similar.

  Searching for a space to put her empty glass, Grace startled when Grant slung an arm around her shoulders.

  ‘You sure you wanna go now?’ he said, close to her ear, the words slurred.

  ‘Yep, deadly certain,’ she said, pulling back from his alcohol-soaked breath.

  ‘Do you want me to come with you?’

  She opened her mouth to say yes, but when his gaze darted across to the bar where Lucy was watching them, Grace said, ‘No, you stay and enjoy yourself.’

  ‘You’re sure?’ Grant’s eyes narrowed and he stood taller, seeming to sober up. They both knew the question was loaded.

  Grace held Grant’s gaze for a moment, before shifting her attention to Lucy. ‘I’m quite sure,’ she said, and knew she meant it.

  Grant returned her brief hug, his expression hard to read. Thinking about it later in the cab on the way home, Grace realised that her answer had disappointed him. Interestingly, all she’d felt was a sense of relief.

  Since the night she’d insisted he sleep on her sofa, there’d been a subtle shift in their relationship.

  Reflecting on it now as she prepared for bed, Grace admitted what she’d known all along: that friendship was all she was ever going to offer Grant. In a way, Lucy inserting herself into the mix had done her a favour.

  As selfish as it sounded, Grace hoped Grant would still want to be friends, because it would be awfully lonely in London without him.

  The last thing Grace did before she turned off the bedroom light was balance her laptop on her knees and check her email. There hadn’t been anything from her mother, or Aaron for a few days.

  Her heart bumped when Aaron’s name popped up in the inbox. She opened his email first.

  Hi Grace. How’s it going? Thanks for the pics of Big Ben. Bet you had a blast queuing for the London Eye. Your weather looks warmer than ours. Bloody cold when out running this morning. Frost. Had a beer with Tim last night. He was his usual cheery self. Still no rain of any significance, and everyone’s talking drought. I’ll swear I saw your car in town a couple of days ago. Probably my wishful thinking. A xx

  Grace reread the email, lingering on the last sentence. Her heart squeezed with homesickness, and something else. The wisest thing for her to do would be to stop emailing him back. But as she clicked reply and started to type a response, Grace knew she’d keep writing back for as long as Aaron kept in contact. Wise or not.

  Hi Aaron. You know about the queues at the Eye? Are you sure you haven’t been here before? And there’s probably more than one black BMW in South Australia. But keep wishing. The Poms think the weather is hot but they insist on drinking warm beer. Work is a bit ho-hum. Long days. Went out for drinks after work tonight. Loud music, crappy wine and drunk colleagues so I took a cab home. I am getting old! You’re probably at work by now. Enjoy the bracing fresh air, even though it’s freezing. I’m going to sleep. G xx

  Grace clicked send, shut down the laptop, turned off the light and went to sleep.

  Two weeks later Grace decided that all she did was work, sleep and when she could fit it in, eat. The only exercise she got was walking to and from the tube station. Summer was passing her by. Life was passing her by.

  Grant and Lucy were now officially an ‘item’, and Grace thought he looked bewildered more than anything. When they’d bumped into each other in the lunch room and Grace asked how he was doing, he said, ‘I’ve no idea. I know I’m fit for my age, but—’ He held up his hand. ‘Sorry … Too much information.’

  Grace carried on making herself a cup of tea. Grant propped himself against the cupboard and tilted his head to the side as he watched her.

  ‘Grace, why wasn’t I enough for you? I was once.’

  ‘Whoa,’ she said. The teaspoon clanged into the empty sink. His question here, now, had caught her completely off guard.

  She thought of all the reasons she could give—it was her, not him, it was the wrong place, wrong time, blah, blah blah—and to some degree they’d all be right, but he deserved the truth, or as much of it as she was willing to give.

  ‘I honestly don’t know, Grant. I’m in a strange kind of place at present. I feel restless, distracted, dissatisfied with life in general.’ She sipped her tea. The lunch room wasn’t exactly the place for a heart-to-heart.

  Then she smirked and said, ‘You are still pretty hot, just ask Lucy.’ She nudged his foot with her own, but his smile took a while coming.

  ‘Yeah, but I don’t know why she’s bothering with an old geezer like me.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t she? But as an aside, word is that even though Richard’s wife is doing well, he’ll retire anyway. Although you’re filling in for him everyone knows you usually reside much higher up the tree. Lucy is young, ambitious, and good at what she does, and you have influence.’

  Grant’s mouth turned down and he looked thoughtful. ‘You think?’

  ‘I think.’

  ‘And here’s me thinking it’s my good looks, charm, and prowess in—’

  ‘Stop right there,’ Grace said, raising her tea mug in protest.

  ‘Okay.’ He shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘The cynical man who’s been around the block a few times gets your point, clearly. But the man on the verge of fifty, whose wife has left him and whose object of affection can’t decide what she wants—well, he can’t believe a gorgeous woman fifteen years younger wants to be with him. And that man will pretend that you don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Just be careful, Grant, that’s all I’m saying.’

  ‘I will, and thanks for being your usual forthright self, Grace.’

  Lucy swung into the tea room. ‘There you are,’ she said, sidling up to Grant and dismissing Grace with a cool glance.

  After washing her mug and putting it away, Grace wiped down the sink and returned the milk to the fridge. Lucy was leading Grant out of the lunch room. He looked back over his shoulder, his expression bemused. Grace winked.

  She went back to her desk with a spring in her step.

  17

  In the early hours of the following morning, Grace was woken by an incessant sound. It took her a moment to realise what it was. Scrabbling for the phone, not recognising the number, her first coherent thought was that something had happened to her mother.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, breathless, heart racing a mile a minute.

  ‘Grace?’

  ‘Faith! What’s—’

  ‘I want you to tell your mother to stop hanging around the school. She’s stalking my children—’

  ‘What? Faith? Do you realise what time it is here?’

  ‘Amelia said she’s been there two days in a row—in your car. I’ve reported it to the principal.’

  Grace heaved herself up in the bed, propping herself against the headboard. She rubbed her eyes with her free hand.

  ‘Faith, she’s your mother as well, and she’s Liam and Amelia’s grandmother. If you won’t let her anywhere near them, how else is she meant to see them?’

  ‘That is so typical of you Grace, to always take her side. If she goes there again, I’ve told them to call the police.’

  ‘Are you kidding me? Did she talk to them? Harass them? Were they scared?’

  Grace knew there was no way Sarah would harass or scare anyone. But then, what was she doing in Miners Ridge in the first place?

  ‘No, but that is n
ot the point. I’ll get the cops to put a restraining order on her if I have to.’

  ‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this, Faith. What is the matter with you? She is your mother.’

  ‘There’s nothing the matter with me, and it’s a pity she didn’t remember she was my mother when she walked away eight years ago. I do not want her having anything to do with my children, and I want you to tell her that.’

  Grace yawned. Her mouth and her head felt like she’d had one wine too many, and she’d hardly touched a drop for days.

  ‘Faith, will you just get over yourself. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m in London. It’s four o’clock in the morning. I worked until late and I have to get up in an hour and get ready to go to work again. If you don’t want Mum to see her grandchildren, you tell her.’

  ‘I thought she would have got the message by now. Anyway, I don’t know her number.’

  ‘Tim knows, ask him. Goodnight.’

  ‘Tim is in contact with her?’ Faith’s voice went up an octave or two, all the way to shrill. Grace held the phone away from her ear.

  ‘Faith, you need to talk to your brother. He lives nearby. Hanging up now.’

  Grace disconnected, throwing the phone down onto the bed. Turning on the bedside light she waited, tapping her foot on the mattress. She didn’t try to go back to sleep, or even to the kitchen to put the kettle on.

  Sure enough, four minutes later her phone rang again.

  Tim. For a moment she considered not answering, but knowing her brother, he’d keep ringing until she did.

  ‘Grace,’ he said when she answered.

  ‘Tim.’

  ‘I’ve just had Faith yelling at me about Mum stalking Liam and Amelia or some crap. I think our sister is seriously losing the plot. It must be all those pregnancy hormones—’

  ‘What did you say?’ Grace shot up straight in the bed. ‘Pregnancy hormones?’

  ‘Oops! But yes, our dear sister is pregnant again. It wasn’t planned, and she is not a happy camper. Getting too old, she said. Ben’s not thrilled about it either, just between you and me.’