by Amy McLean
The look on Grace's face said it all.
"Still not enjoying it?"
"I wish I could say that I was. If Mr Barrie would give me something more to do, then maybe it wouldn't be so bad. It becomes so tedious after the first five minutes of responding to emails. I spend half the day praying for the phone to ring just so I have somebody to talk to for a few minutes. But it's not as if we're flooded with queries every day. Well, apart from those for Fran. She seems to receive no end to requests for freebies, I swear!"
"Yeah, Fran seems to be good at—"
"Sucking up?"
"You say sucking up, but I was thinking more along the lines of sucking—" He glanced at Mollie, suddenly reminded of her presence. "—something else. She certainly knows how to get what she wants."
"She's got the boss wrapped around her little finger."
"Are you sure her little finger's not wrapped around the boss?" Andy winked.
Her sudden laughter caused her to squeak. She threw her hand in front of her mouth to try and control herself. "I'm glad I'm not the only one who sees what's going on between those two," she finally managed.
"They don't exactly conceal it. I dread to think what they were up to when we left this evening. Honestly, whenever I'm called into the boss's office for whatever reason, I always wince when I have to sit down in that chair."
The image was too much to bear. Grace couldn't believe how relaxed she felt. She had been so worried that she would become rigid with nerves, but she realised now that it was silly of her to be concerned about such a thing. She always enjoyed Andy's company, and he was never dull to talk to. She felt like a giddy schoolgirl again, drinking milkshakes and giggling over inappropriate conversations with a friend.
She thought for a moment about that word: friend. She wanted to ask Andy why he'd brought her here. Sure, he'd said he needed company while he watched Mollie, but hadn't he also said that this wasn't the first time he'd been here with her? Why was he asking Grace along now? She'd worked with him for several years but they'd never shared personal time together. Andy broke the interlude.
"Not that I'm trying to get rid of you or anything, but have you thought about looking for another job?"
That certainly wasn't what Grace had expected him to come out with. "To be honest, I've not really given it much thought. I'm quite comfortable at Anchor—at least, I have you for company, and James—and to be honest, I'm not sure I'm ready to move on yet. I was hoping I'd be able to make something more of this job. If only I could find a way!"
"Well, I'm sure you'll think of something."
"I had an interesting conversation with Fran yesterday."
Why had she said that? What good was it going to do to bring this up now?
"Fran? Really?"
"Yeah, she was smoking outside as I was leaving the building. She suggested that I need to try harder if I wanted to get anywhere—something about using my charms as a woman or something. I did consider what she'd said, but I don't really believe in pretending to be somebody I'm not. I just can't do it."
"Too right, Grace. She had no business telling you what you should and shouldn't do. Nobody should have to act falsely just to gain an increase at the workplace. You're beautiful just the way you are; don't let anybody tell you otherwise."
"Thanks, Andy. You know, I think I needed to hear that," Grace said as she tried not to blush. You're probably right; I should start looking for another job if Mr Barrie is going to leave me in this dead end. But I just wish I could find a way to convince him that I'm capable of more."
"Then why don't you give yourself a deadline?"
"A deadline?"
"Yeah! If you're still unhappy by, let's say, January, then perhaps it's time to start looking for somewhere else. You're talented and you've got plenty of transferable skills, so I'm sure you'd find something suitable. You're clearly not fulfilled in your current job; perhaps a change would do you good. I want you to promise me that you'll do that."
She thought about it. "Maybe that is a good idea. It's probably for the best. Okay, I'll do it. If I haven't found a way to convince Mr Barrie to increase my responsibilities by January, then I'll start searching for something different."
"Promise?"
"I promise!" She was smiling at Andy, but on the inside Grace couldn't quite believe what she was saying. Was she really ready to leave Anchor? She certainly wasn't ready to say goodbye to Andy. But unless she wanted to go back on her word, she'd have to come up with a way to convince Mr Barrie to give her more to do, and fast.
As she chewed on another forkful of fries, she was certain she could hear the clock ticking away inside her head, counting down the seconds until her life would change forever.
7
He tried to prevent himself from stumbling as the stout figure forced him through the archway, but it had been no use. He tripped to one side, smacking his entire weight against the wall. He slumped to the floor, thankful at least that he hadn't fallen to the ground. The chains around his wrists grew tighter every time he moved; he had only just been able to stop his face from smashing against the floor without the iron cutting deeply into him.
They reached the top of the staircase. Lord Bingham gripped the back of the young man's shirt with one hand and fumbled for a key with the other. He found what he was looking for, clutched it tightly, and turned to his prisoner.
"By the order of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth, you are to remain locked up until Her Majesty has delivered your fate." The stench of port was strong on his breath as he snarled, moving closer to the man's face. "If I catch you so much as thinking about escaping, you'll regret the day you ever messed with me."
The glee on Bingham's face was as evident now as it had been when he had triumphed over the Irish at Burrishoole. Tibbott had been certain he would be invincible. There had been a plan devised, and he was sure it was finally going to be the key to victory. The men had been assembled and they were ready to take action.
But perhaps he hadn't thought it through properly. Their strategy had been formed in haste. Why he ever thought the small cluster of fighters he'd gathered would have been enough to overthrow Bingham, he wasn't certain. He had declared that nothing would be able to stop him, but he had spoken too soon.
He only had himself to blame for his capture.
Bingham flung him through the open door and into the tiny room, his eyes flaring with a thirst for revenge. Tibbott fell backward, banging his head against the wall. His clothes seemed to instantly attract the thick dust that coated the floor, accentuated as the narrow window out of reach at the top cast a sickly beam of sunlight onto his torn shirt. He lifted his hand to the back of his head. There was no sign of blood. He would be okay.
"Good morrow, sir," Lord Bingham grinned as he banged the metal door shut before skipping down the flight of stairs, abandoning Tibbott Bourke to his suffering.
Her Majesty would be pleased with him. He could feel it in his bones as he rubbed his hands together excitedly, satisfied with his triumph over that vermin Irish boy. Soon rewards would be bestowed on him for bringing the boy to her, and he would stand proudly in Her Majesty's favour. This was his chance to prove his worth to her, and nothing was going to ruin it for him now.
8
"To be honest, Grace, I haven't been to see anything in quite a while. In fact, the last time I went to the cinema would have been..." Andy thought to himself for a moment. "You know something? I don't think I've been since I was a teenager."
"Seriously?"
"Shocking, I know! And it was expensive to go then; I dread to think how much it costs now. I expect I'd need to take out a mortgage just to buy a box of popcorn!" He held the door open as they left the diner. They'd finished complaining about work and had spent the rest of the evening discussing the more relaxing things in life: trashy television, feel-good music, and the latest comedies.
"Thanks," she commented, walking under his arm and onto the street after Mollie had scuttled out. She but
toned her coat to avoid the harsh, biting wind.
"Which is the most convenient Tube station for you from here?"
"Leicester Square will be fine. I can get the Northern line from there."
"We'll walk with you then, won't we Mollie?" The child nodded, her attention fixed upon the cracks in the pavement as she tried to avoid stepping on them. They dawdled in the direction of the station.
"I loved popcorn as a child," Grace continued the conversation, praying they wouldn't run out of things to say to each other. "I probably wouldn't care too much for it now though. Mind you, I shouldn't wish for anything to eat right now anyway. I'm truly stuffed after that meal!"
"Me too! But wasn't I right? Aren't those burgers the most amazing things in the world?"
"I can't argue with that! My sweet tooth will be craving that chocolate milkshake for the next two weeks."
"I know what you mean. I do try to cut down on my visits to the diner now. I fear my waist line will start to protest otherwise. But it's quite a challenge when the food's as good as that."
Grace could see the sign for the underground up ahead as they approached the station. More than anything, she didn't want the evening to end. She'd still not been able to find out whether or not Andy had an ulterior motive in asking her out to dinner.
"Here we are. Your chariot awaits, Miss Byrne." He bowed to Grace as they reached the entrance to the station. She started to wish she could ride in a chariot instead of being stuck in the rush hour nightmare. Perhaps she and Andy could have a beautiful Cinderella carriage with white horses to take them around as they gazed up at the stars while in each other's arms. And maybe her Fairy Godmother could wave her magic wand to persuade Mr Barrie to enhance her position within the company.
And maybe pigs will fly...
She giggled at Andy as he straightened up, her attention drifting back to her immediate surroundings as she allowed her fantasising to escape her. This was a new side to Andy she'd never seen before. Perhaps he was just trying to entertain Mollie, but something told Grace that this charismatic character before her was the real Andy.
"Thank you, kind sir," she replied accordingly. "I have had a most wonderful evening. I dare say it has been spectacular!"
"It has been my pleasure, I assure you. It was nice to have some company, wasn't it, Mollie?" The child looked up but remained habitually silent.
"And thank you for paying. You really didn't have to do that."
"I know I didn't have to. But I wanted to, Grace."
He caught her eye as she looked fondly at him. If there was ever a perfect moment to kiss someone for the first time, this was it. But he wasn't going to do it with his young niece watching, was he?
"Well, you'll have to come over to my place sometime so we're even. Perhaps you'll allow me to cook something for you to say thank you for listening to my endless worries about the office."
Did she just invite Andy over to her house? The words had left her mouth quicker than she'd had time to think about them.
"Grace, you don't need to thank me for listening to you; I'd always help you out however I can. But I'd love to come over." Mollie released a tired yawn beside him. "I'd better get this one back to my place before she falls asleep. Will you be okay from here?"
"Of course."
"I guess I'll see you tomorrow then. Goodnight, Grace." Andy smiled at her and lifted his hand in the air to wave as he carted Mollie away from the station's entrance. As they made their way down the road, Grace remained rooted to the spot where she stood.
It wasn't the goodbye she'd hoped for. She started to wonder whether or not it had been foolish of her to even think that he could possibly wish for anything more than friendship from her. But the young girl was with him, and he definitely wouldn't have made a move with her around. It was impossible to tell how he felt about her.
But Andy had agreed to go to her house for a meal. Surely, if he only considered her to be a friend, then he wouldn't think about crossing that boundary. It would be just the two of them. It would be intimate. It was unlikely that he would have shown an interest in attending such a private engagement if he wasn't a little curious to discover her on a more personal level.
She turned away from the entrance and headed toward the escalators. Andy may have escaped from her sight but he still remained in her mind as she descended toward the platform. He would continue to occupy her thoughts for the entire journey home. He remained there as she walked toward Haverstock Hill, and still he resided in her mind as she entered her house. She couldn't deny it any longer. She was desperately and painfully smitten with Andy.
There was nothing peculiar about the house when Grace returned. It stood in the same spot in the same street, its walls darkened by the blackness of the evening. The inside of the house was as Grace had always known it: a slight draft from a dodgy window, the faint murmuring from the pipes when she clicked the heating on, the weird smell of musk she could never seem to remove from the old building.
It had been three days since she'd found herself on the other side of the cupboard. Although it had occupied her mind throughout the day, she hadn't thought about it at all during her evening with Andy.
Harriet was out for the evening, so she decided to wind down with a more relaxed night to calm her thoughts. She boiled the kettle, poured the water into her mug, and drained the teabag. She flicked through the TV, sighing at the repeats on every channel. She leafed through a magazine that Harriet had left on the coffee table: stilettos, mascara, cellulite. She returned her mug to the kitchen, said goodnight to Bella, who was curled up on the sofa. She locked the front door and headed for the stairs.
The ascent was nothing unusual. It was a journey Grace found neither pleasant nor disturbing. It was only when she reached the top of the stairs that she began to feel a little queasy.
She noticed it as soon as she reached the landing. She couldn't have missed it. The events from the Friday previous came storming to the front of her mind as she stared at the cupboard door. It looked exactly the same, with the key still sticking out of the keyhole where she had left it. However, there was something different this time.
It was open.
The door stood ajar, and from the gap where it had opened, a faint light tickled at the darkness of the landing. It was soft, but it was distinct. She took a step closer. Hesitant, she held out her left hand and placed it on the doorknob. It wasn't as cold as she'd remembered it, but she could still feel the same breeze drifting out from the bottom of the door.
For the first time since that afternoon she thought back to her research from earlier in the day. It had helped her to understand where she'd been, but she still had so many questions that remained unanswered. She knew deep down that she couldn't refuse the door. It must be open for a reason.
I must go back.
She pulled the door back so that there was an entrance big enough for her to fit through. The light still glowed gently as it beckoned her forward. She held her breath, her nerves creeping to the surface. This was something she had to do. She needed to be brave. She inhaled through her nostrils and counted.
One...
Two...
Three...
Grace stepped into the cupboard and the door clicked shut behind her.
The room was just as she'd left it. The bed looked as if it hadn't been slept in. The candle still stood at the centre of the floor. She walked over to it and picked it up. Grace was sure the wax hadn't melted at all since her first visit—how many days had passed in this world since then? She had no idea whether or not time would operate in the same way here. Perhaps she had just entered through the cupboard at the exact moment at which she had left it. It was impossible to tell from inside the ship.
She held the candle out with her arm stretched so that the glow from the flame circled round her. She looked down at herself and studied her outfit. She was wearing the same clothes as last time: the chemise with the sleeves reaching down to her wrists, the bodice tied w
ith the black string. The skirt still flowed around her ankles, the fabric brushing against her feet, which, once again, were bare. She noticed this time that her hair had changed too. Instead of being tied up in a bun just as she'd fixed it for work, it now stretched right down her back. She'd apparently forgotten how long she'd had let it grow out as she rarely let it down. But now it was free, reaching just above her waist, tints of red shimmering within the brown locks as the light of the candle occasionally reached it.
Grace stood for a moment, the candlestick still in her hand, as she tried to decide what to do next. She acknowledged that a few things were different this time: she knew where she was now; she knew what was outside. But she still didn't know why. She would find that out eventually, she was sure of it. She just had to work a little harder. She glanced around the room searching for her next move.
It was then that the boots caught her attention. They were exactly where she had left them, lying in front of the chest, one standing upright and the other resting on its side from when she'd dropped it in her hurry to escape. As she stared at them, the words inside the letter came flooding back to her.
"A walk in my boots will help you see," Grace uttered the first line out loud, her eyes still fixed on the footwear, "that there isn't anything that you can't be."
If she had hoped that saying it out loud would make it easier to unravel this riddle, she remained disappointed. She still didn't understand. "But what am I supposed to be? I'm not even sure who I am anymore."
The confusion had started to build again until a thought that she knew wasn't her own pushed its way to the front of her mind.
Don't think, Grace. Just act.
Her eyes flicked back and forth as she acknowledged the voice inside her head. What was it she had to do?
And then it hit her. She had to put the boots on. She approached them and lowered herself down to the ground so that she could place the candlestick beside the chest. There was nothing for her to sit on or rest herself against to stop her from stumbling over, so there was only one other option: she sat herself down firmly on the floor. It took her a moment to adjust to the new contact with the room; she was now leaving herself vulnerable to any sudden invasions. In the time it would take for her to stand back up and reach for the door to flee, an attacker could conceivably kill her. But she knew worrying wasn't really an option. She had instructions to follow.