by Rhoda Baxter
‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘I’m clearing my house.’
‘Really? Why? Are you moving?’
‘No. I’ve just decided it’s time I did it. I live in a three bedroomed house and sleep in the tiny little room I grew up in. When there’s a perfectly good master bedroom next door. How silly is that?’
‘I can top that,’ said Peter. ‘I live in my own house, which has four bedrooms and I sleep in the spare room. In my own home.’
‘Okay. You win. You’re more pathetic than I am.’
Peter did a mock punch in the air. ‘Yes. Result.’
‘Now you’re just taking the mick.’
They both laughed. Another feeling that was almost forgotten. How long had it been since he’d laughed? Beside him, Grace drained her tea. ‘I suppose I should get back to work,’ she said. ‘Harry’s a difficult task master to please.’ She raised her mug to Harry. ‘I’ll go see what he wants me to do next,’ she said. ‘It was nice talking to you Peter.’
With a smile in his direction, she was gone. Peter felt her absence next to him. When had he last had a conversation that wasn’t about work or Sally? Probably not since the accident. Or even, slightly before that. Most wedding related conversations had been based around Sally too. He allowed himself a small smile before finishing off his drink.
The redecorating took three weekends. Grace ended up working next to Peter most days, thanks to Harry stirring. They settled into a comfortable level of friendship. Grace found that talking to Peter came easily to her. Harry often accused her of flirting with him, but she had never done that. Not consciously anyway.
Peter didn’t seem to mind either. As the days went on, he seemed to unwind more and more, until it seemed almost commonplace for him to smile and laugh at Harry’s jokes. The only problem was, the more she learned about him, the more she liked him. She would catch herself thinking about him when she was meant to be concentrating on something else. Each day she came in to help with the redecorating, she would feel a flutter of anticipation in her stomach at the thought of seeing him. She told herself it was something she could control. She wasn’t a teenager. She was perfectly capable of noting someone was attractive and still keeping a healthy distance.
When Harry announced it was time to call it a day, people downed tools and started to clear up. Some people drifted off to go and see their loved ones while others lingered, talking and laughing as they finished off small jobs.
‘Thanks for coming today,’ Harry said, ambling up to where Grace was. He said that every day. To everyone.
Grace paused in the middle of rubbing her nails to get the paint off them. ‘It was fun.’
‘And we got quite a lot done.’
They surveyed the room. It still looked untidy, but the work was nearly finished. The walls and woodwork had been repainted in tranquil green. The floor was covered in paint and footprints, but that was to be replaced soon. The room looked brighter and bigger than before.
‘I think we’ve done a good job,’ said Harry. ‘We’ve got some photos from before and once everything’s done, I should be able to do some nice before and after slides for the presentation at the fundraiser dinner next month. You coming to the fundraiser Peter?’
Grace turned to see Peter strolling up, drying his hands on a rag. ‘Sure. Why not? When is it?’ When Harry told him, he said, ‘Put me down for a ticket.’
Harry grinned. ‘Excellent.’ He pulled a notebook out of his pocket and wrote something down. ‘You know,’ he said, still busily scribbling. ‘I was just trying to persuade Grace to do the charity abseil down the side of the hospital building.’
‘What?’ Grace stared at him. He’d mentioned it before, and she’d said no. What was Harry talking about?
‘It’s a great cause, obviously, and it’ll be a great adventure for her.’ Harry put his hands on Grace’s shoulders. ‘It’s a shame you’re too scared, Grace.’
Grace shrugged off his hands. ‘Damned right I’m too scared.’
‘Abseiling’s not scary,’ said Peter. ‘It’s quite exhilarating, in fact. I used to do that sort of thing a lot.’
‘Really?’ said Harry. ‘Would you consider signing up to do the abseil?’
Peter shrugged. ‘I can, but where’s the challenge in a climber doing an abseil? I’d do that for fun. It’s not exactly worth sponsoring me to do that.’
Grace took a step back, wondering if she could just sidle out while Harry was distracted by Peter.
‘He’s got a point,’ Harry said, turning to her ‘I wouldn’t sponsor him. But I’d sponsor you.’
A couple of the other volunteers chimed in with their support.
‘Go on, ‘said Harry. ‘It’ll be fun.’
‘Throwing myself off a building? I don’t think so,’ said Grace.
‘It’d be a great way to raise money for the hospice …’
‘If it’s such a good idea, maybe you should do it?’
Harry shook his head. ‘Sadly, I can’t. Not with my back. You on the other hand, would be great. And much more photogenic than I am.’
‘I … I’ve never done anything like that before. I’d be petrified.’ The words ‘something out of you comfort zone’ floated into her mind. Was this the sort of thing Margaret was talking about? Climbing up the biggest building she knew and chucking herself off it like some sort of crazy Bond girl was pretty much as far outside her comfort zone as it got.
‘Seriously. The thing that’s scaring you is the IDEA of going over the side of building. The actual abseil itself will be amazing. Trust me,’ said Peter.
Peter’s intervention made Grace pause. She had this immediate urge to agree with him. What was wrong with her? Just because she liked him, didn’t mean she had to jump at trying to impress him. She wasn’t a teenager. Grace shook her head. ‘Still not making it sound appealing.’
‘And we’d all be there to support you,’ said Harry. ‘We’ll have a stall selling tea and cake and make up a little cheering squad for you at the bottom.’ He thrust the sponsorship form at her. ‘Go on. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for us. We need the money to buy new stuff for this place.’ He gestured to the newly painted room. ‘Please?’
Grace looked around. The new paint did make the place brighter. With a few hundred pounds they could replace that sagging sofa and maybe re-upholster some of the other chairs. A quick glance at the poster that was now lying on the table showed that she’d be expected to raise at least £250. The place could certainly do with some new stuff … Grace sighed. ‘I’m not sure I can raise that much in the time left, anyway.’
‘Of course you can. We’d all be supporting you. I’ll take a spare form and take it around my work.’ Harry’s eyes were sparkling now.
‘My company will sponsor you,’ said Peter. ‘I can pledge, say a hundred quid, right now. I’ll even give you a lift there, if you like. So that you can ask me any questions about abseils that are bothering you.’
‘And,’ said Harry, giving her a meaningful look. ‘It would be really bold of you … And daring.’
A few of the others piped up their support. Maybe Peter was right. The idea of getting back out there was scarier than the actual thing. Time to do something dramatic. Grab life by the throat. Something out of her comfort zone. Peter was watching her expectantly, as though willing her to say yes. If she backed down would he think less of her? Was she really so childish that she would do something so crazy just to impress a guy? Her eyes met Peter’s. He gave her a small smile. Yes. She would.
Around her, the noise level had risen. She threw her hands up. ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Fine. I’ll do it.’ The grin that Peter gave her made her feel effervescent. She took the paper off Harry, who was beaming now. ‘But you have to all sponsor me. Guilt rates, okay?’
There was a flurry of agreement and the p
aper was passed round so that people could put their names on the list. Grace looked up and caught Peter’s eye.
‘If this goes wrong, I’m holding you responsible.’ She pointed at him.
His eyes widened a bit with mock alarm.
‘And Harry,’ Grace added.
Harry gave her a mock bow. ‘You can. I think you’ll be great. I’m so proud of you my darling. Margaret will be too.’
Chapter Six
By the time Peter came to visit her that day, Sally was annoyed at how late he was. She knew because she’d heard Coronation Street start and end. If he didn’t get a move on, he’d run out of visiting hours.
When he finally arrived, he sounded completely unlike his usual self. He told her he’d been helping out with the redecorating again. She still couldn’t figure out what that was all about.
‘It’s quite nice just working alongside people,’ he said. ‘I’d forgotten what it was like to just do stuff and chat to people.’
Well he could have fooled her. He did nothing BUT chat when he was visiting. She supposed she should be grateful, but something was niggling her. Peter seemed different for no reason. It couldn’t just be the fact that he was talking to people that was cheering him up. She listened carefully, in case he said something that gave her a clue.
‘There’s going to be a charity abseil down the side of the new hospital tower. You know, the one where ICU is …’ He paused. ‘Anyway, Grace, she’s one of the other people volunteering today, is going to do the abseil to raise money for the hospice.’ Another pause. ‘I don’t think she’s totally happy with the idea, but I think it’s very brave of her to take up the challenge.’
It was the pauses that gave away the significance.
Sally’s attention heightened. There was something else about this woman. He’d mentioned her, and then justified having spoken to her. It had occurred to her that if she had been looking for a man to invest in, other women might too. In fact, she knew a few who were. Most of them were too old and witchy now to attract a man as young as Peter, but it didn’t do to get complacent.
‘And I met a potential client. He runs a logistics business and sorting out systems for him could be quite interesting,’ said Peter.
He was talking about work again. Sally stopped listening. She wanted to find out about this woman, Grace. But he didn’t mention her again. Sally could feel that there was something important happening. Perhaps Peter fancied this Grace. She would have to remember that name. She’d have to keep an eye on things. In case this Grace creature turned out to be a husband grabbing harpy.
Sitting by himself in his kitchen, Peter wondered if offering to drive Grace to the abseil had been the wisest thing to do. She was an attractive woman and they got on very well. He considered her a friend. But lately, he had been thinking of her more often than he should. Out and about in the day, he would see things that reminded him of her. Sometimes, he daydreamed about what it would be like to kiss her.
Being in a car with her for any length of time would not be a great idea. He loved Sally. He had no intention of throwing that away. He knew he couldn’t trust his own emotions these days. He probably didn’t even fancy Grace that much. It was just that he’d lost his sense of perspective. Not for the first time, he wondered if he should take his mother’s advice and go see a doctor. No. Things weren’t that bad. He could handle it.
He wondered whether he should call Harry and ask him to swap lifts. Harry was giving some other guy a lift and they’d all agreed that people driving in a state of high nerves was a bad idea. Harry had suggested that Peter might be able to help calm Grace’s fears. After all, he knew about climbing and abseiling, whereas Harry would just wind her up more.
He convinced himself that he was doing it out of friendship and common sense and not because he found Grace attractive.
He had finished having an early breakfast when there was a banging on the door. Odd. His mother didn’t usually show up until much later in the morning. Besides, she knew he was going to be out most of that day.
Frowning, he opened the front door to find a man with spiky hair and a tattoo of a starburst on the side of his neck, standing outside, brandishing a letter.
The man jabbed his finger at the letter in his hand. It had something red on the top of it. ‘Where’s Sally Cummings? I need to talk to her.’
‘She’s … not here. I’m her husband.’
‘Well where is she? Tell her we’re not having this. We’ve had the bloody bailiffs round again, threatening to take our stuff away. I told them she didn’t live there no more, but they came again anyway. Scared the crap out of my girlfriend. She’s in her third trimester you know. It’s not good to scare pregnant women like that.’
Peter put his hands up defensively. ‘Wait. Slow down. What are you talking about?’
The man shoved the letter at him. ‘We’ve been getting these for ages. We kept sending them back to sender. Then the bailiffs started to show up. It’s taken me bloody ages to find out where she went to. I’ve had enough of this. Here. It’s your problem now. I’ll be passing this address on to the bailiffs when they next come round.’
Peter stared at him for a moment and took the letter. He had paid all of Sally’s debts off ages ago. ‘Okay. I’ll see if I can sort things out. I had no idea she owed any money to anyone.’
‘Oh.’ The man seemed surprised. The bluster seemed to drop out of him. ‘Oh, okay mate. That would be great. Er. Thank you.’
Peter smiled. ‘No problem. I hope everything goes well with the baby.’
‘Cheers. Me too.’ He took a step back. ‘I guess I’ll be off then.’
‘Bye.’ Peter retreated back into the house and shut the door. He skimmed the letter and spotted the address of the collection service. Sally has assured him that she had no more debts. Perhaps this was an old one that she had forgotten about. He scanned down to the details of when the loan was taken out and did a double take. The date was two weeks before the wedding. That was strange. By then he had paid off all of Sally’s gambling debts and if she needed money, all she would have had to do was ask. What did she need money for that was so secret she couldn’t tell him about it? Five hundred pounds.
He frowned. Perhaps she had been gambling again. An uneasy vision of the lottery ticket crossed his mind. She’d said ‘don’t you trust me’, but he’d seen the temptation in her eyes. Perhaps he had been right not to trust her.
He dismissed the thought as unworthy. Sally had been going to Gamblers Anonymous for two months before this loan was taken out. He would have known if she had a relapse. Wouldn’t he?
He sighed. It didn’t matter anyway. Sally wasn’t around to answer his questions and he didn’t have the energy to fight a legal battle. All he could do was pay the debt.
He put the letter on top of his briefcase so that he didn’t forget it and went back into the kitchen to wash up his breakfast things.
Grace waited by the window, watching for Peter. She hadn’t slept the night before and her eyes felt red and raw. She hadn’t had breakfast either, because she felt too sick. The more people talked about the abseil, the worse it got. Now, with only hours to go, she felt as though something was crawling around in her stomach. This was a bad idea. She should call and say she couldn’t do it.
She reached for the phone and hesitated. She was supposed to be moving out of her comfort zone and doing something to show herself that she could do it. Quitting now would be an admission that she couldn’t and she may as well stay trapped in her rut forever.
A car drew up outside and Peter got out. He was only helping her because he thought she was doing something brave. If it hadn’t been for this, she would never have seen him once the common room was finished. Was she only doing the abseil so that she could see Peter again? She decided she wasn’t that crazy. Depressed maybe, but not that far gone.
She left the phone alone and opened the door before Peter knocked.
‘Hello. Your chauffeur, reporting for duty,’ he said.
‘I’m ready,’ she said, more to convince herself than anything else.
He stepped inside. ‘Are you okay?’
She tried to smile and managed a tight grimace. ‘I’m petrified, actually.’
He gave her a look full of concern. ‘You don’t have to do it, you know. You can always pull out. People will understand. Even Harry.’
For a split second she wanted to take him up on that. Then her pride broke through. She lifted her chin and stood up, taller. ‘I can’t back out now. I won’t let everyone down. Come on.’ She grabbed her coat and a small backpack. ‘Let’s go.’
He opened the car door for her. She got in and sat bolt upright in her seat, staring straight out of the window. She could feel the tension in her shoulders, but was powerless to do anything about it.
‘Are you sure about this?’ said Peter, when he got into the driver’s seat. ‘You really don’t look happy.’
‘I’m not.’
‘But you’re going through with it anyway?’
‘Yes.’
He pulled the car out. ‘Why? Why put yourself through something if you know you’re not going like it?’
She gave him a sidelong glare. ‘I thought you said it was going to be amazing and exhilarating.’
He looked a little sheepish. ‘I did, because I genuinely believe it is, but I hadn’t realised you had vertigo.’
‘What makes you think I have vertigo?’
He gave her a look that bordered on pity. ‘Because you look like you have.’
‘You know what? Vertigo and all the other phobias – they’re all just chemistry. I can beat chemistry. I’m not going to let my body get one over on me. I’d be an idiot to let it stop me from doing something I want to do.’
There was silence for a moment. ‘But that’s true of just about anything. You’ll break yourself if you carry on like that.’