Amazing Grace

Chapter 2

‘BIN!’

‘But I feel comfortable in black. And it hides everything!’ Grace whined as Monica put yet another black top on the pile.

‘How many black tops can one person have, for goodness’ sake?’ Monica muttered. ‘You’ll feel comfortable in colours too by the time I’ve finished with you, lady! No longer will you hide behind baggy, colourless, miserable clothes! It’s no wonder you feel like crap sometimes. You have to face facts, Grace. You are curvy, so you are going to show off your curves, not hide them away. Blooming heck, I wish my boobs were as big as yours! Loads of people I know would be so jealous of your cleavage. With my help, you, my darling, are going to flourish and bloom and feel fabulous in everything you wear!’ Monica stood behind Grace, bringing her arms around her front and giving her boobs a grope. ‘And be proud of these mammas!’

‘Get your hands off me, you bloody perv!’ Grace couldn’t help laughing at her friend, even though she was quite devastated that most of her favourite clothes were being packed into bin liners. She was concocting a plan for how she could retrieve them later when Monica walked around and stood in front of her, hands on her hips, apparently reading her mind.

‘And you needn’t think you are getting these back either, madam. I’m taking them straight to the charity shop! Although I’m not sure even they’d take some of this stuff, it’s so bloody awful!’

‘God you’re tough!’ Grace growled at her. ‘Brutal!’

‘And that’s why you love me so much.’ Monica grinned. She flung another black bag down the stairs towards the front door and blew her a kiss. ‘And that is a very special bag that we’re taking somewhere else.’

* * *

It was Saturday, a beautiful crisp spring morning, and Archie, the love of Grace’s life, was at his dad’s for the weekend. Since she and Mark had split up over a year ago, she usually moped around the house on the weekends that Archie wasn’t there, just trying to fill time. If truth be told, she missed them both dreadfully. She missed being part of a family, but Mark had changed so drastically since becoming a head teacher, it was almost as if the power had gone to his head.

The excitement of organising and finally moving in to their forever house gave her something else to think about, and the other main thing that had brightened up her days and dragged her out of the house every morning was the second love of her life; Becks, named after her hero, David Beckham. They had rescued Becks from a dog’s home in Birmingham. Although she now wondered who had rescued whom.

Getting a dog was her idea to cheer up Archie, as he was struggling a little bit since the split, and she hoped that it would help him to heal, but in truth it was her that the dog had healed more. He was her shadow. Although she wondered whether between Becks and Archie she’d ever go to the loo in peace again.

She loved it when she, Archie and Becks were all curled up on the sofa, Becks resting his head on her or Archie’s lap. And now that Archie was getting to an age when he didn’t really want to hold his mum’s hand any more, and snuggles were becoming few and far between – a development that Grace found, frankly, quite devastating – her cuddles with Becks were the most physical contact she had these days. He really was the most adorable dog and she hadn’t realised when he came into their lives just how quickly she would love him. She wouldn’t be without him now. It also meant that she didn’t have to keep talking to herself, which was a really bad habit she’d fallen into.

So she wasn’t really alone any more, even when Archie was at his dad’s, and today the effervescent Monica had turned up on her doorstep wearing a raincoat and pink stilettos, looking like a flasher. She also had a glint in her eye, which could only mean that she was up to no good. While Grace put the kettle on to make them both a cuppa, Monica whipped off her coat and flaunted a cerise pink t-shirt which, in diamanté letters right across the front, read ‘Changing Grace’. Grace sighed inwardly. She was obviously going to be Monica’s latest project.

‘Don’t worry, darling, I’ve got one for you too,’ she said, grinning as she flung a plastic bag at Grace. She also appeared to be brandishing a roll of bin bags, which made Grace raise an eyebrow. The kettle boiled and as Grace turned to make them both a drink, Monica disappeared up to Grace’s bedroom quicker than greased lightning, and by the time Grace had taken the drinks upstairs, Monica had pulled everything from the wardrobe rails onto the bed.

Three hours and seven bin liners later, Grace’s wardrobe was looking rather sparse. There was one pair of black trousers, a pair of skinny denim jeans that had been bought in a moment of madness and never been worn, and a couple of tops that had been given to her by her sister before she emigrated.

Forced by Monica to clear out her underwear drawer, she had been shocked to find seventy-seven pairs of manky old pants and five ghastly old bras that didn’t even fit her – all now consigned to the bin bags.

‘You seriously need some new undies! What colour do you fancy and what size do you need?’

Grace just looked at her in stunned silence. ‘Well, obviously one black and one nude or neutral. What else would I need?’

‘Are you kidding me?’ Monica stood and stared at her with her hands on her hips.

‘What’s so wrong about that? You wear black with your dark stuff and the nude one with everything else. Surely that’s what everyone else has?’ Grace shrugged.

‘For God’s sake – you so need help!’ Monica told her sternly, but with a smile on her face. ‘Come on then, grab your handbag. We’re going undie shopping once we’ve dropped these bags off at the charity shop.’

Grace had forgotten what a force of nature Monica could be. They’d been best friends at school but at the age of sixteen, in their final year of high school, Monica’s parents had moved miles away. Even though they’d tried to stay in touch, their lives had taken them in different directions. Grace had enrolled on an intensive interior design course at college and Monica embarked on an exciting new adventure as an 18–30s rep in various places in Europe, and they’d sadly lost touch over the years. So it was such a delight when one day Grace was scrolling through Facebook and a friend request popped up from Monica. They re-connected, first online, and then they moved to phoning one another; the years slipped away as they very quickly fell back into their easy friendship and became firm friends once more.

Monica had settled in Greece where she lived for ten years with her husband Alessandro until he was killed in a motorbike accident, when she returned to England to be with her parents so they could take care of her at that traumatic time in her life. Sadly Grace didn’t know that this had happened and now felt some guilt that she hadn’t made more of an effort to stay in touch over the years and be by her friend’s side.

She admired Monica for starting a new life, knowing that Alessandro wouldn’t have wanted her to grieve forever. Little Ollington was an affluent village and Monica saw an opportunity, deciding to follow her natural path, retraining to be an image consultant, personal stylist and shopper. Which was why she had apparently taken it upon herself to make Grace her latest client. After a hair-raising drive in Bertha, Monica’s flame-red VW Beetle, they arrived outside the closest thing to a department store in the Staffordshire sticks. Little Ollington was a fabulous place to live if you fancied a cream tea or an afternoon’s romp in the countryside, but the nearest shopping centre was miles away and visiting major stores meant a forty-five-minute train journey into Birmingham.

They headed straight for the underwear section and Monica danced around, holding up a few bras, and asked, ‘OK, what size bra do you need?’

‘Well, before Archie was born I was a 36DD,’ Grace replied.

‘And now?’

‘Erm, not entirely sure,’ she said in a voice that she projected towards the floor, sounding like a naughty schoolchild being scolded by her head teacher.

‘Not sure! Not sure! Are you for real?’ Monica spluttered. ‘Your son is now ten!’

People in the shop started to look around to where the noise was coming from and Grace wanted to crawl up her own backside. Monica lowered her voice. ‘Grace, are you really telling me that you have no idea what bra size you are?’

‘Erm, yes,’ Grace whispered, and she hid her head in shame.

Monica tutted loudly in pure disgust and amazement and disappeared in a huff. A few minutes later she returned with a pretty, young bra-fitting assistant who introduced herself as Amy-Louise. She quickly offered to measure Grace and dragged her off to the changing rooms for the most embarrassing encounter of her life. Amy-Louise recommended a completely different size and style bra to the ones Grace had been wearing for the last God knows how long and suggested that it might be worth browsing online to see what styles and colours she might like in the future.

Grace looked at Amy-fricking-Louise and sighed. I won’t be needing to worry about droopy boobs for a good few years yet, she thought as the young assistant showed her how to scoop her boobs into her hands and hoist them into her bra, ensuring all the breast tissue was supported. It had been a while since anyone had been anywhere near her boobs and she’d never thought that ‘getting back into the swing of it’ would be quite like this. Grace was mortified by the whole incident and couldn’t get out of the shop quickly enough, although she did come away with four new bras – the white, black and nude that she needed, plus a pink lacy number that Monica had bullied her into buying.

‘Come on, sweetheart.’ Monica tucked her arm into Grace’s. ‘I think you and I need to have a chat on the way to swishing.’

‘Swishing?’ questioned Grace. ‘What the hell is “swishing” when it’s at home?’

‘You’ll see!’ Monica was grinning like a Cheshire cat. ‘And you’re going to love it!’