Amazing Grace

Chapter 7

Grace was so excited about being in their new home, even though the whole renovation process was excruciatingly slow when you were on your own and trying to budget. But the three months since moving day had flown by. She’d spent lots of time on Pinterest, putting together mood boards for each of the rooms in the new house, and loved the idea of stamping her own taste on her dream home. At the back of her mind though, she worried a bit about Archie and how he was adapting to yet another new home. He seemed OK, but he had gone a bit quiet lately, although they’d also had a talk about puberty at school recently. She’d been lucky that because she’d had Archie through C-section, she’d always been able to cheat when telling him where babies come from, because he came out of her stomach. But now he’d realised that winkies and fufus had a whole different type of relationship, and he seemed a little traumatised by some of the things he’d learned.

He was closer to his father right now than he’d ever been before, perhaps because there were lots of things about boys and men that Mark was able to talk to him about. While she felt a little jealous of his developing relationship with his father, she knew it was important for him to have a good male role model in his life, and Mark obviously knew way more about how the male body worked than she did. A book about growing up had been recommended to her, so she’d left it lying around so that Archie could look at it without embarrassment. Archie did pick it up from time to time and she’d found him tittering away at some of it. She wondered how different things would be if they were all still together and whether they’d done the right thing by going their separate ways.

Why, oh why, do these sweet children have to grow up?she wondered. She wished she could wrap up Archie in cotton wool and protect him from everything, but she knew she couldn’t. She was finding it very difficult to give him more independence. The last time she had been round to measure up at the house before they moved in, Gladys had said something that really stuck with her. She said that it was the job of a parent to prepare their child for their next level of life and to raise a child who is comfortable and independent enough to leave them. Grace had never quite thought of it like that before. She hated the thought of Archie getting a partner and eventually leaving home but knew that it was not his responsibility to make his mum happy. He’d been through such a lot of changes since the split and moving to yet another house. She knew though that their new home would be a place where he would feel safe and secure. As they faced the next stage of their lives, Archie would grow up to be more independent and eventually would leave home and go off on his own adventure. She shook off that thought before she got even more morose.

* * *

‘Have you forgiven me yet, gorgeous?’ asked Monica when she rang Grace the next morning.

‘Nope! And I’m not sure I ever will!’ Grace sulked back at her.

‘Oh, babes, you have to try these things, you know. I’m sorry it was such a disaster but at least you’ve done it now and popped your internet-dating cherry, so to speak. Anyway, what are you doing today?’

‘I’ve just got back from taking Becks for a lovely long walk over the forest, and I’m just going to make myself a great big cup of coffee and have a read and make the most of my Monday off before Archie comes home from school.’

‘Wrong! I want to know every detail about Derek, so you’re going to jump in your car and meet me at the little teashop in the high street. I’ll be there in ten minutes. So go comb your hair, put some lippy on and get down here and meet me. I’ll be waiting.’ The phone went dead so there was no way that she could argue.

Grace smiled to herself. She knew that Monica was only trying to help her, but she was just feeling a tad sorry for herself. As the weather was particularly warm for the time of year, she quickly put on a strapless elasticated-top sundress, grabbed her denim jacket from the banister, picked up her car keys and slammed the door behind her before she changed her mind.

On her approach to the teashop, Grace, as always, said a little parking prayer up to her mum in heaven, asking for a nice space right outside the door. Perhaps if I didn’t do this, and parked a little further away from everywhere I went and walked that little bit further, I wouldn’t be such a lardy arse. Lo and behold her wish was granted, but as she looked through the café window, Monica was nowhere to be seen. Pushing open the café door and looking around, Grace confirmed it – Monica wasn’t there. It was bizarre. It was very unusual for her to be late.

‘Errr, excuse me, you must be Grace.’ She turned towards the timid voice to be met by a man who looked around the age of fifty-five to sixty, wearing a dark green jumper over a shirt and stripy tie that looked like it belonged to his granddad, a pair of what could only be described as ‘slacks’ and brown shoes with Velcro fasteners.

Confused, Grace nodded. ‘I am, and you are…?’

‘Malcolm, dear. Monica has told me all about you. I love the idea of a website where a friend arranges the dates for you. It’s very clever. I was so delighted when you said you’d meet me here for a cup of tea.’

‘Erm, I’m sorry! You said that Monica said I’d meet you here?’ she asked inquisitively.

‘Yes, dear. I’ve been waiting for half an hour. I wanted to get here early because I was so excited. When I saw your picture on the website, you were the prettiest girl I’d seen for ages and I clicked on your profile. I plucked up the courage to get in touch and when your friend replied and set up this date, I was over the moon.’

Grace smiled politely, but inside she was thinking that she was going to kill Monica the minute she laid eyes on her. Her phone signalled that familiar harp sound to say she had a text message and when she excused herself to Malcolm and looked at it, it was short and sweet, from the traitor herself.

Have fun babes and ring me later. Monx

The only wringing that would be done later would be that of Monica’s neck when Grace got her hands on her.

‘Come and sit down, dear, I’ve already got us a pot of tea.’

Oh God!Grace thought to herself. Am I really doing this? I’ll just stop for a quick cup of tea to be polite. There she was again, being polite and pleasing everyone else. It really was the story of her sad little life.

‘So tell me about yourself, Grace. I want to find out everything about you.’ Malcolm smiled at her as he put the tea strainer on the cups and started to pour out the tea. She looked closely at him. He wasn’t an unpleasant-looking man, she supposed, but he was quite old and, well, a bit square. His hair was receding and the bit he did have was in a comb-over. He just looked a bit careworn but unfortunately not in a shabby-chic way. Even when Bridget Jones met Mark Darcy, you could see that underneath that awful Christmas jumper there was a glimmer of gorgeousness just bursting to get out. But Malcolm was no Colin Firth, more’s the pity. Shaking off her thoughts, Grace decided to give Malcolm a chance. She knew that first appearances could be deceiving.

‘No, you go first, Malcolm.’

‘Well, I’ve been a vicar now for just over fifteen years. I’m at St Cuthbert’s church in Camberdown Village at the moment, been there for twelve months, and apart from my parishioners I don’t really know anyone around. I’ve held a fair few cheese-and-wine evenings in the vicarage but they’re a funny lot in our village. It’s only really the old dears that come along, and they just come for the wine, I think, and a bit of friendly company. No one my age ever comes along.’

Grace thought what a bundle of fun it must be at the vicarage cheese-and-wine parties and reminded herself never to go along if she was offered an invitation. She checked herself and realised that Malcolm probably had more fun than she did – at least he wasn’t stopping in most nights in his jimmies with a dog for company.

‘Mother says that I’m trying too hard to make friends and that I’m too nice to people. But I’m a vicar, that’s what we do!’

‘Where does your mother live, Malcolm? Is she local?’

‘Oh, she lives with me, of course. I lived with her until I was given my first parish and vicarage, and then I could repay the favour so I invited her to come and live with me. We rub along nicely. She’s a good old thing. She cooks and cleans for me still, won’t hear of me doing anything like that, bless her.’

She didn’t quite know what to say next. ‘Do you have any pets, Malcolm?’ she asked, casting her mind to some topic of conversation where they might find some common ground.

‘Oh yes, we have three cats. I’m a huge cat fan. And I collect pottery that is cat themed. Every time Mother has a few days away somewhere she always manages to bring me something back to add to my collection. Do you like cats, Grace?’

Even though she really wanted to reply, No, I can’t stand the bloody things. They creep into my garden, crap and creep out again, she didn’t feel that it was appropriate to say ‘crap’ to a vicar.

‘More of a dog person, myself,’ she replied, now quite nervous that she might swear in front of him – even more so because she was trying so hard not to. ‘I have a chocolate labradoodle called Becks, named after David Beckham. He’s adorable.’

‘Oh, David Beckham, isn’t he that footballer fellow who used to be the captain for England? I think I know of him, although I don’t have a television so I don’t watch much sport. I’m more of a Radio 4 man myself. Going back to dogs, I got bitten by a dog when I was seven and I’ve been scared to death of them since,’ he replied.

‘Do you mind me asking how old you are now?’ Grace was shocked at her direct question but thought she’d grab the opportunity to find out, assuming he was at least fifty-five. She picked up her tea and took a sip.

‘Forty-two,’ he replied.

Grace swallowed and coughed at the same time and a massive hiccuppy, burpy-type noise came out as she sprayed her tea over the table between them. Malcolm jumped out of his chair and patted her on the back.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry, that went down the wrong way,’ she explained, wanting to shout out, Forty-two! No fucking way!

When she looked at him, she realised that he was deadly serious. It was no wonder there were no younger people going along to his evenings at the vicarage. They all thought he was about twenty years older than he actually was!

She kept up the coughing, making it appear much worse than it was so as to cover up the shock she felt that he was only a few years older than her. As she got up, the leg of the chair caught on the bottom of her dress and before she knew it, the elasticated top came down and she flashed both her ample boobs at Malcolm.

‘Oh my God! Oh shit… I’m sorry for saying God! And now I’ve said shit too!’ Could she dig a bigger hole for herself? ‘Good grief, I’m so sorry Malcolm, but I’m going to have to cut this, erm, date short. I suddenly feel quite unwell and am going to go home immediately. I really am so sorry.’ She took a deep breath, adjusted her dress, popping herself away, grabbed her denim jacket from the back of her chair and shook his hand before he could realise what was happening. The teashop door was opened by a new customer coming in, so she ducked under their arm and bolted as fast as she could. She made the mistake of turning round and Malcolm was just staring at her quite bewildered and just a little bit red in the face, although not as red as her, whilst other people in the café were hiding their laughter behind their hands. She felt mortified at what had happened, and bad for leaving so abruptly – but not as bad as Monica was going to feel when she got hold of her.

Grace jumped in the car and got her phone out of her handbag and dialled Monica’s number. She answered after two rings and Grace didn’t wait for her to speak before she started a tirade of abuse down the phone.

Monica let her ramble on, then when Grace had run out of swear words, got everything out and quietened down, she said, ‘Go home, put the kettle on and I’ll be round in ten minutes.’

When Grace pulled up on the drive, she saw Becks through the window. He had ultrasonic hearing and could always tell when her car pulled up, and he had clearly jumped up onto the windowsill. As she opened the front door, he jumped up, gave her a big sloppy lick and knocked her to the ground.

‘Aw, Becks, why can’t I meet someone who’s just like you but human?’ She laughed as he rolled over for his tummy to be tickled. She heard a car door slam, and she turned. Monica was walking up the drive waving a white hanky above her head. She couldn’t help but laugh and let in her bonkers friend.

‘If I’d told you, would you have gone?’ Monica asked.

‘Of course not.’

‘I rest my case!’

‘Point taken, but next time you set me up, please make sure it’s not with someone who looks like Hugo off The Vicar of Dibley or his dad… I flashed the bloody vicar, Mon!’

‘What the…?’

Grace’s mouth began to twitch at the same time that Monica’s started to turn up at the corners. They laughed, then they laughed some more. Between giggles, Grace related the story, which caused them both to dissolve into a laughing fit. Monica’s mascara was now running in big black streaks down her cheeks, and Becks didn’t know what was happening and started to jump around the place, barking, which made the women laugh even more. Grace realised that it had actually been ages since she’d laughed so much that she cried, and she made a mental note to make sure she did it far more often. It felt really good!

‘God, I hate you, Monica,’ Grace said as she gave her best friend a hug. ‘Promise me, you will never set me up on anything like that again! If you do, I swear I’ll dump you as my best friend as fast as lightning.’

‘I promise.’ Monica hugged her tightly, crossing her fingers behind her back. ‘Now, go make me a coffee.’

* * *

Oh darling. That was hilarious. A vicar! If there is one thing I cannot imagine you as, it’s the wife of a vicar! Monica is certainly entertaining me so far with her choice of dates. She’s a terrible judge of character, although how I love that she’s changing you from a dull, drab caterpillar into a beautiful emerging butterfly, so I have to forgive her. I wish I could reach out and touch you. I wish I could make you realise how wonderful you are and what a fabulous mother you are to Archie and how beautiful you are on the inside and the outside. I just wish you could see what I see. Now, go out there and grab that life and have some fun. I love you. Mumxxx