Chapter 29
Grace gradually became aware of two things. Firstly, the orange glow inside her eyelids meant sunlight was sneaking into the bedroom. She mustn’t have drawn the curtains properly last night. Secondly, Hannah’s snores were loud enough to rattle the windows. It was a noisy reminder of why she didn’t miss sharing a bedroom with her big sister regularly. Not moving from her curled-up position, she waited for the fog to slowly clear from her sleepy brain.
Keeping her eyes shut, Grace closed her ears to Hannah’s eruptions as she allowed memories of the previous night to swim to the fore, recalling the buzz she’d been filled with at the way the residents of Emerald Bay had embraced the fundraising festival. Those locals who hadn’t immediately volunteered their services for the festival like Dermot Molloy – who’d offered to supply sausages and man a sausage-sizzle stand – had all hopped online and brought tickets. With so much support behind them, the festival was sure to be a success.
It was a miracle she’d refrained from punching the air jubilantly when she’d walked with Chris out to his car! It was both a goodnight and a goodbye, given he was on a flight first thing in the morning back to London.
As the memory of what had happened next played out, an unfamiliar heat coursed through Grace’s body, and she tossed the covers aside. Illuminated by the glow of the car park’s sensor light, Chris’s eyes had softened, his pupils black orbs, as he’d turned to face her, and for one delicious moment under a canopy of twinkling stars, the noise emanating from the pub each time the back door opened had dissipated, and Grace had been certain he was about to kiss her. Her lips had parted in anticipation, her chin tilting upward, and her eyes had fluttered shut. But then… nothing.
She’d opened her eyes to see Chris had turned away from her and realised he was holding his phone, which was vibrating. It had broken the spell, and he’d apologised, saying he’d see her back at the flat tomorrow sometime before answering it. Grace had known instantly who was calling by the way his expression had become a closed book. The Silent Finn had been checking up on him, and to be fair, she’d been right to do so, because Grace didn’t want to be that kind of girl, but she knew if Chris’s mouth had connected with hers, she’d have been lost. She’d slowly deflated, waiting until he’d reversed out, giving her a final wave before driving away. The hand she’d raised in response had fallen limply to her side, his departure leaving her with an overwhelming sense of emptiness.
OK, so she was being dramatic, she thought now, hearing a clatter from the kitchen below, signalling someone was up and about. Chris was flying back to London first thing this morning, sure, but she’d be back at their flat herself later this evening. It was just…
‘Just what, Grace?’ she said out loud, her eyes finally opening.
Hannah stirred at the sound of her voice, snorted then rolled over. Charming.
Faced with her sister’s back, Grace picked over her feelings. She’d felt like she and Chris had become a team here in Emerald Bay; that there’d been a shift in their relationship to friendship, not just flatmates. But it was a friendship teetering on the brink of something else – or so she thought. They’d got to know one another better in the space of a night and a day than in the five months they’d shared a house. How could he not have felt that jolt whenever he’d inadvertently or deliberately touched her? And what about the times she’d caught him staring at her? Surely it couldn’t all be in her head?
But Grace knew just because you wanted something that didn’t necessarily make it so. One thing she was sure of was that things would be different between them back in London with the Silent Finn attached limpet-like to him. And who could blame her? She was his girlfriend, after all. ‘Not you, Grace Kelly.’
‘Not you what?’ Hannah grunted.
‘Nothing. Go back to your snoring.’
‘I don’t snore.’
Grace didn’t reply, and sure enough, a second and a half later, Hannah began snoring again.
Listening to Hannah now, she was glad she’d slunk upstairs to bed when she’d left her sisters, Freya and the lads all making merry, Hannah having joined them after being released from bar duty. She knew the signs. They were settling in for a session, hence Hannah’s snoring, and she’d no wish to be Debbie Downer and spoil their fun with her long face. The closest she’d got to a goodnight kiss, in the end, was when Napoleon had nuzzled against her cheek after she’d scooped him up to give him a stern talking-to about his nocturnal habits. She liked to think he’d taken it all on board. Time would tell, though, she supposed.
Right, Grace, time to get up, she told herself, not wishing to lie there listening to Mount Hannah all morning. Besides, she wasn’t a moper, and today was a new day. Today, she’d put things right with her dad, which meant joining him on his ramble. Then, realising she had no clue what the time was, she reached for her phone, wishing she’d had the foresight to set her alarm. But it was only seven thirty, and exhaling, she realised it was most likely her dad banging away downstairs. Still, if she wanted to catch him before he set off for the morning, she needed to get her A into G.
Grace rolled off the bed into a puddle of sunlight and took a few tentative steps. Her calf felt better already. She was up for this, she decided, glad that even though common sense wasn’t always one of her attributes, she’d had the sense to pull the pin last night. Unlike her sisters, she wouldn’t be dealing with a banging head this morning.
First stop, shower, so she rummaged in her case and pulled out fresh underwear, socks and shorts.
Opening the bedroom door, she saw the landing was deserted. Hopefully, no one had beaten her to the bathroom, she thought as she padded toward it, the floorboards alerting anyone listening out that someone was up. It was doubtful Shannon and James had pulled an all-nighter keeping watch over Houdini Kelly, the klepto cat, though – not with the drinks she’d seen lined up on the table last night. She hoped he hadn’t brought any more presents home.
She closed the bathroom door and turned the shower to just over halfway before stripping off.
Fifteen minutes later, during which Grace had given an impromptu performance of ‘I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Outa My Hair,’ she was ready to face the world. All thoughts of Chris had been washed down the drain with the shampoo suds, because this morning her mind was on her dad.
Trotting down the stairs, she was greeted with the greasy smell of a Liam Kelly fry-up. Her nose wrinkled; he was always too heavy-handed with the cooking oil, and she greeted him with a cheery good morning as she stepped into the kitchen.
Liam, sitting at the table about to tuck in, raised his gingery head, looking guilty, but seeing it was Grace, his face relaxed. ‘I thought you were your mam.’
Grace grinned. ‘It’s only me. You can eat your grease fest in peace, Dad.’
‘I’m not able for a lecture on cholesterol, blood pressure and the like. It would put a man off his breakfast.’
‘Cop yourself on, Dad. It’s only because she loves you.’
He grunted and began to saw into a sausage. ‘Well, there’ll be more of me to love after this lot.’
He wasn’t far wrong, Grace thought, eyeing his heaped plate.
‘I didn’t think there’d be any signs of life from you girls for hours yet, or I’d have made more. I dare say it’s a full Irish that will be needed this morning to soak up the skinful you were all after putting away, but I can spare you a rasher for a bacon sarnie if you want?’ He popped a piece of sausage in his mouth and started chewing with relish.
‘Ah no, you’re grand, thanks. And I’m not suffering. Tea and toast is what I fancy.’
Grace moved toward the worktop and, inspecting the contents of the bread bin, gave a triumphant cry, pouncing on what was left of Nan’s soda bread. It was just as delicious toasted as it was fresh from the oven. That with a strong brew and she’d be good to go.
‘There’s plenty of tea in the pot. I don’t like to partake of more than a cup or two when heading out on my walks.’
Grace, slicing into what was left of the soda bread, hoped he wasn’t about to tell the tale about the rambling group who’d stumbled across him having an alfresco pee. It was too early for that, so she fetched a mug and headed him off. ‘I thought I might come with you this morning, Dad.’ Grace tried to keep her tone light as she took the cosy off the teapot before pouring the steaming brown liquid into her mug.
Liam, who’d been about to polish off what was left of his banger, paused with his fork midway to his mouth. ‘Oh yes? And what about that sore leg of yours?’
‘Oh, it feels good as new this morning.’ A little white lie, but she was sure she’d manage a gentle amble.
The toaster popped; still, she held his gaze, noting the bags under his eyes. He looked tired. ‘Besides, it’s been ages since I joined you, and it’s such a gorgeous day.’
‘’Tis that.’ He popped the sausage in his mouth, and Grace set about buttering her toast.
‘There’s to be no mithering, mind.’
She didn’t need to ask about what and, watching the glob of butter melt satisfyingly into her toasted bread, fibbed, ‘I’m just keen to get out in the fresh air, is all, Dad. It’s in short supply in London.’
‘I’d imagine it is.’ He didn’t sound convinced.
Nor should he be, because he knew her too well, but that ran both ways. For instance, she didn’t need to turn around to know he’d be mopping his egg yolk up with his toast about now. By the time she’d slathered on some of the honey her father was so proud of, she knew his plate would be clean, and indeed, as she went to sit down, he pushed his chair back and carried his plate over to the sink.
‘Well, if you’re sure you’re up to it, best you get that breakfast down, because I’ll be heading off in a minute. You’ll be needing a water bottle and a sun hat, too.’
‘I’ll borrow Mam’s,’ Grace said, scoffing her toast and downing her tea in record time. She raced upstairs to fetch a daypack and flew back down to the kitchen, filling a drink bottle from the tap. Then, locating the straw abomination that belonged to her mam and plopping it on her head, she followed her dad out the door, trying her best not to limp.