Chapter 39
It had been three long days since Grace had hit send on her message, inadvertently declaring her love to Chris and still nothing.
He hadn’t been in touch, and she’d almost convinced herself that, by some miracle, her text had pinged off the cell phone tower and got lost in the radio waves. Now some other poor, anonymous sod was privy to the outpouring of emotion meant for her twin’s eyes only.
Almost.
Grace had batted back and forth with Hannah about what she should do upon her return to London. Her older sister thought she should act as though she’d never sent the text. ‘See how the land lies first,’ Hannah had added with a shrug. ‘Sure, what else can you do?’
Between them, they’d decided Grace would return to London and behave normally. Emerald Grooves was her priority. Then there was the simple business of life going on regardless of her having made a total eejit of herself. She needed to get on with the day-to-day stuff, like working, because her share of the rent, gas and electric still needed to be paid.
In response to Grace having wailed more than once in the ensuing days, ‘But what do I do if Chris hasn’t acknowledged the text because he’s waiting to talk to me in person about it?’ no-nonsense Hannah had calmly told her she should say to him her feelings had become muddled because she’d been caught up in the emotion of getting Emerald Grooves up and running. Then when cancellation of all their efforts had threatened, those emotions had spilled over. However, now that she was back under the same roof as him, confronted daily with his annoying habit of leaving the toilet seat up, she could see things clearly and she’d decided it was best all round if she were to move out. They’d agreed it was all she could do if that particular scenario were to play out.
So now, here she was, feeling like she was about to face her executioner, gulping lungfuls of exhaust fumes and breathing in the aroma of exotic spices, freshly baked bread and drains. Even if she’d been blindfolded instead of blinking at the burst of daylight as she emerged from the Tube station onto the busy street, her senses would have told her she was back in Tottenham. Grace’s heart was yammering against her chest as she pulled her wheelie case behind her, resolutely putting one foot in front of the other in the direction of the two-up, two-down she called home.
Before she knew it, she was stooping down to say hello to a miaowing Binky, who’d trotted down the pavement to greet her. Then, straightening, she tried to stop her hand shaking long enough to fit the key into the lock and turn it. It took three goes, but at last, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.
After closing the door on a disgruntled Binky, Grace stood in the hallway, ear cocked, listening out, but only silence greeted her.
‘Hello. I’m back!’ Grace warbled.
There was no reply. It was all a little anticlimactic, she thought, picking up her case and trudging up the stairs.
Pushing the door of her room open, she found it was exactly as she’d left it – aside from the musty, unlived-in smell. She threw her case on the bed, opened the window then flopped down alongside her luggage.
This was purgatory. Grace would have preferred to get the awkwardness between herself and Chris out of the way. She sighed. There was nothing for it but to make a cup of tea and wait for him to come home. With a glance at her case, she decided the unpacking could wait, and after a toilet pitstop – the seat had been left up – she made her way back downstairs through to the kitchen.
Grace’s lips pursed on seeing the plates in the sink – Chris obviously wasn’t expecting her back. She switched the kettle on and dropped a teabag into a mug, but her irritation deepened upon seeing there was no milk. She hated black tea, but it would have to suffice, because she couldn’t be arsed heading out to the shops.
While the kettle came to a boil, she did her best to hang on to the annoyance of toilet seats being left up, dishes not being done and the lack of milk. Irritation was good – it helped steel her resolve to move out, and she preferred it to the nail-biting anxiety of waiting for Chris to return from wherever he was.
She was pouring the boiling water on her teabag and muttering about inconsiderate housemates when the front door banged shut. It was a miracle she didn’t burn herself as a steady stream of hot water missed her mug, pooling on the worktop, but at least mopping up the spill gave her something to do.
She heard footsteps retreat upstairs. A single set, she deduced, using her detective skills. Of course, he had no clue she was back, and she was summoning the courage to call out when she heard him pounding back down the stairs. ‘Grace?’ his voice rang out.
She’d left her bedroom door open, she realised, squeaking, ‘I’m in the kitchen.’
Chris appeared in the doorway a split second later. He looked deliciously crumpled, his smile wide and unreadable as Grace, sopping tea towel in hand, attempted a nonchalant expression. Channelling Minnie Mouse once more, she squeaked hi. She automatically looked over his shoulder, double-checking Ulla wasn’t lurking in the hallway.
She wasn’t.
‘I broke up with Ulla.’
He must have read her mind, Grace thought, trying to keep a handle on her first instinct of shouting ‘Yeehaw!’ like she was at a rodeo. Instead, she lied through her teeth. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
His denim-blue eyes appraised her speculatively, and Grace suspected he could see right through her, but at last, he shrugged. ‘No big deal. Things were never serious between us, and I don’t think Ulla’s pining for me. Lee saw her out with Felix Bacci the other night.’ Seeing Grace’s blank stare, he supplied, ‘He’s a bigwig record producer.’
Grace realised he must have broken up with her shortly after he’d returned from Emerald Bay. She was in danger of cramping, clenching every muscle in her body, waiting for what he’d say next. She ran through the script she’d decided on with Hannah should he bring up the text.
Chris looked at her tea on the worktop then opened the fridge. ‘Shit, there’s no milk. Sorry, if I’d known you were coming back, I’d have got some things in.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ She didn’t trust herself to pick the mug up.
‘Listen, if I spring for a brew at a cafe, will you come out with me, no questions asked? There’s something I want to show you.’
Where was he heading with this? Grace wondered. ‘Now?’
‘Yep.’
‘OK.’ Anything was preferable to standing here with her back pressed into the worktop like a child caught pinching sweets, waiting for him to address the flipping woolly mammoth in the room.
Accordingly, Grace abandoned the tea towel and mug to follow him out the front door into the afternoon sunshine.