Chapter Eight
Rain slashed against the glass as Grace finished her dinner – if you could call a cheese toastie with a few cherry tomatoes on the side dinner.
She rarely cooked for herself these days.
Going to the effort of planning a meal, buying ingredients and spending the time cooking seemed pointless when there was no one to share it with.
And there was no one else to do the clearing up either.
Having to do both jobs herself seemed like adding insult to injury.
She watched rivulets of water track each other down the glass, trying to muster the energy to rinse her plate, and get ready for book club.
During Jude’s visit, she’d found herself growing quite enthusiastic about the next meeting, looking forward to finding out more about the unlikely combination of long-tall Annie as she’d come to think of her, the ex-rock star and the bald man with shiny shoes.
But the intervening fortnight had dimmed her zeal, and now acid fizzed in her stomach, telling her she might be better off just staying in.
The bright blue cover of The List of Suspicious Things called to her from the granite island, where she’d placed it ready to take with her.
She’d astonished herself by having read most of it over the last two weeks, then reminded herself there was no need to be surprised.
It wasn’t like she hated reading, she’d always quite enjoyed it on holiday and this was a bloody good book.
Perhaps she should retrain her mind to think of her life of retirement as one long holiday.
But holidays to her included being with the people she loved, hotels and good weather.
Now though, she felt like a prisoner in her own life.
She shook the thought away. She was not captive, and she had every comfort she needed, so it was about time she checked her privilege, as Jude would say.
One thing was for certain, she had time on her hands, and spending some of it with a good book had been enjoyable and rewarding; in fact, the only reason she hadn’t yet found out whether the adorable main character, little Miv, got the fabulous ending she so rightfully deserved, was because she wanted to save enough of the book to read in the silent part of book club.
That thought was what got her to her feet, into her raincoat and out to her red Fiat 500.
The windscreen wipers flew at full pelt, as Grace set off, cursing the typically British weather.
It was spring. Surely she should be more concerned about midge bites as she wandered past the ponds up to Royal Parade, not biblical-level flooding.
She assessed where she should park to minimize the inevitable soaking she would get as she ran from car to bookshop.
She pulled in by the pavement opposite St Michael’s – a beautiful red-brick property which still had the sign from when it was an orphanage owned by the Waifs and Strays Society in the 1800s.
The term ‘Waifs and Strays’ always made her heart sink.
She’d once seen a picture of the boys who lived there lined up outside and had the urge to gather them all in a collective hug.
She peered through the rainy windscreen at the building and wondered what stories the bricks could tell.
One of the reasons Grace loved Chislehurst was its colourful history.
Napoleon III, the deposed Emperor of France, once lived down the road in Camden Place, and the Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix and Pink Floyd had all played in the caves that ran underground all the way to Greenwich.
As she opened her umbrella and slammed the car door, she planned how she could talk about the caves being a music venue with Crush as a way to break the ice.
Water swilled along the side of the road and burbled into the drain.
Grace expected she’d soon be reading reports of new road closures because of another burst water main, making the already horrendous traffic in the area even worse.
She was wondering how Chislehurst Caves were successfully excavated in the 1300s, yet Thames Water couldn’t manage to operate an effective drainage system in this day and age, when she arrived at Books En Parade and came to a stop outside.
Rain rolled off the edge of her umbrella, splashing onto her face as she stared up at the frontage.
It was in darkness. The sign on the door said ‘Closed’.
Grace pulled her phone from her bag. Drops of water distorted the figures, but Grace could still see it was seven-thirty on the nose.
Why was Books En Parade closed? Where was everyone?
She examined her phone again. It was definitely Wednesday, and it was exactly two weeks since the last meeting.
All the adrenaline her body had served up to get her here disappeared and she felt weak, cold and exhausted.
She shoved her phone back in her bag, the hard cover of her book knocking against her knuckles as she did so.
Disappointment seeped into her like the rain soaking the flared hems of her trousers and when she slumped back in the seat of her car, she felt like crying.
She turned on the engine and the windscreen fogged immediately.
She couldn’t move until it cleared, so she switched on the air conditioner and pressed the button on the console to phone directory. She found Jude’s name and pressed dial.
‘Hey, Grandma.’ Jude’s deep voice filled the inside of the car.
‘Hi, love. How are you?’
‘Yeah, good. How are you doing? I thought you had book club tonight. Didn’t you go?’
A semicircle cleared at the bottom of the windscreen. ‘I did, but it’s not on. I’m parked nearby now, soaked to the skin from standing outside a closed bookshop.’
‘Where are you?’
‘Books En Parade.’ Where did he think she was? He knew she was coming to book club.
‘Just a sec.’ A tapping sounded through the car’s speakers. She turned the air conditioner down so she could hear him more clearly. ‘Apparently, it’s in Beckenham tonight.’
‘Beckenham?’
‘Yeah, at the Beckenham Bookshop. Crush hosts most sessions, but now and again something comes up and another local bookshop steps in.’
‘Beckenham is hardly local,’ Grace said. ‘It’s at least fifteen minutes away.’
‘It’s local if you’re from Beckenham,’ said Jude, unhelpfully.
‘And why didn’t anyone tell me?’
‘Did you give anyone your number last time?’
‘Well, no.’
‘There you go, then.’
‘All right, smarty pants. Then how was I supposed to know?’
‘It’s on the web page. That’s where I looked it up just now.’
‘What web page? Nobody told me about a web page.’
‘You sound a bit hysterical, Grandma. It’s no biggie, is it? If you’re in the car, you can just drive to Beckenham. You’ll be late, but they’ll be chill about that. Grandpa wasn’t exactly a stickler for punctuality, was he?’
That was one of the few things which annoyed Grace about Frank.
It was as though time didn’t exist as a concept for him.
She’d learned early on in their relationship that if she needed him to be somewhere at a specific time, she had to tell him the appointed time was at least half an hour earlier than it was.
The alarm app on his mobile phone was a godsend, although quite often he’d have forgotten what he set the alarm for when it went off.
‘I don’t know, I think I’ll just call it a day. I’m wet through now.’
‘Oh, come on. I didn’t have you down as a quitter. You’ve got this far. Don’t give up now.’
Grace sighed. She was soggy and tired. ‘Maybe next time.’
‘I tell you what,’ said Jude. ‘If you swing by our house on the way and pick me up, I’ll come with you. How’s that?’
Grace’s heart swelled as a surge of love engulfed her. ‘Really, aren’t you busy?’
‘Never too busy for you,’ he said. ‘See you in ten, yeah?’
‘Are you going to fit in a fifteen-minute shower and cook dinner in that ten minutes?’ She made sure there was a smile in her voice.
Jude was exactly like his Grandpa with respect to time keeping.
Whenever she and Frank were due to leave the house, he’d suddenly remember an urgent task that simply couldn’t wait.
He took procrastination to a whole new level.
‘Ha! You know me so well. Don’t worry, I won’t allow myself to start anything else ’til you get here. How’s that?’
‘I’ll believe it when I see it. Thanks, love.’ Grace held her finger over the button to end the call, but paused. ‘You know what, don’t worry. I’ve got to get used to doing things on my own. I’ve relied on you and your mum far too much over the last year.’
‘That’s what we’re here for.’
‘I know, and I love you for it. But I can do this. Honestly. I’ll go over to Beckenham now and I’ll be absolutely fine. It’s the bookshop on the High Street near M&S, right?’
‘That’s right.’ She heard his breathing and could imagine him thoughtfully trying to work out whether to insist on coming with her. ‘You sure?’
‘I’m sure.’ She wasn’t, but she wanted to be, and maybe pushing herself out of her comfort zone like this was a small step towards that goal.
‘Okay. Let me know how it goes, yeah?’
The windscreen was now completely clear and the rain had all but stopped. As Grace put the car into gear, she looked up and saw the clouds turning pink and gold, and it felt as though the sunset was her prize for being brave.