Chapter Twelve
Grace arrived early for the next meeting.
She swallowed her trepidation with a gulp and entered Books En Parade, the bell above the door jangling in welcome.
The shop was completely empty, and Grace welcomed the opportunity to acclimatize with no one else there.
She scrutinized the wall behind the desk which held the cash register, surprised she hadn’t noticed the beautiful mural painted over a sunflower-yellow backdrop last time she was there.
When Grace worked there, that wall was a plain cream mottled with brown patches by age and neglect.
Now ivy snaked up the wall, pretty blue flowers on its stems. Amongst the ivy, printed pages were painted in a soft white, scattered amongst the green and blue all the way up to the ceiling.
The door at the back, which Grace knew all too well led to the flat upstairs, opened and Crush appeared dressed in a faded Nirvana gig T-shirt and black jeans which hung low on her hips. ‘Grace, you made it. We weren’t sure you would. Sweet.’
Grace was a little taken aback by the fact the group must’ve discussed her, but the ‘sweet’, suggested Crush was pleased to see her, so that’s what she decided to take from it. ‘Hello. I was admiring your wall.’
Crush strode over to stand next to Grace. ‘Bloody ace, innit? It’s by an artist from Greenwich called Verity Ibe. She’s a complete legend.’
‘She’s clearly very talented.’
‘Did it half price because it’s a bookshop.
Said she’s got a soft spot for readers, even though she’s not much of a one herself.
Bit of a result because she’s getting quite a name for herself, she could charge a fortune if she wanted.
’ Crush turned to Grace. ‘I’ve got her number if you fancy a mural.
Think she does paintings too. Specializes in cool, abstract pictures of flowers. ’
‘Thank you. That would be great.’ Grace imagined commissioning a painting for Rosie’s birthday. That would be a lovely present.
‘I’ll grab it now.’ Crush disappeared back through the door, leaving Grace to choose a seat in the area at the back lit by the various colourful lamps, some on side tables, others freestanding, casting a glow over the room.
It was the colours of the room that made it so unusual.
The combination of yellow walls, with the orange and green furniture would usually make Grace reach for her sunglasses, but here, the soft lighting plus all the various colours of books made it look bright, yet oddly cosy.
She couldn’t help thinking it would benefit from a couple of antique side tables instead of the ones that appeared to be made out of chipboard, but she thought that about most rooms.
She selected the same side of the sofa she’d sat on at the first meeting and arranged cushions behind her, so her legs didn’t dangle like a toddler’s. She expected members all had their preferred seats since people tended to be creatures of habit. She certainly didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes.
Harry was the next to arrive. Once the door was closed behind him, he put what looked like a grey duffle bag with net sides on the floor and unzipped the front.
Earnest emerged, looking like a furry film star stepping onto a red carpet.
Harry looked up and noticed Grace. ‘Oh, hello.’ Grace wondered if she’d always be startled at how plummy he sounded. ‘So delighted to see you.’
‘Hello Harry.’ Grace found herself adopting a more refined accent than usual.
Her voice had adapted over the years. Her parents had moved down from Leeds to work in the hospitality industry and never lost their northern accents.
When she went to school in South East London, children mocked the flat vowels she’d learned from them, so she soon learned to speak like everyone else in her class.
At university, she lived with girls with wealthy parents who’d sent them to private schools, and when she worked at a London auction house before she had Rosie, she found she spoke in a generic southern accent, which now seemed totally inadequate in reply to Harry’s cut-glass pronunciation.
Oddly though, she found the combination of his voice and the creases down the front of his pale blue slacks made her want to call him Hazza.
The cat paced over to her and peered up with sorrowful eyes. She stroked her hand along his silky back. ‘Hello Earnest.’
‘Sorry,’ said Harry. ‘I should have checked you don’t mind him bothering you like that.
I forget some people don’t like cats. He’s such a part of the family I can’t imagine anyone being wary of him, but how we feel isn’t always rational, is it?
Aim a pistol at me, and I’m calm as anything, but I can go without a bath for two days if there’s a spider in the tub. ’
Grace blinked at the unexpected disclosure. ‘Have many people pointed a pistol at you?’
‘Oh, yes. Came with the job, I’m afraid.
Foreign tours, inhospitable lands and all that.
But I’ve come across many more spiders than pistols in my time and …
’ He gave a shuddering growl that made Earnest turn his head.
‘Back to the point, are you happy with him being free to roam around, or would you rather I left him at home? He usually goes to sleep, anyway, so it may be a moot point …’ He shook his head again. ‘I’m rather going on, aren’t I?’
‘I’m more than happy for him to roam in my direction,’ said Grace, as Earnest lifted his chin for her to scratch under his neck. She was rewarded with what looked very much like a fanged smile.
‘Splendid,’ said Harry.
They both turned at the sound of the door to the flat opening. Earnest padded over to Crush, and she picked him up, scrunching up her face as he batted his paws at her then tried to lick her.
‘Earnest, we’ve talked about this,’ said Harry, leaping towards them with an agility which belied the creases in his expansive forehead.
Crush put Earnest down and laughed. ‘Keep your wig on, Hazza, it’s all good. That’s the best kiss I’ve had all week,’ she said. ‘And I’ve had a few.’ She winked at Harry, who gave a wry smile in response.
‘I thought you were going to give Hinge a wide berth after that last escapade.’ Harry’s voice was softly chiding.
‘I was, but, you know …’ She lifted her shoulders then let them drop.
Grace had to work to keep her mouth from hanging open.
She thought this was a book club, but the exchange she’d just witnessed between an ex-military man and ex-rock star suggested they knew every detail of each other’s lives.
And what was the last escapade? She found she really wanted to know.
‘And speaking of wigs,’ said Harry, ‘did you know I tried one once?’
‘I did not know that.’ Crush sat back on her hip. ‘How did that work out for you?’
‘I never left the house in it. Marjorie laughed so hard when I modelled it, her hernia strangulated and she ended up in Queen Mary’s for a week.’
‘Ouch,’ said Crush. ‘Lesson learned.’
‘Indeed,’ said Harry, rubbing his hand over his scalp. ‘Indeed.’
Crush approached Grace, holding out a piece of paper with a number on it. ‘Here’s that number for you. Tell Verity I said hello, if you speak to her.’
‘Will do,’ said Grace, folding the paper and putting it in her bag. ‘I was sorry to hear about your family bereavement,’ she said. She was reluctant to dampen the mood, but thought it would be churlish not to offer her condolences.
‘Yeah,’ said Crush. The green bean bag let out a pfft of air as she fell into it. ‘Families, eh? My dad was a bastard and I hardly ever saw him after I went into care. If I’m honest, I’m glad he’s dead, so why am I still grieving?’ She rubbed her eyes. ‘Makes no sense.’
‘Grief doesn’t,’ said Grace, the urge to hug Crush strong.
‘It doesn’t follow any logical pattern. That’s my experience, for what it’s worth.
’ The two women smiled at each other and Grace realized she hadn’t spoken about her grief to anyone except Rosie and Jude.
This moment of connection with Crush gave her an unexpected rush of warmth.
Annie blustered in with a flurry of hellos. She dropped onto the sofa next to Grace and rummaged in her bag. ‘Hope you don’t mind, but I brought something for both of you.’ She drew out two books with pale covers. ‘It’s The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion.’
She offered the books out and Grace took the slim paperback with a grey leaf on the cover. ‘Thank you.’
‘It’s Didion’s attempt to make sense of what happened when her husband died, and her daughter was sick; how she had to carry on because the world keeps turning whether we like it or not.’
‘Man, that’s so kind.’ Crush took the book and turned to the back. ‘I’ve never come across this one before.’ She grinned at Annie. ‘I’m not even going to complain that you didn’t order them through me.’
‘Wouldn’t be much of a surprise present, then, would it?’ Annie grinned back.
‘Seriously, dude. This is awesome.’
Grace scanned the back cover. ‘It never occurred to me there were books covering this kind of topic. I mean, I know there are self-help books and psychology books about dealing with grief, but a memoir is much more …’ She struggled to find the word.
‘It’s the kind of book that shows you’re not alone,’ said Annie, with a knowing smile.
‘And there’s a book for everything,’ said Crush.
Grace was beginning to see that was true.