Chapter Fourteen
In the second half of book club, Grace survived the silent reading, just. It was marginally less excruciating than last time, but still far from a comfortable experience.
The silence didn’t upset her at least, and if she concentrated on Earnest’s gentle purring as he slept next to Harry’s feet, she could relax enough to read a few pages.
She meant to catch Annie at the end of the session, but she jumped up from the sofa as soon as the alarm on Crush’s phone signified the end of the reading hour, calling, ‘Bye, everyone, see you next time,’ from the door.
‘She seemed distracted after she got that message, didn’t she? Do you think she’s all right?’ Grace asked Crush as she went about the room turning off the lamps. Annie’s phone had pinged halfway through the hour’s silent reading and she hadn’t seemed to be able to sit still after that.
‘Hmm. Not like her to have her phone on either. We usually all mute them so we’re not disturbed.’
Grace became aware of her phone in her bag, very much not on silent mode.
She made a mental note to mute it next time, although who was going to call?
She only really communicated with Jude and Rosie, and they both knew she was at book club.
‘I’ll message her when I get home to make sure she’s all right. ’
‘Legend,’ said Crush. ‘If there’s something I can help with, let me know, yeah?’
When she arrived home, Grace sent a text to Annie.
Remembering the conversation about the Marian Keyes books, she stood in front of Frank’s shelves.
She needed something lighter after Jude the Obscure.
It was nearing the end of April, supposedly springtime, but the day had been gloomy and daylight was fading fast. She switched on the overhead light, smiling at the memory of Frank squinting and complaining every time she used what he called ‘the big light’.
He was a man with only two settings, and they were always at the ends of any spectrum, enormous amounts of natural light, or soft lamplight.
That was Frank all over. One extreme or another.
She searched the shelves for authors with surnames beginning with K wondering if Frank’s tastes were broad enough to include an Irish writer with an amusing turn of phrase.
They were. She plucked out a bright pink book called Rachel’s Holiday and a slim notebook which had been sitting beside it on the shelf dropped onto the floor.
Grace picked the notebook up. She recognized it as one from a set of reading journals Rosie bought for Frank one Christmas.
It said ‘A New Chapter’ in gold, embossed print on a beige background.
She opened the cover, her pulse quickening at the thought of seeing Frank’s writing and the possibility of reading some of his precious thoughts for the first time since he died.
The sight of Frank’s rounded handwriting made her pulse thump in her throat.
He’d written Rachel’s Holiday by Marian Keyes at the top of the first page, then surrounded it with doodles that were as familiar to Grace as the back of her own hands.
Frank drew on everything. He’d gone into architecture knowing that was a way of making his artistic side pay.
He often said he was lucky to be a man with passions, ‘Find a job you love, and you’ll never work a day in your life,’ was one of his favourite sayings.
But Grace knew that was never the full story.
The son of Irish immigrants, he’d heard his father tell of signs in pub windows reading, ‘No dogs, no blacks, no Irish.’ That discrimination had marked his whole family and Frank was determined to prove he was as good as anyone else.
It was what drove him to succeed and what led to them living in this beautiful house, in this affluent area.
It was also what made him so fiercely protective of his small family.
When Rosie got engaged to Paz, Frank and Grace welcomed their soon-to-be-son-in-law with open arms, and when Jude came along, Frank’s eyes were always open to any sign of prejudice, ready to stand against anyone who even hinted at seeing a difference that was more than skin-deep.
Under the title and author name, Frank’s handwriting filled the whole page. Grace turned over and saw more. Her heart burst with longing to absorb the words from the man she missed with every fibre of her being, so she sat in his chair and started to read.