Chapter Twenty-Two
Grace walked past the closed door of Frank’s study to get her shoes, guilt and confusion mixing with resentment churning in her stomach.
It was Saturday and the door had been closed for three days since she’d snapped the journal shut and marched out, and the gloom in the downstairs hallway added to her bleak mood.
She could sense the black journal on the coffee table where she’d left it, calling to her to read on.
She had no plans to. It was a Siren. It disguised itself as a beautiful way to get back to the man she loved, but really it was dark and painful and nothing good could come from being lured by it.
Her memories would have to do, but even they had turned from colour to sepia in her mind.
Five minutes later she was wearing her trainers and marching up Centre Common Road to where she’d agreed to meet Annie for their first walk together.
Annie was standing in front of The Bull’s Head, looking well prepared in walking boots, leggings, and a rucksack over her shoulders.
Grace braced herself for the inevitable questions.
‘What happened to you?’ Annie’s eyes grew wide as she inspected Grace’s face.
Grace touched a finger to her nose. ‘Reading injury.’
‘A what now?’ Annie frowned, then crossed the road and marched up towards the woods.
Grace followed, trying to match Annie’s pace. ‘I tried to get a book from the top shelf, and it dropped onto my face.’
‘Ouch.’ Annie turned towards her. ‘You got two black eyes from a falling book?’
‘It was a big book. It fell on my nose and caused this bruising.’ She circled her finger in front of her face.
‘The Complete Works of somebody quite prolific, by the looks of it.’
‘Something like that. Anyway, how are you?’ Annie’s stride was double the length of hers and Grace’s breathing quickened as she tried to keep up.
‘I’m all right,’ said Annie, squelching through a sloppy patch of mud. ‘Very aware I babbled on about myself when we went for coffee the other day. Your turn today.’
Grace grimaced inwardly at the thought. She sidestepped the mud, stepping carefully on the narrow dry ridge by the sludgy puddle.
When she’d agreed to come on a walk, she’d thought it would be a gentle tootle.
The way Annie strode on, the contents of her rucksack jiggling on her back, it was clear she was more of a hiker.
After a few more hurried steps, Grace stopped.
‘I’m sorry, Annie, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep up with you. Maybe I should—’
‘God, sorry!’ Annie turned. ‘I’m a nightmare, I know. Jack always complains I walk too fast. He’s only a couple of inches shorter than me, but he can never keep up. It’s because I’m all legs.’
Grace surveyed Annie’s black leggings and saw she was right. She had incredibly long legs and a shorter torso. Her crotch was probably higher than Grace’s waist, not that she was going to check.
‘And I’ve got used to walking on my own since Jack stopped coming out. I just trudge on, you know, get my steps in, try to concentrate on the birdsong and the flowers. They reckon it’s good for mental health, don’t they, walking in nature?’
Grace nodded. ‘I’m too nervous to walk in the woods on my own. I usually walk the roads.’
‘That’s a shame. Makes sense though. I think being this height has made me feel invincible, like I could defend myself.’ She Karate chopped her arms and gave a kick that sent mud spattering in all directions. ‘Ah sorry! Did I get some on your nice top?’
She rubbed at a splodge of mud on the sleeve of Grace’s shirt. Grace cried out when she touched the bruise on her elbow.
‘Sorry.’ Annie dropped her hands. Her brow furrowed. ‘What’s wrong with your arm?’
‘Would you believe it’s part of the reading injury?’
‘Nope. Even The Complete Works of Shakespeare would struggle to hit you in the face and the elbow at the same time.’ She gave Grace a sidelong glance.
‘Don’t look so worried. It’s true. I was standing on a stool at the time and when the book fell on my face, I toppled off and landed hard on the floor. I’ve got a huge bruise here’ – she put her hand on her hip – ‘and my elbow’s sore, but at least I didn’t break anything.’
Annie nodded, setting off walking again but at a considerably slower pace. ‘Must’ve been some book for you to want to read it that badly. What was it?’
Grace kept her eyes on the ground, calculating what she should say.
It wasn’t in her nature to over-share, but wasn’t sharing confidences an important part of friendship?
Anything less was acquaintance territory, and right now, she needed a friend.
She lifted her head at the sound of panting.
An overweight Labrador with mud halfway up its legs bounded along the path towards them, followed by a man in a baseball cap.
Annie leaned down and ruffled the dog’s fur over-zealously in Grace’s opinion, but it made the dog’s tail wag so violently its hind quarters swung from side to side along with it.
‘Who’s a lovely boy, then? You are, aren’t you? Yes, you are,’ Annie said in a high-pitched voice, scrubbing at the dog’s neck with both hands. ‘You’re the goodest of good boys, aren’t you?’
‘Morning,’ said the dog’s owner, drawing level. His eyes narrowed when he looked at Grace. ‘Been in the wars?’
‘Cage fighting,’ said Annie, casually throwing a thumb in Grace’s direction. ‘She’s retiring next year. I’ve told her it’s time to pack it in.’ She shrugged, and Grace raised her eyebrows, then shrugged too.
The man clipped a lead onto the dog’s collar looking equally bewildered and amused. ‘Okaaaay. Have a good day, ladies.’ The dog waddled off with its owner following behind.
‘Cage fighting?’ Grace turned to Annie and laughed.
‘It could’ve been.’
‘Do I look like a cage fighter to you?’ She spluttered the words through more laughter.
‘Have you ever been to a cage fight?’
‘No.’
‘Neither have I, so I don’t think we’re in a position to make assumptions.’ Annie used a superior tone and raised her chin. ‘And anyway, it sounds about as plausible as a full body reading injury.’
‘Which it was.’ They emerged from the woods and were standing on the pavement waiting to cross the road. Cars whooshed past in both directions. There was a brief break in the traffic and Annie grabbed Grace’s hand and they rushed across the tarmac together.
‘Come on then, which book assaulted you?’ said Annie, as they made their way under the canopy of trees in Hawkwood.
This woman had just greeted a dog like her own cherished pet, was silly and unabashed enough to tell a complete stranger Grace was a cage fighter, and had instinctively taken her hand as they crossed a busy road.
She was the kind of friend any sane person would want.
‘It was Frank’s journal,’ Grace said. ‘And it wasn’t what I expected at all. ’