Celestial Land and Sea (15 page)

"It must have been delicious for you to remember it so vividly."'

"It was! Sadly, I don't think that café's there anymore. Quite a shame really."

"Did you go there often?"

"Not really. It was a place that we'd go to if Sarah or I had done particularly well at school or some other activity. We didn't really have a lot of money when we were growing up. Our parents had decided to take out a mortgage on a house in Kensington before they realised that Mum was already pregnant. Several years down the line they were juggling house payments and two kids on one wage. We still had fun though. I always remember it being a happy home. It wasn't until they both died a few years ago and we had to sell the house that I realised how much I was going to miss that place."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Grace was surprised by how open Andy was being with her.

"It's okay. I suppose it's something you get used to, isn't it? You grew up in Belfast didn't you?"

"I did, yes."

"I've been to Dublin, but never as far as Northern Ireland. What's it like?"

"Well, I can't say it was the easiest of upbringings—always on guard, always on the lookout. But it's a beautiful place, so many hidden treasures if you get away from the centre."

"I'm sure I'd love to visit one day," Andy said with a hint of suggestion.

"You really should. I must admit that I often miss it."

"I'm ashamed to have to ask, because all this sort of stuff really does confuse me, but do you consider yourself to be British or Irish?"

Grace remained silent for a moment.

"Oh, I'm sorry. That wasn't the right thing to ask was it? I didn't mean to—"

"No, it's fine. Honestly. It's just something I have to think about as I'm not really too sure myself. There's a lot of division, you know? I'm never quite sure which nationality I consider myself to be."

"I understand. So you moved here to study then?" Andy asked, tactfully redirecting the subject.

The question made Grace realise that, in all the years they'd worked together, they'd never really sat down to have a proper conversation. Until recently they'd engaged in little more than office banter. While she wouldn't deny that she'd enjoyed that side of the relationship, she was glad that things seemed to at last be taking a new direction.

"I think I just fancied a change of scenery. I'd always wanted to visit London anyway, so it seemed like the perfect situation."

"And you have no regrets?" He drained his glass.

"None at all: I mean, yes, I wish I were enjoying my job more; and no, this wasn't where I thought I'd be at this stage in my life, but I have a lot to be thankful for, and I need to remind myself of that more often."

For a moment neither spoke. Grace was certain that this harmony could last forever. That was, until the timer sounded from the kitchen.

"Will you excuse me for a moment? I need to see to the food." She stood to leave the room.

"Sure thing," he called after her as he placed his empty glass on the coffee table. To occupy himself while he waited he turned his attention to a small pile of books at the foot of the table. He picked up the one on top to discover that it was a collection of poetry. "I didn't know you liked poetry, Grace."

"How can you be so sure it's mine?" she teased.

"Because it has your name written on the first page..."

"I'm not actually all that interested, to be honest," she said. "I thought I'd give it a go and bought a couple of books from a charity shop, but I never really took to it." She drained the pasta. "I was sorting through some old books to donate and thought those could go back."

Andy didn't respond, but instead he read the list of names out loud as he scanned the contents page. "Wordsworth. Coleridge. Blake. Byron—hey, I went to the same school as him," he confirmed to himself.

"Same school as whom?" Grace asked from the kitchen.

"Lord Byron," Andy called back. "I went on a scholarship." As he returned the book he noticed a bundle of papers that lay scattered near the books, and he couldn't resist the temptation to have a quick peek to see what mysteries they might contain. He picked up the top sheet and began to read, unaware that Grace was almost finished preparing the meal in the kitchen.

He was still holding up a sheet of paper when she returned to the living room.

"Dinner is served—" She stopped in her tracks.

"Oh, so sorry; I was just glancing over these while I was waiting for you. I hope you don't mind. I didn't know you were interested in pirates. Are the notes for anything special?"

What could she say to him? She could hardly tell him the truth. He'd think she had gone insane. Before Grace could respond though, there was a knock at the front door.

"Sorry, do you mind if I get that?" Grace dashed out of the room to see who it was, relieved for the opportunity to consider her response to Andy's question.

"Sorry about that. I had to sign for a parcel for Harriet. More online shopping, I assume," she announced when she returned.

"No worries," Andy replied as they made their way to the kitchen.

The subject of Grace's research didn't enter the conversation again, at least not immediately. Once they were seated at the table, the taste of the wine soon became the hottest topic of conversation. Grace served another glass, and then another, as both rapidly drained their drinks.

However, the inevitable was soon to happen, and Grace couldn't avoid it.

"So you never did tell me what those notes were for..." Andy revisited the topic as Grace was busy twirling a strand of spaghetti around her fork.

"I'm—I'm writing an article," Grace blurted out.

She had no idea where that had come from. She had panicked; it was the first thing that had popped into her head. And yet, somehow, it made perfect sense. Her mind now started whizzing with ideas.

"I think I'd like to read that when you're done, if you would let me of course. What I managed to read of your notes sounded interesting. And I take it this article will be shown to Mr Barrie?"

"I—yes, I suppose it will..." She could have squealed from her newfound excitement. She didn't know why she hadn't thought of it before. "Yes, I'm writing an article for Mr Barrie so that he'll see that I have greater potential and will hopefully offer me more responsibilities."

"Good for you! I'm glad you've finally thought of something. I was starting to worry that I'd have to force you to look for another job. The last thing I want is for you to leave Anchor, Grace, but I do hate seeing you unhappy."

Grace's mouth lowered from an excited grin into a warm smile as she gazed at Andy, who stared silently across the table at her. She blushed, not accustomed to the attention, and lowered her head as she concentrated on working another strand of spaghetti.

Andy chuckled softly before continuing: "So tell me, what's this article all about? Your notes are about a female pirate, aren't they?" he asked.

'They are, yes. Her name is Gráinne O'Malley, or Grace—"

"That's your name," Andy pointed out the obvious.

"Yes, it is
!
But she's from the west coast of Irelan
d
, and from the sixteenth century."

"Sounds fascinating... A female pirate is certainly not something I would have expected, especially not back then."

"Perhaps that's why she was so notorious," Grace responded, her eyes widening with the opportunity to talk about something she'd kept secret for longer than she cared to consider. "I think even today the idea of a powerful female is something with which society struggles, and such personalities were almost unheard of in her time."

"I can only imagine..."

"The islanders
are
feeling the strain of being under English rule," she remarked, not wholly conscious of her chosen tense, and forgetting that her so-called present circumstances in Ireland were otherwise in the past. "Their land is suffering in both size and quality, and both finances and food are of equal shortage."

"You sound as if you've been there," Andy laughed, not realising the importance behind Grace's words, but finding the passion in her expressions to be admirable. "English rule? Who was in charge at the time?"

"Queen Elizabeth."

"Ah, yes, good old Lizzie! She was quite a strong woman, wasn't she? What was it she'd said? 'I know I have the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart and stomach of a king!'" said Andy in his best female voice before wolfing down another forkful of spaghetti.

"Actually," continued Grace, "you wouldn't believe this, but Gráinne actually met the Queen. Her son was captured by one of Her Majesty's men. Gráinne had to go to England to fight for his release."

"Goodness! And how did that go?"

"I...I don't know," was her honest answer. "Do you expect she was frightened?"

"I can't imagine anybody would ever feel prepared to be standing in front of Elizabeth I, not even this notorious Grace O'Malley! One wrong move and you could have had your head chopped off before you knew what was happening. I dread to think how many executions were carried out..." He scooped up the last of the sauce. "I mean, can you imagine walking out into the street to find somebody's head being axed off right in front of you? I'm so glad public executions don't happen here anymore. I'm sure that we'd all be traumatised from it."

Grace caught her breath. She had been so worried about finding a way to save Tibbott that she hadn't even considered the dangers of visiting England in the sixteenth century, and she had no idea how her own timeline would be altered if she were to be captured just as Tibbott had been.

"I'm telling you, Grace, this is your chance to do the right thing!"

"The right thing, yes..." she murmured, her thoughts drifting.

"It's about time somebody stood up to Mr Barrie. I think your approach is just the wake-up call he'll need. You're a real warrior woman, taking on that man. He shouldn't be taking advantage of his staff. It's not fair that he gets away with treating us like we're dirt. It's not as if he'd be able to operate the business without us either!"

Grace stared as Andy chewed his food, smiling at her as he remained oblivious of the fears that were now invading her mind. She returned the smile weakly, but her attention was distant. She knew the pressure upon her to speak with Elizabeth I—and she knew she'd have to act on it soon—but fear held her back. As Andy raised his glass to toast the prospects of Grace's article, she started to consider the possibility that she might not actually make it back alive.

 

 

 

 

 

 

C
aroline beamed at Grace as she approached the gates of Westminster Abbey.

"Grace, darling! I'm so glad you could make it." She leaned in to air-kiss her cheeks before draining the last of her takeaway coffee. "Ever had one of these toffee nut things?" she asked, gesturing to the festive polystyrene cup. "To die for!" She tossed the empty cup into a nearby bin and straightened herself up: "Right then, are we ready?"

"Sure. But I've got to be back at the office within the hour or my boss will go insane."

This wasn't entirely true: Mr Barrie had announced that he was going to an important business meeting and wouldn't be back all day. By the look of the golf clubs he had tried to sneak out of his office without anybody noticing, Grace was sure she'd be fine if she stayed a little longer, but she didn't exactly wish to spend any more time with Caroline that she had to. She was an old friend, but she could be quite a handful, too.

"Seriously, Grace, you need to get yourself out of that place. You're kept on such a tight lead. It can't be fun, surely! You really should look for something else."

"I know," Grace muttered as they approached the visitors' entrance. She wasn't in the mood to explain everything to her. Instead, she admired the grand Gothic architecture as it towered above them, a dark cloud floating in the sky casting alluring shadows over its features. "It's really quite beautiful, isn't it?"

"What? Oh yeah, sure," Caroline replied as she fished into her bag for her change purse. "I can't believe they charge us to get in here."

"I know what you mean. It doesn't seem right to have to pay to enter a place of worship. I suppose it goes toward the upkeep though."

"You think? Honestly, I don't know what all the fuss is about, but I thought I should make the effort for Archie."

"Archie?"

"That's
my
boss. He's really sweet. And very cute!"

Caroline paid for her entry and Grace walked up behind her, relieved to find that it wasn't as expensive as she'd anticipated. Maybe this visit would encourage her to start seeing more of the tourist attractions in London. There had been time for her to seek out a few things during her university days, but when she started at Anchor she found she simply didn't have the strength to go gallivanting around London; all she wanted to do on her days off was curl up on the sofa in front of the television or lose herself in a good novel. She had to confess that she had been looking forward to getting out in the open today to explore the Abbey, just as she had promised herself she would do for months but had never bothered.

"What language would you like?" asked a man handing out guide leaflets.

"English please."

He gave them both a leaflet, offered them the digital guide that was included in their ticket price, and moved on to greet the next visitors.

"We definitely don't need to bother with the digital guide things,' said Caroline as she opened the floor plan in her leaflet. 'We can head straight to wherever it is that the kings and queens are buried and then we can leave. We won't waste any time, don't worry."

"Right, okay." Apparently, Grace wasn't going to see as much as she had hoped.

"Did you manage to bring the notes I'd asked you for, by the way?"

"I did, yes." She handed her an envelope containing several sheets of information about the history of the building and those laid to rest inside it. Some of the facts she'd already known but some she'd had to research. It had kept her mind occupied throughout the week, which she'd been quite thankful for. After the fears Andy had put in her about the dangers of Elizabethan England, she wasn't sure she'd be able to go through that door ever again.