In The Garden Of Stones (16 page)

“
Pretty much.” He chuckles quietly to himself. “Go oan then,
tell me about it. I can see yer pure busting to.”

Grace
pushes herself away from the stone cross she has been leaning
against and clears her throat. “Will you leave off that for a
minute?”

He stops
prodding at the soil and stands up straight, arches his back,
stretching it, and then leans on his hoe, attentive at
last.

“
Okay,” he says. “I’m seein ye wearing yer serious face.
Fit’s oan yer mind?”

She puts
her hands together, index fingers pressed against her lips. “Has it
ever occurred to you that it’s always me who comes here to see you
and never the other way round?” she says.

A shrug.
“Fit ‘boot it?”

“
Why can’t we make it a two way street? If I can come here
to you, you should be able to come to me.”

He
stares at her for a moment, and then resumes jabbing at the soil.
“No.”

“
It can’t hurt to give it a go, if only for curiosity’s
sake.”

“
I said no.”

“
How about Wednesday? I have a day full of things I have to
do. Come and wish me luck with them before I go.”

“
Are ye deaf, woman? I said NO! I’ve telt ye afair, I’m no
gain through the gate.”

“
You might not have to. It seems to me that the more I come
here, the easier it gets. I haven’t tried it yet, but I’m pretty
certain that if I try hard enough, fully concentrate, I could
bypass the gate altogether and just put myself anywhere I wanted to
be; to the fountain, or by the stream, or straight into your hut
and give you a scare for a change … providing you haven’t got the
scythe in your hands of course.”

Colin
bends to tug out a persistent dandelion, swears at the weed and
tugs at it until it comes free.

“
That was an accident. I telt ye, I never meant–”

“
I know. I know. I’m sorry. That was a very bad example. I
would never put you … us … through that again.”

She
hunkers down beside him, her hand on his arm. “There’s no need to
be frightened Colin, you’ll be perfectly safe in my flat. I
promise. It’ll be just you and me and Mr Pickles.”

Colin
twitches and shrugs. “And what if I canna get back? What if I’m
stuck in your flat forever? What then?”

“
That’s not going to happen. I’m pretty sure that with a
little focused willpower, if we really want to, if we have a little
faith in ourselves and each other, we can put ourselves wherever
the other is, and then return to our own place
afterwards.”

“
Pretty sure?”

“
Nothing is guaranteed, but if it doesn’t work, we’ll know
and we can dismiss it knowing that we at least tried and we haven’t
lost anything. It’s still three days off, so there’s plenty of time
to think about it. Will you at least do that?”

There is silence in the cemetery apart from the
gentle
tap
tap
of metal
hoe on soft earth.

Colin
sucks his cheeks hollow. “Okay,” he says finally. “I’ll think about
it, but I’m nae making any promises.”

Grace
grins. “You don’t have to. I warn you now though, don’t you dare
focus yourself into my bathroom, because if I’m naked in there, or
on the loo, I’ll have no choice but to poke your eyes out with a
pencil.”

He barks
out a laugh and screws up one side of his face and one eye. It
makes him look like he’s auditioning for Long John Silver. “Maybe
I’ll just risk the one eye,” he says, sending her into gales of
girlish giggles.

The
laughter fades and Grace glances at her wristwatch. “Good grief,
look at the time. I’ve got an appointment this
afternoon.”

“
With your therapist?”

“
Yes. How did you know?”

“
Lucky guess. Will you be talking about me?”

“
You might crop up in conversation. If you feel your ears
burning, you’ll know. Got to go.” She leans into him and pecks a
light kiss to his cheek. “Take care. See you soon.”

She
dashes off, and his hand rises to touch his cheek at the site of
the unexpected gesture of affection.

“
Aye. Cheerio.”

Grace’s
visit with Malcolm Pettit goes well.

She
tells him about how happy she feels living on her own at last,
about her plans for the future, including her upcoming job
interview and driving lesson. She does not, however, tell him about
Colin’s projected vision of Hell, or about his screaming fit in the
dirt, or where his physical body is. In fact she avoids mentioning
Colin altogether except to reinforce Mal’s belief in him as a
positive force for good.

Towards
the end of their session, when Mal asks her if there is anything
else she wants to talk about before their time is up, she uses the
opportunity to trawl a little deeper for information on Colin’s
condition, even if it does involve her bending the truth a
little.

“
This has nothing to do with my therapy
per se
,” she says, “so I don’t even know if
I’m allowed to ask about it.”

“
Depends on what it is.”

“
I want to know how to talk to someone who has post
traumatic stress disorder. I want to know what to say without
coming across all … patronising or offensive. I know someone who’s
been through a hard time and might have it, and I want to know what
to do or say for the best.”

“
I see.”

“
I don’t want to go into details. I’m just fishing for
information and as I thought it might be one of the conditions you
treat, you’d be able to tell me something.”

“
Right.”

He’s
measuring her up, she can tell, watching her body language,
watching for lies and deception. She makes sure there are none on
show.

Malcolm
gets up, goes to his book case, slides his finger along the book
spines until he reaches the one he wants, pulls it out and flicks
through the pages before handing it to Grace.

“
This should help,” he says. “It’s written from a sufferer’s
point of view.” He passes her another. “And this one. It’s a bit
more involved, but it shouldn’t go too far over your
head.”

She
reads through the blurb on the back. “These are brilliant. Thank
you.”

“
The three things you need to remember most of all with PTSD
are; not to be scared of the condition, not to cast any blame or be
reproachful, and not to be negative,” he says. “A little positivity
goes a long way. Remember too that people with PTSD may act
differently, strangely sometimes, get angry more easily. They can’t
help it. They may also change the subject halfway through a
conversation for no good reason, may say hurtful things to distract
you from a subject they don’t want to talk about, or stop talking
altogether and withdraw into themselves. Quite often they simply
don’t want to engage or take part in any activities or be around
other people, preferring isolation. All of these signs are fairly
typical. Have you noticed any of them applying to
your…friend?”

She
nods. Colin has already demonstrated each and every one of them in
spades. “Yes.”

“
Does he or she get violent? Have temper
tantrums?”

He has an axe and a scythe and a lit fuse about an inch
long.

“
Kind of,” she says. “Although it’s more like harsh words at
twenty paces. Defensive cruelness. Saying nasty things to deflect
or detract. Turning on a sixpence by taking a totally innocent
remark and blowing it all out of proportion; making it into a
personal attack when it isn’t. Things like that.”

“
I see. So nothing physical?”

“
No.”

“
Do you know if they take drugs? Drink to excess?
Deliberately do reckless things?”

“
No.”

“
How about family? Do they have a close circle of friends or
some other kind of support network?”

“
I-I don’t know. No.”

“
Have they approached any organisations that can give
specialist help?”

“
I don’t think so. No.”

Too many questions. You’re losing control. He’s going to find
out. Take the book and go!

A glance
at the clock. Four o’clock. Time’s up.

“
Thanks for the books,” she says, dropping them into her bag
and gathering up her coat. “I’ll give them a thorough read and
bring them back next time.”

“
Keep them as long as you need them. I have others. I hope
they help.”

“
I’m sure they will. I’ve got to go. Bus to catch. See you
next week!”

And with
the slamming of the door, she is gone.

Chapter 18

“
I hope ye’ve go’ a brolly? It’s raining cats and dogs oot
theer.”

Grace,
concentrating hard on applying her mascara, screeches, starts and
jolts a jagged black line into her eyebrow.

“
Buggering hell!” She wheels round to see Colin leaning on
the window sill, forehead pressed to the rain lashed pane. “Look
what you made me do! Nearly gave me a bloody heart attack.” She
snatches a tissue from the box and wipes the black streak away.
“Give me some warning next time will you?”

A frown
creases Colin’s brow. “And how do ye suggest I do that? Carrier
pigeon, or ring a bell and shout 'unclean'?”

Grace
opens her mouth, snaps it shut again. “Twit. I don’t know. You’re a
man. You’ll think of something. You got a phone?”

“
No. They give ye brain cancer. Anyway, I canna see what
took you so much by surprise. I thought you were expecting
me.”

“
I was, sort of … actually, no I wasn’t. I’d already decided
you wouldn’t come.”

“
Nearly didn’t.”

She
returns to her mascara application. “So how was it? Was it like I
said? A little focused concentration?”

“
No quite. There were a few false starts and a lot of
frustration. I put it down ta lack of faith…no in you, in masel’.
So I gave masel’ a good stern talking to and convinced masel’ ye
never would have suggested it if ye thought something bad would
happen to me, and I took the bull by the horns and–”

“
Here you are.”

“
Aye.”

“
And now you’re here, you can make yourself
useful.”

Makeup
done, she rotates herself in front of her full length mirror to
view the backside of her smart tweed trousers.

“
How do these look?” she says. “Not too tight around my arse
are they? I don’t want to be showing a VPL.”

“
They look fine.”

“
How do you know, you’re not even looking.”

Colin
drags his eyes from the carpet and onto her bum. “They look fine.
And what’s a VPL when it’s at home in its granny’s
kitchen?”

“
Visible panty line. It is very bad form to have the outline
of your knickers showing through the fabric of your
clothing.”

“
Well then, ye’re okay on that score. I canna tell ye’re
even wearing any–”

Redness
flushes his cheeks and he makes an issue of looking anywhere but
the region of her underwear. “So why are ye all dressed up like a
dog’s dinner anyway?” he says.

“
Because I have a job interview this morning, and erm …”
Grace leans close to the mirror and teases her hair with her
fingers, muttering at the reflection. “God, my roots need doing.
Should get a cut too.”

Colin
clears his throat.

“
Oh, right, dog’s dinner. I–” She glances out of the window.
“Urgh. I hope that rain fines up before this afternoon.”

“
Why? Fit happens then?”

“
Driving lesson.”

Colin’s
eyebrows shoot up. “You … are learning to drive?” he says, as if
it’s the most shocking thing he’s heard all year.

“
No need to sound so surprised.”

“
Ye sure ye should, being … as ye are.”

“
And how would that be, exactly?”

“
Of a, lets say, nervous disposition?”

“
Very diplomatically put. I will admit to being in a
delicate state of balance. My heart is already going like the
clappers.” She flutters her fingers against her chest.

Colin
puts steadying hands to her shoulders. “Then I’m gain ta have
everything crossed fer all the guid luck in the world–”

“
Aw, thank you–”

“–
fer yer instructor, he’s gain ta be needing it, taking his
life in his hands wi you behind the wheel.”

She
slaps him on the arm. “Cheeky sod!”

Colin
laughs. “Guid luck on the job interview as well, and that’s all fer
yous.”

“
Thanks.” She glances at the bedside clock. “Now you can
stay or you can go, I don’t mind which, but my appointment is in
just over an hour and it takes two buses to get there.”

“
Then I’ll get back ta ma greenhouse and let you get oan wi
it.”