In The Garden Of Stones (23 page)

When the
world swims back into focus, Grace is laid out on the couch with
Alec patting her hand and pressing a cold wet cloth to her
forehead.

“
Oh, thank God. I thought … what happened? Are you sick? Do
you need a doctor?” He gives her a sideways look. “Have you taken
anything?”

She
removes the damp tea towel he has pressed into service as a cold
compress. “No. I’m fine.” She puts out her hand. “Help me sit
up.”

Once she
is upright and Alec has packed her in place with scatter cushions
in case she topples over and shatters like a crystal vase, he goes
to put on the kettle to make tea. Within five minutes, both of them
are cradling steaming mugs.

“
Want to tell me what happened?” Alec says, blowing on his
brew.

Grace rolls her neck, feeling it crackle. “I missed lunch.
Blood sugar got a bit low, and when I stood up too quickly to
answer the door,
blam
. Sorry.”

“
I know you want to look gorgeous in your bridesmaid’s
dress, but you do know that starving yourself is not the way to
diet, don’t you?”

“
I wasn’t–”

“
Not that you need to, you’re skinny enough already. I’ve
seen more meat on a butcher’s pencil.”

“
I’m not dieting!”

He gets
up. “I’m going to make you some toast.”

“
I’m out of bread.”

“
Banana then?”

“
Nope.”

“
Chocolate?”

“
I wish.”

“
Give me your cup.” He takes her mug of tea to the kitchen
area, clatters about in the cupboards and drawers, and then brings
it back. “Drink that. I’ve put extra sugar in it.”

“
You know I don’t take–”

“
Drink-it.”

“
Yes Mother.”

Grace
takes a sip of her tea. It is tooth jarringly sweet and she barely
stops herself from spitting it out. Alec sits beside her on the
sofa again.

“
So … tell me all about the new man in your life,” he says.
“You know, the one who’s kept you too busy to troll round and see
us for weeks, or even send us a text or an email, forcing me to
deliver all the wedding details in person.”

Grace
chokes on her tea and stares at him wide eyed as she coughs and
splutters.

“
I have no idea what you’re talking about, there’s nobody
–”

Alec
gives her his best affronted matron look. “Don’t you play coy with
me, darling’. You forget, I can read you like a book. There’s
definitely a man at the bottom of all…oh, I seeee.” A wink, and a
knowing nod at a supposed revelation. “You’ve been keeping him
under wraps until you’ve sussed him out properly, haven’t you? You
want to make sure you haven’t hooked yourself another Connor.” He
taps the side of his nose. “Very wise.” He jiggles in his seat.
“So, come on. Tell all. Whoever he is, he must be a real doll if
you call out his name as you fold up and fall gracefully at my
perfectly shod lallies. Oh... Colin! Thud! Give me all the gory
details right now. How did you meet? What does he look like? What
does he do? Does he have a nice bum?”

The lies
she tells would make Ananias proud.

Colin
tosses another pile of cuttings onto the bonfire.

“
Where did ye go? One minute ye were there, the next gone.
Left me all alone in that manky place.”

“
Don’t tell me you were worried,” Grace says.

“
I was bloody frantic. I didna ken what had happened ta
ye.”

“
I’m sorry sweetie, but there is a very simple explanation.
Alec was ringing my doorbell.”

“
Huh? How would that–”

“
Remember when I was travelling on the bus and kept popping
in and out because my concentration was being disrupted by me
keeping an eye on the stops?”

“
Aye. Kinda.”

“
Well it was just like that. Unfortunately this time it
happened all at once, and so quickly that my brain couldn’t keep up
and I passed out. Poor Alec. He nearly had a fit. He thought I’d
been dieting and forgotten to eat. In part he was right. I have,
but not intentionally. It’s something I have to keep an eye
on.”

Colin
frowns. “I dinna unnerstand.”

She
holds up her chocolate biscuit. “This is not real,” she says, then
points to the tea brewing in the old brown Betty pot. “That is not
real. The strawberries, blackberries, apples, lovely as they are –
none of them are real. I can eat and drink as much of them as I
like, but because they are not real I’m getting nothing from them.
They are as nutritious as fresh air. Passing out taught me a
lesson. I’m spending too much time here, drinking your pretend tea,
eating your pretend biscuits, while out there in the real world I’m
starving. I’m losing weight–”

“
You look fine.”

“
No, Colin, I don’t. I only look how we both think I look.
Out there it’s a different story. Mal said I’d lost some puffiness
in my face, but he was just being kind. I hadn’t seen Alec for
weeks and he was shocked. He knows me better and he told the truth.
He said I look scrawny, that my hair has lost its shine and my skin
is all dull and pasty, and he’s right, I’m a mess. When he’d gone,
I took a good long look at myself and then I checked the scale.
I’ve lost over a stone in the last couple of months and I hadn’t
even noticed.”

“
So you’re going to abandon me for what …a bacon
sandwich?”

“
No I’m not. Don’t be silly. But I do have to take care of
myself. If I get sick, I won’t be able to come here … and I won’t
be able to visit you at Pelham either. I’m taking it as a wake-up
call, nothing more. I’m neglecting Pickles too. If I don’t pay him
some attention he’s going to turn feral, so it’s not just me. Now
do you understand?”

He nods,
sorrowfully she thinks.

“
It’s not your fault,” she says. “You weren’t to know.
Neither of us did. It makes me want to ask though … how do you
manage it? You’re here all the time? When do you eat?”

He
smiles coyly and bites his lip. “Trust me, you don’t want to
know.”

Chapter 23

The Black Dog so often depicted in illustrations to give
imagery to depression looks too much like a rheumatic old Labrador
to truly
illustrate the tooth bearing ferocity, the sheer mean
nastiness, the untrustworthiness, the unpredictability and the kind
of raw misery and distress
that Grace’s episodes visit on her.

To her,
it’s like having a thick wet blanket draped over her and then
wrapped so tightly that she can’t breathe because there is no air,
can’t move because someone has stolen all her bones, can’t think
because her thought processes have been turned off at the
mains.

She sits
on the floor in her bedroom, face to the wall, limbs turned to
lead, being tormented by the voices in her head telling her how
worthless she is, how pointless her life is and how she’s not worth
the time it takes to draw her next breath.

They
pick and poke at her, deepening her self loathing, stripping bare
her already scant self confidence. There is one having a go at her
now and is particularly insistent in its demands for her attention,
calling her name over and again, although it seems far away.
Muffled. Indistinct.

“
Grace? Grace! Ye alright? Talk ta me Grace.”

A weight
falls on her shoulders, strong, firm, giving her a little
shake.

“
Grace!”

Not listening. It’s a trick.

“
Grace!”

“
Go away.”

Another
shake. “Look at me, Grace!”

She
opens her eyes, forces herself to focus on the face floating inches
from her own. It is Colin’s, and he is staring at her with those
deep set brown eyes.

“
Ach, thank God, you’re still alive,” he says, relief
washing over his features.

“
Eh?”

“
When ye didna come ta see me like ye promised, I thought
ye’d changed yer mind, so I tried that thing like ye said, reaching
out wi ma mind, to ask ye what the problem was, but I couldna find
ye. All I could see was this thick black fog and I kent something
was terribly wrong. Fit’s the matter wi ye?”

“
I’m not in a good place today, Colin,” she says, the words
slurred, tired. “I really need to be on my own.”

Colin
shakes his head vigourously. “Nae chance! I’m no leaving ye alone
in this state. Come on. Get up. Get yersel’ inta yer
bed.”

“
I’m fine here.”

“
No yer no.” He hauls her to her feet and leads her to the
bed, lays her down and covers her with the counterpane. She doesn’t
move as he tucks it around her, making her a quilted nest, cosy and
warm and secure.

“
Theer ye go,” he says, brushing back a stray strand of hair
from her face. “Issa real bad day fer ye noo, eh? Tell me fit I can
dae, Grace. I canna stand by and dae not’in. Please gimme a
clue.”

“
You can stop panicking for a start, you’re getting all …
Scottish.” She offers him the weakest, frailest smile he’s ever
seen. “There’s nothing you can do,” she says. “It will pass. It
comes quickly and goes quickly. Just … let me be. I’ll be fine in a
day or two. Leave me.”

“
You didn’t leave me when I needed you,” he says. “So I’m no
gain anywhere either. I’ll be right here wi ye fer as long as ye
need.”

Pickles
jumps up on the bed, wastes a precious moment of his time giving
Colin a cursory investigation, before settling down on the coverlet
and ignoring him completely.

“
Fit ‘boot yer cat? I canna feed him,” says
Colin.

“
He’ll be fine. He could do with losing a bit of
weight.”

“
Fit ‘boot water?”

“
He’ll drink from the toilet. He’s done it before. Dirty
bugger. We’ll both be fine. I’m always fine.”

“
Aye well, this time I’m gain ta make sure of it. Hutch
up.”

Colin
slips off his boots, shoos Pickles off the counterpane, untucks it
and climbs fully clothed into the nest with her, holding her to
him, faces almost touching, exchanging breaths. His arm rests heavy
at her waist, and she puts her hand to his heart, to a solid
reassuring presence that comforts her.

She
closes her eyes and listens to the rhythmic whooshing of her blood
in her ears as Colin strokes her hair and touches his cool lips to
her hot brow, and somewhere, far away, there is the glimmer of
light in the darkness.

Grace
has no idea how long she stays in bed, smothered by her thick grey
blanket, plagued by voices and visions. It feels like weeks,
although Colin assures her it has only been two days and two
nights, and he hasn’t left her side in all that time.

When
some sense of normality begins to creep back, and she finds
strength enough to get out of bed and feed and water Mr Pickles,
who doesn’t seem to have suffered at all, she makes herself a cup
of tea and a slice of toast.

“
Ye look ghastly,” Colin says perched on the arm of the sofa
watching her peck at her toast like a bird.

“
Believe me, I’ve looked worse.”

“
How are ye feelin’ now?”

“
For the millionth time, I’m fine. Not a hundred per cent
yet, but I’ll get there.”

“
Ye had me worried. I’ve never seen anyone go so low so
quickly.”

“
It happens,” she says. “I told you I’d inherited some
peculiarities from my mother. She was … is full blown bipolar. I
have the same, but to a lesser degree, what’s known as cyclothymia.
I can go for ages without an episode of any kind and then depending
on which way the wind is blowing either go way up or way down, just
like that.” She snaps her fingers. “And then be over it in a couple
of days and it won’t happen again until some kind of stressor
triggers another episode.”

“
Is there nothing ta be done? Some medicines you can
take?”

“
No. Drugs can make it worse, and there’s always the
temptation to … you know.”

“
Take them all at once?”

“
Yeah. The best weapon I have in my armoury is to be aware
of its coming. Not easy because it can be a sneaky bugger, jumping
out at me when I least expect it.”

He comes
to sit beside her. “So … what do you think triggered this episode?
Was it me? Something I’ve said or done?”

“
I don’t know. There have been a lot of stresses over the
last few weeks. It could be any one of them.” She puts her hand on
his leg. “Whatever it was, it’s not your fault.”

“
Ye’ll no be coming ta visit me now then. If the stress of
it is tae much–. I don’t want–”

“
Don’t be ridiculous. This was just a setback. A delay. As
soon as I’m up to it, I’ll be there with bells on. Next week for
sure. I promise.”

Chapter 24

If the
colour of her hair is anything to go by, Grace is feeling on top of
the world. It has taken a little longer than she expected, but with
Colin’s continued and unwavering support, a visit to Dr Mal’s
office and the comforting warmth of several bottles of fine wine
inside her, she manages to shake off her dark spell, waking from a
particularly refreshing twelve hour sleep with a surge of optimism,
with no thought of making this day her last, with an eye to the
future. To reinforce her renewed good mood, she invests in a bottle
of hair dye.