Saving Grace (24 page)

L
ater that afternoon Catherine was sent off to see her grandmother.

‘You can’t possibly inflict that terrible old woman on the lovely Grace,’ said Lydia. ‘I’m keeping her here with me. She’s going to help me cook.’

‘I’m not that good a cook,’ said Grace nervously. ‘I love it, but it’s always a bit hit or miss.’

‘Good. That means I can teach you. Anything to save you from Evil Granny.’

‘That’s what she call’s Dad’s mother,’ Catherine explained. ‘Mum thinks she hates her because Dad was supposed to marry the doctor’s daughter in town, but he ran off with Mum instead and Granny has never got over it.’

‘It’s true.’ Lydia shrugged. ‘I am that childish. But I do have her over for tea every other Sunday and frankly, I think that’s pretty good going, all things considered. And what’s more, I serve her gorgeous homemade cakes and scones.’

Catherine starts to laugh. ‘Granny only ever has these disgusting fish paste sandwiches when we go for tea. I think she still thinks we’re living in 1941. We have to pretend to eat them, then shove them in handbags and pockets when she’s not looking. Patrick used to shove them down the side of the sofa and no one could figure out why her house smelled so disgusting for years.’

‘At least you’ve filled up on Hob Nobs,’ said her mother approvingly. ‘You can tell Granny you’re full.’

‘I think the boys should come too,’ said Catherine, as Patrick walked into the kitchen.

‘I’m not coming!’ he said. ‘I went yesterday, which is my good deed for the month. Anyway, someone has to stay here and look after the lovely Grace.’

‘I think that Mum has that under control,’ said Catherine witheringly.

‘She could teach her how to cook, and yes, I was in the next room earwigging, but I would be much more fun. How about I take you over to Jim’s farm? He’s just got some baby lambs in.’

‘Oh!’ breathed Catherine. ‘Baby lambs!’

‘Patrick!’ Lydia turned, attempting not to smile, but not doing a very good job. ‘You are incorrigible.’

‘I know,’ he said. ‘But I am devilishly good,’ and he winked at Grace as he threw a sweater at her. ‘Take this,’ he said. ‘It’s getting chilly out.’

‘Be back in an hour,’ said Lydia. ‘If you do want to help me with cooking, that is.’

‘Yes!’ said Grace. ‘I definitely want you to teach me to cook. Promise we’ll be back,’ and feeling as if she was already part of the furniture, she ran outside with Patrick and over to his Beetle.

Robert appeared as she was climbing in. ‘Where are you two off to?’ he said with a scowl.

‘Hot date,’ Patrick called, gunning the engine before Grace could think of anything to say, and they took off, Grace turning around to see Robert standing in the driveway, his face dark with scorn.

‘Is your brother always this horrible?’ Grace said. ‘Or is it just me?’

‘It’s just you,’ Patrick said lightly. ‘He fancies you.’

Grace started laughing. ‘That’s
fancying
me? How does he behave with people he hates, then? Seriously, what is his problem?’

‘Seriously, he fancies you, and he’s embarrassed at fancying his little sister’s friend, so he’s pretending to hate you so you couldn’t possibly ever tell because the mortification would be huge. Also, he’s always had a thing about redheads, so there’s a double whammy with you. I, on the other hand, not only fancy you, I am perfectly happy to admit it. A relationship with me would be infinitely preferable to one with him, because A, I am completely straightforward, and B, I am, as I think you’re beginning to see, much nicer in every way.’

‘Would you be offended if I told you I didn’t fancy you?’

‘No. I’d only be offended if you told me you fancied Robert.’ He cast a sideways glance at Grace, who looked away. ‘Fuck. Well. It won’t last. He falls madly in love with girls until they fall madly in love with him, which they always do, at which point he becomes utterly disdainful and cruel. I’m not joking, Grace. You would be much better off with me. I’m an excellent long-term prospect, and sweet too.’ He batted his eyelashes at Grace, who laughed.

‘How about we become best friends instead?’

‘Bugger,’ said Patrick morosely. ‘That’s what they all say’

B
y the end of that week, Grace had forgotten she hadn’t ever been part of this family. Patrick with his teasing felt like the naughty brother she had always wanted, Catherine was Catherine, and Lydia was the kind of mother Grace thought only existed in books. David – Catherine’s father – was away on business, as he seemed to be most of the time, and Robert continued to be darkly elusive. Grace would look up from the kitchen table to find Robert staring at her from the doorway, but if she tried to engage him in conversation, he would mostly stalk off, or roll his eyes as if he found her very presence disdainful.

Her favourite moments were in the kitchen with Lydia, poring over recipe books as Lydia instructed her to choose something, which Lydia would then teach her to cook. They started, that first week, with meat. It was winter, so Lydia showed her the basics for rich casseroles and creamy mashed potatoes.

Grace learned never to add salt to the water when cooking potatoes until the very end, so as not to break down the starch. She learned to sear roast meats on the stove first, to caramelize the proteins and turn the meat a rich golden brown before placing it in the oven; she learned to keep a pan of water in the oven when roasting meat to keep the meat moist; she learned the importance of marinating, and of adding an acid – lemon juice or vinegar – to the marinade to break down the proteins in the meat and allow it to fully absorb the flavour and moisture of the marinade.

She surprised the family with salmon parcels wrapped in puff pastry. Lydia delighting in what a good student she was as they all polished off the food.

Slowly, over the week, as Grace grew more and more comfortable with Lydia, she revealed little bits and pieces about her family. Never enough to give Lydia the full picture, but enough to confirm what Lydia sensed about Grace the minute she walked in – here was a child with an aching need for a family, an aching need to be loved, and nurtured, and
seen
.

Patrick spent the week following her around like a lovesick puppy and when she eventually left, Lydia made Catherine swear to bring Grace home again at Christmas. Not that Grace needed any persuading.

Every holiday was spent with the Proppers. Every holiday saw Robert being darkly broody, although their mutual crush went unrequited, largely thanks to Robert suddenly showing up with his girlfriend, Emily. Emily was willing to put up with his moods and in fact seemed to ease them somewhat.

By the time Robert and Emily split up, just after Grace and Catherine graduated, Grace was making plans to go over to America, and it was clear her years of daydreaming about Robert would come to nothing.

The very last time she stayed there, with the whole family, before she moved to the States, met Ted and became someone entirely different from the unhappy, insecure girl she had been back in England, Robert was not supposed to be there, but had turned up unexpectedly.

‘Probably because someone,’ Patrick had glared at Lydia, ‘told him you were here.’ He looked at Grace, who shoved him playfully.

‘Patrick!’ Lydia looked at her son with love. ‘I do think it’s time you moved on from this big crush on Grace. Stop blushing, Grace. It’s not as if you don’t know. Good Lord. All of us know. Patrick, you are a wonderful boy . . . man . . . boy-man. And you will make some lucky woman inexplicably happy one day, but it is not going to be Grace. Do you hear me? Mooning after Grace is not going to bring you happiness.’

‘Yeah,’ echoed Catherine. ‘Moonface.’

S
o Robert had come, and Catherine had gone into London for a job interview, and Patrick was at his summer job, teaching football at a boys’ summer camp. Lydia said she was taking a nap and left a picnic hamper on the kitchen table with a note for Robert.

‘I think she means you,’ Robert said, looking at Grace as she lounged on the sofa in the bay window, a cat on her lap, one leg on the floor, reading Jeffrey Archer, which is all she found in the library that she hadn’t already read.

‘What?’

‘A picnic. Do you want to go for a picnic?’

‘Is there a catch?’ Grace still thought Robert the most glorious man in the world, but was, after all these years, resigned to his moodiness, which had become irritating, and also resigned to the fact that despite everyone thinking his unpleasantness towards her was actually because he fancied her, in actual fact she was pretty damn certain it was just because he hated her.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, do you actually want me to come on a picnic with you? Because I’m quite happy reading if you don’t.’

‘This isn’t a puzzle,’ Robert said. ‘If you want to come, come. If you want to read, read.’

Grace thought about saying, ‘What do
you
want me to do?’ but had a sense this might push him into a rage. Instead she removed the cat from her lap, brushed off the cat hairs, slipped her feet into espadrilles, and walked towards the door.

‘All yours,’ she said with a grin, as Robert picked up the picnic basket and followed her out.

A
cross the street there was a stile over the fence where the cows grazed. You could follow the field down to a hiking trail, which is what they did, not speaking, Grace walking in front, Robert following with the basket and a blanket he had grabbed on the way out.

Grace shook out the blanket, then sat back as Robert unpacked the hamper. Closing her eyes, she felt the warmth of the sun on her face, opening them again to find Robert’s face inches from her own, his eyes gazing into hers, searching, before leaning forward and kissing her.

Grace’s heart almost leapt into her mouth. She was kissing Robert! Robert was kissing her! He groaned and pulled her closer, tangling his fingers in her hair, pulling away only to kiss her all over her face, back to her lips, insatiable, a moment she instantly knew he had been waiting for for years.

Grace felt herself float out of her body, delirious with years of anticipation. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Robert had only split up with Emily last week, and they had been together so long Grace had stopped thinking about any possibility of anything ever happening between them, whether it was a daydream or anything else. She just hadn’t bothered; clearly it wasn’t ever going to happen.

Except now it was, and when they eventually stopped kissing, Robert took a deep breath as he leaned his forehead on hers.

‘Do you have any idea how long I have wanted to do that?’ he whispered, opening his eyes and looking into hers.

‘Maybe as long as I’ve
wanted
you to do that?’ Grace said, and this time, he smiled. A genuine smile. One that contained warmth, lust, and – did Grace even dare think it? – a little bit of love.

They spent the afternoon lying on the blanket, Grace in Robert’s arms, both of them giggling, teasing, kissing, Grace unable to believe she could be this happy, unable to believe this was really happening.

As she lay, quietly this time, cradled in his arms as he kissed the top of her head and ran strands of her hair through his fingers, she imagined their future, for of course they would have a future. She would still go to America, but only for the summer, for camp, and when she got back Robert would have missed her so much, he would suggest living together.

He would move out of the flat he shared with friends in West Hampstead, and they would get a tiny flat of their own. There was no question of today’s encounter being anything less than a relationship, anything less than permanent. Grace was already part of Robert’s family; this was fate. This was meant to be.

She saw herself cooking for him when he came home from work every day. He was a lawyer–young, hotshot, and almost breathtakingly gorgeous in his navy suits – going out with a circle of friends they would undoubtedly quickly develop, sitting in trendy cafes, drinking wine and laughing.

Lydia and David would be her in-laws! Of course! This was exactly what was going to happen, and the more Grace thought about it, the bigger her heart grew. This is what it is like to be happy, she thought. This is what it is like to be loved. I never knew it growing up, but I don’t have to yearn for something I worry I’ll never have anymore. Now I have Robert. Now I’m going to be fine.

They walked home hand in hand, stopping every few feet to kiss, tease each other. Robert was the gentle, loving, sweet man she had always hoped he might be, the man she occasionally thought she saw glimpses of behind the scowl.

They wandered down the road home, weaving, drunk with love, pulling up as they looked at an unfamiliar car in the driveway.

‘Who’s that?’ Grace had a sense of foreboding as she looked at the car.

‘Emily.’ Robert let go of her hand and Grace knew it was all over.

Y
ears went by, Robert avoided her. Enough years that when they did see each other, after Grace was married, on one of her trips home to see Lydia, he was able to kiss her on the cheek and lightly enquire how she was, and she was able to respond politely, after which time the two of them had a gracious conversation and Grace wondered what had happened to all the pent-up emotion they both had carried with them for years.

‘Why don’t you just fuck each other and get it over with?’ Patrick had said after watching their exchange with amusement.

‘How about, because I’m married?’ Grace said.

‘Oh, yes. Sorry. Forgot. Jesus, Grace. How did you turn into an old married woman? You do realize to me you’ll always be a gorgeous eighteen-year-old?’

‘Rather than a gorgeous twenty-nine-year-old?’ Grace said.

‘Exactly. If you did ever split up from the great Ted Chapman, which obviously is unlikely because you’d have to be out of your mind, but if you ever did, then you really should fuck me rather than Robert.’