Please Release Me (13 page)

‘Please don’t swear,’ said Grace, noting that it was ‘our’ DVD now. ‘I don’t really like swearing. Especially in the house.’ She looked up to where her mother’s room was above, out of habit. Her mother hated swearing and it still seemed wrong to swear in the house.

Sally muttered ‘Sorry’ and put her head to one side to watch as the programme started.

It took two consecutive episodes before the tension in the room waned. Sally watched Grace and she gradually unclenched herself and seemed to get absorbed by the story on screen. Studying her rival, she realised just how tall Grace was. She could see how Peter would find that combination of long limbs and softness appealing. But to her eyes, Grace’s features were too large for her face and the chin would lead to chubbiness when she got older. She sucked in her own neat pout. Grace’s hair was looped into a loose bun that was resting on the nape of her neck. It was nice hair, thick and glossy. Sally hated her own light feathery mane, but Peter loved running his fingers though it and playing with it. He said he felt like it was already spun into gold. Of course, now he knew that she dyed it. She wondered if it mattered to him. He had a thing about hair. Grace’s hair was probably the major attraction for Peter. Well, she’d have to do something about that.

She wondered what exactly happened between Peter and Grace. Peter’s voice had given away guilt, so did Grace’s, so something must have. But how far had it gone? Had they slept together? Sally narrowed her eyes.

Grace smiled at something on screen. Her eyes moved towards Sally. Sally pretended to be really interested in the story. After a second or two, she sensed Grace’s attention moving away. She remained, carefully watching until the episode finished and the credits started rolling.

‘Well, it’s getting better, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘I could watch Aidan Turner all day. He could bite my neck anytime.’

Grace stretched her arms out. ‘I suppose.’

‘Which one’s your favourite?’ said Sally, in her best girl pal voice.

‘George.’

‘The goofy one?’

‘He’s not goofy. He’s shy. And nice. I think he’s quite sweet.’ Grace said. ‘I like that.’

Goofy and naive. Like Peter. Hmmm. ‘Well, I prefer my men dark and dangerous.’

Grace raised her eyebrows.

‘What?’ said Sally.

‘Peter isn’t dark and dangerous.’

Bingo. ‘Ah, but he’s different. He’s not an idealised fake man. He’s my REAL man.’ She looked at her hand. ‘He’s my husband.’

Grace looked away. Sally waited.

After a moment of staring out towards the window, Grace said, ‘He loves you very much, you know. Very much.’ She still didn’t turn around. There was something wistful about the slump of her shoulders.

Sally smiled. That was just what she’d been hoping to hear. He loved her and he’d told Grace that. Brilliant. He fancied this woman, but he wasn’t doing anything because he was married to Sally. That’s my boy, thought Sally.

‘Yeah,’ she said. Because she couldn’t help rubbing it in, she said, ‘I love the way he looks at me. Like I’m the most perfect woman in the world and he can’t believe his luck.’

Grace turned to face her. There was sadness in the downturned corners of her mouth. ‘He still thinks you’re perfect. He’s been holding on to that for all this time.’

‘Really? A year is a long time. And I look … different, lying in that bed.’

Grace nodded. ‘He visits you every day. Reads to you. Talks to you. He’s completely devoted to you.’ She smiled in a grave sort of way. ‘You’re very lucky. To be loved that much.’

‘Oh, I know,’ said Sally, smiling gaily back. Her head hummed with triumph. Peter was still hers. He would still look at her like she was the best thing in the world. If only she could find a way for him to see her again. She would have to work on that slowly. For that, she’d need to keep Grace on side.

The programme came to an end. Grace wondered what to do. Sally was still there, showing no signs of leaving. She flicked the DVD back to the main screen to select another episode.

‘I see you’re redecorating,’ said Sally.

Grace looked across. ‘Um … yes.’

Sally gave the room a once over and nodded. ‘It needs it.’

‘So you said, when you came round to value it.’

The glance that Sally threw at her looked slightly alarmed. ‘Did I upset you when I said that? I didn’t mean to.’

Grace shrugged. She hadn’t been upset by the candid assessment. She knew it needed to be done. In fact, she’d felt that Sally’s valuation had been more accurate and more informative than the rest. She had pointed out the things that could be improved and how much the changes would affect the asking price.

‘I could help you with the redecorating, if you’d like,’ said Sally. ‘I love home décor.’

‘Really?’ She just viewed it as another job to do.

‘Oh yeah.’ Sally jumped to her feet. ‘Come on then, what are you planning for this room?’

Grace hesitantly outlined her plans to paint it a pale green.

Sally listened to her, looking thoughtful. ‘What’s your budget?’ she said. ‘Can you replace this?’ She waved to indicate the sofa.

Grace shook her head. Not because the budget didn’t stretch, but because replacing the sofa was a step too far.

‘If I remember rightly,’ said Sally. ‘This room gets light in the morning. You want to make the most of that.’

Sally talked enthusiastically about painting three walls one colour and making the further wall darker to make the room look bigger and about colour accents. As she spoke, her eyes shone and for a moment she looked radiant. The vision she painted was compelling. Grace found herself nodding, carried along by Sally’s ideas.

‘Show me round?’ Sally suggested. ‘I’d love to hear what you’re doing with the rest of the place.’

For a moment, Grace wasn’t sure, but then she had nothing to lose. Sally was there anyway. She turned the DVD off and set off to show Sally around.

‘I can’t go into the garden, you know,’ said Sally conversationally. ‘I didn’t go out there when I came to view the house. It was raining, remember.’

‘So it was,’ said Grace, looking at the rectangle of darkness that was the back window. ‘So, you can only go to places where you’ve been when you were … walking.’

‘When I was properly alive,’ Sally supplied. ‘Yes. It’s really weird. I think about a place I want to be and … I’m there. Here. Watch.’

She disappeared. One minute she was there, the next, she wasn’t. Grace stared at the empty spot. She waved a hand in it and immediately felt silly. Just as she withdrew her hand and shook her head, Sally reappeared.

‘Not a lot happening in the hospital,’ said Sally. ‘I’ve just been there. All quiet.’

If Sally really could travel like that, it was incredible. ‘How did you do that?’

‘I don’t know how it works. It just does. I think about a place, picture it … and I’m there.’

‘What if something’s changed since you saw it?’

‘Doesn’t make a difference. I can see the small changes you’ve made here, can’t I?’

‘What if it’s a big change? Like a wall being taken down or an extension or something.’

‘Why are you so interested?’

‘Because it’s amazing,’ said Grace. ‘You’re a ghost, but you’ve got a connection to the living world. The questions you could answer …’

‘I’m not someone’s guinea pig,’ said Sally. ‘Anyway, I haven’t come across anything that’s changed in any major way.’

Grace wondered if that was true or because Sally just couldn’t see the new bit, but she refrained from saying so. ‘Sorry.’

They went around the whole house, Sally pointing out features and furniture worth highlighting and suggesting ways that the rooms could be improved. When she got to Grace’s room, she said, ‘Why do you sleep in here? What’s wrong with the main bedroom?’

Grace laughed. ‘It’s just habit. That’s all. I think of the main bedroom as my mum and dad’s.’

Sally looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Sounds like you need to have a more dramatic change for that room. Something that will make it look completely different.’

The words were eerily similar to what Margaret had said about her life. Making a dramatic change there hadn’t been such a great move.

They went back into the main bedroom. Sally stared thoughtfully at it for a moment. Grace sat on the bed. She wondered what Sally saw. With that changed perspective, the room looked hopelessly old-fashioned. Everything was decades old. Including the mattress, she realised. She needed to add that to the list of things to replace.

Sally started talking. Grace had intended to just get on with painting and not do much else, but Sally’s enthusiasm was catching. Sally had a good eye for colour and light. In fact, the advice she’d dispensed so far would probably cost a fortune coming from an interior designer.

‘You’re really good at this,’ Grace said, admiringly.

Sally looked surprised. Her forehead creased as she considered it, her head to one side. ‘I suppose I am, really,’ she said. She sat on the bed, beside Grace. ‘I love this kind of thing. I used to read decorating magazines all the time. When Peter bought our house, it was terribly old and flaky. I had a brilliant time redecorating it.’

‘I bet you did,’ said Grace. ‘I’ve not seen it, but I’m sure it’s lovely.’

Sally shot her a quick glance. ‘It is lovely,’ she said. ‘A great improvement, even if I do say so myself.’

‘I remember you gave me advice when you came to view the house.’ Not that she’d appreciated it at the time.

‘Yeah. I do that. A lot of the clients take up my ideas and it does make a difference. People underestimate how much difference a good first impression can make.’ She sounded more like an estate agent now.

Grace smiled. ‘Is that why you’re an estate agent? Do you like seeing places?’

‘I hadn’t thought of it like that, but yes. I guess it is. When I see a house, I can see it’s potential. D’you know what I mean? People live in their houses and mould it to themselves. They get so used to it, they can’t see it any other way. When I show people round, I like to paint a picture of how the place could be. You know, show them the dream.’ Sally’s eyes sparkled, her expression intense.

‘I see what you mean, I think.’ Grace was starting to understand what drew Peter to this woman. When she talked about her passions, she changed. Her whole body seemed to vibrate with energy. It was fascinating to see.

Her gaze fell on her mother’s clock, with the big digital display so that her mother could read it without her glasses. ‘Oh my goodness, is that the time? I’m sorry, Sally. I’m going to have to go to bed. I’ve got work in the morning.’

‘I didn’t realise it had got so late. No body clock,’ said Sally. ‘I guess I’ll head off. Thanks for … letting me hang out here.’

‘You’re welcome,’ said Grace.

‘Night,’ said Sally. She vanished.

Grace stared at the space that Sally has vacated. That evening had been more interesting and eventful than an evening spent by herself. If she wasn’t careful, she might actually get to enjoy spending time with Sally. That would be so very wrong.

Peter got to his front door and realised that he’d left his briefcase in the car. Having retrieved it, he looked up as he closed the car door. A woman in a blue coat and sort of peculiar hat was standing by the streetlight on the corner, watching him. There was something familiar about that hat and coat combination. Where had he seen it before? Was it near work? He took a step towards the woman, but she turned and walked away. Odd. He must try and catch her the next time he saw her.

As he walked into the house, he checked the thermostat. After all the chills and shivers last night, he was convinced he was coming down with something, but he was feeling fine today. He’d even forced himself to go climbing after visiting Sally. If he really was ill, he’d be aching more than this by now. He shrugged. There was a post-it note with Val’s number on. He still had to ring her. There was no point putting it off.

‘Get a grip Peter,’ he said out loud. It was past nine now, so his sister’s children would be in bed. Hopefully, she hadn’t fallen asleep on the sofa yet. The phone rang, far away in Val’s comfortable suburban home.

‘Hello?’ She sounded tired.

‘Val. It’s me.’ When she didn’t respond immediately, he added, ‘Peter.’

‘I know. To what do I owe the pleasure?’ Her answers were too curt and polite. She was annoyed with him.

‘I’m just phoning to see how you are.’

‘I’m okay thank you. We got your card and the gift voucher. Thanks for that.’

‘Look, Val, I know I haven’t come to see you. I’m really sorry, but time ran away with me, you know how it is.’

‘Yes, Peter. I understand how it is.’

He could see her in his mind’s eye, frowning while she fiddled with a lock of hair. Val had come to visit a couple of times while he was in hospital. He’d barely registered her presence, he’d been so worried about Sally. With a start, he realised he hadn’t spoken to her since she and the premature baby came home.

‘Val. I know I’ve been a crap brother and an even worse uncle. Can I come visit? I haven’t seen you guys in ages. And I’d like to meet the new one, obviously.’

‘Um … okay. When did you have in mind?’

‘This weekend? Sunday?’

‘Okay.’ Her tone lightened a little bit. ‘It would be … It will be nice to see you Peter. It’s been a while and we’ve both had some tough times.’

Peter let out a breath. She was softening. That was Val all over – prickly but not able to hold a grudge for long. ‘Yes. I’m sorry. It’s been so long.’

Val sighed. ‘It’s my fault too. What with the kids and all.’

‘There just aren’t enough hours in the day, right?’

‘Exactly.’ Val’s voice lightened again, as though she was smiling. ‘How are you anyway?’

‘I’m okay. Muddling along.’

‘And Sally?’

‘No change.’ What else was there to say? He added conversationally, ‘It’s our wedding anniversary in a couple of weeks.’

There was a pause from the other end while Val thought of something suitable to say.

‘We don’t really have plans to celebrate,’ said Peter. ‘I might get a takeaway. I asked Sally what she wanted to do, but she’s giving me the silent treatment.’