Please Release Me (17 page)

‘You changed,’ said Peter.

Sally said nothing. If he thought that, it was brilliant. She had been worried that the whole thing with the lottery ticket might have given the game away. Good. One less thing to worry about.

‘I wanted to change, because I found a man worth changing for.’ Sally blew gently in his ear and watched the shiver go all the way down his spine.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he said, rubbing a hand down his neck as though to brush off her touch. ‘And why didn’t you tell me when you came back? You could have told Grace to tell me. I would have believed her, eventually.’

Sally glanced over at Grace who seemed to have relaxed a little. How easy would it be to take over her? Possess her and talk directly to Peter. Sally suspected it would not be as easy as when she’d practised. All the people she’d practised on were already in a trance like place, most of them too focused on the slot machines to notice her slipping behind their eyes. That girl at Glenda’s house had practically invited her in. Grace was focusing too, at this moment. Maybe if … but it was risky. If Grace realised what was happening, she’d have her guard up and she’d stop helping. The only other way to talk to Peter directly, would be to persuade Grace to let her in.

‘Oh Peter!’ Sally allowed a catch into her voice. ‘I wanted to. But think of what it’s like. I can see you, I can hear you, but you can’t see or hear me. How can I ask Grace to talk to you on my behalf? I couldn’t bear it being so close and not being able to touch you, to feel your warm skin. To kiss you. It hurts more that you can imagine. I couldn’t drag you down to this living hell with me.’

Grace’s eyes snapped open. She shook her head. ‘I can’t do it,’ she said. ‘I can’t possibly tell him that and do it justice.’

Sally let her lip wobble a bit and spread her hands out in a gesture of helplessness. ‘It’s what I need him to know.’

Grace didn’t say anything. She looked like she was going to cry. Her eyes seemed to be watering. Christ, what a sap. This was almost too easy.

‘Maybe if you let me …’ said Sally. ‘You’re not like the other girl, she was out of her head. You’re sober and you’re expecting it. I can’t possibly do you any harm.’

‘What’s going on?’ said Peter. His eyes were open. He was watching Grace.

‘Sally was asking if I’d let her … possess me,’ said Grace. ‘She wants to talk to you. Properly.’

‘
Possess
you?’ Peter’s voice surged with incredulity.

Grace shrugged.

‘It’s not that hard,’ said Sally. ‘I’ll just step in behind your eyes and we’ll share. I can feel everything you feel and see everything you see. But you’ll be able to see too.’

Grace hesitated, her eyes going from Peter to Sally and back again.

‘Grace?’ Peter said. He was probably wanting to know what Sally was saying, but it sounded for a moment like he was prompting her to agree.

Grace sighed. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’m going to let Sally take me over,’ she explained to Peter. ‘It’ll be my voice, but it’ll sound like Sally. I’ve seen her do this before.’

‘Is it safe?’

‘Yes. Perfectly,’ said Sally. ‘You saw that girl. She was fine. She wanted to have another go, in fact.’

‘Yes,’ said Grace. She sat up straighter in her chair and laid her hands on her knees. ‘Might help to close your eyes again, Peter,’ she said. ‘It’s a bit too weird otherwise.’

‘Ready?’ said Sally. Before Grace could answer, she slid over until she was behind Grace’s eyes. Grace gasped and fought her. She was much stronger than anyone Sally had tried to slip into before. ‘Relax,’ Sally hissed. ‘Stop fighting me.’

She could feel the tension reduce as Grace forced herself to be calm. She let the sensations wash over her for a moment. Warmth, movement, the pull of gravity. Past Grace’s eyelids she could see Peter, his face creased with worry. His eyelids fluttered, as though he was fighting to keep them closed.

‘It’s me now,’ said Sally. The voice was Grace’s, but it had her manner and pitch, making it sound as though Grace was doing an impression of her. ‘Oh, god, Peter, I’ve missed you. It’s been so strange, listening to you and not being able to see you or respond. Then I could see you and follow you, but I couldn’t touch you or let you know I was there. I’ve missed you so much.’

Peter caught his breath when she started speaking. ‘Sally,’ he whispered.

Sally gave a little laugh. ‘Darling, I don’t know what to say. It’s been so long and I finally get to talk to you and I don’t know what to say.’

‘Come back,’ said Peter. ‘The doctors say you’re doing well. We just need you to come back and wake up.’

‘If I knew how to, sweetheart, I would. I really would. I don’t want to be like this. I would love to pick up my life where I left off.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘I’m desperate to see a hairdresser, for a start.’

Peter smiled. ‘Yes, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you had a choice. It’s just that I want you back so badly …’

‘Me too.’

‘This isn’t quite what I expected from married life,’ said Peter, still smiling.

Sally stifled a sigh. She could feel Grace struggling to hold back. She only had a short time before Grace’s body rebelled. ‘Would it be okay, if I touched you?’ she said. ‘It’s the thing I miss the most. The feeling of you.’

Without waiting for an answer, she coaxed Grace’s arm to move. To her surprise it moved quite easily. She reached out and touched his face. He angled his face slightly, so that his cheek rested against her palm. She could feel the warmth of his skin, the beginnings of stubble. ‘Oh Peter.’ She ran her thumb along his lip, he used to like that. Judging by the intake of breath, he still did. Sally smiled.

She pushed forward, there was a moment of resistance before Grace leaned far enough for Sally to plant a small kiss on Peter’s mouth. For the first time in ages, she could kiss him without his shivering and wondering why it was so cold. She pushed again bringing Grace’s face closer to Peter. For a moment, there was cooperation and then a surge of emotion. Excitement, surprise, fear and … familiarity. The thought arrived just as Grace fought back. The bitch had kissed Peter before.

‘Shit!’ Sally was hurled away from Grace’s body.

Grace fell forwards, off her chair. Peter caught her.

‘Grace? Are you okay? Grace.’ Peter was kneeling on the floor, Grace cradled awkwardly in his arms.

‘Never mind Grace,’ said Sally, scrabbling to her feet. ‘What about me?’

‘I’m okay.’ Grace steadied herself. Peter helped her to her feet. ‘I’m just a bit freaked out, that’s all’ she said to him.

‘
You’re
bloody freaked out?’ said Sally.

But neither of them was listening to her. Peter’s hand was still on Grace’s elbow. Grace was rubbing her forehead and assuring him she was fine. They seemed completely comfortable in each other’s presence. There was no sense of awkwardness that Grace showed with other people, no distance that befits strangers.

‘What is going on?’ Sally demanded.

But Grace pretended not to hear. She left the room, claiming to need a bit of air. After a moment of hesitation, Peter went after her.

Anger bubbled up inside Sally. Grace had clearly made some sort of move on Peter in the past. Otherwise they would never be so cosy. She had to do something about this. But what? She was stuck in limbo. No one could hear her apart from Grace. How could she get to Peter?

Sally kicked the bed and screamed with frustration when her foot went straight through it.

Grace watched the tea gurgle into the small mug and fought down a wave of nausea. The whole experience with Sally had left her feeling as though she were coming down with the flu. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said to Peter. ‘I didn’t expect Sally to do that. Silly of me, really. Of course she’d want to kiss you. You’re her husband.’

‘I’m just grateful you let me talk to her,’ he said. ‘It sounds like it wasn’t easy letting her do that. I really appreciate it.’

Not that his wife did. Sally had been glaring at her when she left. She hadn’t expected Peter to follow her out. At least Sally couldn’t come into the common room. She hadn’t been there before.

‘You should go back,’ said Grace. ‘Talk to her. She can hear you.’ She couldn’t look at Peter. Being near him was more difficult than she’d imagined. The brief kiss had brought back a rush of feelings that she’d been trying very hard to squash.

‘But I can’t see her. How will I know she’s there?’

‘You’ll feel the cold.’ Grace blew on the tea. ‘Besides, now that you know she’s there, maybe you’ll be able to see her. Or sense her or something.’

‘You think?’

Grace lowered the tea and said, thoughtfully, ‘I reckon it’s something to do with perception. Something happened to me when the lightning struck and my perceptions changed so I can see her. There was another girl who saw her, but she was so stoned, god knows what her perception was like. Anyway, things might have changed with you now. That’s my half-baked theory about it.’

Peter considered it. ‘I don’t think that’s too half baked,’ he said. ‘Are you sure you’re going to be okay?’ He had half turned to go. He was standing apart from her, as though afraid to come too close.

‘Yes. I’ll be fine.’ Grace looked around the room. The only other occupant appeared to be asleep. ‘Peter.’

He turned back.

‘I don’t think you and I should meet again. Without Sally around, I mean. I don’t think she likes that we’re …’ She stopped. What were they? They weren’t seeing each other. They barely even spoke to each other. What did that make them?

‘Friends,’ said Peter. ‘That’s all. Just friends.’ She thought he sounded relieved.

She avoided looking at him. Could you be just friends with someone you were in love with? ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I don’t think Sally likes us being friends.’

Peter laughed. ‘She always was a bit on the jealous side. She used to guard me pretty carefully if I met any of her old work colleagues. She likes to be clear about what’s hers, if you see what I mean.’

Grace knew exactly what he meant.

Back in the room, Peter felt the chill as soon as he approached the bed. Sally lay there, her breathing regular and calm. The machine beeped out her heart beats, slow and rhythmic. All was as it had been before. But now he knew that there was another Sally out there, walking around, listening and maybe talking, if only he could hear her. He sighed and sank into a chair. He leaned his elbows on his knees. ‘Sally, are you here?’

A chill ran down his side. So yes, she was there.

‘I …’ He stopped. He didn’t know what to say. ‘It was nice to talk to you.’

A good start. What else? This was a chance for him to talk to Sally in the full knowledge that she could hear him. She wouldn’t be able to interrupt or change the subject, so maybe he should use the opportunity to talk to her about stuff that was bothering him. ‘Sally, can you move anything? Maybe we can figure out a way to signal yes or no at least. Move something.’

He looked around the room. Nothing changed. Nothing moved. The regular beep of the machine didn’t falter. ‘Oh. Okay. I’m not sure how to talk to you now.’ Another scan of the room and he could see nothing to indicate where in the room she might be. The chill was still there, so she must still be around.

‘How about if I pretend you’re on the bed. Just like…your body.’ He nodded to the prone figure. He couldn’t think of anything to say. For nearly a year now he’d been talking to this comatose woman, never knowing whether she could hear him or not. Now that he knew she could hear, he had suddenly run out of words. It was as though the fact that she was listening made her a different person. Perhaps it did. Perhaps the whole out of body experience thing had changed her.

He couldn’t see Sally and imagined her to be exactly the same. He gazed at the woman on the bed and realised just how much she had changed. The Sally he’d first been to see had been pale and blonde and covered in cuts and bandages. The cuts had healed, the blonde had grown out, the pinkness of her skin had been replaced with pallor. Where there had once been health and vivacity there was this.

For the first time, he wondered if he himself had changed. He thought of himself as being much the same as he’d always been, but he had been semi-widowed for a year. His life had gone from high colour to something drab and grey. Had the same thing happened to him? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in the sunshine. The last normal thing he’d done was having a cup of tea with Grace. And that had ended up being not so normal in the end.

‘I don’t know what to say to you,’ he said. He groaned and put his head in his hands. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.’ Ice gripped him by the shoulders. It should have been comforting to know that Sally was there. But suddenly, it just wasn’t.

Grace opened the only wardrobe in her parents’ room that she hadn’t cleared, and stared at the carefully ironed clothes. Despite what had happened with Sally and Peter the week before, she still intended to go to the fundraiser the following weekend. Peter’s marriage was his problem. She couldn’t let it stop her from doing fun things. Margaret was right. She had spent years doing things that other people needed. It was time she stopped that. Maybe Margaret was right about the holiday too. Perhaps that was something she should think about.

But first she had to decide what to wear for the ball. She pulled out a burgundy dress and held it up against herself. It was far too short and too wide. It had been her mothers. She turned to hang it back up.

‘What are you doing?’ Sally’s voice made Grace jump.

She looked around to see Sally sitting on the bed. ‘Hello.’ Things had been a bit cooler between herself and Sally since the whole possession experience. They had reached an understanding where Sally knew not to ask Grace to let her possess her, and Grace knew not to mention Peter.

‘I’m trying to figure out what I’m going to wear to a party.’

‘Ooh. I’ll help. I love party clothes.’ Sally stretched her legs out and settled back against the headboard. Grace was about to tell her to take her shoes off the bed when she remembered that it didn’t matter. She hung the dress back in the cupboard.

Sally looked around. ‘It looks good in here,’ she said. ‘Don’t you think?’

‘It does,’ said Grace. The room had been decluttered and repainted. Changing the curtains had done wonders to increase the level of light in the room. Sally had suggested moving the furniture around to make better use of the space, but that was a two person job and Sally wasn’t much help on that score, so she’d moved things a few inches away from the walls and painted behind them. It felt odd, having the same old furniture in a room that was a completely different colour to before.

She pulled out another dress and eyed it.

‘Let’s see that one. It’s a nice colour,’ said Sally.

‘It doesn’t fit. It was my mum’s.’ She took another one out and held it up against her. ‘So was this one, by the looks of it.’

Sally gave her an appraising glare. ‘Clearly, you and your mother were very different shapes. She had boobs by the look of it.’

Grace raised an eyebrow.

Sally shook her head ‘I’m told that anything more than a mouthful is a waste.’ She looked pointedly at Grace’s chest.

Grace let the comment pass.

‘How about that green one?’ said Sally.

‘Mum’s.’

‘Why are your nice clothes in the same cupboard as your mum’s?’

‘It’s the nice clothes wardrobe,’ said Grace. ‘Mum always complained that I didn’t look after my dresses properly. So she kept the nice ones in here.’

‘That makes no sense,’ said Sally.

Grace shrugged. ‘No, guess it doesn’t.’ She pushed her mother’s things along. ‘Oh, here’s mine.’ She pulled out a snug fitting black dress. ‘I wore this to the final year ball at uni.’

Sally shook her head. ‘Too black. Next.’

‘This?’ She pulled out a bottle green dress with a scoop neck and white trim at the bottom.

‘Looks like an elf.’

Grace laughed. ‘Okay. Not that one then.’ She put it back. Part of her was enjoying this banter. It was something she hadn’t had in a long time. Not since uni, which had been far too long ago. ‘I don’t think I have anything else that isn’t black.’

‘You’re not wearing black,’ said Sally. ‘It’s too dull.’

‘I haven’t got much else,’ said Grace. She pulled the clothes across one by one.

‘Stop, stop! How about that one?’ said Sally, pointing.

‘What this?’ Grace pulled out a long bright orange salwar kameez. ‘It’s orange.’

‘It’s great.’ Sally slid off the bed and examined it.

‘My Dad bought that for my mum when they were going out. She said she never wore it. You know, white woman in Asian clothes …’ It was eye-wateringly orange and far too bling for Grace’s taste.

Sally ignored her. ‘I reckon this would fit you.’

‘The trousers would be too short.’

‘No they won’t. Your mum didn’t actually shorten this one. Just ironed the hems flat. See.’ She ran a finger along the line of a folded hem. ‘You’ll have to iron the creases out, but it should be fine. Go on, try it on.’

‘Sally, it’s orange.’ Bright, ridiculous orange. No wonder her mother had never worn it.

‘So? You’ll look great in it. Go on, try it on.’

‘Fine.’ Grace picked up the hanger and stalked into the bathroom.

The trousers were a little too wide at the waist, but the top fitted well. She tried to imagine her mother in this outfit, the orange bright against her pink arms. Grace lifted up her own arms. Her dark hair and brown eyes she’d inherited from her father, but her skin colour lay half way between her two parents, a light bronze that deepened when she caught the sun. The sleeves looked less orange on her than she’d first thought. She glanced in the mirror. The light reflected off the top and made her eyes look golden brown. The effect wasn’t too bad at all. Grace realised she’d been frowning without noticing. She pulled up a smile. Much better. She stepped out of the bathroom and went back into the room.

Sally stared at her. ‘You’re right. It’s too orange,’ she said. ‘What else have you got?’

‘Only black.’ Grace moved around it a bit to get the feel of the outfit. ‘I rather like it, actually. With a wrap, I should be okay.’

‘I don’t know …’ Sally looked dubious.

‘It’s not like I’m swamped with choice,’ said Grace. ‘I think I will wear it.’

Sally pulled a face. ‘Suit yourself. It’s your party.’ She shrugged. ‘What are you going to do with your hair? You can’t have it down, it would get everywhere.’

‘You think?’ Grace looked at herself in the mirror on the wardrobe. Her hair lay in a neat plait by her shoulder. She twisted the plait up and held it onto her head.

Sally appeared over her shoulder. She looked different in the mirror. More substantial, somehow. As though she’d moved from plain TV to HD. Grace glanced over her shoulder, where the ‘real’ Sally appeared less defined than in the mirror. How strange. Perception was a funny thing.

‘What sort of a party is it?’ said Sally. She seemed absorbed in looking at Grace’s clothes and didn’t meet her eye.

‘Just a fundraising thing. Nothing special. I just thought I should make an effort,’ said Grace. She felt bad about being evasive, but she realised she was looking forward to the party and she didn’t want Sally there. It might be the last time she got to see Peter alone. She wondered if Sally had been to Fredrino’s Casino before. If she hadn’t then they were safe. She could just ask, but that would tip Sally off about the venue. She fidgeted with the sleeve of her top.

‘Your hair could do with some styling,’ said Sally. ‘This long hair down to the waist thing is just … geeky.’

‘Geeky?’ Grace forgot her thoughts on perception and focused on her hair. She didn’t think about her hair much, just pulled it up and left it, usually. Now that she thought about it, it was a bit of a waste. Before her parents fell ill, she’d had it shoulder length. She remembered the difference it made when she wore it loose. ‘Hmm.’ She pulled out the hair band and started to unravel the plait. A flash of memory reminded her of Peter running his fingers through her hair. She looked down, hoping that Sally didn’t notice the flush on her face.

If Sally noticed, she didn’t comment. Instead she assessed Grace critically and said ‘Your hair needs a cut. It’s started to get dry at the ends.’ She put her hands on her hips. ‘Maybe you should go for a completely different hairstyle. You’d suit a nice short bob,’ she said. ‘All that long hair just swamps you.’

Grace wasn’t so sure. ‘I don’t think I’ve got time to have my hair cut. There’s only a couple of days until the party. Most decent places would be booked up.’

‘Oh, I know a place that’ll fit you in. There’s a trainee there. Or there was when I was still in circulation. She doesn’t get much work because she’s a trainee, but that kid is a genius with a pair of scissors. She was my hidden jewel.’

Grace raised an eyebrow, sceptical. She wasn’t sure she wanted a haircut, but Sally’s ideas about home décor had been so good, perhaps it was worth following her advice on this too.

‘Don’t you trust me?’ said Sally.

Grace looked contemplatively, at Sally. There was no malice in her face. Just amusement and the gently teasing smile she often had when she gave Grace advice. Grace took the number down.

Sally beamed, ‘Ask for Cerise,’ she said. ‘I only hope she hasn’t moved on to set up business for herself.’

The next evening, Sally stood waiting outside the hairdressers. The wind had got up and there was promise of rain in the air. It was as though the world was charging up, waiting to unleash something torrential.

She watched as Grace parked up and fed the meter. She glanced up at the sky as she hurried towards the door. She gave Sally a little smile and swept past.

‘I’ve got an appointment with Cerise,’ she said to the girl in reception.

The girl gave her an amused look. ‘Yeah. Take a seat. I’ll tell her you’re here.’

Sally grinned. It had been a stroke of luck getting Cerise for Grace. Cerise, bless her, was a lovely little thing but she was a terrible hairdresser. Her mother, who owned the salon, had tried to train her up, but Cerise lacked any creative flair. She could cut hair passably well, but she could rarely manage to do anything with any panache. Sally usually avoided her like the plague.

Even better, Grace was trying to fit it into her lunch hour, so there wouldn’t be time for her to change her mind.

Grace fidgeted while she was waiting to be called in. Sally tried to picture what Grace would look like with a short bob. With that long neck of hers, she’d look like a lollipop. Good.

Eventually, a slim girl, with a pleasant face arrived and introduced herself as Cerise. She looked at Grace’s long hair that hung over the back of the chair. ‘Just a trim?’ she suggested, almost hopefully.

‘Actually,’ said Grace. ‘I’d like something different. Could you make it shorter? Around here.’ She gestured to her shoulders.

Cerise bit her lip. ‘I’m not sure … all that lovely hair …’

‘You’ve got a meeting in fifty minutes,’ Sally reminded Grace.

Grace sighed. ‘I’m sure,’ she said. ‘Something shoulder length. Something that will suit my face.’

‘Oh. Okay. If you’re sure.’

Sally watched with satisfaction as lengths of hair fell to the ground under Cerise’s scissors. She was pretty sure that Grace’s hair had been at least part of the attraction to Peter. He had loved playing with Sally’s hair. Brushing it, teasing it, twining it in his fingers as she lay next to him. He probably took one look at Grace’s Rapunzel locks and fell under her spell instantly. He wouldn’t find her so attractive now.

‘Maybe you should go for something really different,’ said Sally. ‘Like a chin length bob.’

Grace’s eyes flicked to hers in the mirror. ‘I like that idea,’ she said, aloud.

‘Pardon?’ Cerise stopped working.

‘Would you be able to do it shorter? A nice short bob, maybe?’ said Grace. ‘I can feel the weight falling off as you cut. I quite like the lightness it brings.’

‘Oh. Okay.’

It didn’t take too long. The end result was an uninspiring bob, which was exactly what Sally had hoped for. She saw Grace’s horrified expression and retreated to the other end of the salon, so that Grace didn’t see her grin. To her surprise, she felt a twinge of guilt. Grace had been kind. Now she’d made her look like a scarecrow. All’s fair in love and war, she told herself. She liked Grace, but keeping Peter’s thoughts in the right place was more important. Someone walked briskly through her.

‘You’re not happy are you?’ said Cerise to Grace.

Grace made an apologetic face.

‘It doesn’t really suit you …’ Cerise said. ‘Could you wait just a minute, I’ll have a chat with one of the senior stylists and see what they say.’ She ran off to talk to one of the other stylists. Soon there were two of them, assessing Grace’s hair.

‘What if you make it even shorter?’ said Grace. ‘Would that help?’

‘It might.’

Sally watched in horror as they discussed it. This wasn’t part of her plan. She had hoped the Cerise would take so long that Grace would have to rush back to work with her hair all hacked and short. Bugger.

She sidled up to Grace. ‘You’ve got a meeting to go to,’ she reminded her. ‘It doesn’t look too bad.’

Grace looked at her watch. ‘I’m going to be late for my meeting,’ she said. She looked close to tears. Pathetic.

‘I’ll sort it out,’ said the senior stylist. ‘Cerise, can you do finish the blow drying on my client please?’ She picked up the scissors and efficiently set to work on Grace’s hair. ‘Don’t worry madam, we can sort this out in no time.’

While she was talking, inch after inch of hair was being cut away. Sally started to relax. Maybe the plan wasn’t going so badly after all. Grace’s hair was now very short. By the time the stylist held up the mirror and showed Grace the back, Grace looked like a boy. Her features, already slightly too large, looked huge now. She looked like a cartoon woman. Hah. Let Peter try and get his kicks off that.

Grace touched the back of her neck, her expression was slightly stunned. Unless that was just the lack of hair making her look bug eyed. Sally stepped behind Grace and whispered in her ear ‘You look fabulous.’ In the mirror their eyes met.

She put her hands on Grace’s shoulders and felt the tremor of cold go through her. She smiled. Grace’s returning smile was tense, as though she were afraid.

Good. She should be afraid.

Grace got into the car, grateful to escape Sally’s scrutiny. The way Sally had looked at her in the mirror had cut through her completely. It was as though Sally knew what had happened between her and Peter. Oh, Sally knew that she and Peter were attracted to each other, Grace was pretty certain of that. She had felt the shock when they had kissed Peter, both in the one body. But did she know about the rest? Had she guessed how close they had come to sleeping together?